t

TRANSACTIONS

OF THE

WISCONSIN ACADEMY

OF

SCIENCES, ARTS AND LETTERS

VOL. XLVIII

NATURAE SPECIES RATIOQUE

MADISON, WISCONSIN

1959

The publication date of Volume 48 is

December 23, 1959

TRANSACTIONS

OF THE

WISCONSIN ACADEMY

OF

SCIENCES, ARTS AND LETTERS

VOL. XLVIII

NATURAE SPECIES RATIOQUE

MADISON, WISCONSIN

1959

OFFICERS OF THE WISCONSIN ACADEMY OF SCIENCES

ARTS AND LETTERS

President

Henry Meyer, Wisconsin State College, Whitewater

President-Elect

Merrit Y. Hughes, University of Wisconsin, Madison

Vice-President (Sciences)

Aaron J. Ihde, University of Wisconsin, Madison

Vice-President (Arts)

Douglas Knight, Lawrence College, Appleton

Vice-President (Letters)

Berenice Cooper, Wisconsin State College, Superior

Secretary

Roger E. Schwenn, University of Wisconsin, Madison

Treasurer

David J. Behling, Northwestern Mutual Life

Insurance Co., Milwaukee

Librarian

Walter E. Scott, Wisconsin Conservation Department, Madison

The Academy Council

The Past Presidents:

Paul W. Boutwell

A. W. Schorger

H. A. Schuette

L. E. Noland

Otto L. Kowalke

W. C. McKern

E. L. Bolender

Katherine G. Nelson

Ralph N. Buckstaff

Joseph G. Baier, Jr.

Stephen F. Darling

Rev. Raymond H. Reis, S. J.

Robert J. Dicke

Committees

Publications: Membership:

The President Robert F. Roeming, Chm

The Secretary Harry G. Guilford

The Editor, Transactions C. W. Threinen

Representatives on the Council of the A.A.A.S.

Stephen F. Darling

Robert J. Dicke

Chairman, Junior Academy of Science

John W. Thomson, University of Wisconsin, Madison

Editor, Wisconsin Academy Review

Walter E. Scott, 1721 Hickory Drive, Madison

Editor, Transactions of the Wisconsin Academy of Sciences,

Arts and Letters

Stanley D. Beck, University of Wisconsin, Madison

The President

The Vice-Presidents

The Secretary

The Treasurer

The Librarian

The Editor, Transactions

The Editor, Academy Review

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PRESIDENTIAL ADDRESS

Naturalists, Biologists, and People. Robert J. Dicke

Page

. 3

SCIENCES

Timber Yields, Wood Increment, and Composition of Regeneration in a

Managed Hardwood Forest on Morainal Soils. H. F. Scholz and

F. B. Trenk _ 11

A Phytosociological Study of the Upland Forest Communities in the Cen¬

tral Wisconsin Sand Plain Area. J. R. Habeck _ 31

Forest Cover and Deer Population Densities in Early Northern Wiscon¬

sin. J. R. Habeck and J. T. Curtis _ 49

Notes on Some Rare Plants of Wisconsin. I. Thomas G. Hartley _ 57

Distribution of Central Wisconsin Fishes. George C. Becker _ 65

The Elateridae of Wisconsin. James R. Dogger _ 103

Some Helminth Parasites Found in Turtles from Northeastern Wisconsin.

Harry G. Guilford _ 121

Fleas Collected from Cottontail Rabbits in Wisconsin. Glenn E. Haas and

Robert J. Dicke _ 125

Growing Corn in Wisconsin Without Plowing. A. E. Peterson and L. E.

Engelbert _ 135

ARTS AND LETTERS

The Concept of the Judge-Penitent of Albert Camus. R. F. Roeming _ 143

American Protestantism and the Middle Class: 1870-1910. W. F. Petersen 151

Hugo von Hofmannstahl and the Symbolist Drama. Haskell M. Block _ 161

Fenimore Cooper and Science. I. Harry H. Clark _ 179

An English Scientist in America 130 Years Before Columbus. H. R.

Holand _ 205

S. T. Coleridge: His Theory of Knowledge. Joan Larsen _ 221

Shelley’s “Alastor” and Romantic Drama. T. J. Spencer _ 233

Swift and the Animal Myth. Albert Ball _ 239

The Washburn Observatory, 1878-1959. C. M. Huffer and E. Flather _ 249

The Transactions welcomes sound original articles in the sciences, arts, and

letters. The author or one of the co-authors of a submitted paper must be a

member of the Academy. Manuscripts should be typewritten double-spaced

throughout, including footnotes, quotations, and bibliographical references.

The address to which galley proofs are to be sent should be typed in the upper

left-hand corner of the first page. They should be mailed flat or rolled, never

folded. Manuscripts should be addressed to Stanley D. Beck, 105 King Hall,

University of Wisconsin, Madison 6. Papers received prior to July 31, 1960

will be considered for inclusion in the Transactions , volume 49.

PRESIDENTIAL ADDRESS

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NATURALISTS, BIOLOGISTS, AND PEOPLE1

Robert J. Dicke

President, Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters,

May 3, 1958 to May 2, 1959

On this occasion, I would like to speak as a practical biologist, and

discuss a problem with which you are all well acquainted. It is my

intention, however, to pursue a line of thinking that is — quite pur¬

posely — different from that usually encountered.

Whenever chemicals are applied to non-crop areas on a broad

scale in order to control weeds, or insects, or any form of wildlife,

a considerable body of writing concerning it will shortly appear in

the popular press and in semi-technical magazines and journals.

This is especially true where forest lands, recreational sites, and

residential areas are involved. Usually the writing is of a negative

nature, and generally critical of the whole operation at least as the

purposes and procedures were observed by the writer or as they

were brought to his attention. Although the individual popularizer

may be a perfectly sincere writer, very often his criticism of the

economic biologist may be unfounded or extremely biased. He then

succeeds in expanding an alarming body of public misunderstanding.

Now, before going into more detail on this problem, it would be

well that I explain the title of my presentation — NATURALISTS,

BIOLOGISTS, AND PEOPLE. Some explanation and definition of

terms is required, lest I unintentionally imply that naturalists are

those who write articles that unjustly criticize professional biolo¬

gist, using the popular press as their podium. Naturalists are not

necessarily such persons. All kinds of individuals may write popular

articles. Some are professional writers who may, or may not, be

wildlife enthusiasts. These professionals are keenly aware of the

angles of a story that will have popular appeal. Other such writers

are professional biologists who should know better than to draw

preliminary conclusions from inadequate experimental data and

then to publicize them. Still another type of writer is the hobbiest

who may attempt to write against a background of information

that has not been adequately explored and developed.

Let us now define — roughly — those groups of people that I have

referred to as naturalists, biologists, and people.

1 Retiring- Presidential Address, delivered at the 89th Annual Academy Meeting on

May 2, 1959, at Platteville, Wisconsin.

3

4 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

Naturalists are students of natural history, whose interests are

primarily observational, and for whom nature is an avocational

pursuit or hobby. Make no mistake; I do not use this term lightly,

because I feel that I am also a naturalist. I can use myself as a

prime example of a naturalist, for I have an abiding love for forest

and prairie in their every aspect. We own a cabin and 40 acres of

woodland on the Chippewa river. Mrs. Dicke would probably tell

you that I must be a very romantic naturalist to love that terribly

underprivileged land. Certainly, it is not the fishing or the hunting

that draws me there. Neither can it be the pine planting that aver¬

ages only about an inch of growth per year.

Biologists are professional botanists and zoologists. As scientists,

their interests in nature are experimental or technically descriptive.

The economic biologist has the additional task of managing wild¬

life — nature, that is — to meet a multiplicity of public demands that

range all the way from the protection and propagation of certain

plant and animal species to the demand that efforts be made to

drastically reduce or eradicate certain species. The drastic decima¬

tion of a species population must be by whatever means available,

and this often necessarily includes the use of chemicals.

Since much of my professional life has been as an economic ento¬

mologist, I can fully appreciate the aims and problems of the eco¬

nomic biologist. Again, using myself as an example, I find that I

may be a bit vague and a little romantic in my thinking about

nature in connection with my cabin and woods. But in my thinking

as a biologist, I must operate within clearly defined experimental

boundaries. As an economic biologist, I must also be highly prac¬

tical in my thinking, planning, and in my working standards.

People make up the last part of our triumvirate of naturalists,

biologists, and people. People are all of the so many individuals

who are neither naturalists nor biologists. These people not only

pay taxes and vote, but they also have an interest and a vital stake

in what is going on in the country and in how our natural resources

are being used.

Now, these three groups are not sharply defined, by any means.

They are, however, representative of the extremes in concepts and

special interests that are given expression whenever a wildlife

control problem comes to public attention.

Not for the purpose of argumentation, but in the interests of

presenting all sides of the problem, let us now examine some rather

controversial ideas concerning nature and its control.

Balance of Nature. This is a rather vague idea that is freely ex¬

pressed by naturalists and people. Apparently it is based on the

assumption that at one time all of the wildlife in this country was

1959]

Dicke — Naturalists, Biologists, and People

5

in perfect biological harmony — some kind of biological utopia pre¬

vailed. Then man entered the picture and, of course, spoiled all this

by his intrusion and intervention. He selfishly wanted nature to

conform to his way of life. One of my most ardent nature-loving

students once expressed it in this way. No doubt, I shocked him

when I asked if this was really so bad. In effect, all other species

have been trying to do the same thing; man has just been more

successful. It is so very difficult to be practical about such an idea —

this vague notion that if we could but balance nature again, all of

our ills would be corrected. Some purely practical problems arise,

such as :

How much hedge row, wood lot, and so on would be required on

a farm to balance up 200 solid acres of wheat, or corn?

How many birds would we need to check a flight of pest mos¬

quitoes or a flight of lake flies concentrating on the shoreline of

Lake Winnebago? There is little doubt but that they were there in

even greater numbers during the “good old balanced nature days.”

These and hundreds of other similar practical problems cast some

doubt on the practicability of the “balanced nature” idea.

Specific Land Use. As our population increases, land and water

must be efficiently managed for specific, not general, uses. It is

wishful thinking to believe that all land can be made to serve all

purposes without there being some very sharp conflicts. Industrial,

agricultural, recreational, residential, natural history study areas,

and natural preserves all differ in their requirements for land and

wildlife management. We can hope for a harmonious co-existence

of these land areas, but management for a specific use will, in all

cases, be necessary. Even natural preserves and study areas will not

remain in that state for very long without fire, disease, and insect

control. This means that in the maintenance of such areas, there

will continue to be a need for give-and-take, understanding, and

practical thinking by naturalists, biologists, and all people.

It is sometimes necessary that wildlife populations be curtailed

sharply. We may wax sentimental about the passing of the prairie,

the buffalo, and the passenger pigeon, and we may decry their pass¬

ing as the result of human greed. But it is not quite as simple as

that. The prairie had to be made over into agricultural land to feed

the people of the nation. The coexistence of dominant species, in¬

cluding man, is an exceeding difficult relationship to preserve and

maintain.

There are many examples of how it is necessary to change the

natural state in the interest of specific land uses. A farm fencerow,

for instance, or a roadside hedgerow is ideal for the protection and

propagation of small game. Of course, this interests the wildlife

enthusiasts and the hunters. However, the birds and mammals that

6 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

find a haven there may be quite destructive to farmers’ crops. Rob¬

ins and rabbits cannot be condoned in modern fruit culture. And

even where such animals can be tolerated, hedgerows are well suited

for the propagation of destructive insects, such as grasshoppers and

army worms.

Certainly there is going to be an ever increasing need for recrea¬

tional areas, but within land designated for this use, certain animals

and plants will inevitably be eliminated. Someone is certain to pick

that last lady slipper. Its only chance of survival will be in a strictly

supervised study area or preserve. Nuisance insects (mosquito and

fly) and plants (poison ivy) must be eliminated — and with them,

perhaps other species as well.

In residential areas, even less refuge for wild species is to be

expected. One of the current controversies concerns the apparent

conflict between Dutch elm disease control and the protection of

robin populations. Perhaps some better control than DDT sprays

will be developed. But for the present, we seem to be confronted by

two choices: (1) Do not protect elm trees that would require more

than 50 years to replace, should they die of Dutch elm disease ; or

(2) risk a partial decimation of robin populations existing within

the disease control area. Personally, I would not care to be the eco¬

nomic biologist in my community who gambled in the robin’s favor

and lost the trees.

Wildlife Enthusiasts. I am always amazed by the great numbers

of people who have little or no interest in wildlife. Most people

enjoy having birds around, but they are not very specific about

them. Rabbits and squirrels are interesting little creatures to have

about the neighborhood, but only as long as the rabbits do not take

a fancy to one’s flower sets, and as long as the squirrels do not take

up residence in an attic or a chimney. And a great many people

understandably like dogs, and cats, and children, but all of these

little creatures are dynamically opposed to urban wildlife in any

form. Most people are interested in lakes and woodlots. They enjoy

picnics and family play outdoors in the sun. They want a pleasant

vacation outdoors. But, they are not rugged woodsmen, and these

interests preclude large populations of mosquitoes, snakes, poison

ivy, etc. It would be but small consolation to them that these animals

and plants represent the “complete nature”. There is very little hope

that they may be convinced that these things need to be saved.

Popular Writing. Much has appeared in the popular press con¬

cerning the effects of chemicals on wildlife — and on human health,

for that matter. I would judge that most of these writers are sin¬

cere and honest within the limits of their knowledge of the subject.

It is, however, at this point that we must be the most careful and

discriminating. The articles we read are no more valid than was

1959] Dicke — Naturalists, Biologists, and People 7

the author’s knowledge of his subject, or his intent in writing the

article. We caution our biology students to read everything they can

on a particular subject — but not to believe everything they read.

There are many excellent scientific publications concerned with the

effects of pesticide chemicals on wildlife. Of course, they are not

written in a popular or spectacular vein.

Meaningful biological research is necessarily complex and time-

consuming. This fact, however, never justifies any shortcut to con¬

clusions drawn on accelerated inference or coincidence. What is an

accelerated inference ? It is best illustrated by examples. If X num¬

ber of a hardy, common bird — such as the robin — is killed by a

spray application, what an alarming toll must have been taken

among less hardy and less conspicuous bird species ! Or, if X robins

were destroyed by a single spray application, it will not be long

before they become extinct, like the passenger pigeon. In these

cases, a spectacular and alarming point is made, even though the

biology of the different bird species is hardly comparable.

How does coincidence figure in this picture? “A bird was picked

up two weeks after spraying, and it showed typical symptoms of

DDT poisoning.” The possibility of simple brain concussion is not

taken into consideration. “We found dozens of dead birds.” Last

spring, my daughter brought me quite a number of excellent speci¬

mens of dead cedar waxwings and finches. But there had been no

spraying in the area. Bird mortality is naturally high, especially in

the spring. For a two-brooded bird, such as the robin, a natural

high mortality is a necessity — otherwise they, too, might become a

problem to the economic biologist.

Specialists. Sometimes it must seem to the economic biologist that

everyone considers himself a specialist. I believe that most eco¬

nomic biologists have a competent command of their specialty, and

a good understanding of the problems they face. It is never their

intention to poison the land or endanger the nation’s wildlife. Most

of them would be pleased to discuss control and preservation prob¬

lems with interested citizen’s groups.

I am greatly impressed — as the general public should also be —

with the regulatory checks and precautions that operate in favor

of the wildlife enthusiasts. The U. S. Food and Drug Administration

are vigilant in their protection of foodstuffs from unwanted con¬

tamination by deleterious and doubtful chemicals. The U. S. De¬

partment of Agriculture requires label approval of all pesticide

chemicals. They guard against dangerous or fraudulent use of con¬

trol chemicals. The Wisconsin Economic Poisons Law is a state

safeguard, under which I, or any other economic biologist, must

register my intentions for experiments in mosquito control or any

control work. The Wisconsin Committee on Water Pollution must

8 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

sanction all lake and stream treatments before they may be under¬

taken. To these several regulatory agencies, we must add the public

consulting organizations, such as the U. S. Public Health Service,

State Conservation Departments, and agricultural experiment

stations in land-grant colleges.

Pesticides are no longer simply compounded and sold. In these

days an industrial firm must spend $1,200,000 on the average, in

the development of an acceptable chemical for public use. Most of

this sum is spent to establish the products proper and safe usage.

Even so, it may have to be recalled immediately because of some

unforeseen hazard.

In this discussion, I have attempted to present the problem of

species control from a different slant than is usually taken. I have

attempted to establish for amateur and professional biologist alike

(1) the necessity of species control; (2) an appreciation of the com¬

plexity of the problems faced by the economic biologist; (3) that

popular criticism should be examined somewhat more dispassion¬

ately and carefully; and (4) that there are far more safeguards

for human health and wildlife protection than an alarmed public

has been led to believe.

SCIENCES

9

*

.

TIMBER YIELDS, WOOD INCREMENT, AND COMPOSITION

OF REGENERATION IN A MANAGED HARDWOOD

FOREST ON MORAINAL SOILS*

Harold F. Scholz1 and Fred B. Trenk2

University of Wisconsin , Madison

The kettle moraine, an interlobate accumulation between the

Green Bay and Lake Michigan lobes of the continental glacier (3) ,3

is characterized by a residual forest cover in which northern red

oak ( Quercus rubra L.) , white oak (Q. alba L.) , black oak ( Q . velu-

tina Lam.), sugar maple ( Acer saccharum Marsh.), white ash

(. Fraxinus americana L.), American elm ( Ulmus americana L.),

and basswood ( Tilia americana L.) constitute the most common

trees and likewise those of greatest economic value. Land settle¬

ment in the counties traversed by the kettle moraine (Fond du Lac,

Dodge, Washington, Jefferson, Waukesha, and Walworth) began in

the late 1830’s and was virtually complete by 1860. Much of this

area has remained wooded because the characteristically short,

steep slopes and extremely stony soil, especially in or near the

“kettles,” make the land unfit for cultivation. Throughout the bet¬

ter part of a century, these forested slopes have been the source of

a substantial volume of lumber and rough wood used locally in con¬

structing homes and farm buildings and for fuelwood, fence posts,

etc. Uneven-aged stands have resulted from intermittent logging.

For a number of years, the Wisconsin Conservation Department

has been acquiring some of the more rugged and better forested

areas of the moraines for a State forest. Among the earliest pur¬

chases are two tracts, one of 17 acres, the other of 48 acres, located

11/2 miles west of the village of Dundee, in Fond du Lac County.

Through a cooperative agreement between the Conservation De¬

partment; the Agricultural Extension Service, College of Agricul¬

ture; and the Lake States Forest Experiment Station, these two

tracts were designated as a forest demonstration and research area

in 1946 and named the Dundee Timber Harvest Forest.

In the 17-acre tract, located about % mile northeast of the larger

unit (Fig. 1) (6), red oak is only slightly less abundant than sugar

* Paper read at the 89th Annual Meeting of the Wisconsin Academy of Sciences,

Arts and Letters.

1 Forester, Lake States Forest Experiment Station, maintained at St. Paul 1, Minn.,

by the Forest Service, U. S. Department of Agriculture, in cooperation with the

University of Minnesota.

3 State Extension Forester, University of Wisconsin, Madison 6, Wis.

3 Underscored (italicized) numbers refer to literature citations listed at the end

of the paper.

11

12

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters

[Vol. 48

TO

CAMPBCLL3PORT

LEGEND

- BOUNDARY Of HARVEST fOREST

'• Type boundary

- CREEK

CRASS MARSH

Figure 1. Although the two units of the Dundee Woods are approximately a

mile apart, both of them can be seen from State Highway 67 and are acces¬

sible throughout the year from this all-weather road.

1959] Scholz and Trenk — Morainal Hardwood Management 13

maple but, because of the vigorous seeding of the latter species, the

unit offered an attractive opportunity to study the regeneration

complex in a situation where a highly tolerant, but notably slower

; growing tree, the sugar maple, competed with the less tolerant but

relatively fast growing northern red oak. In the larger unit, this

oak is the most abundant tree in volume of timber and in numbers,

with white oak, sugar maple, and basswood providing scattered

competition.

This demonstration-research forest has been under intensive

management by the three cooperating public agencies since 1946.

Objectives of Management

Factors that must be considered in determining objectives of

management are: (1) the size, quality, and composition of the

stand; (2) accessibility of the tract and ease with which it can be

logged; (3) current and possible future demands for specific forest

products; and (4) the character and reliability of market outlets

within trucking distances of the property.

A preliminary examination of the Dundee Forest in the summer

of 1946 showed that it was fairly well stocked with saplings, poles,

and small-to-medium-sized sawtimber averaging about 90 years in

age. There also appeared to be enough diversity in composition,

size, and quality of the growing stock, and sufficient total gross

volume to ensure a workable annual or periodic cut of saw logs

and cordwood products.

Logs of lumber and veneer grades are in fair to good demand in

this part of the State, but the market for tie bolts and rough wood

products is poor. Since high-quality products will be the ultimate

goal, it seemed logical to concentrate on ridding the stand of as

many undesirable stems as possible during the first cutting cycle.

Consequently, this type of program was set up as a definite silvicul¬

tural objective, although its possible adverse effect on the initial

income from the tract was fully appreciated.

Inventory of the Growing Stock

A 100-percent cruise was made of the sawtimber stand on both

units of the Dundee Forest in the fall of 1946. This intensive cov¬

erage was necessary because the two tracts were to be used for

various research studies as well as for demonstration purposes. A

less precise inventory is required, of course, for the average farm-

woodland management plan.

Trees less than sawtimber size were not tallied in this initial

cruise because there was little actual or potential market for cord-

wood material at the time. Northern red oak, amounting to about

14 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

46 percent of the total gross board-foot volume, is the most impor¬

tant timber species on the area.

Species

Percent of Total

Board-foot

Volume

Northern red oak .

Sugar maple . .

American basswood .

Elm (slippery and American)

White and bur oaks .

White ash and others .

46. 1

24.4

8.3

11.2

5.3

4.7

Total . . .

100.0

Estimating the Allowable Cut

A rate of timber depletion which is offset or exceeded by growth

of the residual stand represents the basis of an allowable annual

or periodic cut for small parcels of timber. This does not mean that

every farm woodland can be cut indefinitely on a sustained-yield

basis. Some forest types are ecologically adapted to such silvicul¬

tural treatment while others are not. The Dundee Woods falls into

the latter category because of the preponderance of more or less

even-aged oak on the tract.

The method used to estimate the allowable cut in this case was

based on two assumptions : ( 1 ) that the main sawtimber stand can

be carried to a maximum age of 150 to 160 years, and (2) that the

mean annual increment, plus ingrowth of cordwood trees to saw-

timber size, will be at least 2 percent of the total gross board-foot

volume remaining after each harvest.

Gauging the Progress of Forest Management

It was impracticable to make a 100-percent cruise of the forest

after each harvest. An alternate system of ‘ ‘bookkeeping’ ’ was em¬

ployed to determine how much of the total volume was in sawtimber

trees as compared to that in cordwood-sized stems, how much new

wood was being added currently by growth, and how silvicultural

practices affected the amount, species, and ultimate survival of

natural regeneration. To obtain this information, 34 circular,

3/- -acre permanent sample plots were established in September

1947. This fairly intensive sample was justified on the grounds that

more accurate “controls” are needed on a demonstration-research

area than elsewhere.

Every sawtimber tree within the plots was referenced to a per¬

manent center hub, assigned a number and identified by species;

1959] Scholz and Trenk — Morainal Hardwood Management 15

and the diameter and merchantable height were recorded. As the

need arose, all physical and historical data (natural mortality, de¬

pletion by logging, changes in volume due to growth, etc.) were

brought up to date by remeasuring the plots. Tenth-acre circular

subplots were installed on the odd-numbered y5- acre plots to deter¬

mine the volume, depletion, and growth of the cordwood portion of

the stand (trees 4.6 to 9.5 inches diameter breast high) and the

number and species of saplings ranging in size from 1.6 to 4.5

inches at d.b.h.

The 10-Year Cut (1947-1957)

The average gross sawtimber volume per acre in 1947, as esti¬

mated by sample plots, was 5,327 board feet.

During this 10-year cycle, 208 cords of fuelwood and 44,685

board feet, net log scale,4 have been taken off the Forest (Table I).

TABLE I

Summary of Log and Cordwood Sales During the First

10-Year Cutting Cycle

06.4 percent northern red oak, 3.6 percent white oak.

297.6 percent sugar maple, 2.4 percent red maple.

334 percent aspen, 28 percent elm, 23 percent paper birch, 5 percent white and black

ash, and 10 percent miscellaneous.

If it is assumed that this 10-year cut was spread uniformly over

the entire timber harvest forest, it amounts to 687 board feet, net

log scale, plus 3.2 cords of fuelwood per acre, or an average annual

depletion rate per acre of about 69 board feet and 0.32 cord,

respectively.

4 The 100-percent cruise showed 6,110 board feet per acre. The difference of 783

(due to sampling- error as well as to human error) is rather large, but does not invali¬

date conclusions based on periodic comparisons of sample plot data.

16 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

TABLE II

Effect of Logging and Natural Mortality on Stocking, Basal Area, and

Average Diameter During the First Decade of Management

4A few bur oak, green ash, blue beech, and American elm, together averaging 5.6

trees per acre, were also present.

2Total cross-section area in square feet of all tree stems on an acre, at a height of

AlA feet above the ground.

3Diameter at breast height (d.b.h.) as determined from total basal area divided by

total trees.

4Those stems between 4.6 to 9.5 inches at d.b.h.

5 [Tees 9.6 inches or larger at d.b.h.

1959] Scholz and Trenk — Morainal Hardwood Management 17

Changes in Stocking, Basal Area, and Average

Diameter as a Result of Logging

The sample plot records show the cumulative effect of the six

individual harvests on the structure of the stand. After 10 years

the total number of trees per acre had been reduced 22 percent and

.

the basal area 3.82 square feet (Table II). Growing stock of cord-

wood size was affected more, proportionately, by logging than were

the trees of sawtimber size.

TABLE III

Relationship Between the Average Diameter of Hardwoods

in 1947 and Their Corresponding Diameter in 1957

1 Basis for averages: Group I, 604 trees; Group II, 210 trees; and Group III, 97 trees.

Applicability of Table Values: Group I — to all hardwoods except as noted in Groups

II and III; Group II — to sugar and red maple in the 16- to 24-inch d.b.h. range; and

Group 1 1 1 — to ironwood and blue beech.

This decrease in stocking was accompanied by an increase in the

average diameter, breast high (d.b.h.), of the residual stand. The

actual changes in diameter varied with the size of the trees in 1947

and by species groups (Table III). Small items, which usually were

in the suppressed and intermediate crown classes, naturally grew

more slowly than large ones, and ironwood, blue beech, and those

18 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [VoL 48

maples exceeding 15 inches d.b.h. showed less change than north¬

ern red oak, elm, basswood, and white ash.

The cutting budget for the Dundee Timber Harvest Forest has

been very conservative. During the first 10-year management

period, 1,045 board feet of the initial (1947) gross sawtimber vol¬

ume of 5,327 board feet per acre were cut or succumbed to natural

mortality (table 4) . The residual stand of 4,282 board feet per acre

added 1,836 board feet of growth in a decade, and 333 board feet

accrued from pole-sized trees which attained sawtimber status

since the plots were established in 1947. Thus the total gross saw¬

timber volume in 1957 amounted to 6,451 board feet per acre or

21 percent more than the initial volume at the start of the cutting

cycle.

TABLE IV

Ten-Year Changes in the Gross Sawtimber Volume Per Acre

(In board feet, Scribner Log Rule)

includes 2 board feet of growth between 1947 and time of death,

‘includes 81 board feet of growth between 1947 and time of cut.

Corresponding net sawtimber volumes per acre were 4,763 and

5,890 board feet in 1947 and 1957, respectively (fig. 2). Harvests

removed 741 board feet (734 board feet of the original stand plus 7

board feet of growth which these trees added prior to being cut) .

The net mortality was 5 board feet. Of the 1,933 net board feet of

growth which accrued during the past 10 years, 1,625 board feet or

84 percent was added to trees which were in the 1947 sawtimber

stand, and 308 board feet or 16 percent came from pole-sized stems.

1959] Scholz and Trenk — Morainal Hardwood Management 19

Figure 2. There was a net volume increase of 1,127 board feet per acre during

the first decade of controlled cutting on the Timber Harvest Forest. This objec¬

tive was accomplished by keeping depletion (cut and mortality) at approxi¬

mately 40 percent of the total volume added by growth.

TABLE V

Ten-Year Changes in the Volume of the Cordwood Stand

(In cords per acre)

including growth which accrued on these trees prior to their death or removal from

the stand by logging.

2Paper birch and bur oak.

20 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

This transition from nonsawtimber to sawtimber status amounted

to 1.57 cords per acre in 1957, and depletion (trees that were cut

or died) accounted for another 0.94 cord. In spite of this loss of

2.51 cords, there was slightly more cordwood per acre in 1957 than

in 1947 — 4.77 cords versus 4.73 cords (Table V ; fig. 3).

CORDWOOD VOLUME IN 1947 a 1957 AFFECTED

BY DEPLETION, GROWTH, INGROWTH, a OUTGROWTH

e- 1947

1957

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-LEGEND-

- CORDWOOD INGROWTH, NEW TREES

GROWTH ON 1947 CORDWOOD STAND

— VOLUME PRESENT IN 1947

OUTGROWTH TO SAWTIMBER

1947 — 1957

DEPLETION

1947 - 1957

DIED

CUT

— 0.03

— 0.27

— 0.05

— 0.59

— 0.56

1 .01

— 0.20

— 1.72

— 2.85

4.73 CORDS

0.94 CORDS

1.57 CORDS

4.77 CORDS

Figure 3. The total volume of cordwood changed only fractionally between

1947 and 1957 in the Dundee Woods. During this period, the original under¬

story was reduced 1.9 cords per acre by logging, mortality, and sawtimber out¬

growth as compared to new-tree additions of 0.2 cord per acre. If this unfavor¬

able ratio between depletion and replacement persists there will be a progres¬

sive and accelerated loss of volume in the cordwood understory.

The less desirable species (ironwood, red maple, and shagbark

hickory) accounted for 48 percent — 67.6 out of 140.0 trees per

acre — of all the small saplings present in the stand in 1947 (Table

VI). Ironwood and sugar maple together comprised about 83 per¬

cent of this advance regeneration, whereas northern red oak, which

accounted for about 8 percent of the cordwood-sized stems (4.6 to

9.5 inches at d.b.h.) and 57 percent of the sawtimber stand, was

represented by less than 1 percent of the saplings in the understory.

1959] Scholz and Trenk — Morainal Hardwood Management 21

Natural mortality and losses due to logging reduced the 1947

stocking of these 1.6- to 4.5-inch trees of all species by 23 percent.

The high degree of suppression which they suffer is indicated by

the fact that only 11 percent of them had attained a minimum cord-

wood size (4.6 inches d.b.h. with at least one 8-foot stick to a 4-inch

top) by 1957.

TABLE VI

Reduction in the Number of Small1 Saplings Per Acre by Various

Factors During the Period of 1947 to 1957, Inclusive

Status of These Same Saplings in 1957

xThese trees ranged from l.b to 4.5 inches d.b.h. in 1947.

2These stems were cut to expedite the felling of larger trees.

3 Includes 0.6 green ash per acre,

includes 2.6 blue beech per acre.

Experimental Studies in Oak Management

Northern red oak appears to be ideally adapted to the site condi¬

tions found on the Dundee Timber Harvest Forest. It also ranks

as one of the high-value species in the farm woodlands of Wiscon¬

sin. For these two reasons alone, it is of paramount importance to

retain this tree as the main component of the stand. As just shown

above, the prospects for doing this are almost nil from the stand¬

point of any restocking which may be expected from the present

sapling understory.

The key to the future situation seems to depend, then, upon :

(1) how much of the seedling reproduction currently occupying the

area is northern red oak, and (2) the degree of success with which

99

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

Figure 4. Systematic counts were made of the tree seedlings in the south unit

of the Forest in the winter of 1956-1957. The information obtained indicated

that the time was ripe to start thinning the overstory of mature oak.

1959] Scholz and Trenk — Morainal Hardwood Management 23

these small trees can overcome the competition from herbaceous

vegetation and woody shrubs after the merchantable overstory is

opened up or removed.

Reproduction tallies made in 1947 and again in 1956-1957 (fig. 4)

provide a partial answer to the first question : It does not appear

likely that northern red oak can be maintained as a dominant spe¬

cies in the 17-acre pole-sized stand comprising the north unit of the

forest. In that part of the woods, seedlings of this species account

for only 3 percent of the total regeneration (Table VII), and they

are competitively at a disadvantage with the more tolerant species

such as sugar maple, red maple, American basswood, slippery elm,

and ironwood.

TABLE VII

Periodic Checks of Natural Regeneration

xBased on a total sample of 50 milacres taken on 5 permanent 1/5-acre plots in

September 1947.

2Based on 81 milacre plots taken at random in the north half of the south unit in

1956-19 57.

Any attempt to eliminate such shade-enduring trees in order to

encourage the northern red oak seedlings would be expensive, time-

consuming, and almost certainly doomed to failure. Therefore, the

obvious course of action for this part of the woods is to make the

best use possible of the present mixture — and forget the oak.

The situation in the 48-acre south unit is much different. There,

northern red oak totals 38 percent (2,012 trees per acre) of the

seedling regeneration (Table 7). The requisites for successfully

establishing sapling stands of this species are: (1) adequate light

24 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

and (2) expeditious weeding to reduce competition from woody

shrubs and undesirable trees. The beneficial effects of this type of

silvical treatment already have been demonstrated on the Dundee

Forest area by a small clear-cutting study (5) .

The favorable results obtained from the clear-cutting experiment,

plus the fact that northern red oak reproduction averages about

Figure 5. — In November 1957, a 5.12-acre block of oak timber in the south

unit of the Forest was thinned from below by a shelterwood preparatory cut¬

ting. This picture shows the residual stand after logging was completed.

2,000 trees per acre in the south unit, provided the technical back¬

ground for a shelterwood cutting in this part of the woods late in

1957. Approximately 24 square feet of basal area per acre were

removed by the initial (preparatory) phase of this silvicultural

operation; about 12 square feet were in red oak, 5 in sugar maple,

with the remaining area included in 8 other species.

1959] Scholz and Trenk — Morainal Hardwood Management 25

A summary of data from 5 permanent i/t-acre sample plots in or

adjacent to the 5.12-acre shelterwood unit shows that the 1957 pre¬

logging stocking and basal area of trees 4.6 inches d.b.h. and larger

were 108 stems and 118.0 square feet per acre respectively.

The preparatory cut took out 29 cordwood-size and 19 sawtimber

trees per acre. In removing these 48 stems, the density of the stand

Figure 6. More than 100 farmers, interested laymen, and technicians attended

the last field-day program which was held in the south unit of the Forest in

November 1957. Most of these visitors came for the expressed purpose of

obtaining information which they could use in managing their own woodlands.

was reduced by 44 percent and its basal area by 20 percent. North¬

ern red oak accounted for 74 percent of the trees cordwood-size or

larger on the area prior to treatment as compared to 36 percent of

the trees which were felled.

The general objective of the first cut was to provide more crown

and bole space for the dominant and codominant northern red oak

26 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

seed trees by eliminating the understory (Fig. 5). Timing and

severity of the second and final harvests will depend upon the suc¬

cess of establishing natural regeneration and upon its rate of de¬

velopment. In specific instances this process of restocking can be

hastened by scarifying the soil (4).

Field-Day Programs

Five scheduled, and one unscheduled,5 harvests were made on the

Dundee tract during the past 10 years. Field days were held on four

of these occasions for the benefit of the general public, and some

775 people (farmers, other owners of small acreages of woodland,

and technicians) received instructions on how to manage their

farmwoods to the best advantage (Fig. 6).

Programs are planned to provide elementary instructions in

cruising and scaling; demonstrations of up-to-date felling, skid¬

ding, and loading equipment; and on-the-ground discussions of why

certain trees are cut and others left. An additional objective is to

show visitors exactly what an annual or periodic cut means in

terms of forest products — veneer and sawlogs, box bolts, and fuel-

wood — which are decked and held at strategic points for this

specific purpose.

It is believed that most of the people who own small acreages of

timber in rural sections of the state are neither disinterested in, nor

hostile toward the practice of forestry. They simply do not under¬

stand it.

When farmers and other interested landowners visit this woods,

they have an opportunity to see at firsthand how timber is cruised,

marked for cutting, felled, bucked into logs, etc. In a short after¬

noon, much of the “mystery” surrounding forestry has been

stripped away. Invariably, some of these visitors solicit technical

assistance for managing their own woodlands before they leave

these field meetings.

The Dundee tract is one of nine publicly-owned Timber Harvest

Forests which have been established in Wisconsin to encourage

forestry practices in farm-owned timberlands (7).

Economic Returns

Much has been said and written about the “economics” of farm

forestry, and favorable monetary returns for specific ownerships

have been reported from various parts of the country (1) , (2),

An analysis of the publications pertaining to these woodlands

shows that almost invariably they: (1) are moderately to well-

(8) , and (9) .

5 A salvage operation was necessary in 1950 because two severe windstorms blew

down about 6,000 board feet of sawtimber in the north unit of the forest.

1959] Scholz and Trenk — Morainal Hardwood Management 27

stocked, (2) yield salable products, and (3) are located in areas

having well-established, competitive markets. Profits are also in¬

fluenced by the method and efficiency of logging, timber quality,

tree species, and site conditions (as reflected by annual or periodic

growth rates) .

The Dundee Timber Harvest Forest is an excellent example of

the kind of woods that will assure a continuous income under proper

management. The total gross receipts for logs and bolts during the

first 10 years was approximately $1,860 (Table VIII).

TABLE VIII

Gross Receipts From the Dundee Timber Harvest Forest

If stumpage, rather than cut products, had been sold, it would

have provided a minimum gross income of about $670. The differ¬

ence ($1,190 or $26.61 per M bd. ft.) between these two totals is the

amount the State of Wisconsin “collected” by doing its own logging.

A private landowner has this same option; i.e., he can sell either

stumpage or cut products. However, in the latter instance, he as¬

sumes the usual entrepreneur's risk, and the amount of profit he

makes, or loss that he sustains, depends entirly upon his efficiency

and experience, how well he is equipped to do the job, his ability

to sell his products at top market prices, etc. Since no two

farmwoods-management situations will be identical in all particu¬

lars, it is almost meaningless to use a cost-return analysis for one

property as a basis of what may be expected from another. The

farmer who grows and harvests his own timber will be affected,

just as commercial operators are, by the year-to-year changes in

market prices — which, in turn, determine what can be paid for

stumpage, labor, truck and equipment rentals, and all similar

expenses.

28 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and ' Letters [Vol. 48

In general terms, the success of any farm forestry program will

depend upon the following factors: (1) the composition of the

stand — some tree species always are worth more than others ;

(2) timber quality — clear wood is more valuable than material that

is full of knots, rot, and other defects; (3) the volume of the annual

or periodic allowable cut; (4) timing of harvests to take advantage

of peak market prices; and (5) logging efficiency — including the

use of up-to-date equipment.

Anything a woodland owner can do to improve the status of any

or all of these factors will mean more dollars in his pocket. Con¬

versely, a culled-over farmwoods of scattered, low-value trees

always serves to emphasize the truthfulness of the old adage that

“nothing begets nothing.”

Summary

1. From an initial inventory of 5,327 board feet of standing

timber per acre, a succession of six harvest cuts removed 44,685

board feet of sawlogs and 208 cords of fuel wood over a 10-year

period.

2. Gross additions of new wood amounted to 2,169 board feet per

acre during the first decade of management. Of this total, 1,836

board feet accrued on a 4,282 board-foot, uncut “base” left from

the 1947 sawtimber stand. The balance of 333 board feet represents

ingrowth from pole-sized stems to sawtimber status after the plots

were established. Thus, the total gross volume of the stand in 1957

was 6,451 board feet per acre or 21 percent greater than it was

just prior to the first scheduled harvests in the fall of 1947.

3. It appears unlikely that northern red oak can be maintained

indefinitely in stands where seedlings of this species comprise only

a small percentage of the total regeneration (about 3 percent in

the north unit) . The presence of sugar maple, ironwood, and other

shade-tolerant trees increases competition and worsens the plight

of the oak.

4. On the other hand, where northern red oak accounts for as

much as 38 percent of the current seedling reproduction, as it does

in the south part of the forest, the shelterwood system of cutting

offers reasonable assurance of continued dominance by this species.

5. Ten years of forest management have improved the Dundee

Forest in terms of volume and timber quality. This has been accom¬

plished by removing as many poor trees as possible during each of

the six harvests and by cutting less wood than was added by growth.

6. It is estimated that the merchantable mixed-oak stands which

characterize the woodlands of eastern Wisconsin will attain physical

maturity at an age of 150-160 years. Applied to the Dundee tract,

this provides a grace period of three to four 10-year cutting cycles

to establish natural regeneration.

1959] Scholz and Trenk — Morainal Hardwood Management 29

7. Public field-day programs were held immediately following

four of the six cutting operations, with a combined attendance of

about 775 farmers, agricultural students, and land-use specialists

(foresters, agricultural planners, etc.). These activities provided

technical stimulus and guidance for eastern Wisconsin farmers

interested in improving their woodlands.

Literature Cited

(1) Campbell, Robert A. 1954. Farm woodland management in the Southern

Appalachians. U. S. Forest Serv. Southeast. Forest Expt. Sta., Sta.

Paper 41, 9 pp., illus. (Processed.)

(2) Forest Service, Soil Conservation Service, and Extension Service.

1947. Managing the small forest. U. S. Dept. Agr. Farmers’ Bui. 1989,

61 pp., illus.

(3) Martin, Lawrence. 1932. Physical Geography of Wisconsin. Wis. Geol.

and Nat. Hist. Survey Bid., 36, 608 pp., illus.

(4) Scholz, Harold F. 1955. Effect of scarification on the initial establish¬

ment of northern red oak reproduction. U. S. Forest Serv. Lake States

Forest Expt. Sta. Tech. Note 425, 2 pp. (Processed.)

(5) - - and DeVriend, A. J. 1957. Natural regeneration on a 2-acre mixed

oak clear-cutting 5 years after logging. U. S. Forest Serv. Lake States

Forest Expt. Sta., Sta. Paper 48, 11 pp., illus. (Processed.)

(6) Smith, Clyde T. 1948. Dundee Timber Harvest Forest. Wis. Conserv.

Dept., unpublished ms., 13 pp., illus. (Processed.)

(7) Trenk, F. B., and Abbott, R. W. 1947. Timber harvest project. Wis.

Conserv. Bid. (12 (5) :17-19.

(8) U. S. Forest Service, Southern Forest Experiment Station. 1956. Cash

crops farm forestry forties. Unnumbered release. 4 pp. (Processed.)

(9) Williams, W. K. 1931. Farmers in northern states grow timber as a

money crop. U. S. Dept. Agr. Farmers’ Bui. 1680, 21 pp., illus.

'

A PHYTOSOCIOLOGICAL STUDY OF THE UPLAND FOREST

COMMUNITIES. IN THE CENTRAL WISCONSIN

SAND PLAIN AREA1

James R. Habeck

Botany Department, University of Wisconsin, Madison

The forest communities in the central Wisconsin sand plain area

comprise a mosaic of vegetational elements from both southern and

northern Wisconsin. This region can essentially be considered a

transitional or ecotonal zone between the southern and northern

forest communities. The southern Wisconsin component of this eco-

tone zone is prairie-hardwood (Curtis and McIntosh, 1951), and

the northern component is conifer-hardwood (Brown and Curtis,

1952).

The central Wisconsin ecotone is considered synonymous with

what is known as a tension zone (Curtis and McIntosh, 1951). It is

possible to plot this tension zone in Wisconsin by noting the range

limits of plant species which are common to and characteristic of

the two contiguous floristic provinces. The delineation of the Wis¬

consin tension zone, using species’ range limits, is fully discussed by

Curtis and McIntosh (1951). The tension zone lies generally in a

northwest-southeast direction, and is closely related to the positions

of many climatic isolines, such as summer temperature and snow

depth. Here the isolines are bunched, and a steep gradient exists

from south to north across the tension zone.

A phytosociological study of the upland forest communities in the

central Wisconsin sand plain area was initiated primarily to aid in

an accurate description of the winter range of the white-tailed deer

( Odocileus virginianus) in this region (Habeck, 1959). The phyto¬

sociological behavior of the important winter browse species in the

upland forest communities was the specific objective of this study.

In order to make a meaningful study of the browse species, how¬

ever, a detailed investigation of the forest communities in their en¬

tirety was necessary. This paper is devoted primarily to a descrip¬

tion and discussion of the phytosociological methods used in the

ordination of the upland sand plain forest communities and a pres¬

entation of the results of this ordination. The field work was done

during the summer of 1958. Nomenclature used in this report fol¬

lows that of Gleason (1952) . The writer wishes to extend his appre-

1 This study was conducted in cooperation with the Wisconsin Conservation Depart¬

ment and was financed with Federal Aid to Wildlife Restoration funds under Pittman-

Robertson Project W— 79-R.

31

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

90

oZ

ciation to Dr. J. T. Curtis, Botany Department, University of

Wisconsin, for his aid in this study.

Physiography of the Study Area. Two principal regions in the

central Wisconsin sand plain area were included in this study; the

Central Wisconsin Conservation Area (C.W.C.A.) located in the

northwestern portion of Juneau county and parts of Monroe county,

and the Black River State Forest situated in central Jackson county

(Figure 1). These two state-owned tracts comprise approximately

116,000 acres. Several localities adjacent to these two main areas

were also studied ; Castle Mound Roadside Park was one of these

areas.

Both of the main study areas are located within the Wisconsin

Driftless Area, and the C.W.C.A. lies entirely within the bed of

Glacial Lake Wisconsin (Martin, 1932). Whitson, et a l. (1914,

1923) describe this portion of central Wisconsin as a generally level

sand plain with occasional sandstone and quartzite hills projecting

20 to 200 feet above this plain. Marshes are also very prevalent

throughout the sand plain area.

Northern Juneau county is drained primarily by the Wisconsin

River, with the Yellow River and Little Yellow River as principal

tributaries. Central and eastern Jackson county is drained by the

Black River, with Morrison Creek, Lewis Creek and East Fork

Black River serving as the main tributaries.

Vegetation History. Roth (1898) provided a general picture of the

vegetation in Juneau and Jackson counties prior to the turn of the

19th century. Roth stated that much of the central Wisconsin sand

plains was covered with scrub oak ( Quercus ellipsoidalis) and jack

pine ( Pinus banksiana) openings, with some portions covered with

dense groves of jack pine and a few islands of mature red pine

( Pinus resinosa) and white pine ( Pinus strobus) , Mesic upland

hardwood forests were apparently not present or not common

enough to draw Roth’s attention. Roth further stated that there

were “extensive bare wmstes” which he believed were the result of

logging and burning.

Bordner, et at. (1934) presented a rather detailed account of the

prairies and openings existing in northern Juneau county during

the early 1930’s, before intensive fire control. Big blue stem ( Andro -

pogon Gerardi) and little blue stem (A. scoparius) were very com¬

mon along with other typical prairie plants such as Indian grass

( Sorghastrum nutans), tickseed ( Coreopsis palmata) , blazing star

(Liatris pycnostachya) , lead plant ( Amorpha canaescens) and false

indigo ( Baptisia bracteata) . These writers reported that fire and

drainage were both conducive to the establishment and maintenance

of prairie conditions in this central Wisconsin region and they be¬

lieved that the cessation of fires and the elimination of marsh drain-

1959]

H ab eck-U plane! Forest Communities

33

age would cause a forest flora to assert itself. Today, twenty-five

years later, it is apparent in the central Wisconsin sand plain area

that the forest flora is replacing the prairies and openings as a

result of fire control alone.

Agricultural activity in the central Wisconsin sand plain area

was well underway by the 1850's. Much of the native vegetation was

disturbed and many of the marshes were drained for cropland. The

period of most active marsh drainage occurred between 1880 and

1920 (Catenhusen, 1950). Primarily as a result of low soil fertility

nearly all agricultural activity was abandoned by the late 1930’s.

The Resettlement Administration aided many settlers to move to

other parts of the state.

Because of the ecotonal nature of this region, it is very difficult at

the present time to reconstruct a completely accurate vegetational

picture of the past forests and prairies in the central Wisconsin

sand plain area. This is particularly true in regard to the areal dis¬

tribution of the prairies, openings and forests. A complete under¬

standing of the past history of the vegetation is further complicated

by the fact that fire was as much a factor in the vegetational his¬

tory in central Wisconsin as it was in southern Wisconsin.

Methods

Data for this study were collected from forty forest communities

in the areas described earlier. The field methods which were to be

used in this study needed to be rather rapid and accurate as well

as usable by a single operator. In sampling the tree vegetation, the

Quarter method, as described by Cottam and Curtis (1956), was

employed.

In using the Quarter method, a starting point was chosen at

random and a second point, 30 paces (about 45 yards) along a pre¬

determined compass direction, was established. Using the compass

line as a base line, the area around the point was divided into four

imaginary quarters. In each of the four quarters, the species and

size of each tree nearest the point was determined as well as the

distance of each tree to the point. The basal area of the trees was

measured as an index of their size and this measurement was taken

at 4.5 feet above the ground. In this study a tree was defined as any

individual four inches or more in diameter at breast height. A total

of twenty sampling points was studied in each stand so that a total

of eighty trees was recorded in each stand.

In addition to the collection of the tree data at each sampling

point, the distance from the point to the edge of the nearest shrub

was measured in each of the four quarters. These shrub data were

collected to determine if shrub cover exerted an influence on the

ground-layer browse species. An efficient method of measuring abso-

WOOD

34 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

Figure 1. Location of study areas in the central Wisconsin sand plain. The Black River State Forest is located in Jack-

son county and the Central Wisconsin Conservation Area is located in Juneau and Monroe counties. Scale: one inch

equals sixteen miles.

1959]

Habeck-Upland Forest Communities

35

lute shrub cover has not as yet been devised, but the average of

eighty shrub distances for any given stand does serve as a satis¬

factory indication of the absolute shrub cover.

Estimates of the tree canopy cover were also made in each of the

four quarters at each of the twenty sampling points. During the

time in which the stand was sampled, a running compilation of the

total flora was made, resulting in a total presence list of all the

species found in the stand.

As it was desirable to collect data from a wide range of forest

community types in order to interpret the phytosociological be¬

havior of the browse species, the stands were selected subjectively.

None of the stands studied had been recently disturbed by fire or

cutting, and all were larger than twenty-five acres in size. The

majority of the forest area in the sand plain area is covered with

pure stands or mixtures of jack pine and scrub oak, and it was diffi¬

cult to locate sufficient numbers of the more mesic community types

such as red pine-white communities and red oak-red maple ( Quercus

rubra- Acer rubrum) communities. In order to gain a more mean¬

ingful picture of the phytosociological behavior of both the tree and

ground-layer species, the data from seven stands studied in nearby

Adams county and two stands from Waushara county (Brown,

1950) were incorporated with the data collected by the writer

(Figure 1).

Laboratory Methods. In the Plant Ecology Laboratory at the Uni¬

versity of Wisconsin, the field data were tabulated on summation

sheets. For each stand the relative density, relative dominance and

relative frequency were calculated for each tree species (Cottam and

Curtis, 1956). These three values were summed, resulting in a

single index or importance value for each tree species in each stand.

As these values are calculated as percentages, the over-all total of

importance values for one stand is 300. According to Curtis and

McIntosh (1951), the importance values permit a better compari¬

son of any species in different stands than any one of the com¬

ponents making up the importance values. In addition to these cal¬

culations, the number of trees per acre, the average tree canopy

cover and the average shrub distance were determined for each

stand. The nine stands incorporated from Adams and Waushara

counties did not have tree canopy or shrub distance data.

Phytosociological Ordination of the Stands. The arrangement of

the central Wisconsin sand plain forest communities into a com¬

positional order, as has been done for other plant communities in

Wisconsin (Curtis and McIntosh, 1951; Brown and Curtis, 1952;

Curtis, 1955), was thought to be the best means of describing the

phytosociological behavior of the vegetation.

36 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

A phytosociological ordering of the stands is possible by using as

a basis either the tree species or the ground-layer species. There

are several reasons which make inadvisable the exclusive use of

the tree species for ordering all forty-nine of these stands. One

reason is the intermixing of the northern and southern Wisconsin

communities in this ecotone region. Of the forty-nine stands, six¬

teen possess understories which are typically prairie-like and the

remaining thirty-three stands possess understories which are

typical of boreal or northern pine-hardwood forests. It is common

to find forest communities, particularly those dominated by jack

pine and/or scrub oak, which are very similar in tree composition,

but which possess markedly different understories. In regard to

jack pine stands, there is a tendency for the stands with a prairie

flora to be less dense, either being openings or having recently de¬

veloped from openings, whereas jack pine stands with boreal under¬

stories appear to be considerably more dense. Under these circum¬

stances an ordination of all forty-nine stands on the basis of their

tree composition could not possibly result in a meaningful

arrangement.

A second drawback to using trees exclusively as a basis for or¬

dering all of the sand plain communities is the fact that there is a

relatively low number of different kinds of tree species occurring

on the uplands in this region. A total of fifteen different tree spe¬

cies was recorded in this study, as compared with a total of thirty-

one in the northern Wisconsin upland comnlunities (Brown and

Curtis, 1952) and twenty-two species in the southern Wisconsin

upland communities (Curtis and McIntosh, 1951). Of these fifteen

tree species, only eight can be considered common ; the remaining

were recorded infrequently. The data provided by eight tree species

are not sufficient to result in an adequate community ordination.

For the purpose of making as complete and accurate presenta¬

tion of the data collected in this study as possible, the data were

treated in two different ways. First of all it was thought justifiable

to separate the stands with a predominantly prairie understory

from those possessing a boreal understory. This separation was

done on the basis of the presence or absence of certain character¬

istic prairie plants such as Andropogon Gerardi, A. scoparius,

Coreopsis palmata, Helianthus occidentalis, Lithospermum canes-

cens and Comandra richardsiana. The twenty-five stands with

boreal understories were combined with eight of the nine stands

from Adams and Waushara counties which also possessed boreal

understories. These thirty-three stands were arranged, by means of

their trees, along a northern upland compositional gradient (Tree

Composition gradient) using the tree adaptation numbers given by

Brown and Curtis (1952). Thus, these particular communities were

ordered on the basis of their tree composition alone.

1959]

Habeck-Uplancl Forest Communities

37

The second method of community ordination employed in this

study is a method developed by Curtis (1955) as a means of de¬

scribing the prairie communities in Wisconsin. This method, called

the Presence Index, permits the ordination of all forty-nine sand

plain communities; the ground-layer species are used here as a

basis for community ordination. In its adaptation to the forest com¬

munities in the sand plain area, three groups of ten understory indi¬

cator species were selected (Table I). These three groups of indi¬

cator species are known to be both very common and characteristic

in three plant community types which may be described as prairie,

dry boreal and mesic boreal. The prairie type is characteristic of

southern Wisconsin. The dry boreal community type refers to the

northern red pine-white pine communities, and the mesic boreal

type refers to the northern Wisconsin upland hardwood

communities.

TABLE I

Presence Index Indicator Species

Group I — Prairie Indicator Species

Andropogon Gerardi

Andropogon scoparius

Antennaria sp.

Coreopsis palmata

C omandra Rich ardsiana

Helianthemum canadense

Helianthus occidentalis

Krigia biflora

Lupinus perennis

Lithospermum canescens

Group II — Dry Boreal Indicator

Species

Anemone quinquef olia

Aralia nudicaulis

Arctostaphylos uva-ursi

Betula papyrif era seedling

Chimaphila. umbellata

Cypripedium acaule

Diervilla lonicera

Epigaea repens

Melampyrum linear e

Myrica asplenifolia

Group III — Mesic Boreal Indicator

Species

Brachyelytrum erectum

Clintonia borealis

Goodyera pubescens

Hepatica americana

Osmunda Claytoniana

Pyrola elliptica

Smilax herbacea

Smilacina racemosa

Trientalis borealis

Viburnum acerif olium

In calculating the Presence Index for any given stand, the num¬

ber of these indicator species which are present in the stand is de¬

termined, and then the index number is arrived at by making a

weighted average of the group values. The number of the prairie

indicators is weighted by 1, the number of dry boreal indicators by

2, and the number of mesic boreal by 3. The resulting Presence

Index has a theoretical range of 100 to 300. Below is given an ex¬

ample : a stand has 7 prairie indicators, 4 dry boreal and 1 mesic

boreal,

(7 X 1) + (4 X 2) + (1 X 3) _ 18

(7 + 4 + 1) 12

1.500 X 100 = 150.0

38 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

Figure 2. Arrangement of the eight most important tree species along’ the

Tree Composition Gradient. The ordinate scale is average importance values

and the abscissa is divided into five, 225 unit segments.

1959]

Habeck-Upland Forest Communities

39

The Presence Index value for this stand is 150.0. A stand must have

only prairie indicators present to result in an index value of 100,

and similarly, a stand to have an index value of 300 must possess

mesic boreal indicators only. An index value of 200 can be arrived

at if a stand has only dry boreal indicators present or if the

arrangement of indicators is symmetrical, such as 3-4-3, 1-5-1,

4-0-4, etc.

Results and Discussions

Species behavior along the Tree Composition gradient: As was

stated, the thirty-three stands with boreal understories were

arranged on the basis of tree behavior as derived from the study

of the northern upland forests (Brown and Curtis, 1952). The com¬

positional index number for the sand plain communities included

here range from 328 to 1553. The theoretical limits for the northern

upland forest are 300 to 3000. The communities included by Brown

and Curtis (1952) in their study of the entire northern forest range

from 326 to 2990. Figure 2 shows the phytosociological behavior of

the eight most important tree species along the Tree Composition

gradient. These data, expressed as average importance values, were

calculated from the stands in each of five, 225 unit segments. As

can be seen, the results indicate that these forests form a vegeta-

tional continuum with a progressively changing composition.

The most mesic vegetation in the central Wisconsin sand plain

area is found along the river terraces, but these were not included

in this study. Such areas are few in number and occupy a small

percentage of the total area. On these wet bottamlands, one finds

such species as basswood ( Tilia americana) , American ash ( Frax -

inus americana) , river birch ( Betula nigra) and rarely sugar

maple ( Acer saccharum) . On distinctly upland areas, the most

mesic vegetation to be found is composed of red maple, red oak and

white pine. The most pioneer tree species appears to be jack pine.

An interesting comparison, demonstrated by six of the tree spe¬

cies in Figure 3, is made when the average importance values of

the trees in central Wisconsin are compared with similar values of

the same species in northern Wisconsin. In this comparison, the

northern tree compositional gradient has been divided into twelve,

225 unit segments. From this comparison it appears that jack pine

in central Wisconsin (in stands with boreal understories) behaves

similarly to the jack pine in northern Wisconsin. Scrub oak is also

similar in both regions, but it is apparent that scrub oak does not

reach the high level of importance in northern Wisconsin that it

does in the central Wisconsin sand plain area.

White pine, in the sand plain area, appears to approach the phy¬

tosociological behavior of white pine in northern Wisconsin. The

lack of comparable mesic stands in the sand plain area, however,

40 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

prevents the full expression of a normal or Gaussian curve such as

white pine displays in northern Wisconsin. If one maintains the

idea that the upland sand plains of central Wisconsin are not cur¬

rently capable of supporting stands which are more mesic (such as

sugar maple-basswood), then the behavior curve representative of

white pine in central Wisconsin can not approach a normal or two-

TREE COMPOSITION GRADIENT

Figure 3. Comparison of the phytosociological behavior of six tree species in

the central Wisconsin sand plain (clashed line) and in northern Wisconsin

(solid line). The ordinate scale is average importance values and the abscissa

is divided into 225 unit segments.

tailed arrangement. At the present time, there is insufficient evi¬

dence concerning the successional or terminal position of white pine

in the central Wisconsin sand plain area.

The phytosociological behavior curves for red pine and white oak

(Quercus alba ) present an interesting situation. The red pine in the

sand plain area does not come close to reaching the level of impor¬

tance values which red pine exhibits in northern Wisconsin. Con-

1959]

Habeck-U pland Forest Communities

41

35 UNIT PRESENCE INDEX SEGMENTS

Figure 4. Arrangement of the eight most important tree species along the

Presence Index gradient. The ordinate scale is average importance values and

the abscissa is divided into five, 35 unit Presence Index segments.

42 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

versely, white oak expresses much higher importance values in the

sand plain area than it does in northern Wisconsin communities.

The positions of the peaks, however, are similar in both instances.

These data seem to suggest that the absence of stands, in the sand

plain area, containing large amounts of red pine is related to the

logging history of the region. If red pine stands were cut at such a

time when white pine was not large enough to be of commercial

Figure 5. Comparison of the phytosociological behavior of four ground-layer

species when arranged along the Tree Composition gradient (dashed line) and

the Presence Index gradient (solid line). The ordinate is percent presence and

the abscissa is divided into five equal units representing both ordination

gradients.

value, it is very likely that white oak, which is essentially equal to

red pine in its ecological tolerance, was permitted to reach higher

importance levels in these cut-over red pine stands.

Species behavior along the Presence Index gradient : The Pres¬

ence Index value was calculated for all forty-nine central Wisconsin

sand plain communities. The theoretical range for this index, as

was mentioned, is from 100 to 300; the actual range of values is

from 122.2 to 271.4. Figure 4 shows the arrangement of the eight

most important tree species along the Presence Index gradient. The

1959]

Habeck-Upland Forest Communities

43

Presence Index gradient has been partitioned into five segments of

35 units each ; the average importance values of each species in each

segment has been plotted.

Comparing the phytosociological behavior of these tree species

along both community ordinations, the Tree Composition gradient

and the Presence Index gradient, it is evident that the relative posi¬

tions of the behavior curves of these species are rather similar, that

is, the vegetational continuum resulting from the tree arrangement

along the Presence Index gradient is very much like the continuum

resulting from the tree arrangement along the Tree Composition

gradient. Along the Presence Index gradient, jack pine and scrub

oak are rather dominant in that portion of the gradient where the

prairie and dry boreal understory is well developed. White pine and

red maple are most prevalent and reach their highest level of im¬

portance in that portion of the Presence Index gradient representa¬

tive of a well-developed mesic boreal understory.

The phytosociological behavior of the ground-layer species is, in

many instances, similar along both ordination gradients. Figure 5

shows the behavior curves for four ground-layer species which

show close agreement along both gradients.

It is of particular interest that although the two methods of for¬

est community ordination discussed here were developed on the

basis of different criteria, in one case tree composition and in the

other understory vegetation, both result in similar phytosociological

descriptions of the vegetation in the central Wisconsin sand plain

area.

Further comparison of these two methods of phytosociological

ordination can be made by plotting other stand characteristics along

these two gradients. Data relating to shrub cover, canopy cover and

tree density have been plotted along the gradients and are shown

in Figures 6 and 7. Examination of these graphs indicates that

the shrub cover increases from left to right along both gradients.

This increase in shrub cover is reflected by the decrease in the

average shrub distance from left to right along the gradients. Simi¬

larity in the two ordinations is also shown by the general increase

in tree canopy cover from left to right along both gradients.

There is not the same degree of similarity shown between the

two gradients however when tree density (number of trees per

acre) is plotted along them. Along the Presence Index gradient,

there is a general increase in the tree density from left to right ;

along the Tree Composition gradient, there is a trend for the tree

density to decrease from left to right. These data are rather con¬

fusing at first sight, particularly when tree canopy cover data are

taken into consideration. Perhaps the most important single factor

contributing to this apparent anomaly is the existence of two types

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

Figure 6. Graphic representation of changes in tree density,

shrub cover and tree canopy cover along the Tree Composi¬

tion gradient. Each circle in each graph represents data

from one stand.

AVERAGE SHRUB 01 STANCE

1959]

Habeck-V pland Forest Communities

lOu 125 '50 175 200 225 250 275 300

PRESENCE INDEX

100

o

z

<

o

Z 60

UJ

o

cr

UJ

CL

uj 40

o

<

CL

UJ

>

<*

20

0

100 150 200 250 300

PRESENCE IN0EX

Figure 7. Graphic representation of changes in tree

density, shrub cover and tree canopy cover along the

Presence Index gradient. Each circle in each graph

represents data from one stand.

46 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

of jack pine communities in the sand plain area. The existence of

two types of jack pine communities was suggested earlier in this

report; one type of jack pine stand has relatively low tree density

and a corresponding low tree canopy cover. Jack Pine stands of

this type often possess many open-grown individuals and have a

prairie understory. As stands of this type become more mesic, there

is an increase in both tree density and tree canopy cover.

The second jack pine community type is characterized by a high

tree density, but possesses a relatively low tree canopy cover. The

individual jack pine trees in this type have very small canopies

which do not over-lap to any great degree, and thus under these

circumstances a rather high light penetration is permitted. In addi¬

tion to these features, the jack pine communities of this second

type usually possess non-prairie understories. The presence of dry

boreal and mesic boreal indicator species in these stands results in

Presence Index values for these stands between 200 and 225.

The differences in the origin and characterization of these two

types of jack pine communities are probably related to the fire his¬

tory of the region. It is thought that jack pine stands of the first

type were maintained in an open condition by periodic fires. Peri¬

odic fires would be conducive to the maintenance of a prairie under¬

story as well as prevent stands of high tree density from develop¬

ing. It is suspected that jack pine stands of the second type arose

as a result of one severe fire which was followed by a heavy stock¬

ing of even-aged jack pine seedlings. The absence of fire or the pro¬

tection from later fires after this initial stocking would result in a

dense jack pine community. The prairie flora would not have per¬

sisted beneath such a dense canopy, had it existed there originally;

the more shade tolerant boreal species apparently found light con¬

ditions suitable. These jack pine stands are not as dense now as

they were when first established, but they do have much higher tree

densities than the jack pine communities which developed from

openings.

From this interpretation, it is understandable why the tree den¬

sity decreases along the Tree Composition gradient. Along the Pres¬

ence Index gradient, these jack pine stands with boreal under¬

stories are placed at or near the middle of the gradient. The number

of these jack pine stands with high tree density encountered in this

study is not great, but their influence in the comparison of the two

ordination methods is nevertheless noticeable.

Summary

1. In order to facilitate an accurate description of the winter

range of white-tailed deer in the central Wisconsin sand plain area,

quantitative study was made of the upland forest communities of

1959]

H ah eck-U plane! Forest Communities

47

this region. This report is primarily devoted to a description and

discussion of the phytosociological methods used in the ordination

of the sand plain communities, with a presentation of the results of

this ordination.

2. The data from a total of forty-nine forest communities were

used in this phytosociological ordination. Because of the ecotonal

nature of the sand plain area, as well as for other reasons discussed

in this report, the forest communities were treated in two different

ways. Forest communities which display boreal affinities in their

understory vegetation were arranged in phytosociological order

using the tree behavior as derived from the study of the northern

Wisconsin upland forests. The second method of community ordi¬

nation, called the Presence Index, was applicable to all forest com¬

munities in the sand plain area regardless of the understory type.

The Presence Index method of community ordination uses the un¬

derstory vegetation as a basis for ordering the stands.

3. The procedures used in ordering the sand plain communities

on the basis of tree behavior and on the basis of understory vege¬

tation are discussed in detail in this report.

4. An analysis of the phytosociological ordinations resulting from

the two methods of community arrangement is made. In both in¬

stances similar vegetational description of the sand plain forests is

achieved. The behavior of the tree species along the two commu¬

nity ordinations indicates that these sand plain forests form a vege¬

tational continuum, with progressively changing composition.

5. Many of the ground-layer plants exhibit similar phytosocio¬

logical behavior along both community ordinations. The close simi¬

larity of other forest community characteristics along both com¬

munity arrangements strengthens the conclusion that similar phy¬

tosociological ordination of the central Wisconsin sand plain for¬

ests is possible by using either tree composition or understory

species as a basis for ordering the communities.

6. The most pioneer forest community type found in the sand

plain area is composed of jack pine. Pure stands of jack pine or

stands composed of jack pine and scrub oak comprise about nine-

tenths of the forest area in central Wisconsin’s sand plain. The most

mesic communities to be found on the upland sand areas are com¬

posed of white pine, red oak and red maple. These mesic commu¬

nities occur infrequently and occupy a small percentage of the total

sand plain area.

References Cited

Bordner, J. S. et al 1934. Land Economic Inventory of the State of Wiscon¬

sin — Juneau County. Madison, Wisconsin. 51 pp.

Brown, R. T. 1950. Forests of the central Wisconsin sand plains. Bull. Ecol.

Soc. Am. 31:56.

48 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

Brown, R. T. and J. T. Curtis. 1952. The upland conifer-hardwood forests of

northern Wisconsin. Ecological Monog. 22:217-234.

Catenhusen, J. 1950. Secondary successions on the peat lands of Glacial Lake

Wisconsin. Trans. Wise. Acad. Sci., Arts and Letters. 40:29—48.

Cottam, G. and J. T. Curtis. 1956. The use of distance measures in phyto-

sociological sampling. Ecology 37(3) :451-460.

Curtis, J .T. and R. P. McIntosh. 1951. An upland forest continuum in the

prairie-forest border region of Wisconsin. Ecology 32:476-496.

Gleason, H. A. 1952. The new Britton and Brown Illustrated Flora of the

Northeastern United States and Adjacent Canada. 3 Vols. New York.

Habeck, J. R. 1959. A vegetational study of the central Wisconsin winter deer

range. Jour. Wildlife Mgt. 23(3) :273-278.

Martin, L. 1932. The physical geography of Wisconsin. Wise. Geol. and Nat.

Hist. Sur. Bull. 36. Ed. Series No. 4. 2nd Ed. 608 pp.

Roth, F. 1898. Forestry conditions of Northern Wisconsin. Wise. Geol. and

Nat. Hist. Sur. Bull. 1. Econ. Series No. 1. 78 pp.

Whitson, A. R. et a l. 1914. Soil survey of Juneau county, Wisconsin. Wise.

Geol. and Nat. Hist. Sur. Bull. 38. Soil Series No. 8. 93 pp.

- . 1923. Soil survey of Jackson county, Wisconsin. Wise. Geol. arid Nat

Hist. Sur. Bull. 543. Soil Series No. 24. 85 pp.

FOREST COVER AND DEER POPULATION DENSITIES IN

EARLY NORTHERN WISCONSIN

J. R. Habeck1 and J. T. Curtis

Department of Botany , University of Wisconsin, Madison

Information located in government reports, early travel journals,

and newspapers has been very important in the reconstruction of

the history of the white-tailed deer ( Odocoileus virginianus) in

early northern Wisconsin. The literary researches and interpreta¬

tions of Swift (1946), Schorger (1953) and Dahlberg and Guet-

tinger (1956) have provided the foundation for many of the pres¬

ently accepted ideas concerning the history of the deer in northern

Wisconsin. From their analyses of the available historical litera¬

ture, these writers seem to hold in common the belief that white¬

tailed deer were very rare or absent in much of northern Wisconsin

prior to 1850, or before the advent of extensive logging and settle¬

ment. The lack of suitable summer deer range is thought to have

been the major factor in limiting the deer to low population densi¬

ties in northern Wisconsin, and that furthermore, the deer herd

increased in size only after there was an increase in the summer

deer range following removal of the mature forest communities by

white man.

It seems evident that the mature upland forest communities

composed of sugar maple ( Acer saccharum) 2 , yellow birch ( Betula

lutea) , hemlock ( Tsuga canadensis) and white pine ( Pinus strobus)

which existed in northern Wisconsin prior to 1850 could not have

provided satisfactory summer range for deer. Such forest commu¬

nities which exist today are known to provide poor summer deer

range. It is also clear that the great increase in the deer popula¬

tion, which reached an explosive peak in the 1880's, was a direct

result of the extensive removal of merchantable timber throughout

the northern portion of the state. There is considerable doubt, how¬

ever, about the validity of the widely held idea that deer were rare

in northern Wisconsin before the disturbance of the forests by

white man.

In elaborating on this doubt concerning deer population densities

in early northern Wisconsin, a question arises which is concerned

with the actual nature of the forested landscape in northern Wis¬

consin before the cutting era. This question requires very close

examination, as estimates of the number of deer originally inhab-

1 Present address : Oregon College of Education, Monmouth, Oregon.

2 Nomenclature for plant species follows Gleason (1952).

49

50 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

iting northern Wisconsin have been based on the type of habitat

which supposedly existed in early times. Estimates as low as 10

deer per square mile have been made (Dahlberg and Guettinger,

1956) for northern Wisconsin. If northern Wisconsin actually had

been covered with a vast uninterrupted virgin forest, such a low

estimate of deer density would probably be accurate. Such a forest,

however, did not exist in northern Wisconsin. Generalized descrip¬

tions of the forest vegetation in northern Wisconsin prior to 1850

are available in many local descriptions. Some of the early accounts

portray some parts of northern Wisconsin as being heavily forested

(Roth, 1898; Irving, 1880; Sweet, 1880) ; in such areas only a low

number of deer, if any, could have been supported.

In contrast to these reports, there are several very good descrip¬

tions which reveal that there were present, in northern Wisconsin

and adjacent Upper Michigan, prior to 1850, extensive areas not

covered with mature forests, but with pioneer and secondary forest

communities composed of jack pine ( Pinas banksiana) , aspen

( Populous tremuloides and P. grandidentata) and white birch

( Betula papyrifera) . Forest communities composed of these spe¬

cies are known to provide excellent summer deer range.

Two written accounts were made by Capt. T. J. Cram (1841,

1842), who traveled through northeastern Wisconsin while on a

government assignment to survey the Wisconsin-Michigan border.

In an area in the vicinity of the upper Menominee River, Cram

(1841) describes the vegetation as follows:

“All the timber which was once pine has been consumed by fire, as far

as the eye can reach, all round on every side. The prospect is one of a

broken landscape of barren hills, studded here and there with charred

pine stubs with scarcely a living tree except the second growth of white

birch and poplar.”

Cram (1842) describes another area located near the Wisconsin-

Michigan border:

“These highlands are in the process, owing to the destructive ravages

of fires, of fast approaching to prairie, such as exists in the southern

and western parts of the Territory, and leave little doubt, in the mind of

the close observer, of the cause of these prairies.”

The mention of fires in these accounts by Cram is very signifi¬

cant. It is very likely that since there was no one in northern Wis¬

consin to control forest fires, those which did occur must have de¬

stroyed large areas of timber before they stopped. A statement by

Aulneau (1736) indicates that Indians were responsible for some

fires in the Lake Superior region.

“I journeyed nearly all the way through fire and a thick stifling smoke,

which prevented us from even once catching a glimpse of the sun. It was

the savages who in hunting had set fire to the woods, without imagining,

however, that it would result in such a terrible conflagration.”

1959] Habeck and Curtis — Deer Population in Early Wisconsin 51

Fires, arising either from natural causes or through the inten¬

tional activities of Indians, would have created suitable summer

deer range. Cram (1841) makes several references to deer in the

northeastern part of Wisconsin, and in one particular instance he

mentions that deer were present in great abundance and were

hunted by Indians for winter food.

Another source of information relating to the forest cover in

northern Wisconsin prior to 1850 is the written account of Dr.

J. G. Norwood (1852), a professional geologist who taveled through

northwestern and northcentral Wisconsin during the years 1847

and 1848. Although Norwood was particularly interested in the

geology of northern Wisconsin, he made many references to the

native vegetation. Of an area approximately twenty-five miles

south of Fond du Lac (presently, Superior, Wisconsin), Norwood

gives the following description :

“A good deal of it is prairie, covered with wortleberry bushes (Vac-

cinium) and strawberry vines; while in the low grounds, hazel abounds.

Small pines, birch and scrubby oak succeeded, with strips of sugar maple.

From this point to Kettle River, the country presents a succession of small

lakes, swamps, meadows and ridges, covered with birch and small pines.”

From this description it is clear that such an area would provide

very satisfactory summer deer range. Norwood also describes the

area in the vicinity of the east branch of the Chippewa River (Iron

County) as a sand barren with a few stunted pines and occasional

patches of coarse grass being the only vegetation supported on the

high ground.

Of the area between Lac du Flambeau and Trout Lake (Vilas

County), Norwood states:

“. . . the portage passes for some distances over a sand plain support¬

ing a few scattering pines. The surface of the ground is literally covered

with wintergreen.”

At the end of this portage, Norwood states :

“Trout Lake ... is surrounded by drift hills, from 25 to 40 feet high,

supporting a sparse growth of small pines and birches.”

At the headwaters of the Wisconsin River (northeastern Vilas

County), Norwood describes the area as follows:

“The country ... is open, bearing thickets of small birch, a few stunted

pines scattered through them. Occasionally, a solitary large pine was seen

standing in a sandy knoll, 20-30 feet above the level of the river. Below

the last rapids the country is made up of sand, supporting tolerably good

growths of pine, birch and aspen.”

Continuing his travels down the Wisconsin River, Norwood de¬

scribes an area in northern Oneida County.

52 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

“A narrow strip of small pines line the banks of the river at intervals;

but, as you recede into the country, there are few trees of any size to be

seen. Clumps of very small birch and pine are scattered over it.”

Additional descriptions of parts of northern Wisconsin are found

in an account made by Owen (1848) who was a government geolo¬

gist. Owen gives this description of an area in Douglas County in

northwestern Wisconsin.

“The whole extent of the upper rapids of the Brule (River) must be

seven or eight miles by the river; they are not so continuous as those

below, having in some places nearly a mile of still water intervening. At

their head are open woods of pine and aspen poplar and on the southwest

large tamaracks.”

“The river now expands itself into a double or triple its former width,

with very little current. It is bounded by low ridges, with a growth of

small pines and aspen poplar.”

Also in Douglas County, at the headwaters of the St. Croix River,

Owen states :

“The shore at the northern extremity is low, but on the east and west

it is bounded by ridges twenty to thirty feet high, on which the growth is

chiefly birch.”

In the vicinity of Lac Court Oreilles (Sawyer County), Owen

describes the area as follows :

“The country becomes more open, the dense pine forest gives place to a

more stunted growth of evergreen and aspen. The general face of the

country, however, for four or five miles before reaching the lake is very

little elevated above high water mark and it supports only such growth

as flourish in swamp ground. A few stunted and half decayed pine were

the only trees visible.”

Also in Sawyer County, Owen states :

“The Namekagon river is about fifteen to twenty paces wide, with banks

from eight to twelve feet high. The prevailing growths are pine and birch,

usually of small size. The undergrowth is level and the wood open.”

Schoolcraft (1855) gives a short description of an area located

near the point where the Montreal River flows into Lake Superior.

This description was made in 1820 in an area now part of Iron

County.

“A bank of red clay, of twenty or thirty feet in depth, overlays the

rock, covered with a young growth of birch and poplar. There are no

large, or apparently old trees seen along this part of the coast.”

Whittlesey (1849) supplies some descriptions of the south shore

of Lake Superior. He describes the vegetation of an area in Upper

Michigan, on the north side of the Penoki range, as follows :

“The timber is very close, though not high, and the soil appears to be

good. It produces in the moist places native grass of good quality, and

on the dry portions dwarf pine, aspen, balsam and birch.”

1959] Habeck and Curtis — Deer Population in Early Wisconsin 53

Whittlesey also describes a portion of the area between the Bad

River and Brule River.

“In the central part of the tract under notice the surface and the mass

of the hills or mountains are composed of soft materials, sand and light

gravel, producing large white and yellow pines, and in places where sand

predominates, large fields of huckleberries, growing among scattered

cypress and dwarf pines, many miles in extent.”

“On the dry portions of the red clay, which is here, as usual, on Lake

Superior, but little rolling, we find the aspen, birch and white pine. On the

sandy, huckleberry lands, where pine is of moderate thickness, large dis¬

tricts have been overrun with fire, leaving a vast forest of blackened

trunks, producing upon the mind a vivid impression of solitude and

desolation.”

Outside of the state of Wisconsin proper, but in the Lake States

region, Agassiz (1850) supplies some interesting descriptions of

the native vegetation. In the vicinity of the Michipicotin River (On¬

tario), Agassiz describes the forests as follows:

“Contrary to my expectations, and to what had been told me of the

country, the forests are not remarkably dense and there is rarely any

difficulty in penetrating except the cedar swamps. We never penetrated far

into the interior, which is said to be in general thinly wooded.”

Agassiz also gives a description of the landscape in the vicinity of

St. Ignace (Michigan), observed by him while making a portage.

“After proceeding some distance through rank grass and undergrowth,

we came to the bluff, which was a very stiff fifteen minutes climb. This

brought us onto a table land covered principally with scrub pine, which is

much like our common pitch pine. This table land was dry, sandy and

thinly covered with wood, with wide openings covered only by scanty, with¬

ered grasses. The fire had been through in several places and here wood¬

peckers and black flies abounded. This seems, from what we heard, to be

the general characteristic of the interior except on the water courses.”

There is some historical information (Bersing, 1956) which in¬

dicates that deer were captured by Indians using fences or corrals

built specially for that purpose. The word “Mitchigan” is an Ojibwa

word meaning “a wooden fence to catch deer near its banks” and

refers to the practice of building fences near lakes and rivers to

capture deer. A body of water in Vilas County, called Fence Lake,

received its name as a result of the fences built there by Indians for

capturing deer. It is not thought probable that Indians would have

built such fenses to capture only a few deer.

Foster and Whitney (1850) describe the use of fences by Indians

in capturing deer in Upper Michigan :

“Within this township the Machigamig (River) receives from the right

its two principal tributaries, the Mitchikau or Fence river, and the Nebe-

gomiwini or Night-watching river. The origin of these names, as explained

by our voyageurs, was this: At one time the deer were observed to be

very numerous about the mouth of the former river, and the Indians, to

54 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

1

secure them, built a fence from one stream to the other. They (the deer)

would follow rather than overleap this barrier, until they were entrapped |i

by their concealed foe. This method of capturing deer is also practiced on

the Menominee.”

Foster and Whitney also describe the landscape of an area near the

Brule and Machigamig Rivers in Upper Michigan:

s i

“Fires have swept through the woods which once covered the surface,

so effectively as to leave hardly a living tree. Blackened trunks rise up /

on every side as far as the eye can reach. Over this dreary waste the |

birch and aspen have sprung up.” 1

A description of wind damage near Ontanagon, Michigan, is also

supplied by Foster and Whitney :

“Thunderstorms of great violence are not unusual; and the large tracts

of prostrate timber frequently met with in the forests, and known as

‘windfalls’, indicate the path of the tornado.”

The information given in these accounts permits one to conclude,

with good reason, that large areas existed in northern Wisconsin

and Upper Michigan prior to 1850 which were not in mature for¬

est. There are, of course, other historical accounts which describe

some parts of northern Wisconsin as covered with mature forests;

even the writers listed above describe some areas as having mature

forests. To achieve the most accurate picture of the forest commu¬

nities in early northern Wisconsin, it is necessary to combine all the

vegetation descriptions which are available.

There seems little doubt that the early northern Wisconsin land¬

scape was actually a mosaic of forest community types, with ma¬

ture, secondary and pioneer communities interspersed. The inter¬

vention of natural catastrophes, particularly fire, prevented the

development of a vast, unbroken virgin forest. From what is pres¬

ently known about the summer range requirements of the white¬

tailed deer, any of the areas described in the historical accounts

given in this paper would have provided excellent summer deer

range. If early deer population densities are to be estimated from

habitat conditions, and this seems entirely justifiable, then the evi¬

dence supports the idea that deer could not have been scarce in

nonrthern Wisconsin prior to 1850. It is more likely that deer were

“rare” only in a relative sense, compared with the abnormally high

densities which built up after extensive cutting, man-made fires and

predator control.

The original land survey records for the northern Wisconsin area

provide some idea of the general proportion of forest community

types at about 1850 (Curtis, 1959). Approximately 2,340,000 acres

were covered with pine barrens ; about 2,269,500 acres were cov¬

ered with pine forests ; mesic hardwood forests covered about

1959] Habeck and Curtis — Deer Population in Early Wisconsin 55

11,741,000 acres, of which approximately 1,000,000 acres was in

aspen. If it is considered that the pine barrens, pine forests and

aspen forests provided satisfactory summer deer range, then nearly

5.5 million acres of summer range were present.

The original land survey records also reveal that there were

approximately 2,241,000 acres covered with lowland forest commu¬

nities in northern Wisconsin. Although no differentiation of types

was made in these survey reports, forests composed of tamarack

( Larix laricina) , black spruce ( Picea mariana) , balsam fir ( Abies

balsmaea) , white cedar ( Thuja, occidentals ) and black ash (Fraxi-

inus nigra) were the most common. Christensen’s review (1954)

review of the historical accounts relating to the winter deer range

in northern Wisconsin has revealed that white-tailed deer have used

lowland swamp communities, particularly those dominated by white

cedar, from the earliest times for which historical records are avail¬

able. There is no evidence that the winter yarding behavior of the

deer is a recently acquired characteristic; it is very probable that

the deer have always possessed this behavior. There was apparently

a sufficient number of lowland swamp communities in early north¬

ern Wisconsin to meet the winter range requirements of the deer

which were present at that time. Prior to 1850, the deer population

density in northern Wisconsin could not have been limited by the

winter range. More recently, however, the winter range in north¬

ern Wisconsin has played a very important role in limiting the deer

density. The area of white cedar communities has decreased greatly.

The present acreage of white cedar swamps is approximately

182,000 acres (Wisconsin Forest Inventory, 1958) ; if it is consid¬

ered that white cedar occupied but one-third of the lowland areas

in northern Wisconsin in 1850 (ca. 747,000 acres), which may be

taken as a minimum, the decrease of cedar swamps amounts to

more than 75%.

References Cited

Agassiz, L. 1850. Lake Superior: Its physical character, vegetation animals,

compared with those of other and similar regions. Boston. 428 pp.

Aulneau, J. P. 1736. Letter from reverend father Aulneau of the Society of

Jesus, to Reverend Father Bonin. The Jesuit Relations and Allied Docu¬

ments. Vol. 68, p. 289.

Bersing, O. S. 1956. A century of Wisconsin deer. Game Mgt. Div., Wis. Cons.

Dept., Madison, Wis. pp. 1-20.

Christensen, E. M. 1954. A phytosociological study of the winter range of

northern Wisconsin. PhD Thesis. Univ. of Wis.

Cram, T. J. 1841. Report on the survey between the State of Michigan and the

Territory of Wisconsin. Sen. Doc. 151, 26th Cong., 2nd Sess., Washington.

16 pp.

- . 1842. Report on the survey between the State of Michigan and the

Territory of Wisconsin. Sen . Doc. 170, 27th Cong., 2nd Sess. Washington.

12 pp.

56 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

Curtis, J. T. 1959. The vegetation of Wisconsin. Univ. Wis. Press, Madison.

Dahlberg, B. L. and R. C. Guettinger. 1956. The white-tailed deer in Wis¬

consin. Tech. Wildlife Bull. No. 14. Game Mgt. Div., Wis. Cons. Dept.,

Madison. 282 pp.

Foster, J. W. and J. D. Whitney. 1850. Report on the geology and topography

of a portion of the Lake Superior land district in the State of Michigan.

Part I. Copperlands. Ex. Doc. No. 69. 31st Cong., 1st Sess. Washington,

pp. 1-224.

Gleason, H. A. 1952. The new Britton and Brown illustrated flora of the

northeastern United States and adjacent Canada. N. Y. Bot. Gar. 3 vols.

Irving, R. D. 1880. Geology of the eastern Lake Superior district. In Cham¬

berlin’s: Geology of Wisconsin. Vol. 3:89-91.

Norwood, J. G. 1852. Geological report of a survey of portions of Wisconsin

and Minnesota made during the years 1847, ’48, ’49 and ’50. In D. D.

Owen's: Report of a geological survey of Wisconsin, Iowa and Minnesota.

pp. 213-424.

Owen, D. D. 1848. Report of a geological reconnaissance of the Chippewa Land

District of Wisconsin, etc. Sen. Exec. Doc. 57, 30th Cong., 1st Sess. Wash¬

ington. 57 pp.

Roth, F. 1898. On forestry conditions of northern Wisconsin. Wis. Geol. Nat.

Hist. Sur. Bull. 1, Econ. Ser. No. 1. 78 pp.

Schoolcraft, H. R. 1855. Narrative journal of travels through the northwest¬

ern regions of the United States in the year 1820. Edited by M. L. Wil¬

liams, 1953. Mich. St. College Press. 515 pp.

Schorger, A. W. 1953. The white-tailed deer in early Wisconsin. Trans. Wis.

Acad. SO. Arts and Letters, vol. 42, pp. 197-247.

Sweet, E. T. 1880. Geology of the western Lake Superior district; climate,

soils and timber. In Chamberlin's : Geology of Wisconsin, Vol. 3, pp. 323-

329.

Swift, E. F. 1946. A history of Wisconsin deer. Publ. No. 323, Wis. Cons.

Dept., Madison. 96 pp.

Whittlesey, C. 1849. Description of the country bordering on the south shore

of Lake Superior. In D. D. Owen's: Report of a geological survey of Wis¬

consin, Iowa and Minnesota, pp. 425-461.

Wisconsin Forest Inventory. 1958. Forest Resources of 32 northern and cen¬

tral Wisconsin counties (Statistical report). Publ. No. 33, Wis. Cons. Dept.,

Madison. 20 pp.

NOTES ON SOME RARE PLANTS OF WISCONSIN— I

Thomas G. Hartley1

Department of Biology, Wisconsin State College, Whitewater

In a survey of the vascular plants of the “Driftless Area” being

made by the writer, several species have been collected that appear

to be rare in Wisconsin. It is felt that information concerning these

species should be placed on the record for interested persons. The

species are here presented with notes on their known distributions

in Wisconsin. In some instances, mention is made of associated spe¬

cies to indicate more clearly the nature of some of the habitats.

Although family names are not included, the species are listed by

families in Englerian sequence.

The nomenclature used is largely that of Gray’s Manual of Bot¬

any, 8th Ed. Introduced and/or adventive species are indicated by

an asterisk. Numbers not preceded by a name indicate the author’s

collection numbers. Vouchers for all of these collections are, or will

be, deposited at the herbarium of the State University of Iowa.

Many of the collections are, or will be, deposited at the herbarium

of the University of Wisconsin.

The author wishes to thank Dr. Hugh H. litis, curator of the

herbarium of the University of Wisconsin (UW) and Mr. Albert M.

Fuller, curator of the herbarium of the Milwaukee Public Museum

(Milw) for permission granted to examine pertinent herbarium

specimens. Grateful acknowledgment is made to Dr. Robert F.

Thorne of the Department of Botany, State University of Iowa,

under whose direction the author’s study of the “Driftless Area” is

being made. The author is also grateful for funds supplied by the

National Science Foundation which alleviated much of the expense

of the field work.

Asplenium platyneuron (L.) Oakes, ebony spleenwort, was re¬

ported only from northwestern Dane County (UW and Milw) by

Tryon, Fassett, Dunlop and Diemer (1940) in “The Ferns and Fern

Allies of Wisconsin’’. It was collected by this writer on June 20,

1956, on a dry sandstone outcrop in a woods bordering County

Trunk D, Section 6, Burns Township, La Crosse County, 1609.

Pellaea atropurpurea (L.) Link, purple cliff -brake, was reported

only from Sauk County (“. . . only on sandstone cliffs near Prairie

du Sac’’) by Tryon, Fassett, Dunlop and Diemer (1940). It is rep¬

resented in the herbarium of the University of Wisconsin by collec-

1 Present address: Department of Botany, State University of Iowa, Iowa City.

57

58 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

tions from four stations in southern Sauk County. Recent field work

in western Wisconsin revealed the presence of this cliff-brake in

Vernon County where it grows on exposed sandstone ledges of a

Mississippi River bluff near Stoddard, Section 21, Bergan Town¬

ship, T. G. and R. T. Hartley 1040, July 1, 1956.

Potamogeton diversifolius Raf. was reported from Grant (UW),

Crawford, Juneau (UW) and Eau Claire (Milw.) counties by Ross

and Calhoun (1951) . A more recent collection is from Price County,

D. W. Swindale, September, 1952 (UW). In 1956 this species was

collected in shallow water of a small pond formed by Sand Creek,

Section 29, Melrose Township, Jackson County, 1586, July 20, and

2086, August 8.

Potamogeton vaseyi Robbins is apparently quite rare in Wiscon¬

sin. It was reported only from Juneau (UW and Milw), Oneida

(UW and Milw), Portage (UW and Milw) and Sauk (UW and

Milw) counties by Ross and Calhoun (1951). A recent collection

from Lincoln County by F. C. Seymour 14919, September, 1952

(UW), is labeled as this species although sterile and seemingly of

uncertain identity. On July 10, 1956, this pondweed was collected

in shallow water of Lake Onalaska, Onalaska Township, La Crosse

County, 1831.

Other pondweeds collected in 1956 in Lake Onalaska (an im¬

poundment of the Mississippi and Black rivers above U. S. Lock and

Dam No. 7) were Potamogeton crispus L., 1828, Potamogeton no-

dosus Poir., 1830, Potamogeton pectinatus L., 1823, Potamogeton

pusillus L., 1826, Potamogeton richardsonii (Ar. Benn.) Rydb.,

1829 and Potamogeton zosteriformis Fern., 1825.

* Agropyron desertorum (Fisch.) Schult was not reported in

“The Grasses of Wisconsin” by Fassett (1951) and is apparently a

new record for the state. This is a species that has been introduced

into western United States and is spreading eastward. It was col¬

lected on a rather weedy railroad right-of-way between West Salem

and Bangor, Section 1, Hamilton Township, La Crosse County,

Hartley and Orlin Anderson 996, June 30, 1956.

Aristida oligantha Michx. was reported for Wisconsin by Fassett

(1951) only from Dane (UW and Milw) and Milwaukee (UW and

Milw) counties. On August 30, 1956, this species was collected on

a dry, sandy prairie bordering a railroad between North La Crosse

and Onalaska, Section 17, Campbell Township, La Crosse County,

2781.

* Buchloe dactyloides (Nutt.) Engelm., buffalo-grass, was not re¬

ported for Wisconsin by Fassett (1951) and is apparently a new

record for the state. It is a western species that was probably

brought into Wisconsin via railroad cars. A sizable patch of it was

discovered on August 2, 1956, along a railroad track in North La

1959]

Hartley — Rare Plants of Wisconsin — I

59

Crosse, La Crosse County, 1996. Growing but a short distance away

along the same track was another western grass, Distichlis strict a

(Torr.) Rydb., which is discussed below.

* Distichlis stricta (Torr.) Rydb., alkali-grass, was not reported

by Fassett (1951) and is apparently a new record for Wisconsin.

This adventive western species was collected on a sandy railroad

right-of-way in North La Crosse, La Crosse County, 1991, August 2,

1956. Probably brought in on freight cars from the West, a rather

large colony of this grass has formed along the tracks.

Oryzopsis canadensis (Poir.) Torr. was reported for Wisconsin

only from Vilas (Milw) and Clark (Milw) counties by Fassett

(1951). In 1958 three new stations were added for this species in

Wisconsin : low, sandy woods bordering Town Line Flowage, Sec¬

tion 4, Millston Township, Jackson County, 4055, June 21 ; rather

low, sandy woods bordering Little Bear Flowage, Section 8, Mill¬

ston Township, Jackson County, 4783, July 19; dry, sandy woods

bordering Roche a Cri Creek, Section 22, Big Flats Township,

Adams County, 5627, August 23.

Poa sylvestris Gray was reported by Fassett (1951) as possibly

occurring in two Wisconsin counties. That report was based on an

immature specimen collected near Viroqua (Vernon County) by

Hansen in 1929 (UW) and an older collection by Lapham labeled

“Milwaukee”. Now there are two well-substantiated stations for

this grass in Wisconsin : Spring Grove maple woods, Section 29,

T 1 N, R 9 E, Green County, G. Struik, John T. Curtis and H. C.

Greene, May 31, 1956 (UW) ; at the moist base of a wooded ravine

bordering Bohemian Valley, Section 25, Washington Township, La

Crosse County, 732, June 24, 1956.

The steep, north- and east-facing wooded slopes and ravines bor¬

dering Bohemian Valley provide one of the more interesting botani¬

cal sites known to this writer in Wisconsin. Besides Poa sylvestris ,

other rare or otherwise interesting species collected on those slopes

in 1956 and since include Equisetum scirpoides Michx., 740, Athyr-

ium pycnocarpon (Spreng.) Tidestr., Hartley and Alvin M. Peter¬

son 5422, Camptosorus rhizophyllus (L.) Link, 763, Crypt ogramma

stelleri (Gmel.) Prantl, Hartley and Peterson 2198, Dryopteris

goldiana (Hook.) Gray, 725, Milium effusum L., 767, Oryzopsis

asperifolia Michx., Hartley and Peterson 6402, Carex albursina

Sheldon, 756, Carex digitalis Willd., 759, Carex plantaginea Lam.,

731, Carex pedunculata MuhL, Hartley and Peterson 6403, Carex

scabrata Schwein., 760, Luzula acuminata Raf., 762, Erythronium

americanum Ker, Hartley and Peterson 6400, Polygonatum pubes-

cens (Willd.) Pursh, 750, Trillium grandiflorum (Michx.) Salisb.,

Hartley and Peterson 6401, Habenaria hookeri Torr., 737, Orchis

spectabilis L., 738, Dicentra canadensis (Goldie) Walp., Hartley and

60 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

Peterson 6397, Dentaria laciniata Muhl., Hartley and Peterson

6398, Hamamelis virginiana L., 680, Acer spicatum Lam., 728, Viola

pubescens Ait., 743, Dirca palustris L., 747, Circaea alpina L., 734,

Sanicula trifoliata Bickn., 742, Hyd^rophyllum appendiculatum

Michx., 726, Conopholis americana (L.) Wallr., Hartley and Peter¬

son 2186 and Sambucus pubens Michx., 730.

Carex backii Boott was collected at the dry, sandy border of an

upland woods near the Black River, Section 9, Holland Township,

La Crosse County, Hartley, R. F. Thorne, H. H. litis, et al 554,

June 14, 1956. This sedge appears to be quite rare in Wisconsin. It

is represented from the state by only three other collections : near

Rocky Arbor Roadside Park, Juneau County, J. H. Zimmerman

3195, July 1, 1950 (UW) ; a specimen that appears to be this species

from Blue Mounds, Dane County, T. J. Hale, collected in 1860

(UW) ; Sturgeon Bay, Door County, Charles Goessl, June 11, 1916

(UW).

Carex davisii Schwein. & Torr. is now known from five Wiscon¬

sin counties. Previous collections are as follows : opposite Sauk City

in Dane County, J. J. Davis, June 11, 1928 (UW) ; Rock County,

J. P. Lathrop, before 1900 (UW) ; near Browntown, Green County,

J. J. Davis, June 23, 1927 (UW). Recently this species has been

collected at two stations in western Wisconsin : alluvial woods bor¬

dering the Black River in Section 9, Holland Township, La Crosse

County, 966, June 29, 1956; McGilvray Bottoms alluvial woods bor¬

dering the Black River, Section 31, Caledonia Township, Trem¬

pealeau County, 442, June 10, 1956.

The McGilvray Bottoms area has some of the richest alluvial

woods this writer has seen in Wisconsin. Other sedges collected

there in 1956 include Carex blanda Dew., 441, Carex bromoides

Schkuhr., 565, Carex cephaloidea Dew., 438, Carex crinita Lam.,

430, Carex cristatella Britt., 1307, Carex gracillima Schwein., 436,

Carex grayii Carey, 420, Carex grisea Wahl., 417, Carex haydenii

Dew., 432, Carex intumescens Rudge., 443, 570, 1288, Carex lupu-

lina Muhl., 1313, Carex masking umensis Schwein., 606, 1293, Carex

normalis Mack., 434, Carex rosea Schkuhr., 568, Carex scoparia

Schkuhr., 569, Carex stipata Muhl., 437, Carex stricta Lam., 433,

Carex tenera Dew., 1309, Carex tribuloides Wahlenb., 605, 1305,

Carex tuckermani Boott, 440, Carex typhina Michx., 418 and Carex

vesicaria L., 431.

* Carex spicata Huds. is a naturalized species (native of Eurasia)

that appears to be a new record for the state of Wisconsin. It was

collected in a recent clearing in an upland woods on Miller Bluff,

Section 10, Shelby Township, La Crosse County, 1223, July 7, 1956.

Inasmuch as several large clumps of this sedge were seen growing

in the clearing, it is seemingly well established.

1959]

Hartley — Rare Plants of Wisconsin — I

61

Car ex sychnocephala Carey appears to be rare in Wisconsin. A

search of the University of Wisconsin and Milwaukee Public Mu¬

seum herbaria revealed only two Wisconsin collections of this rather

distinctive looking sedge : moist, sandy soil near Oconto, Oconto

County, Charles Goessl, August 13, 1916 (UW and Milw), and a

collection by T. J. Hale, 1861, labeled “St. Croix” (UW). On

August 23, 1958, this species was discovered growing abundantly

on moist muck of the bed of recently-exsiccated Sand Lake, Sec¬

tions 25 and 36, Plainfield Township, Waushara County, 5664. This

station is just outside the “Driftless Area”.

Some other interesting species collected in 1958 at Sand Lake

include Carex flava L., 5655, Cladium mariscoides (Muhl.) Torr.,

Hartley and Thorne 5991, Potentilla anserina L., 5659 and Lobelia

kalrnii L., Hartley and Thorne 5993.

Scleria reticularis Michx. was not reported by Greene (1953)

and is apparently a new record for the state of Wisconsin. This in¬

teresting nut-rush was found growing in great abundance on rather

moist sand in the old bed of partially-exsiccated Silver Lake, Sec¬

tion 9, Quincy Township, Adams County, 5598, August 20, 1958,

Hartley and Thorne 5884, August 31, 1958. It is an Atlantic coastal

plain species that is also known from northwestern Indiana.

Other noteworthy species collected in 1958 on the extensive area

of moist sand at Silver Lake include Panicum philadelphicum

Bernh., 5600, Cyperus erythrorhizos Muhl., 5571, Hartley and

Thorne 5895, Fimbristylis autumnalis (L.) R. & S., 5572, Rhyncho-

spora capillacea Torr., 5593, Hartley and Thorne 5890, Rhyncho-

spora capitellata (Michx.) Vahl, 5592, Hartley and Thorne 5881,

Scirpus purshianus Fern., 5584, Xyris torta Sm., 5604, Hartley and

Thorne 5882, J uncus pelocarpus Mey., 5578, Hartley and Thorne

5868, Polygonum careyi Olney, 5587, Rotala ramosier (L.) Koehne,

Hartley and Thorne 5872, Rhexia virginica L., 5567, Hartley and

Thorne 5878 and Gerardia paupercula (Gray) Britt., 5591. Two

interesting species collected on the mat of sphagnum invading the

east end of the old lake bed were Drosera intermedia Hayne, Hart¬

ley and Thorne 5899 and Polygala cruciata L., Hartley and Thorne

5885.

Draba nemorosa L. was previously known from only one station

in Wisconsin : open, sandy soil at Marinette, Marinette County,

Charles Goessl, June 25, 1916 (UW). On June 7, 1956, this mustard

was collected on a dry, sandy plain on French Island, Section 6,

Onalaska Township, La Crosse County, 342.

Other sand plants collected in 1956 on the dry, sandy river ter¬

race on French Island include Festuca octoflora Walt., 324, Era-

grostis spectabilis (Pursh) Steud., 1730, Leptoloma cognatum

(Schult.) Chase, 2756, Panicum commonsianum Ashe. var. euch-

62 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48,

lamydeum (Shinners) Pohl., 1744, Panicum meridionale Ashe.,

1739, Panicum oligosanthes Schultes var. scribnerianum (Nash) ,(

Fern., 338, Paspalum ciliatif olium Michx., 1728, Sporobolus crypt-

andrus (Torr.) Gray, 2765, Car ex festucacea Schkuhr., 321, Car ex

muhlenbergii Schkuhr., 333, Cyperus schweinitzii Torr., 1741, Poly- 1

gonella articulata (L.) Meisn., 2762, Cycloloma ant riplici folium 11

(Spreng.) Coult., 1746, Silene antirrhine L., 325, Prunus pumila :

L., 331, Crotalaria sagittalis L., 1727, Strophostyles helvola (L.) (

Ell., 1743, 2753, Strophostyles leiosperma (T. & G.) Piper, 2757, t

Euphorbia geyeri Engelm., 173 8,Callirhoe triangulata (Leavenw.)

Gray (observed but not collected), Helianthemum bicknellii Fern., I

2759, Hudsonia tomentosa Nutt., 1733, Oenothera rhombipetala i

Nutt., 1731, Penstemon gracilis Nutt., 341, Plantago purshii R. & S.,

349, Ambrosia psilostachya DC., 2755, Helianthus occidentalis Rid¬

dell, 1734. j

*Erysimum asperum (Nutt.) DC., western wallflower, is adven- I

tive and apparently rare in Wisconsin. It was previously known 'j

from only three stations in the state : headwaters of the Marengo 1

River, Bayfield County, Fred Knowlton, 1931 (Milw) ; Minong,

Washburn County, Charles Goessl, July 6, 1917 (Milw) ; Marion,

Waupaca County, Charles Gossl, June 3, 1915 (UW and Milw). In

1958 this wallflower was collected (two rather deformed specimens *

that were identified by Jacqueline Patman of the University of Wis- ■

consin) on a gravelly railroad embankment bordering Wyalusing |

State Park, Grant County, 4479, July 11.

Callitriche deflexa A. Br. was not reported from Wisconsin by

Fassett (1951) in u Callitriche in the New World” and appears to

be an addition to the flora of the state. This southern species was

collected on moist, shaded soil in an alluvial woods in the McGilvray

Bottomland region along the Black River, Section 31, Caledonia

Township, Trempealeau County, 1297, July 8, 1956. The tiny ter¬

restrial plants formed dense mats about six inches in diameter.

* Callitriche stagnalis Scop, is introduced (native of Europe) and

apparently quite rare in Wisconsin. The only previous Wisconsin

collection found in the two herbaria studied was one from Rhine¬

lander, Oneida County, J. J. Davis, August 25, 1925 (UW). This

collection was reported by Fassett (1951). In recent field work in

the “Driftless Area” this species was discovered growing in swift¬

flowing water of Black Earth Creek, Section 32, Berry Township,

Dane County, 5322, August 13, 1958. Immature specimens that also

seem to be this species were collected in cold, swift-flowing water

of the La Crosse River in the Camp McCoy Military Reservation,

Section 23, Lafayette Township, Monroe County, 2487, August 19,

1956.

Hartley — Rare Plants of Wisconsin — 1

63

1959]

Other aquatics collected in the La Crosse River in and near Camp

McCoy include Sparganium americanum Nutt., 2906, Sparganium

chlorocarpum Rydb., 2443, Potamogeton epihydrus Raf., 2485,

2902, V allisneria americana Michx., 2486, Glycerin pallida var. fer-

naldii Hitchc., 2903 and Ranunculus aquatilis L. var. capillaceus

(Thuill.) DC., 2484.

Proserpinaca palustris L., mermaid-weed, has been collected in

eight counties from the glaciated portion of Wisconsin: Dane

(UW), Door (UW), Green Lake (UW), Lincoln (Milw), Manito¬

woc (Milw) , Milwaukee (Milw) , Oconto (Milw) and Racine (UW).

Now this species can be added to the flora of the “Driftless Area”.

It was collected in a wet, sandy, roadside ditch bordering County

Trunk H, Section 18, Cutler Township, Juneau County, Hartley and

Thorne 6039, September 2, 1958.

* Mentha gentilis L. was reported for Wisconsin only from Price

County (UW) by Koeppen (1957). This introduced mint (native

of Europe) is also known from La Crosse County where it was

collected at the base of a wooded seepage slope bordering the Black

River, Section 1, Holland Township, 1687, July 26, 1956.

Gerardia skinneriana Wood was reported as known in Wisconsin

“only from the vicinity of Arena, Iowa County” by Salamun

(1951). A new station for this species was discovered in 1958 when

it was found growing along a dry margin of a sandy sphagnum

meadow bordering Duck Creek, Section 26, Adams Township,

Adams County, 5524, August 19, Hartley and Thorne 5918,

August 31.

Other noteworthy species collected in the meadow along Duck

Creek were Lycopodium inundatum L., 5495, Xyris torta Sm., 5536,

Aletris farinosa L., 5513, Polygala cruciata L., 5516, Hypericum

kalmianum L., 5494 and Bartonia virginica (L.) BSP., 5528. An

interesting and rather rare fern, Ophioglossum vulgatum L., was

collected in a similar meadow in northern Adams County in Sec¬

tion 21, Colburn Township, Hartley and Thorne 5996, September 1,

1958.

* Veronica persica Poir., bird's eye, is a weed (naturalized from

Eurasia) that appears to be quite rare in Wisconsin. It was reported

from Marathon (UW), Milwaukee (Milw) and Sheboygan (UW)

counties by Salamun (1951) and a 1957 collection indicates its pres¬

ence in Madison, Dane County (UW). The distribution of this spe¬

cies in Wisconsin can now be extended to Grant County where it

grows as a yard weed in Potosi, 5073, August 1, 1958.

*Plantago media L., hoary plantain, is adventive from Europe

and apparently rare in Wisconsin. Previous to 1956 this plantain

appears to have been collected only once in the state : city of She¬

boygan, Sheboygan County, Charles Goessl, July, 1903 (UW). On

64 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

August 30, 1956, it was collected on the La Crosse Country Club

golf course near La Crosse, La Crosse County, 2787a.

Cirsium flodmani (Rydb.) Arthur appears to be a new record for

the state of Wisconsin. Several plants of this thistle were found

growing on dry, sandy soil bordering Wisconsin Highway 108, Sec¬

tion 31, Melrose Township, Jackson County, 2089, August 8, 1956.

*Hieracium floribundum Wimm. & Grab., king devil, also appears

to be a new record for Wisconsin. Spreading by stolons, a large

colony of this European weed has become established along the I

edge of a sand blowout near County Trunk A, Section 9, Farming-

ton Township, La Crosse County, 2308, August 14, 1956 and 4693, '

July 18, 1958.

Found growing with this king devil in 1958 was another weed

that is rare in La Crosse County namely Scleranthus annus L.,

4667. ||

Summary

A total of twenty-six species is listed with comments on their

distributions and habitats in Wisconsin. Sixteen of the species listed j

appear to be native of Wisconsin, three are native of western

United States and adventive in Wisconsin, and seven are native of

Europe or Eurasia and introduced and/or adventive in Wisconsin.

Eight of the species listed appear to be new records for Wisconsin.

Three of those appear to be indigenous to the state.

References Cited

Fassett, N. C. 1951. Callitriche in the New World. Rhodora 53:137-155; 161-

182; 185-194; 209-222.

Fassett, N. C. 1951. Grasses of Wisconsin. 173 pp. University of Wisconsin

Press.

Fernald, M. L. 1950. Gray’s manual of botany. 8th Ed. 1632 pp. American

Book Company.

Greene, H. C. 1953. Preliminary reports on the flora of Wisconsin, XXXVII,

Cyperaceae, Part I: Cyperus, Dulichium, Eleocharis, Bulbostylis , Fimbri-

stylis, Eriophorum , Scirpus, Hemicarpha, Rhynchospora, Psilocarya, Cla-

dium, Scleria. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci. Arts Lett. 42:47-67.

Koeppen, R. C. 1957. Preliminary reports on the flora of Wisconsin, 41, Labi-

atae — mint family. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci. Arts Lett. 46:115-140.

Ross, J. G. and B. M. Calhoun. 1951. Preliminary reports on the flora of Wis¬

consin, XXXIII, Najadaceae. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci. Arts Lett. 40(2) :93-

110.

Salamun, P. J. 1951. Preliminary reports on the flora of Wisconsin, XXXVI,

Scrophulariaceae. Trans. Wis. Acad. Sci. Arts Lett. 40 (2) :111-138.

Tryon, R. M., N. C. Fassett, D. W. Dunlop and M. E. Diemer. 1940. The ferns

and fern allies of Wisconsin. 158 pp. Dept, of Botany, University of

Wisconsin.

DISTRIBUTION OF CENTRAL WISCONSIN FISHES*

George C. Becker

Department of Biology, Wisconsin State

College, Stevens Pt.

Three decades have elapsed since Greene (1935) made his sur¬

vey of fish distribution in Wisconsin. Since then no comparable

survey has been made. However, during the interim physical con¬

ditions of the terrain have been altered, seriously affecting the com¬

plexion of many Wisconsin streams. The crystal streams of yester¬

day have today assumed more somber hues. Land and water use is

reflected in shifting fish species — substitutions in most cases toward

less desirable forms.

The present paper is a contribution toward an evaluation of this

change in Central Wisconsin. Greene’s work will be used as the

basis of comparison, especially in respect to the treatment of the

individual species.

Acknowledgment is made to Prof. John Neess of the University

of Wisconsin, to my colleagues John W. Barnes and William Clem¬

ents, and to Conservation Warden Russell Christenson for their

advice, information, statistical help and critical evaluation of the

manuscript. Special thanks are due my son Kenneth who assisted

daily in the field and without whose help the present study would

not have been possible.

During the summer of 1958 a survey was undertaken of the fishes

of seven streams in Central Wisconsin (Map 1). In all over 17,000

fish were handled, representing 53 species from 12 families.1 A total

of 59 stations were sampled.

The fishes were collected with electrofishing equipment where

water conditions permitted. The C & H alternating current gen¬

erator is rated for 1000 watts and delivers 120 volts at 8.5 amperes.

It is powered by a 21/2 horsepower, four-cycle Continental gas en¬

gine. This equipment was hauled behind in a small boat. The elec¬

trodes were fashioned from a heavy gauge copper wire forming an

oblong hoop, 9.5 by 20 inches upon which 1/2 inch hardware cloth

had been sweated. Where water conditions were too murky, a

twenty-foot common sense minnow seine with six meshes per inch

was employed.

* Paper read at the 89th Annual Meeting- of the Wisconsin Academy of Sciences,

Arts and Letters.

1 The number of species indicated here in no wise implies completeness. As this

paper g-oes to press an additional collection made at station 7 on the Tomorrow-

Waupaca River in April, 1959, produced three species which had not been taken

during- the 1958 survey.

65

CENTRAL WISCONSIN

66 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

1959]

Becker — Central Wisconsin Fish

67

Method of Sampling An Area

The stations worked on a stream were plotted from a map before

the stream was visited. An attempt was made to set these stations

as close as possible at three-mile intervals. These stations repre¬

sented points of reasonable access. In a few instances they had to

be revised slightly due to excessively deep water or obstacles which

made it difficult to move the equipment to the water. The numbered

points depicted on Map 1 are the areas actually worked.

Generally the boat was put in the water at the bridge or road

end and the sample was taken upstream from this point. There was

no uniformity as to the length of stream worked at each station.

Generally the sample covered a distance of two to three hundred

yards. The time and distance covered at each station was deter¬

mined largely by the size and growth of the fish sample. In some

cases one-half hour sufficed. At other stations after two hours, the

sample, though deemed inadequate, was terminated. The survey was

geared for making an average of three stations daily. Generally the

sampling of a stream started with the downstream stations : e.g.,

stations 14, 13, and 12 of the Little Wolf River were sampled on

July 21, and stations 3, 2, and 1 were completed on July 28.

A survey of the physical character of the water, bottom, etc., of

each stream was taken on a particular day for all the stations. For

the Little Wolf River this survey (Table II) was run on August 15.

This data was purposely recorded in August, when low water and

high air and water temperatures placed stresses on the physio¬

logical demands of many fish species.

Description of Study Area

The waters sampled were entirely within the counties of Mara¬

thon, Portage and Waupaca (Map 1). Five of the streams, the

Little Eau Pleine River, Little Eau Claire River, Plover River, Hay-

meadow Creek and Mill Creek, lie in the Wisconsin River drainage

basin. Their waters are carried via the Mississippi River into the

Gulf of Mexico. On the other side of a narrow divide less than three

miles from the Plover River arise the headwaters of the Little Wolf

and the Tomorrow-Waupaca rivers. These meet the Wolf River in

eastern Waupaca County. From here their water is carried into

Green Bay and eventually out of the St. Lawrence River into the

Atlantic Ocean.

The area was bisected by the continental glacier at the Wisconsin

stage of glaciation (Martin, 1916). The Green Bay lobe extended

over the southeast corner of Marathon County, the eastern half of

Portage County, and over all of Waupaca County. The remaining

area is part of the Older Drift and the Driftless Area. The Older

68 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

Drift refers to glacial deposits left by earlier ice advances, as the

Illinoian, Iowan, Kansan and Nebraskan. The Driftless Area is

reputed never to have had a covering of glacial ice (Martin, 1916).

Marathon county and the northern sections of Wood, Portage,

and Waupaca Counties is underlain with granites and gneisses

with some quartzites. Cambrian sandstone underlies the remainder

of the area (Whitson, 1927). Three soil regions are represented:

the Colby Silt Loams, Kennan Loam, and sandy areas (Whitson,

1927).

The general elevation of the area lies from 1250 feet above sea

level in Marathon County to 1000 feet along the eastern edge of

Portage County. The fall is gradual in the Marathon County waters

and drops quickly in the Tomorrow-Waupaca and Little Wolf

Rivers.

The last killing frost in spring at Wausau (Marathon County) is

recorded for May 22 and the first in fall on Sept. 29 (USD A Year¬

book, 1941). A net gain of 16 growing days is experienced as one

moves south and east through the area since the city of Waupaca

records killing frosts for May 10 and October 3 respectively. Aver¬

age annual precipitation throughout the study area measures 32

inches (USDA Yearbook, 1941).

Tomorrow-Waupaca Rivers

The compound name Tomorrow-Waupaca has been used through¬

out this paper to facilitate expression. Actually it is a single body of

water commonly referred to as the Tomorrow River from its upper

end to its juncture with Spring Creek. Downstream from this point

it is known as the Waupaca River. The Tomorrow River is sub¬

divided into the Upper-, Middle-, and Lower-Tomorrow depending

upon its location above Nelsonville, between Nelson ville and

Amherst, and below Amherst respectively.

Approximately 36 miles of stream lie from its source to station

12. For the most part sandy soils predominated, although the river

cuts through several belts of Kennan loams (Whitson, 1927). Up to

station 12 it drains an area of 190 square miles. The Little Poncho,

Eske, Bear and Spring creeks are the primary tributaries in this

area. All are trout streams with the exception of Bear Creek.

According to the map of Portage County as issued by the Wis¬

consin State Highway Commission (February, 1957), this river

arises in Twin Lakes of the Town of Sharon. The 1958 investiga¬

tion, however, disclosed that there was no runoff from Twin Lakes

during that summer. A narrow drybed was in evidence extending

from Twin Lakes for a minimum distance of one and one-half miles.

Between this point and Highway 66 (an interval of a mile) a

permanent water supply arises.

1959]

Becker — Central Wisconsin Fish

69

At station 1 (Highway 66) the river is an average of seven feet

in width with holes up to 0.8 feet in depth (Table I). No current is

visible. The bottom consists of gravel overlain with a thin slur ry of

mud or silt. The water color is white and the bottom clearly visible.

Although this is the uppermost point of access to the stream, the

water temperature of 75° F. was almost eight degrees higher than

that recorded some six miles downstream at station 3.

Normally we expect a stream to run its coldest water in the

headwaters. This is the case with the Plover River where 54.9° F.

is the lowest temperature recorded for any water for the summer.

Under such circumstances the cold-water fish species lie toward the

upper end of the stream and decrease numerically as the water

temperatures increase downstream. However, there are many

streams in the state which issue from lakes, marshes or swamps.

The stream starts with tepid water and reflects this condition in

supporting those fish species found in warm-water lakes and

streams. As these streams move along they pick up discharge from

cold springs, converting a warm-water into a cold-water stream.

On Rocky Run Creek in Columbia County, Wis., a total of 30

springs issue into a two-mile stretch of its mid-waters (Becker,

1952). Above this, Rocky Run holds bullheads, northerns and other

warm-water species. In the section with the springs and for some

distance below, the composition of the fish population leans toward

cold-water species with a substantial population of brown trout and

a token breeding population of brook trout.

The Tomorrow- Waupaca reflects to a degree what has been de¬

scribed above, and this will clarify in part the disruption in the

longitudinal distribution of fishes, a matter which will be dealt with

more thoroughly later in the paper.

The vegetative cover along the Tomorrow-Waupaca is excellent

to poor. The white pine originally was the dominant tree. Today

only remnant stands and sentinels remain, although most of the

cutover areas have sprung up into good second growth ash and elm

with oaks on the uplands, between stations 1 and 4 where the forest

gives way to farms, the stream’s banks have often been fenced

against livestock. Many instream devices, installed by the CCC in

the 1930’s speed up the water. More recently the Izaac Walton

League of Stevens Point has added deflecting dams and fenced

additional portions of the stream against livestock.

Normally the water in the upper end (stations 1 through 4) runs

white and clear but during the spring runoff the water becomes

light brown. This is probably because of the peaty soils which make

up a small part of the upstream drainage basin (Whitson, 1927).

Below the Nelsonville millpond the water is slightly muddy in color

and slightly turbid. This is likewise the situation below another im-

Tomorrow- Waupaca River Stream Survey Data August 9, 1958

70

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Becker — Central Wisconsin Fish

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poundment at Amherst, two and one-half miles downstream. Sev¬

eral times daily, water is released from the millponds and the river

then runs high and very turbid. The effect of this variable silt load

on the fish species needs evaluation.

The Tomorrow- Waupaca possesses a firm bottom of gravel, rubble

and boulders and exceeds all other streams in velocity with 3.3 feet

per second recorded at station 10. The Upper Tomorrow is today

classified by the Wisconsin Conservation Department as excellent

brook trout water. The Middle Tomorrow is considered fine brown

trout water.

The fish survey was made at 12 stations from August 2nd through

the 8th. Approximately 3700 fish of forty-one species were handled

during the survey. Three additional species have since been added

on the basis of a collection made at station 7 on April 25, 1959.

Little Wolf River

From July 21st through the 28th over 4700 fish of thirty-nine

species were recorded from 14 stations. Between station 14 and its

source, it is estimated that the river is 46 miles long. Its drainage

basin down to station 14 is 425 square miles. Physical data are

recorded on Table II.

The Little Wolf River arises from springs and spring ponds in

the southeastern corner of Marathon County, and courses in a

general southeasterly direction into Waupaca County. The first half

of its course drains Kennan loam soil, except where the river cuts

over the northeast corner of Portage County. Here it passes through

a brief sandy area. As the river takes a strong southerly bearing-

in middle Waupaca County, it enters the Miami silt loams and

drains these down to station 14, except for a two-mile stretch of red

clay just north of the city of Manawa (Whitson, 1927).

Impoundments were noted at Galloway (below station 2), above

Riemer’s Ripps (above station 7), Big Falls (below station 8), Lit¬

tle Falls (at station 12), and Manawa (between stations 12 and 13).

Several smaller stone dams erected by landowners were seen in the

upper stretches between stations 1 and 7. The following creeks :

Holt, Bradley, Comet, Flume, Spaulding, Whitcomb, Shaw and

Blake, are the principal tributaries draining the watershed. With

the exception of Shaw Creek, the aforementioned are trout streams,

at least in part.

Upstream from Big Falls the banks are strongly wooded. Hard¬

woods are most common although there is a strong addition of white

cedar between stations 6 and 7. Below Symco the river is more

open. Despite the fact that much farming is carried on here, there

was very little sign of erosive silts except for the area worked at

TABLE II

Little Wolf River Stream Survey Data August 15, 1958

72 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

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station 12. Just above the head of an impoundment was a cattle

crossing. Below this the waters were muddy, and the collection was

i made entirely with a seine.

Plover River

A total of 35 species of fish was recorded from the Plover’s 14

stations. Over 4100 fish were handled. Stations 2 through 13 were

sampled June 23rd to June 27th. Station 14 was sampled July 29th;

station 1, August 11th. The Plover’s drainage area is an estimated

162 square miles. Total length of the stream from its source in

Langlade County to its mouth in Portage County is estimated at

49 miles.

Arising in large springs the Plover begins as a first-class trout

stream. A temperature of 54.9° F. at station 1 was the lowest

recorded anywhere for the summer (Table III). This condition is

soon reversed. At station 4 the temperature has reached the upper

tolerance limit for species like the rainbow and the brown trout.

Few tributaries were seen. The overflow from Pike, Wadley, and

Big Bass lakes joins the river in Marathon County.

The Plover arises in a wooded area, but for most of its course the

banks have been denuded of vegetative cover and farming enter¬

prises are evident. Despite these disturbances the water runs clear

except during periods of excessive precipitation. The upper half of

the stream is in an area of Kennan loam soils, the lower half drains

sandy soils (Whitson, 1927).

The stream bottom is largely gravel. Rubble and boulders are

confined to the upper half of the stream. Generally the river is wide

and shallow. Its volume of flow is quite erratic because of regulation

of water by impoundments. Large dams were noted at Hatley, Jor¬

dan, and McDill, along with another structure at a point two miles

above Jordan. In addition several smaller structures were seen on

private farm lands.

Little Eau Pleine River

From July 6th through the 18th over 3600 individuals of 33 spe¬

cies were examined from the Little Eau Pleine. Nine stations were

plotted in the upper two-thirds of the river. Because the water was

dark and turbid, most of the samples were made with the seine.

Only at stations 5 and 6 was the electrofishing equipment used

exclusively.

Flowing through the southern part of Marathon County from

west to east, the Little Eau Pleine traverses an extremely flat ter¬

rain with very limited gradient. It lies in the southern peneplain

of the Northern Highland (Martin, 1916). The most perceptible

drop was noted at stations 5 and 6, which was immediately re-

TABLE III

Plover River Stream Survey Data August 11, 1958

74 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

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1959]

Becker — Central Wisconsin Fish

75

fleeted in the clearing water and in the occurrence of species like

the stonecat, rainbow darter, smallmouth bass, striped fantail and

rock bass. The remainder of the stream was a series of turbid cur¬

rentless pools, connected by shallow necks filled with vegetation and

rocks.

There were many tributaries coming into the river from the

north and south at right angles to the Eau Pleine bed. For the most

part these tributaries were dry. Occasionally a pool of water re¬

mained but many of these disappeared by the end of August. From

its source to station 8 the soils drained were of the Colby silt loam

type. From that point downstream to station 9 the basic soil is peat.

The Little Eau Pleine is noted for its dense populations of many

species of minnows. By its very nature the river is a series of quiet

minnow ponds. These are deep and have been scooped into the plain

through which the river flows. Even at station 1 we encountered

holes which were too deep for wading and which were estimated to

be over four feet in depth. Although this statement appears con¬

trary to the survey data (Table IV) in which 2.4 feet was the maxi¬

mum depth recorded, it must be emphasized here that the recorded

figure is the maximum depth which appeared in a random sample

for computing the average depth.

The portions of stream sampled passed through extensively

farmed land. Grazing along the banks was common especially along

the upper sections of stream. Footing in the stream proved treach¬

erous because of the heavy clay gumbo which gave way to mud flats

along the bank.

Sedimentary deposits of the Paleozoic era were absent at stations

5 and 6. At these stations igneous boulders and bedrock of pre-

Cambrian origin had been laid bare by stream action. According to

Martin (1916), a pre-Cambrian mountain range formerly covered

the entire Lake Superior Highland region. The Little Eau Pleine

lies entirely in the driftless area of the Wisconsin glaciation

although its headwaters occur within the region of the older drift.

Little Eau Claire River

Twenty-four species representing nine families were identified

from a total of 867 individuals collected at five stations. The Little

Eau Claire is only 17 miles in length and drains a watershed of 63

square miles.

The river bed is located on the edge of the glacial moraine. At

station 5 the water has cut a gully approximately 20 feet deep. The

bottom of the river is underlain with sharp rocks of the igneous

type. This apparently is part of the pre-Cambrian peneplain de¬

scribed for the Little Eau Pleine River. Both rivers join the Wis¬

consin at the Marathon-Portage county line. At station 1 granite

TABLE IV

Little Eau Pleine River Stream Survey Data August 16, 1958

76

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

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Becker — Central Wisconsin Fish

77

constituted a large part of the stream bottom and contributed to

bank outcroppings.

The stations were sampled on July 9th and 10th. At that time

little difficulty was experienced in using the shocking boat, although

it was necessary to drag it every now and then over grassed and

gravelled areas which were overlain with a run of water two to three

inches in depth. Less than a month later, on August 7th, the Little

Eau Claire had become an intermittent stream (Table V). At sta¬

tions 2, 3, and 4 the stream was a series of dead pools separated by

stretches of dry gravel, sand, and grassy swales. At station 4 a

single instance of water trickle between two pools was noted. This

implies that there was possibly a limited amount of water move¬

ment in the form of seepage.

TABLE V

Little Eau Claire River Stream Survey Data August 7, 1958

*LB — light brown.

fT — turbid; ST — slightly turbid.

Intermittency places undue hardship on many fish species. Stream

havens (Paloumpis, 1958) enable the survival of fish species which

normally would disappear in such intermittent waters. These

havens are normally in the form of small tributary streams, iso¬

lated pools in the channel, flood plain ponds and larger permanent

streams which the intermittent streams join.

78 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

The only stream havens noted on this river were the isolated

channel pools. Many of these no longer served as fish habitat due to

their excessive shallowness. At station 2 in one pool less than two

inches deep a dead Johnny darter was recovered. There was no life

in this pool that we could see. A dry bed of 80 feet was measured

between two pools at the same station and a depth of 23.2 inches

was recorded for one pool. Into this a square yard throw net was

lowered and immediately retrieved. The common shiner, brook

stickleback, white sucker and creek chub were taken in numbers

along with many small fry of these fish species.

Concentrations of fish in this one pool indicates that under such

conditions a severe food problem may occur, especially for the young

of the year. Also, due to highly restricted living space, absence of

bank cover and presence of carnivorous minnows, the entrapped fry

would survive poorly. Another pool at the same station yielded

specimens of the red-belly dace, pearl dace and black bullhead in

addition to the aforementioned species.

Another real problem is pointed up when comparing the air and

water temperature data. Extremely high air and water tempera¬

tures during the day fluctuating with correspondingly low tempera¬

tures at night may feasibly press the acclimation ability of certain

fish species. It is possible that the accompanying physiological strain

may result in decimation. This may account for the fact that this

river produced the lowest number of species. *

The Little Eau Claire had nine or 27% fewer species than the

Little Eau Pleine and Plover rivers. Twenty-four species were re¬

corded in all. Despite the fact that equal time and effort was

expended in making collections, the Little Eau Claire produced only

173 specimens per station, the lowest of the five major streams

sampled.

Its banks were overgrown with hardwoods at stations 1 and 5.

All other stations were open and the banks heavily grazed. Kennan

loams overlie the bulk of the drainage area (Whitson, 1927).

Mill Creek

Seventeen species representing six families were collected at two

stations (Map 1). These collections were made at the lower end of

Mill Creek on July 30, 1958. The water was very turbid at the time

and its volume of flow was scarcely sufficient between the long, deep

pools to float the shocking equipment.

This stream flows through the heart of the dairy farm industry

in northern Wood County. It is an open slow-moving stream con¬

sisting mostly of deep pools scoured out of sedimentary deposits.

Mill Creek belongs to the same geological formation described for

1959]

Becker — Central Wisconsin Fish

79

the Little Eau Pleine River and flows parallel with it in the same

general direction. Colby silt loams are the general soil type

(Whitson, 1927).

Haymeadow Creek

Thirteen species representing eight families were collected at

three stations on July 9, 1958 (Map 1). Natives frequently use the

name “Coffee Creek”, an apt description of its dark brown and

highly turbid water. Electrofishing proved virtually useless since it

was impossible to see more than a few inches beneath the surface

and for the most part the stream ran deep. Even at station 1 there

were holes that could not be waded. The bottom was littered with

brush and other snags, making seining very difficult. Consequently

it was felt that this stream got very poor survey coverage.

Peat marsh and low sandy areas constitute the major land types

in its abbreviated drainage area. The flow of the stream was con¬

siderable even when revisited in late August.

The paucity of the minnow species probably reflects the size of

the northern pike population. Our samples turned up several young

of this predator species at stations 1 and 3. The only lawyer col¬

lected during the summer was taken at station 3.

Number of Species Recorded and Factors

in Distribution

The Tomorrow-Waupaca and Little Wolf Rivers, both in the

Great Lakes watershed, produced the greatest number of species

of fish, 41 and 39 respectively. Thirty-five (35) were taken in the

Plover, 33 in the Little Eau Pleine, and 24 in the Little Eau Claire.

Figure 1 shows the number of species recorded per station. It is

evident that the variety of species is fairly high per station in both

the Plover and the Little Eau Pleine despite the fact that the over¬

all species number is not as great as in the Tomorrow-Waupaca and

Little Wolf rivers.

It is likewise evident that species number per station increases

as one moves from headwaters downstream. Correlation coefficients

were calculated between species number and stream width (Fig¬

ure 1 ) . The relationship between stream size and species number

has been reported by Starrett (1950) and Thompson and Hunt

(1930).

An attempt was made to establish correlations between species

number and water temperature (Figure 1). With the exception of

the Plover these coefficients were low. It appears that temperature

is not as reliable a factor in predicting the number of species which

will be encountered as is stream width.

80 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

Becker — Central Wisconsin Fish

81

1959]

However it should be mentioned that species number and distri¬

bution are subject to errors of omission. In rapidly covering three

stations per day, ecological niches harboring remnant populations

may have been overlooked. Three types of data point out this error :

(1) Many of the species recorded at a particular station were

recognized on the recovery of a single individual, showing the

tenuous margin under which our sampling method operated. At sta¬

tion 12 on the Plover River five of the twenty species (25%) were

recorded on the recovery of a single individual of each species;

another, on two individuals. Twelve species out of the 20 (60%)

were represented by seven or less individual fish.

(2) Sampling at three selected stations prior to or subsequent

to the regular survey run raised the number of species by 25%. In

early August during the regular survey run at station 7 of the

Tomorrow-Waupaca River, a total of 13 species was recorded. Sub¬

sequent sampling later that month added the central stoneroller,

the central bigmouth shiner and the largemouth bass, the latter, a

single individual and the only record for that species taken on the

entire stream.

At station 3 of the Tomorrow-Waupaca, a preliminary survey

was made with minnow traps in May and June. At that time the

blacknose dace, the northern redbelly dace and the brook stickle¬

back were taken among others. The regular August survey run

failed to turn up these three species. On the Plover River at station

13 four of the 19 species recorded were the product of repeat sam¬

pling. The above three examples represented increases through

additional sampling by 23%, 27% and 27% respectively.

(3) The importance of repeat sampling is seen most clearly when

the 1958 survey is compared with the work of Greene (1935).

Table VI shows a substantial increase in species number for each

stream, an increase apparently a result of additional sampling, as¬

suming that the composition of the fish species remained the same

since the late 1920’s when Greene did his work.

Greene made a total of nine collections for the entire area — the

1958 survey a total of 59. Greene recorded 44 species; the 1958

study produced 53. Two species, the northern weed shiner ( Notropis

roseas richardsoni Hubbs and Greene) and pugnose shiner (No¬

tropis anogenus Forbes), were taken by Greene on Blake Creek, a

tributary to the Little Wolf River flowing eastward and joining the

Little Wolf midway between stations 11 and 12. Although the 1958

survey did not sample Blake Creek, these additional species were

added as definite records for the area. With subsequent sampling it

is hoped that these forms will turn up not only on Blake Creek but

on other waters.

The possibility exists that both the weed shiner and pugnose

shiner could have been overlooked in our sampling. Both species

TABLE VI

Comparison of Fish Species Numbers, 1928* and 1958

82 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

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1The underlined species were not recorded in 1958.

1959]

Becker — Central Wisconsin Fish

83

were taken infrequently by Greene, the Blake Creek records being

the only ones taken from that part of Central Wisconsin. Starrett

(1950) mentions the delicate balance of conditions in Iowa permit¬

ting the existence of a species in relatively low numbers until a

slight change in environment brings about a dynamic surge in

population.

The blackchin shiner ( Notropis heterodon Cope) and northern

redfm shiner ( Notropis umbratilis cyanocephalus Copeland) were

reported by Greene from the Tomorrow-Waupaca and Plover rivers

respectively, and both from Blake Creek. The 1958 survey failed to

turn up these species probably due to paucity in numbers. It has

already been pointed out that several of the 53 species are listed on

the recovery of one or two individuals.

Illustrative of this are the lawyer (one fish) and the least darter

(two individuals). Repeated attempts were made to recover more

least darters but no additional specimens appeared. It is highly

improbable that our operations took the last two individuals of a

species. The narrowness of the shocking and seining areas, the

limitations of equipment to recover fish, the inaccessibility of deep

holes, physical barriers like dams, logs, boulders and the like — all

operated in favor of the fish. Also fish movements into and out of

an area must be considered.

The longitudinal distribution of an individual species, however,

through analysis of empirical data appears to be a function of both

stream size and water temperature. Large stream size produced

species like the northern logperch, silver redhorse and the spotfin

shiner. Small waters yielded the Iowa darter, northern blacknose

shiner, brook trout and the northern redbelly dace.

This does not necessarily mean that these fish are entirely con¬

fined to headwaters. Several of the above “small-water species”

were taken at downstream stations (e.g., the Iowa darter, taken at

stations 7 and 9 on the Little Eau Pleine River), yet they were

encountered most frequently at the first three or four stations in

the greatest numbers.

In the case of the brook trout we find a correlation with small

stream size not because of any inherent preference for such but

because the water temperature requirement is met. Headwaters are

generally springfed and so they are the only sections of the stream

which keep within the restricted tolerance level of that species.

According to Wisconsin findings (Brasch et al., 1958), the brook

trout will succumb if held at about 77.5° F. for more than a few

hours.

Stream gradient appeared to play an important part in the dis¬

tribution of species like the smallmouth bass, rock bass, stonecat,

longnose dace, rosyface shiner, hog sucker and stoneroller. The

84 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

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86 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

darters as a group were found generally in fast, shallow water with

a rocky or gravelly substrate. A common associate species with the

longnose dace was the hornyhead chub although a high gradient

appeared less important in the distribution of the latter species.

Burton and Odum (1945) and Trautman (1942) discuss at length

the significance of gradient of flow in fish distribution.

Fish Species and Their Distribution

Two groups of fishes particularly well represented in the survey

were the cyprinids and the perch family. Sixty-four percent of the

summer’s catch came from these families. Table VII summarizes

percentagewise the composition of the minnow family. The 8599

individuals collected composed 51% of all the fish taken during the

survey. According to Greene (1935) and Hubbs and Lagler (1958),

37 species and two subspecies of minnows are found in Wisconsin.

The survey recorded a total of 19 species from 10 genera (Table

VII).

Thirteen percent of all fish collected in the survey were members

of the perch family (Table VIII) . They constituted ten species from

five genera. Fourteen species and two subspecies have been listed

from the state.

Table IX lists the ten most common fishes taken on each of the

five major streams. The average number of species per stream is

34; consequently the ten most common represent 29% of the aver¬

age number per stream. It is interesting to note, however, that

those selected species contributed individuals amounting to 86%

of the total catch. This fact supports the contention made earlier

that many species gained listing on the basis of few recoveries.

Seventy-one percent or an average of 24 species per river made up

only 14% of the total catch.

Under each species the name of the river is abbreviated and is

immediately followed by the number (s) of the station (s) where

found :

T — Tomorrow- Waupaca River

LW — Little Wolf River

P — Plover River

LEP — Little Eau Pleine River

LEC — Little Eau Claire River

H — Haymeadow Creek

M — Mill Creek

Common and scientific names follow the revised Hubbs and Lagler

(1958).

1. American Brook Lamprey — Entosphenus l. lamottenii (Le-

Sueur) P 2, 12, 13; LEC 5; H 2. Identification of this species and

1959]

Becker — Central Wisconsin Fish

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I he American brook lamprey and the northern brook lamprey are excluded from this listing since no quantitative data were taken

88 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

the next is based on the adult term only. Since the survey was made

after the normal breeding season for lampreys, few adults were

recovered. Our records extend the range somewhat northward than

that listed by Greene (1935).

Ammocoetes (species undetermined) were taken on the Plover

River 2 through 13; LW 9, 10, 11 ; T 2 through 12.

2. Northern Brook Lamprey — Ichthyomyzon fossor (Reighard

and Cummins) T 4, 7. These are the first records of this species

in Wisconsin’s Great Lakes watershed. Greene (1935) states that

this species is definitely known from the Mississippi drainage in

Wisconsin. Both species of brook lampreys were not treated numeri¬

cally since they were hard to recover. In slow sandy areas, where

they were particularly abundant, an attempt to recover all the

lamprey seen would have resulted in an incomplete treatment of

the other fish species.

3. Brook Trout — Salvelinus fontinalis (Mitchell) T 1, 2, 3, 4;

LW 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 ; P 1, 2, 3, 5, 7. Forty-five brook trout were taken on

the Tomorrow-Waupaca at station 3. These constituted 16% of all

fish counted for that station. On the Little Wolf River 45% of the

fish taken at station 2 were of this species. The best ratio occurred

at station 1 of the Plover River where 84 Salvelinus comprised 59%

of the catch. The majority of these trout were approximately five

inches in length.

This species of trout was by far the most successful and occurred

in colder headwaters over gravel bottoms. From Greene’s (1935)

distribution map it is apparent that this species was taken near the

mouth of the Plover River in the vicinity of station 14. If this should

be a record of an unplanted trout, it implies a profound increase in

water temperatures in the lower Plover since the late 1920’s.

4. Brown Trout — Salmo trutta fario (Linn.) T 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8,

11 : LW 4, 6, 7 ; P 1, 2, 3, 7. On the Tomorrow-Waupaca one or two

individuals were recorded for each of seven stations ; at station 3,

fifteen browns were shocked. The Little Wolf produced ten browns

in all ; the Plover, nine. Larger trout are masters at evading the

electrodes. Often they travel so swiftly that their momentum car¬

ries them through the electrical field, making recovery difficult. In

order to take the smaller fishes the electrodes were held five to seven

feet apart. The trout avoided us most frequently by swinging

around to the outside of the effective shocking area. This was espe¬

cially the case where the river was wide. It is therefore estimated

that only a minor percentage of trout were taken at the lower sta¬

tions where present. The largest brown was taken on the Little

Wolf at station 6 and measured 17". Greene (1935) states; “This

species is now of common distribution in the trout waters of the

1959] Becker — Central Wisconsin Fish 89

state/’ His distribution map includes no records from our study

area.

5. Coast Rainbow Trout — Salmo gairdnerii irideus (Gibbons) T

7, 9; LW 4, 6. A total of 12 rainbow trout (nine from the Little

Wolf) were recorded for the summer. Tolerant of higher water

temperatures than the other trout, the rainbow generally demands

fairly deep rushing water. However, the two largest rainbows, both

14 inches long, were taken in deep smooth-water holes at station 6

on the Little Wolf. No individuals are recorded by Greene (1935)

from the study area.

6. Silver Redhorse — Moxostoma anisurum (Rafinesque) LW 14.

The five individuals taken measured about five inches each in

length. Greene (1935) reports only two collections from the Lake

Michigan drainage basin, both from the Milwaukee River in the

southeastern corner of the state. His other records are distinctly

northwestern in distribution.

7. Northern Redhorse — Moxostoma aureolum (LeSueur) T 12;

P 13, 14 ; M 11. This species appeared in large, fast and clean water.

A 13 inch fish was taken at station 12 on the Tomorrow-Waupaca.

Greene (1935) records this species from none of the survey streams

but has a record for the Big Eau Pleine River.

8. Northern Hog Sucker — Hypentelium nigricans (LeSueur) T 5

through 12; LW 4 through 14; P 4 through 1.2, 14; LEP 5. The hog

sucker frequented swift, clean, and shallow water. In the three

major rivers this species made up 2.1% of the total fish population.

Greene (1935) reported this species from the Little Wolf,

Tomorrow-Waupaca, Plover and the Little Eau Pleine.

9. Common White Sucker — Catostomus c. commersonnii (Lace-

pede) T 1, 2, 3, 5 through 12 ; LW 1 through 12, 14 ; P 2 through 14 ;

LEP 1 through 9; LEG 1 through 5 ; H 1, 2, 3 ; M 11. This species

is the most successful in Central Wisconsin waters. Table IX shows

that the white sucker heads or is near the head of each column.

Poundwise there is little question that it outstrips even the leaders.

Many suckers were encountered which measured 12 to 16 inches.

Suckers this size weigh between a pound and a pound and one-

half. A half dozen such suckers equal the total weight presented by

the 628 longnose dace which numerically head the list for the

Tomorrow-Waupaca River.

The total of 2545 white suckers taken on the five rivers com¬

prised 15% of the 16,918 fishes taken in the survey. It is estimated,

however, that they exceeded in weight the total combined weight of

all the other species. The white sucker was encountered mostly in

the deep holes from which they would boil up by the score. In some

instances we were able to recover but a small percentage of these

90 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

stunned fish. This led to a bias favoring the numbers of minnows

and smaller fish species. Like the hog sucker this species shocked

quickly, although such treatment was seldom fatal. The white sucker

would keep poorly in the holding tank on hot days.

Greene (1935) claims this species as the most abundant of Wis¬

consin fishes. It appeared in 568 out of 1441 or 39% of his collec¬

tions. In the 1958 survey it appeared in 56 out of 59 or 95% of the

collections.

10. Carp — Cyprinus carpio (Linn.) T 5, 6, 7, 12; M 11, 12. The

nine carp taken on the Tomorrow-Waupaca were found within short

distances of impoundments. This “spillover” from artificial lakes

was noted in other species. It is doubtful that any reproduction of

carp takes place in the stream proper. The three fish taken at sta¬

tion 7 weighed 5 lbs. 11 oz., 7 lbs. 11 oz., and 11 lbs. 14 oz. The last

measured 29*4 inches in length. Considerable carp reproduction has

been reported from the Nelsonville pond between stations 4 and 5.

Greene’s distributional map (1935) shows this species from the

southern half of the state with no record from Marathon, Wood and

Portage counties.

11. Central Stoneroller — Campostoma anomalum pullum (Agas¬

siz) T 6, 7, 8, 12; P 3, 4, 7, 8, 10, 12, 13, 14; LEP 5, 6; H 3. The

largest populations were encountered in the lower reaches of the

Tomorrow-Waupaca and the Plover rivers. At station 12 of the

former, 14% of the total fish taken were of this species; on the

Plover at station 14 they constituted 25% of the take. This minnow

is found only in swift water and apparently is more successful in

warmer water. It is the softest bodied of all minnows handled and

disintegrates rapidly after death unless fixed with preservative.

Greene (1935) has records from the Tomorrow-Waupaca and

Plover rivers and Mill Creek. Although there were many stretches

on the Little Wolf River qualifying for stoneroller habitat, neither

survey recovered it there.

12. Great Lakes Longnose Dace — Rhinichthys c. cataractae (Va¬

lenciennes) T 6 through 12; LW 3 through 9, 13, 14; P 3, 4, 12, 13.

The longnose dace is the most successful fish on the Tomorrow-

Waupaca River, comprising 17% of the total catch. At station 6 the

174 individuals taken constituted 58% of the catch; at station 7,

68%. On the Little Wolf River the largest catch was taken at sta¬

tion 5 where 125 represented 25% of the total fish recovered. This

dace was found only in clean, torrential waters where it often was

the only fish taken. Occasional associate species are the hog sucker,

stoneroller, common shiner and the hornyhead chub, the last two

generally found at the edges of the fast water or in deep pools

among the rocks. Greene ( 1935) took this minnow on the Tomorrow-

1959]

Becker — Central Wisconsin Fish

91

Waupaca and Little Wolf rivers. During the 1958 survey nineteen

individuals were recovered from four stations on the Plover River.

13. Western Blacknose Dace — Rhinichthys atratulus meleagris

(Agassiz) T 2 through 11; LW 2 through 8; P 2 through 13; LEP

1, 2; LEC 2. A sympatric species of the aforementioned dace, the

blacknose is more generally distributed and successful in a greater

variety of habitats. From the numerical data at hand it appears

that the blacknose prefers cool, clean water flowing at a great

variety of gradients. Almost 14% of all the fish taken on the Little

Wolf River was of this species as well as 39% of the fish taken at

station 3. At station 5 on the Tomorrow-Waupaca 235 individuals

made up 44% of the station’s catch.

The position of this minnow on the Little Eau Pleine and Little

Eau Claire rivers is tenuous. Seven fish were found in the former

and, in the latter, a single specimen. Greene (1935) lists it from

the Tomorrow-Waupaca, Little Wolf and Plover rivers, and from

Haymeadow Creek. The 1958 survey failed to reveal its presence in

Haymeadow. It is felt that the paucity of minnows in this creek is

due to the present large northern pike population. Subsequent care¬

ful sampling should be made to determine whether a remnant

population still remains.

14. Hornyhead Chub — Hybopsis biguttata (Kirtland) T 6, 7, 8,

9, 12; LW 8 through 14; P 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 10 through 14; LEP 2, 5

through 9. Table IX shows the horynhead present but not common

in three rivers. The best ratio of hornyhead chub to the station

catch was 50% recorded from station 6 on the Little Eau Pleine

River. This minnow prefers swift clean water. On August 22 it was

taken from over several nests at station 6 on the Little Wolf River.

Two males, 5.3 and 6.0 inches in length, were in breeding habit; a

gravid female measured 5.0 inches.

Although this species seems to do better in clean water, it was

taken consistently in low numbers in muddy waters. That this is

unusual is testified to by Hubbs and Cooper (1936) who point out

“the absence of this species in muddy, silt-bottomed and stagnant

waters.” It was seldom taken with trout and was found mainly in

the middle and lower sections of the streams surveyed in warmer

water.

From external appearances the Little Eau Claire River should

support this species since the gravel bottom appeared ideal for

spawning purposes. The absence of the hornyhead probably is due

to the intermittent nature of the stream. A similar situation exists

in Boone County, Iowa, where Starrett (1950) reports the pres¬

ence of this minnow in low numbers in the Des Moines and its

tributaries. However it is totally absent in Squaw Creek, an inter-

92 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

mittent stream (Paloumpis, 1958). Greene (1935) reports this

species from the same streams where taken in the 1958 survey.

15. Northern Creek Chub — Semotilus a . atromaculatus (Mitch-

ill) T 1, 2, 3, 5 through 12; LW 1 through 9; P 2 through 13; LEP

1, 2, 3, 4, 6; LEC 1 through 5. Six percent of total fish on the above

streams were from this species. Its frequency percent is 73% when

calculated for all collections made. The creek chub was the third

most commonly encountered fish in the survey. Several males with

breeding tubercles were taken in late June and beginning July. In¬

dividuals were taken up to eight inches in length. The creek chub

appeared to do best in clear cooler waters but it was found in warm,

muddy waters in decreasing numbers. At station 3 on the Little

Wolf River 143 individuals made up 44% of the station’s catch.

Greene (1935) found this minnow in 31% of his collections, second

to the common white sucker (39%) which appeared most

frequently.

16. Northern Pearl Dace — Semotilus margarita nachtriebi (Cox)

T 1, 2, 3, 6; LW 1 through 6; P 2, 11; LEP 4; LEC 1, 2, 3. On the

larger rivers there is good correlation between the presence of this

species and the brook trout. Its presence on the Little Eau Pleine

and the Little Eau Claire refutes such contention for an indicator

species. Apparently its presence is not a function of low tempera¬

ture as much as it is of small water. The pearl dace is found in

greatest numbers in very narrow waters and is able to survive

fairly well in intermittent water (as indicated in the discussion on

the Little Eau Claire River) . At station 2 over nine percent of the

fish taken were of this species. The best catch was made at station 1

on the Tomorrow-Waupaca River where the 81 individuals made up

30.4% of the station catch. This incidentally was the station with

the smallest average width. The water itself was obscured from

view by an overgrowth from small willows. No current was dis¬

cernible. Greene (1935) took this species on the upper Tomorrow-

Waupaca and Plover rivers.

17. Northern Redbelly Dace — Chrosomus eos (Cope) T 1, 2, 3;

LW 1, 2, 3 ; P 5, 9, 10, 11 ; LEP 1, 2, 3, 4 ; LEC 1, 2, 3. The range of

this species correlated very well with the foregoing species. Its dis¬

tribution favored small waters and on the intermittent Eau Claire

River it made up 4.6% of all fish taken. Fifty-three specimens were

taken at station 1 on the Little Eau Pleine River. This was 8.8% of

all fish collected there. The majority (78%) of this species was col¬

lected from turbid water. Greene (1935) reports this species from

the Little Eau Pleine River.

18. Western Golden Shiner — Notemigonus crysoleucas auratus

(Rafinesque) T 9 ; LW 1 ; LEP 2, 3, 9 ; LEC 5 ; H 1. Primarily a lake

1959]

Becker — Central Wisconsin Fish

98

minnow, the golden shiner was represented in the summer catch by

only 29 individuals. Fifteen of these were recorded from station 1

on Haymeadow Creek, amounting to 32% of the station’s catch.

Greene (1935) reported this minnow from the Plover River, Little

Eau Pleine River and Mill Creek.

19. Northern Fathead Minnow — Pimephales p. promelas (Raf-

inesque) T 6 ; LW 1 ; LEP 1, 2, 3, 4 ; LEC 4. Only 24 specimens were

taken during the summer. The five individuals recorded from sta¬

tion 6 of the Tomorrow-Waupaca probably represent escapes from

bait minnow holding ponds one-half mile upstream from where the

samples were taken. The heavy silt load of the upper stations of the

Little Eau Pleine and the series of ponds which make up its course

seem favorable habitat for fathead minnow production; however,

only fifteen individuals were taken at four stations. Since this river

is tapped heavily by bait dealers and since the fathead is a good

hardy summer minnow, it may be that this species has suffered

accordingly. Commercial over-exploitation of minnow population

has been discussed by Eddy and Surber (1947). On the other hand

many streams can sustain even greater exploitation (Brynildson,

1959). Greene (1935) reports this fish from the upper portion of

Mill Creek.

20. Bluntnose Minnow — Pimephales notatus (Rafinesque) T 5, 6,

9, 10, 11, 12 ; LW 6 through 12 ; P 3 through 14 ; LEP 2, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9 ;

LEC 4, 5; M 11, 12. Frequency in occurrence of this species is 59%.

Although distributed throughout most of the streams except for the

headwaters, the bluntnose is more common in the lower reaches. It

is adapted to a variety of water temperatures and habitats. At sta¬

tion 14 on the Plover 322 bluntnose were taken in a total catch of

621 fish. This preponderance (53.5%) may be ascribed to man un¬

wittingly abetting the fish’s breeding requirements. This station is

situated below an impoundment and the stream is flanked on the

east bank by a city park. To keep the erosive effects of the river in

tow, planks had been driven into the bank. The exposed ends of the

planks are jutting several feet out into the water and are entirely

under the water’s surface. Schools of hundreds of bluntnose moved

in and out from under the planks or through the openings sur¬

rounded by Potamogeton sp.. Since this minnow demands the under

surface of a log, board or rock against which to deposit its eggs

(Hubbs and Cooper, 1936), man in his soil-conservation move has

promoted a bluntnose irruption. Other sizeable populations were

encountered at station 12 on the Little Wolf (41.6%) and at station

8 on the Little Eau Pleine (32.2%). Greene (1935) records this

species from all streams except Haymeadow Creek and the

Tomorrow-Waupaca, although he found it in tributaries of the

latter. The 1958 survey found 29 individuals of this species in the

94 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

Tomorrow- Waupaca, constituting 0.8% of the total fish population

recovered. If the bluntnose population some 30 years ago was no

greater then than it is now, it isn't difficult to understand why it

was overlooked in Greene's two collections.

21. Brassy Minnow — Hybognathus hankinsoni (Hubbs) LW 5;

LEP 1, 2, 3, 4, 8. The turbid pond-like pools of the Little Eau Pleine

River produced 36 individuals or 1.0% of the total catch on that

river. Greene (1935) reports this species only from the Big Eau;

Pleine River in this four-county area.

22. Northern Common Shiner — Notropis cornutus frontalis

(Agassiz) T 2 through 12; LW 3 through 14; P 2 through 14; LEP

1 through 9 ; LEC 2, 3, 4, 5. The common shiner occurred in 85% of '

the summer's collections, outstripping all species of fish with the

exception of the common white sucker. It was found under a wide ‘

variety of conditions — clean, cool, torrential water (station 3 of the

Plover River) to muddy, warm, stagnant water (lower stations of

the Little Eau Pleine and the Little Eau Claire rivers). River size

apparently has little effect on its distribution. This species has been

taken from a culvert a foot in diameter through which was flowing

water from a warm lake at the rate of a gallon per second. How¬

ever under excellent collecting conditions we failed to recover the ;

common shiner at stations 1 on four rivers and at station 2 for the

Little Wolf. The gravel necessary for breeding is found at all the

above stations. What then are the limiting factors? Hubbs and

Cooper (1936) write: “The rather limited spawning season extends

from the latter part of May into June, and spawning probably i

rarely occurs at water temperatures lower than 60° to 65° F."

August temperatures at all headwaters stations were 66° or less

(except for a 75° F. on the Tomorrow-Waupaca) . If water tem¬

peratures even late in the season are at the lower breeding limits,

then during the breeding season in May and June they probably

are even lower. It appears then that for the most part headwaters

stations are too cold to allow spawning. A 6.3-inch male in breeding

habit was taken at station 6 on the Plover River, June 24th. Several

gravid females were taken at the same time. Greene (1935)

recorded its distribution throughout the area.

23. Rosyface Shiner — Notropis rubellus (Agassiz) T9, 12; LW

9, 11, 14; P 12, 13; LEP 5. A minnow of medium or big clear and

swift water, the rosyface shiner occurred in 14% of all collections.

The 104 individuals belie this frequency, since they constitute but

0.6% of the total summer's catch. Ninety-three (93) individuals of

the 104 were taken from two stations — 71 at station 12 of the

Tomorrow-Waupaca and 22 at station 14 of the Little Wolf, 17.9%

and 11.2% respectively of the stations' total catches. This species

1959]

Becker — Central Wisconsin Fish

95

schools near the upper stratum of the water. This placed the rosy-

face above the most effective range of the electrodes which were

slid along the stream bottom. Since minnows were among the most

difficult fish to shock, the swimming habit of the rosyface undoubt¬

edly worked in its favor. It is probable that the recovery rate of this

minnow is lower than for any other member of its family. Several

schools of this minnow numbering as large as the entire summer’s

catch were observed swimming past us. Greene (1935) reported

this species from the Tomorrow- Waupaca and the Little Wolf

rivers.

24. Spotfin Shiner — Notropis spilopterus (Cope) T 12; LW 10,

11, 12, 14. Two individuals were recorded from the Tomorrow-

Waupaca, the remaining 26 from the Little Wolf. Sixteen fish were

taken at station 11 on the latter. A 3 inch male in breeding habit

was recovered at station 12 on July 22nd and a 4 inch male in

breeding habit at station 11 on the same day. Greene (1935)

reports this species from the lower Little Wolf River.

25. Northern Blacknose Shiner — Notropis h. heterolepis (Eigen-

mann and Eigenmann) T 1, 3; LW 1; P 1, 2; LEP 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7,

8, 9; LEC 3, 4; H 1. Greene (1935) writes: ‘‘Somewhat paradoxi¬

cally this minnow inhabits smaller streams and lakes in Wisconsin

but generally avoids the larger rivers.” The 1958 survey found this

species concentrated in the narrow headwaters of the Little Wolf

and Plover or in rivers like the Little Eau Pleine and the Little Eau

Claire which consist of a series of pools. These pools assume the

character of the “smaller . . . lakes” which Greene refers to. This

minnow was found in clear and muddy water, the coldest and the

warmest water, in swift current and in still water. If the water is

running the stream size must be small ; if the water is quiet, the

body of water may be considerable.

At station 2 on the Little Eau Pleine 143 blacknose shiners made

up 19.1% of the station’s catch; at station 4 one hundred and

twenty-four made up 19.8% of the station’s catch. The 45 indi¬

viduals taken at station 1 on the Plover represented 31.3% of the

'station’s catch; 39 fish at station 1 on the Little Wolf, 21.4%. Greene

(1935) records this species on the lower Plover, middle Little Wolf,

and lower Mill Creek.

26. Northeastern Sand Shiner — Notropis deliciosus stramineus

(Cope) T 12; LW 11. The 24 individuals taken at station 12 on the

Tomorrow-Waupaca constituted 6.1% of the station’s catch. Greene

(1935) reports no specimens for these streams.

27. Central Bigmouth Shiner — Notropis d. dorsalis (Agassiz) T

7, 10; P 8, 9, 10, 11, 13, 14; LEP 2, 4, 8 ; LEC 4. This species was

taken in 20% of the 1958 collections. Twenty-seven fish at station 2

96 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

on the Little Eau Pleine comprised 3.6% of the station’s catch;

twenty-eight at station 4, 4.5%. Greene (1935) reports this species

from the upper and lower portions of Mill Creek.

28. Northern Mimic Shiner — Notropis v. volucellus (Cope) T 12;

LW 12 ; M 11, 12. This species appeared at only seven percent of the

stations sampled. Primarily a lake species, in the streams where

found the mimic was taken in big water. Of the 37 individuals col¬

lected 29 were taken at the lower end of Mill Creek. At this point

the creek meets a lake-like backwater from the Wisconsin River.

These minnows were travelling in the shallows in a closely-knit

school. The take at station 12 on Mill Creek represented 51% of the

station’s total fish catch. Greene (1935) reports this species from

the Little Wolf, Tomorrow-Waupaca and Mill Creek.

29. Northern Brown Bullhead — Ictalurus n. nebulosus (LeSueur)

H 3. This species is reported on the basis of a single individual,

7.2 inches in length. Greene (1935) records this species only once

in the four-county area. His sample was taken at the mouth of Mill

Creek.

30. Northern Yellow Bullhead — Ictalurus n. natalis (LeSueur)

T 6, 7 ; LW 14; LEP 5, 6, 7, 8; M 11. This species appeared in 14%

of the collections. It occurred most frequently in deep still pools.

The Tomorrow-Waupaca specimens were probably escapes from

the impoundments found just above stations, 6 and 7. Eight of the

twenty individuals taken during the summer were recorded from

station 5 on the Little Eau Pleine. They comprised 3.6% of the sta¬

tion catch. Greene’s (1935) only record for this species in the four-

county area was taken at the mouth of Mill Creek.

31. Northern Black Bullhead — Ictalurus m. melas (Rafmesque)

P 5, 10; LEP 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9 ; LEC 2, 4, 5 ; M 11, 12. This species

appeared at 24% of the stations sampled. Sixty-five specimens were

taken on the Little Eau Pleine; 23 or 3.3% at station 3. The 12 indi¬

viduals taken at station 9 on the same river comprised 7.4% of the

station’s catch. Greene (1935) records the black bullhead from the

lower Little Wolf, lower Haymeadow Creek and from the middle

portion of the Little Eau Pleine.

32. Stonecat — Noturus flavus (Rafmesque) LW 9, 13, 14; P 4,

8, 10, 11, 12, 14; LEP 5, 6. The stonecat was encountered in clear,

often fast, water in the vicinity of large rocks or boulders. It is pri¬

marily a fish of middle- or large-sized water and occurred at 19%

of the stations sampled. Twenty-six individuals of the summer’s

catch (42) were taken on the Plover River. Twelve of the 26 were

collected at station 14. Greene (1935) reports the stonecat from the

lower portion of the Little Wolf River.

1959]

Becker — Central Wisconsin Fish

97

33. Tadpole Madtom — Schilbeodes gyrinus (Mitchill) T 6; LW

12; LEP 7, 8, 9; LEG 4; M 11. The tadpole madtom appeared in

12% of the collections. It was encountered most commonly in silty

water. Seven of the 23 fish recorded for the summer were taken at

station 11 on Mill Creek. They comprised 8.8% of the station’s

catch. Greene (1935) records this species from the mouth of Mill

Creek.

34. Central Mudminnow — Umbra limi (Kirtland) T 1, 3; LW 1,

2, 11 ; P 10, 11, 13 ; LEP 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9 ; LEG 1 through 5 ; H 1,

2, 3. The mudminnow occurred at 41% of the stations sampled.

This small fish preferred silty waters and was found most fre¬

quently at the vegetated edges of streams where the water was only

three to five inches in depth. In such habitat they were virtually the

only species taken. Apparently cold water temperatures are no

drawback to the continuance of this species. On the Tomorrow-

Waupaca seven individuals were recorded from station 1 ; on the

Little Wolf three were recorded from stations 1 and 2. At station 3

on the Little Eau Pleine River 174 specimens comprised 25.2% of

the station’s catch ; at station 3 of the Little Eau Claire, 245 speci¬

mens comprised 70.3% of the station’s catch. This fish was the most

successful on the intermittent Little Eau Claire, where it yielded

44.1% of all the fish taken from the river. Greene (1935) records

this species from all streams with the exception of the Little Eau

Pleine and the Little Eau Claire. He did not sample the latter.

35. Northern Pike — Esox lucius (Linn.) T 12; P 13; LEP 7, 8,

9; LEC 5; H 1, 3; M 11. This species appeared in 15% of the col¬

lections. Its distribution is probably more general than is indicated

above. Because of its size and speed, individuals avoided our gear

and recovery was poor. Several young four to five inches in length

were taken on Haymeadow Creek. Greene (1935) records it from

the lower parts of the Little Wolf River and Mill Creek.

36. Yellow Perch — Perea flavescens (Mitchill) T 5; LEP 7, 8, 9;

LEC 4, 5; H 3. Six perch were taken on the Tomorrow-Waupaca

River, probably spillover from the Nelsonville millpond. Forty-two

(42) perch taken at station 9 of the Little Eau Pleine made up

25.9% of the station’s catch. At station 5 of the Little Eau Claire

22 individuals constituted 15.8% of the station’s fish. Greene (1935)

reports this species from the mouth of Mill Creek, the upper

Tomorrow-Waupaca and the middle and lower portions of the Little

Wolf River.

37. Yellow Walleye— -Stizostedion v. vitreum (Mitchill) M 12.

This single record, based on a single specimen 10.2 inches long, in

no wise portrays the distribution of this species in Central Wiscon¬

sin. Walleyes have been reported taken from the three major rivers

98 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

and from the Little Eau Pleine. Greene (1935) has no reports from

the survey streams.

38. Blackside Darter — Hadropterus maculatus (Girard) T 11;

LW 4 through 12, 14; P 3 through 11, 14; LEP 1 through 9; LEC

4, 5 ; H 1 ; M 11, 12. Taken at 58% of the stations, the blackside is

the most successful member of its family next to the Johnny darter.

The blackside was found in shallow, fast water, in deep, slow pools

and even where the water became extremely silty and warm. Ex¬

tremely small, cold water streams limit its distribution. Greene

(1935) took this species from the Little Eau Pleine, Little Wolf and

Mill Creek.

39. Northern Logperch — Percina caprodes semifasciata (De-

Kay) T9, 12 ; LW 13, 14 ; LEC 5 ; M 12. Schools of this species were

seen several times at stations 13 and 14 on the Little Wolf River.

Forty-two (42) specimens from station 13 constituted 43.8% of the

station’s catch. The logperch requires medium to large-sized water.

Greene (1935) reports this species from the lower portion of the

Little Wolf River.

40. Central Johnny Darter — Etheostoma n. nigrum (Rafinesque)

T 2, 4, 5, 6, 8 through 12 ; LW 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10 ; P 3 through 14 ; LEP

all stations except 6; LEC 2, 3, 4, 5 ; H 1 ; M 11. The Johnny darter

was taken at 70% of the collection sites under a wide variety of

water conditions. Like the blackside darter this species was com¬

monly taken in slow water over mud or s&nd — habitat not fre¬

quented by the other members of the darter group. At station 2 on

the Tomorrow-Waupaca 65, or 19.8% of the station’s fish were of

this species. It constituted over 5% of all the fish handled in the

survey. Greene (1935) does not record this species from the Little

Eau Pleine.

41. Least Darter — Etheostoma micro per ca (Jordan & Gilbert)

P 13. Two individuals taken on June 23, 1.3 inches in length, are

the only record we have of this species, although subsequent trips

were made to the same station in attempts to recover more speci¬

mens. Greene (1935) did not record the least darter from the four-

county area. He found it most frequently in the waters of the

extreme southeastern corner of the state and this abundance con¬

tinues down into the northeastern corner of Illinois (Forbes and

Richardson, 1908). It is reported as very rare from the remainder

of Illinois.

42. Eastern Banded Darter — Etheostoma z. zonale (Cope) T 7,

9, 10, 11, 12; LW 5 through 11, 13, 14 ; P 4 through 12, 14. This

species appeared in 41 % of the collections and was a fairly common

darter in medium-sized to large swift water with clean gravel- or

rubble-swept bottom. Greene’s (1935) records include only the

1959]

Becker — Central Wisconsm Fish

99

downstream portions of the Tomorrow-Waupaca and the Little

Wolf rivers.

43. Rainbow Darter — Etheostoma caeruleum (Storer) T 9, 10,

12 ; P 4 through 14 ; LEP 5, 6. This species appeared in 27 % of the

collections. Its habitat requirements are very much the same as

those of the preceding species although the rainbow darter seemed

to frequent heavier rubble more often. Both darters were recov¬

ered most frequently from water a foot or less in depth. At station

12 on the Tomorrow-Waupaca 48 individuals constituted 12.1% of

the station’s catch. The movement northward of this species in the

Lake Michigan watershed was predicted by Greene (1935) who

records this species in the upper Fox waterway as a form which

apparently had crossed over the divide from the Wisconsin system

at Portage. If this species continues its spread, it should be found

in the Little Wolf shortly. Greene (1935) reports this species from

the lower portions of the Plover River and Mill Creek.

44. Iowa Darter — Etheostoma exile (Girard) LW 1, 6; LEP 7,

9; LEC 2, 3, 4, 5. The Iowa darter was taken from slow, often tur¬

bid, water under great extremes in water temperatures. Forty-

eight individuals from station 1 on the Little Wolf made up 26.4%

of the total catch at that station. Greene (1935) records this species

from the middle portion of the Plover River.

45. Striped Fantail — Etheostoma flabellare lineolatum (Agassiz)

T 2, 10; LW 10; P 3 through 14; LEP 5, 6; LEC 5 ; M 12. The fan-

tail was taken in 32% of the collections. Shallow, clear and swift

water over gravel and rubble provide the demands of the species.

Sixty (60) specimens, taken at station 6 on the Plover River, con¬

stituted 13.8% of the station’s catch. Many of the stations which

were sampled on the Tomorrow-Waupaca and Little Wolf rivers and

which appeared to be typical fantail water failed to yield the spe¬

cies in our survey. No ready explanation is available to account for

this discontinuity of distribution. Greene (1935) records this spe¬

cies for the Plover, Tomorrow-Waupaca, Little Wolf and lower Mill

Creek.

46. Northern Smallmouth Bass — Micropterus cl. dolomieu (Lace-

pede) LW 9, 10, 12, 13, 14; P 13, 14; LEP 5, 6, 9. The smallmouth

appeared in 17% of the collections. It was taken generally from

fast, deep holes in clear water. The slow, highly turbid water at

station 9 on the Little Eau Pleine produced a single fry. Fourteen

individuals taken at station 6 on the same river constituted 9.3%

of the station’s catch. Greene (1935) records a collection at the

mouth of Mill Creek.

47. Northern Largemouth Bass — Micropterus s. salmoides

(Lacepede) T 7; P 12; M 12. Although a common resident of the

100 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

millponds, this form was only taken three times during the survey

in flowing water. The Plover River record is based on a 3.3 inch !

specimen picked up dead and it probably represents a spillover from 1

the impoundment just upstream. Greene (1935) reports this spe¬

cies from lower Mill Creek and the middle portion of the Little :

Wolf. I

48. Pumpkinseed — Lepomis gibbosus (Linn.) T 9; LW 1, 2; P

10, 12, 14; LEP 3, 5, 6, 7, 8 ; LEC 4, 5. The pumpkinseed along with ■

the rock bass were the most successfully distributed members of

the sunfish family. Fifty-three (53) pumpkinseeds were taken at

22% of the stations under a great variety of temperature and tur¬

bidity conditions. At station 1 on the Little Wolf nineteen (19) in- '

dividuals made up 10.4% of the station’s catch. Greene (1935) col- !

lected this species on the mid-portion of the Little Wolf.

I

49. Common Bluegill — Lepomis m. machrochirus (Rafinesque) T

3; LW 12; P 3; LEP 9; M 12. A total of 15 individuals were taken

in the survey. Like the largemouth, this species is a product of

ponds. The seven individuals recorded at station 12 on the Little

Wolf were taken from a small weed-filled impoundment. Greene

(1935) took a sample from the mid-portion of the Little Wolf. An¬

other record based on literature or report is listed for the mouth of

the Plover.

*

50. Northern Rock Bass — Ambloplites r. rupestris (Rafinesque)

LW 7 through 11, 13, 14; LEP 2, 4, 5, 6 ; M 11, 12. This species

appeared in 22% of the samples. One hundred and seventy-eight

(178) individuals were taken on the Little Wolf; the 40 collected

at station 8 constituted 13.0% of the station’s catch. This species

was generally taken in clear fast water in the vicinity of heavy

rubble and boulders. Greene (1935) records this species above the

mid-part of the Little Eau Pleine, at the mouths of Mill Creek and

the Little Wolf. Although there are likely-appearing rock bass

waters on the Plover and Tomorrow- Waupaca rivers, neither

Greene’s nor the present survey turned up a single individual of

this species.

51. Northern Mottled Sculpin — Cottus b. bairdii (Girard) T 1

through 7, 9, 10, 11 ; LW 1 through 8; P 1, 2, 3, 7, 13. The northern

muddler was taken at 39% of the survey stations. Although this

species is often considered an indicator species for trout, there is

evidence that it can tolerate higher temperatures than the most

temperature-tolerant trout, the rainbow. Found mostly on clear,

cool, gravel-strewn bottoms, the muddler frequently drifted out

from under boulders or other natural shelters. This species consti¬

tuted 11.2% (411 individuals) of all the fish taken on the

Tomorrow-Waupaca River; at station 4, the 127 specimens com-

1959]

Becker — Central Wisconsin Fish

101

prised 76.1% of the station’s catch. Greene (1935) collected this

species on the upper Tomorrow, along the length of the Little Wolf

and at the mouth of the Plover.

52. Brook Stickleback — Eucalia inconstans (Kirtland) T 3, 5;

LW 1, 6; P 3, 11; LEP 1, 2, 3, 4, 9; LEC 1, 2, 3. The stickleback

appeared in 24% of all the collections. Although taken in small, cool

headwaters and so conforming with the ‘‘brook” portion of its

name, this species occurred in greater numbers in the turbid pond¬

like waters of the Little Eau Pleine. Eight hundred and fifty-one

(851) individuals were taken from this river out of a total of 892

collected during the survey. Some workers are beginning to recog¬

nize that mushrooming numbers of this species are an indication

of water pollution. The 378 individuals collected at station 1 on the

Little Eau Pleine represented 62.5% of the station’s catch. On the

same river the stickleback made up 23.3% of the total catch.

This species survives under intermittent stream conditions. On

the Little Eau Claire on August 7, 1958, the stickleback was recov¬

ered from a warm pool (76.4° F.) with extreme depth of 22.3

inches along with the common shiner, common white sucker and

northern creek chub. Greene (1935) collected the stickleback from

the upper portion of Mill Creek and lower Little Wolf River.

53. American Burbot — Lota lota lacustris (Walbaum) H 3. The

; presence of the lawyer is based on a single specimen, 3.5 inches in

length. Greene (1935) records this species from the mouth of the

i Plover and the middle and lower parts of the Little Wolf.

Addenda

Three additional species were taken in the Tomorrow- Waupaca

at station 7 in April and May, 1959. The first two of the following

are cyprinids and the third, a centrarchid :

54. Southern Redbelly Dace — Chrosomus erythrogaster (Rafin-

esque) T 7. A single specimen, 2.5 inches long, was recovered on

April 25, 1959. Another specimen, a gravid female 3.2 inches long,

was taken on May 4, 1959. Greene (1935) reports this species from

the lower part of the Plover River.

55. Lake Emerald Shiner — Notropis atherinoides acutus (Lap-

ham) T 7. An individual 4.5 inches in length was taken from a

deep hole on April 25, 1959. It is felt that this minnow is an escape

from the bait minnow ponds located at Amherst. During the winter

months the dealer dealt principally in this species which was netted

in quantities from Lake Michigan ports. Greene (1935) reports

that this species is seldom taken from smaller streams. He has no

records from the four-county area.

102 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

56. Black Crappie — Pomoxis nigromaculatus (LeSueur) T 7. A

small crappie 3.1 inches in length was taken from a slow-moving

deep pool on April 25, 1959. This individual is undoubtedly a spill¬

over from the Amherst pond. Greene (1935) records this species

from Western and Southern Wisconsin. He has no record from the

survey streams.

References Cited

Becker, George C. 1952. Preliminary survey of Rocky Run Creek, Columbia

Co., Wisconsin. Unpub. Manuscript . Wisconsin Conservation Department ,

1-59.

Brasch, John, James McFadden & Stanley Kmiotek. 1958. The Eastern

Brook Trout, its life history, ecology, and management. Wisconsin Con¬

servation Department. Pub. 226:1-11.

Brynildson, Clifford L. 1959. Utilization of suckers and minnows. Wis. Cons.

Bull 24 (May) : 30-32.

Burton, George W. and E. P. Odum. 1945. The distribution of stream fish in

the vicinity of Mountain Lake, Virginia. Ecology, 26:182-194.

Eddy, Samuel and Thaddeus Surber. 1947. Northern fishes. Univ. Minn.

Press: 276 pp.

Forbes, Stephen A., and Robert E. Richardson. 1908. The fishes of Illinois.

III. Nat. Hist. Surv. Bull. 3:357 pp.

Greene, C. Willard. 1935. The distribution of Wisconsin fishes. Wisconsin

Conservation Commission : 235 pp.

Hubbs, Carl L. and Gerald Cooper, 1936. Minnows of Michigan. Cranbrook

Instit. of Sci. Bull. 8:84 pp.

Hubbs, Carl L. and Karl F. Lagler. 1958. Fishes o*f the Great Lakes region

(revised edit.). Cranbrook Instit. of Sci. Bull. 26:213 pp.

Martin, Lawrence. 1916. The physical geography of Wisconsin. Wis. Geol. &

Nat. Hist. Surv. Bull 36:549 pp.

Paloumpis, Andreas A. 1958. Responses of some minnows to flood and drought

conditions in an intermittent stream. Ioiva State Coll Journ. of Sci. 32:

547-561.

Starrett, William C. 1950. Distribution of fishes of Boone County, Iowa, with

special reference to the minnows and darters. Amer. Mid. Nat. 43:112-127.

Thompson, David H. and Francis D. Hunt. 1930. The fishes of Champaign

county. III. Nat. Hist. Surv. 19:101 pp.

Trautman, Milton B. 1942. Fish distribution and abundance correlated with

stream gradients as a consideration in stocking programs. Trans. 7th N.

Amer. Wild!. Conf. for 19A2: 211-214.

USDA Yearbook. 1941. Climate and man. U. S. Govt. Print. Off. House Doc.

No. 27 :1248 pp.

Whitson, A. R. 1927 — Soils of Wisconsin. Wis. Geol & Nat. Hist. Surv. Bull \

68:270 pp.

THE ELATERIDAE OF WISCONSIN1

I. A List of the Species Found in Wisconsin and Keys to the

Identification of Genera of Adults and Larvae

James R. Dogger2

North Carolina State College

The click beetles and wireworms which make up the family

Elateridae are familiar insects to a large part of the rural popu¬

lation of Wisconsin. In most cases the adult and larvae are not rec¬

ognized as different stages of the same insect, but each claims

attention in its own way. The adults are known for their ability,

when placed on their backs, to spring into the air with an audible

click which has earned them their common name. On the other hand,

the larvae are best known as destroyers of newly planted corn and

potatoes and are the cause of replanting or abandonment of certain

fields.

Previous published work on the Elateridae in Wisconsin is scanty

and consists mainly of short notes in Extension publications or in

the Annual Reports of the Wisconsin Agricultural Experiment

Station.

Similar work on the Elateridae of other states has been done in

Indiana by Blatchley (1910), in Maine by Hawkins (1936), in

Pennsylvania by Thomas (1941), in New York by Dietrich (1945),

in South Dakota by Severin (1949) and in Georgia by Fattig

(1951).

The purpose in making the present study was twofold. The first

objective was to provide a means of recognizing adult and larval

Elaterids occurring in Wisconsin. This includes (1) keys con¬

structed for the identification of genera and species by means of

both adult and larval characteristics and (2) descriptions of the

adults and larvae of each species. An attempt has been made to

present this information in a form that will be equally acceptable

to taxonomist, student, and fieldman. The second aim was to pro¬

vide information about the biology of the individual species since

such knowledge is fundamental to the development of suitable con-

1 'Contributions from the Department of Entomology, Wisconsin Agricultural Ex¬

periment Station, Madison, Wisconsin, and the Entomology Faculty, Division of

Biological Sciences, North Carolina State College, Raleigh, N. C. Published with the

approval of the Director of Research, North Carolina Agricultural Experiment Station

as Paper No. 901 of the Journal Series.

e The author wishes to acknowledge the assistance of Judith B. Bain and Joyce A.

Hunt in preparing the drawings and of Merton C. Lane who reviewed the manuscript.

103

104 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

trol procedures and to a clear understanding of the true relation¬

ships of the accepted taxonomic groups. Information on the biology

of these insects has been obtained through observations in the field,

by rearing of the immature forms and from published reports of

other workers.

!

The first section of this report deals mainly with recognition of

the genera. Discussion of specific characteristics and biology is to

be taken up in subsequent sections.

Characteristics of the Elateridae

The adult click beetles vary greatly in size but are quite constant

in general shape, their elongate form and the often prolonged hind

angles of the pronotum making them easily recognizable. The

elytra are rigidly constructed, narrowing gradually posteriorly, and

the hind wings are well developed. The tarsi and abdomen are five

segmented and there is always present a prosternal prolongation or

process which fits into a cavity in the mesosternum. Adult mem¬

bers of this family differ from those of other closely related families

which also possess a prosternal prolongation and mesosternal

groove in that the Elaterids have the prothorax loosely joined to

the mesothorax. This permits the movement necessary for making

the snapping leap into the air when the beetles are placed on their

backs.

The antennae are more or less serrate and are generally 11-

segmented; in a few genera a 12th segment may be present. The

mouthparts are adapted for chewing, with the mandibles quite

small and retracted.

The legs are slender; the fore coxae are spherical with the cavi-

the open behind, while the hind coxae are transverse and

contiguous.

Wireworms also vary considerably in size but most species are

readily recognized by their hard, shining bodies varying in color

from pale yellow to dark red-brown and bearing only three pairs of

five-segmented thoracic legs. The labrum is fused to the clypeus and

forms a toothlike projection or projections known as the nasale.

The clypeus is not distinctly delimited posteriorly and the fronto-

clypeal area is usually lyre-shaped and quite characteristic of the

family.

The abdomen is apparently nine- but actually ten-segmented, the

tenth segment appearing as a projection from the ventral surface

of the ninth and bearing the anus. The ninth segment is extremely

variable in shape; sometimes with horn-like terminal processes

known as urogomphi surrounding a caudal notch.

1959]

Dogger — Elateridae of Wisconsin — I

105

Elaterid eggs are small, generally less than 0.5 mm. in diameter,

and almost spherical. They are usually white, sometimes with a

bluish or yellow tinge.

The pupae are dull yellow to white and have conspicuous spine¬

like processes at the anterior angles of the prothorax.

Species of Elateridae Found in Wisconsin

The specimens studied include representatives in the collection of

The United States National Museum, the Milwaukee Public Mu¬

seum, the William S. Marshall collection and the collection of the

Department of Entomology at the University of Wisconsin, those

in the author’s collection, and larval specimens belonging to Dr.

H. H. Jewett. In addition, a large number of specimens collected by

Dr. R. D. Shenefelt and associates, was available for study. The

literature was reviewed for references to the occurrence or possible

occurrence of various species in Wisconsin or neighboring states.

Studies of Elaterid larvae by Hyslop (1917), Glen et al (1943),

Van Emden (1945), Jewett (1946) and Glen (1950) provided in¬

formation essential to an understanding of the characteristics of

the genera occurring in Wisconsin.

Following is a list of the species occurring or probably occurring

in Wisconsin, the letter “P” after a name indicating probable,

though unreported occurrence :

LACON Castelnau

L. auroratus (Say)

L. avitus (Say)

L. brevicornis (Lee.)

L. discoideus (Web.)

L. marmoratus (Fab.)

L. obtectus (Say)

PITYOBIUS Leconte

P. anguinus (Lee.)

COLAULON Arnett

C. rectangularis (Say)

ALAUS Eschscholtz

A. myops (Fab.)

A. oculatus (L.)

LIMONIUS Eschscholtz

L. aeger Lee.

L. anceps Lee.

L. aurifer Lee.

L. auripilis (Say)

L. basilaris (Say)

L. confusus Lee. P

L. ectypus (Say)

L. griseus (Beauv.)

L. plebejus (Say)

L. quercinus (Say)

L. rudis Brown

CONODERUS Eschscholtz

ATHOUS Eschscholtz

A. acanthus (Say)

A. brightwelli (Kby.)

A. cucullatus (Say)

A. rufifrons (Rand.)

A. scapularis (Say)

C. auritus (Hbst.)

C. vespertinus (Fab.)

DRASTERIUS Eschscholtz

D. dorsalis (Say)

106 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

DENTICOLLIS Piller & Mitter-

packer

D. denticornis (Kby.)

D. productus (Rand)

CTENICERA Latreille

C. aethiops (Hbst.)

C. appressa (Rand.)

C. appropinquans (Rand.)

C. arata (Lee.) P

C. cylindrif ormis (Hbst.)

C. darlingtoni (Brown)

C. fallax (Say) P

C. falsi fica (Lee.)

C. fulvipes (Bland)

C. hamata (Say)

C. hieroglyphica (Say)

C. inflat a (Say)

C. insidiosa (Lee.) P

C. kendalli (Kby.)

C. lobata tarsalis (Melsh.)

C. mediana (Germ.)

C. mendax (Lee.)

C. nitidula (Lee.)

C. propola (Lee.)

C. pyrrhos (Hbst.)

C. resplendens (Esch.)

C. sjaelandica (Mueller)

C. spinosa (Lee.)

C. splendens (Zeig.)

C. sulcicollis (Say)

C. triundulata (Rand,)

C. v ernalis (Hentz)

HEMICREPIDIUS Germar

H. bilob atus (Say)

H. decoloratus (Say)

H. memnonius (Hbst.)

HYPOLITHUS Eschscholtz

H. abbreviatus (Say)

NEGASTRIUS Thomson

N. choris (Say)

N. exiguus (Rand.)

N. obliquatulus (Melsh.)

N. tumescens (Lee.)

PARALLELOSTETHUS

Schwarz

P. attenuatus (Say)

ELATER Linnaeus

E. abruptus Say

OXYGONUS Leconte

O. obesus (Say)

SERICUS Eschscholtz

S. honestus (Rand.)

S. incongruus (Lee.)

S. silaceous (Say)

S. viridanus (Say)

DALOPIUS Eschscholtz

D. cognatus Brown

D. pallidas Brown

D. vagus Brown

AGRIOTES Eschscholtz

A. arcanus Brown

A. avulsus (Lee.)

A. fucosus (Lee.)

A. insanus Cand.

A. isabellinus (Melsh.)

A. limosus (Lee.)

A. mancus (Say)

A. oblongicollis (Melsh.)

A. pubescens (Melsh.)

A. quebecensis Brown

A. stabilis (Lee.)

AGRIOTELLA Brown

A. bigeminata (Rand.)

GLYPHONYX Candeze

G. recticollis (Say) ?

AMPEDUS Dejean

A . aereolatus (Say)

A. apicatus (Say)

A. impolitus (Melsh.)

A. linteus (Say)

A. luctuosus (Lee.)

A. manipularis (Cand.)

A. melanotoides Brown

Dogger — Elatericlae of Wisconsin — I 107

1959]

A. militaris (Harris)

A. mixtus (Hbst.)

A. nigricans Germ.

A. nigricollis (Hbst.)

A. nigrinus (Hbst.)

A. pedalis Germ.

A. rubricus (Say)

A. sanguinipennis (Say)

A. semicinctus (Rand.)

A. socer (Lee.)

A. verticinus (Beauv.)

A. vitiosus (Lee.)

MEGAPENTHES Kiesenwetter

M. stigmosus (Lee.)

MELANOTUS Eschscholtz

M. americanus ( Hbst. )

M. castanipes (Payk.)

M. communis (Gyll.)

M. cribulosus (Lee.)

M. depressus (Melsh.)

M. divarcarinus Blatch.

M. fissilis (Say)

M. ignobilis (Melsh.)

M. morosus Cand.

M. pertinax (Say)

M. tenax (Say)

M. trapezoid eus (Lee.)

CARBIOPHORUS Eschscholtz

C. convexulus (Say)

C. convexus (Say)

C. gagates Er.

HORISTONOTUS Candeze

H. curiatus (Say)

Key to the Wisconsin Genera of Adult Elateridae

1. Front flattened or concave, facing obliquely dorsally with an¬

terior margin not extending downward below the level of the

eyes and without oblique clypeal carinae beneath ; mouthparts

directed and usually projecting anteriorly (Fig. 1) (Pyro-

phorinae) _ 3

Front convex, facing anteriorly usually with anterior mar¬

gin extending downward below the level of the eyes or cari¬

nate and supported beneath by converging oblique carinae

(Fig. 2) ; mouthparts not projecting anteriorly (Fig. 3) _ 2

2. Scutellum, or posterior portion thereof, heartshaped (Fig. 8)

(Cardiophorinae) _ 25

Scutellum variable in shape, not heartshaped (Fig. 5) (Ela-

terinae) _ 16

3. Hind coxae with ventral plates broad at inner third; broader

in dilated portion than hind femora (Figs. 10, 12) _ 4

Hind coxae with ventral plates relatively narrow at inner

third ; as narrow or narrower in dilated portion than hind

femora (Fig. 11) - 9

4. Hind coxae truncate at outer ends (Fig. 10) prosternal su¬

tures straight or concave, diverging near coxae (Figs. 13,

15) (Pyrophorini) _ 5

Hind coxae pointed at outer ends (Fig. 12) prosternal su¬

tures convex, converging toward coxae (Figs. 16, 18) (Nega-

striini = Hypnoidini) _ 15

108 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

13

14

15

T

1959]

r

Dogger — ElateHdae of Wisconsin — I

109

Figure 1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

12.

13.

14.

15.

PLATE I

Adult Structures

Pityobius anguinus head, lateral.

Glyphonyx sp. head, frontal.

Agriotes stabilis head, lateral.

Limonius basilaris hind tarsus, lateral.

E later abruptus scutellum.

Conoderus auritus hind tarsus, lateral.

Hemicrepidius memnonius hind tarsus, lateral.

Cardiophorus gagates scutellum.

Drasterius dorsalis hind tarsus, lateral.

Drasterius dorsalis ventral plate of hind coxa.

D enticollis denticornis ventral plate of hind coxa.

Hypolithus abbreviatus ventral plate of hind coxa.

Colaulon rectangularis prothorax, ventral.

Alaus oculatus pronotum.

Lacon discoideus prothorax, ventral.

110 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

26

27

28

1959]

Dogger — Elateridae of Wisconsin — /

111

Figure 16.

17.

18.

19.

20.

21.

22.

23.

24.

25.

26.

27.

28.

%

PLATE II

Adult Structures

Hypolithiis abbreviatus prothorax, ventral.

Athous cucullatus head, dorsal.

Negastrins choris prothorax, ventral.

Oxygonus obesus tarsal claw.

Ctenicera pyrrhos head, dorsal.

M elcinotus fissilis ventral plate of hind coxa.

Dalopius pallidus ventral plate of hind coxa.

M elanotus fissilis tarsal claw.

Megapenthes limb alls head, dorsal.

Elater abruptus ventral plate of hind coxa.

Ampedus linteus prothorax, ventral.

Parallelostethus attenuatus mesosternal cavity, ventral.

Megapenthes limbalis prothorax, ventral.

112 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

37

38

39

1959]

Dogger — Elateridae of Wisconsin — I

113

PLATE III

Larvae

Figure 29. Melanotus communis larva, dorsal.

30. Drasterius dorsalis ventral mouthparts.

31. Ctenicera kendalli ventral mouthparts.

32. Cardiophorus sp. larva, dorsal.

33. Conoderus auritus fronto-clypeal sclerite.

34. Ctenicera kendalli presternal area.

35. Hemicrepidius bilobatus sixth abdominal segment, lateral.

36. Limonius sp. ninth abdominal segment, dorsal.

37. Alans my ops ninth and tenth abdominal segments, lateral.

38. Lacon marmoratus ninth abdominal segment, dorsal.

39. Conoderus auritus ninth and tenth abdominal segments, lateral.

114 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

48

1959]

Dogger — Elateridae of Wisconsin — I

115

PLATE IV

Larvae

Figure 40. E later abruptus ninth and tenth abdominal segments, ventral.

41. Dcilopius pallidus ninth abdominal segment, dorsal.

42. Megapenthes limbalis ninth and tenth abdominal segments, ventral.

43. E later abruptus antenna.

44. Agriotes mancus ninth abdominal segment, dorsal.

45. Parallelostethus attenuatus antenna.

46. Agriotes mancus sixth abdominal segment, lateral.

47. Ampedus nigricollis sixth abdominal segment, lateral.

48. Hypolithus abbreviatus sixth abdominal segment, lateral.

116 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

5. Prosternal sutures forming antennal grooves (Figs. 13, 15)

(Agrypnina) _ 6

Prosternal sutures normal, no antennal grooves _ 7

6. Pronotum with deep linear impressions ; antennal groove

occupying entire prosternal suture (Fig. 15) _ Lacon

Pronotum without deep impressions ; antennal groove abbre¬

viated (Fig. 13) _ Colaulon

7. Pronotum with eyelike spots (Fig. 14) ; tarsal claws with a

long pencil of bristles at base of each _ Alans

Pronotum without eyelike spots ; tarsal claws without a pencil

of bristles (Conoderina) _ 8

8. Lobe on fourth tarsal segment prominent, projecting beneath

fifth for at least one-fourth the length of the fifth segment

(Fig. 6) _ Conoderus

Lobed process on fourth tarsal segment short and broad, pro¬

jecting only slightly beneath the fifth (Fig. 9) _ Drasterius

9. Antennae 12-segmented (Pityobini) _ Pityobius

Antenna 11-segmented (Denticollini = Lepturoidini) _ 10

10. Tarsal claws simple (Fig. 4) _ 11

Tarsal claws with a stout tooth at base (Fig. 19) __ Oxygonus

11. Prosternal lobe extending forward well beyond hind margins

of eyes; with appearance of typical Elaterid _ 12

Prosternal lobe short, not extending forward beyond hind

margins of eyes ; resembling a Cantharid _ Denticollis

12. Margin of front straight, uniformly elevated (Fig. 17) _ 13

Margin of front curved, usually depressed in middle (Fig.

20) _ 14

13. First two tarsal segments subequal in length (Fig. 4) Limonius

First tarsal segment distinctly longer than second _ Athous

14. Second and third tarsal segments lobed (Fig. 7)

_ H emicrepidius

Tarsal segments without lobes _ Ctenicera

15. Prosternal sutures subarcuate, converging gradually toward

anterior lobe and coxal cavities (Fig. 16) _ Hypolithus

Prosternal sutures converging suddenly at base of anterior

lobe and at coxal cavities (Fig. 18) _ Negastrius

16. Hind coxal plates with posterior margins sinuate (Fig. 22) ;

propleural margins concave or excavated along prosternal

sutures, at least anteriorly (Agriotini) _ 21

Hind coxal plates with posterior margins angulate (Figs.

21, 25) ; propleural margins variable along prosternal

sutures _ 17

17. Propleural margins depressed or excavated along prosternal

sutures, at least anteriorly (Fig. 26) - 24

Propleural margins not depressed or excavated along pro¬

sternal sutures (Fig. 28) _ 18

1959]

Dogger — Elateridae of Wisconsin — I

117

18.

19.

20.

91

hmU -L •

22.

23.

24.

25.

1.

2.

o

o.

4.

Margin of front elevated above the clypeus (Fig. 24)

- Megapenthes

Margin of front not elevated in middle above clypeus (Ela-

terini) _ 19

Hind coxal plates with a distinct angle or tooth at widest

point (Fig. 25) ; length 15 mm. or more _ 20

Hind coxal plates with a blunt or indistinct angle at widest

point; length, less than 15 mm. _ Serious

Sides of mesosternal cavity parallel (Fig. 27) ; pronotum

piceous _ Parallelostethus

Sides of mesosternal cavity convergent posteriorly ; pro¬

notum black _ Elater

Tarsal claws pectinate _ Glyphonyx

Tarsal claws simple _ 22

Lateral margins of prothorax inferior anteriorly _ 23

Lateral margins straight, not inferior anteriorly _ Dalopius

Margin of front elevated; prosternal lobe extending beyond

anterior ends of propleura _ Agriotella

Margin of front not elevated (Fig. 3) ; prosternal lobe not

extending beyond anterior ends of propleura _ Agriotes

Tarsal claws pectinate (Fig. 23) (Melanotini) _ Melanotus

Tarsal claws simple (Ampedini) _ Ampedus

Pronotum without a distinct lateral margin, apparent lateral

margin visible posteriorly from ventral side _ Cardiophorus

Pronotum with lateral margin distinct posteriorly and visible

dorsally _ Horistonotus

Key to the Wisconsin Genera of Larval Elateridae3

Ninth abdominal segment with a median caudal notch (Figs.

36, 38) (Pyrophorinae) _ 3

Ninth abdominal segment without a median caudal notch

(Figs. 29, 32, 40, 41, 42, 44) _ 2

Abdomen entirely soft-skinned ; abdominal segments sub¬

divided into 2 or 3 ringlike divisions (Fig. 32) (Cardio-

phorinae) _ 26

Abdomen partially or completely sclerotized; abdominal seg¬

ments not subdivided as above (Fig. 29) (Elaterinae) _ 17

Submentum triangular; bases of stipes contiguous (Fig. 30) 4

Submentum not triangular; bases of stipes well separated

(Fig. 31) (Denticollini = Lepturoidini) _ 9

Anal hooks present on tenth abdominal segment (Figs. 37,

39) (Pyrophorini) _ 5

Anal hooks absent, armature consisting of a narrow ridged

band on each side of tenth segment (Pityobini) _ Pityobius

3 The larvae of Oxygonus are unknown.

118 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

5. Dorsum of head with a prominent longitudinal groove ex¬

tending from near frontal suture to hind margin of head on

either side; with short spines in addition to anal hooks on

tenth abdominal segment (Fig. 37) (Hemirhipina) _ Alans

Dorsum of head without extensive longitudinal grooves,

sometimes with short grooves or rows of setae posteriorly;

without short spines in addition to anal hooks on tenth seg¬

ment _ 6

6. Anal hooks long and prominent, extending to or beyond tip

of tenth abdominal segment (Agrypnina) _ 7

Anal hooks short and inconspicuous, not extending to tip of

tenth abdominal segment (Fig. 39) (Conoderina) _ 8

7. Dorsum of ninth abdominal segment covered with small

tubercles (Fig. 38) _ Lacon

Dorsum of ninth abdominal segment without tubercles

_ Colaulon ?

8. Frons truncate at base (Fig. 33 ) _ Conoderus

Frons tapering to a blunt point at base _ Drasterius

9. First 8 abdominal segments conspicuously sculptured or pit¬

ted (Fig. 35) _ 14

First 8 abdominal segments smooth; sparsely or finely punc¬

tured _ 10

10. Nasale tridentate or if consisting of one triple-pointed tooth,

with a dorsal seta on the head on each side of and adjacent

to the posterior portion of the fronto-clypeal area _ 15

Nasale consisting of one single- or triple-pointed tooth; with¬

out dorsal setae adjacent to the posterior portion of the

fronto-clypeal area _ 11

11. Presternum of prothorax consisting of one large triangular

sclerite _ 12

Presternum of prothorax divided into 2 or more sclerites

(Fig. 34) - Ctenicera

12. Lateral margins of ninth abdominal segment with two or

more prominent projections on each side; caudal notch vari¬

able _ 13

Lateral margins of ninth abdominal segment sinuate with

not more than one prominent projection on each side (Fig.

36) caudal notch small _ Limonius

13. Dorsum red-brown to black; urogomphi with outer prongs

longer than inner _ Denticollis

Dorsum yellow-brown or amber ; urogomphi variable Ctenicera

14. Eyes present; abdominal segments with conspicuous pits or

crescent-shaped sculpturing _ Athous

Eyes absent ; abdominal segments with crescent-shaped sculp¬

turing (Fig. 35) - Hemicrepidius

1959]

Dogger — Elateridae of Wisconsin — I

119

15. Lateral margins of ninth abdominal segment with prominent

projections, anterolateral impressions on tergites of abdomi¬

nal segments 2 through 8 reaching or approaching mid-dorsal

line - Ctenicera

Lateral margins of ninth abdominal segments smooth or

hardly protuberant ; anterolateral impressions absent or more

abbreviated (Fig. 48) (Negastrini = Hypnoidini) _ 16

16. Nasale consisting of one triple pointed tooth; urogomphi two

pronged _ Hypolithus

Nasale tridentate; urogomphi simple, undivided _ N egastrius

17. Sternum of ninth abdominal segment narrower anteriorly

than sternum of eighth posteriorly (Fig. 40) ; tip of ninth

segment broadly rounded (Elaterini) _ 18

Sternum of ninth abdominal segment broader anteriorly than

sternum of eighth posteriorly (Fig. 42) ; tip of ninth seg¬

ment bluntly or sharply pointed or scalloped (Figs. 29, 41,

42, 44) _ 20

18. Nasale consisting of one triple-pointed tooth ; second antennal

segment with 5 or more papillae (Figs. 43, 45) _ 19

Nasale consisting of one single-pointed tooth; second antennal

segment with a single papilla _ Sericus

19. Second antennal segment with 8 to 13 papillae (Fig. 45)

_ Parallelostethus

Second antennal segment with 5 to 7 papillae (Fig. 43) E later

20. Dorsum of ninth abdominal segment flattened and with mar¬

gin scalloped (Fig. 29) (Melanotini) _ Melanotus

Dorsum of ninth abdominal segment neither flattened nor

scalloped _ 21

21. Nasale consisting of one triple-pointed tooth, abdominal ter¬

gites without striate impressions (Agriotini) _ 22

Nasale variable, if consisting of one triple-pointed tooth, the

abdominal tergites with striate impressions (Fig. 47) (Am-

pedini) _ 25

22. Ninth abdominal segment with a pair of central dorso-tergal

setae (Fig. 41) _ Dalopius

Ninth abdominal segment without central dorso-tergal setae

(Fig. 44) _ 23

23. First 8 abdominal tergites with 3 or more prominent setae

in a transverse line anteriorly (Fig. 46) (additional short

setae may be present) ; eyes usually present _ 24

First 8 abdominal tergites with only 2 prominent setae in a

transverse line anteriorly (additional short setae may be

present) ; eyes lacking _ _ Agriotellal

120 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

24. Submentum approximately 4 times as long as average width ;

most dorsal of the large anterior setae on the first 8 abdomi¬

nal tergites with a small seta on either site transversely

_ Glyphonyx

Submentum not more than 3 times as long as average width ;

most dorsal of the large anterior setae on abdominal tergites

without small setae on either side transversely (Fig. 44)

_ Agriotes

25. Abdominal segments sparsely or finely punctured (Fig. 46)

nasale tridentate _ Megapenthes

Abdominal segments conspicuously sculptured or with pits or

coarse punctures (Fig. 47) nasale usually consisting of one

single-pointed tooth _ Ampedus

26. With an eye at base of each antenna (Fig. 32) __ Cardiophorus

Without eyes _ Horistonotus

Literature Cited

Blatchley, W. S. 1910. Coleoptera of Indiana. Nature Publ. Co., Indianapolis,

pp. 699-773.

Dietrich, Henry. 1945. The Elateridae of New York State. N. Y. (Cornell)

Agr. Exp. Sta. Mem. 269. 79 pp.

Fattig, P. W. 1951. The Elateridae of Georgia. Emory Univ. Museum Bull. 10.

25 pp.

Glen, Robert. 1950. Larvae of the Elaterid Beetles of the Tribe Lepturoidini.

Smiths Misc. Coll. Vol. Ill, No. 11. 256 pp.

Glen, Robert, K. M. King and A. P. Arnason. 1943. The identification of

wireworms of economic importance in Canada. Can. Jour. Res. 21:358-387.

Hawkins, J. H. 1936. The bionomics and control of wireworms in Maine. Maine

Agr. Exp. Sta. Bui. 381. 146 pp.

Hyslop, J. A. 1917. The phylogeny of the Elateridae based on larval char¬

acters. Ann. Ent. Soc. Am. 10:241-263.

Jewett, H. H. 1946. Identification of some larval Elateridae found in Ken¬

tucky. Ky. Agr. Exp. Sta. Bui. 489. 40 pp.

Severin, H. C. 1949. The wireworms (Elateridae) of South Dakota. S. Dak.

Agr. Exp. Sta. Tech. Bui. 8. 18 pp.

Thomas, C. A. 1941. The Elateridae of Pennsylvania. Jour. N. Y. Ent. Soc.

49:233-263.

Van Emden, F. I. 1945. Larvae of British Beetles. V. Elateridae. Ent. Monthly

Mag. 81:13-37.

SOME HELMINTH PARASITES FOUND IN TURTLES

FROM NORTHEASTERN WISCONSIN

Harry G. Guilford

University of Wisconsin Extension Center

Green Bay , Wisconsin

Little information is available on the parasites of turtles from

Wisconsin. During the course of work on Heronimus chelydrae , the

turtle lung fluke (Guilford, 1958), there was also opportunity to

examine 63 turtles for other helminth parasites. Of these turtles,

54 were painted turtles, Chrysemys picta, 6 were common snapping

turtles, Chelydra serpentina, 2 were wood turtles, Clemmys in-

sculpta, and one was a Blanding’s turtle, Emys blandingi. Turtles

were collected primarily from Chute Lake in Oconto County, and

from High Falls Reservoir and the Peshtigo Flowage in Marinette

County. The above flowages have uneven shorelines, large numbers

of submerged logs, old stumps, a heavy growth of aquatic vegeta¬

tion, and a variety of aquatic invertebrates. Other turtles were col¬

lected from river environments with comparatively less vegetation

and animal life such as Duck Creek and the Fox River in Brown

County, the Oconto River in Oconto County, the Menominee River

in Marinette County, and the Sugar River in Door County. The one

Blanding’s turtle was collected in a field near Suamico in Oconto

County. All turtles were collected in May, June, or early July.

Helminth identifications were made from living or fixed and

stained specimens of trematodes, and temporary lactic acid mounts

of nematodes. Mature specimens of 12 species of trematodes and 3

species of nematodes were found. No acanthocephala were found.

Turtle leeches, though abundant, were not collected. Table I sum¬

marizes the identifications by listing hosts and the geographical

location from which each came, and the parasites and the number

of turtles infected with each species of helminth.

Most of the helminths listed on Table I are species of turtle para¬

sites common in the eastern half of the United States. Dictyangium

chelydrae Stunkard 1943, originally reported from Chelydra ser¬

pentina in Louisiana and thereafter in Ohio from the geographic

terrapin, Graptymes geographica (Rausch. 1947) was collected in

this survey from the cloaca of Clemmys insculpta. This is a new

host record and extends the range of D. chelydrae into Northern

Wisconsin. The specimen Neopolystoma sp. from a painted turtle

from Door County, was found in the nostrils. This single specimen

121

Helminths Found in Turtles From Northeastern Wisconsin

122

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Guilford — Helminth Parasites of Turtles

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124 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

can not be assigned to present species included in this genus be¬

cause it is not fully mature so organ proportions differ from known

species, and also because it possesses fewer genital hooks (8) than

other species. Fully mature specimens of this form are necessary

before a determination can be made.

Though the numbers of turtles and helminths collected were too

small to make any conclusions as to the geographical habitats of

the parasites, it was noted that the nematodes Camallanus micro-

cephalus found in 62% of the hosts and Spiroxys constricta from

16% were distributed over the entire area surveyed, while the

trematodes Heronimus chelydrae from 27% and Allossostomoides

parvum in 11% of the hosts were found only in flowages.

References Cited

Guilford, H. G., 1958. Observations on the development of the miracidium and

the germ cell cycle in Heronimus chelydrae MacCallum (Trematoda).

Jour. Parasitol. 44:64-74.

Hedrick, L., 1935. Taxonomy of the genus Spiroxys. Jour. Parasitol. 21 : 397 —

409.

MacCallum, W. G., 1921. Studies on Helminthology. Zoopathologica 1.

Price, E. W., 1939. North American monogenetic trematodes. IV. The family

Polystoatidae (Polystomatoidea) . Proc. Helminth. Soc. Wash. 6:80-92.

Rausch, R., 1947. Observations on some helminths parasitic in Ohio turtles.

Amer. Midi. Nat. 38:434-442.

Stunkard, H. W., 1917. Studies on North American Polystomidae, Aspidogas-

tridae, and Paramphistomidae. Ill. Biol. Monogr. 3:1-114.

- . 1923. Studies on North American blood flukes. Bull. Amer. Mus. Nat.

Hist. 48:165-221.

- . 1943. A new trematode Dictyangium chelydrae (Microscaphidiinae,

Angiodictyidae) from the snapping turtle, Chelydra serpentina. Jour.

Parasitol. 29 : 143-150.

Ulmer, M. J., 1959. Studies on Spirorchis haematobium (Stunkard, 1922) Price

1934 (Trematoda, Spirorchiidae) in the definitive host. Trans. Amer.

Micro. Soc. 78:81-89.

Wharton, G. W., 1940. The genus Telorchis, Protenes, and Auridistomum

(Trematoda, Reniferidae) . Jour. Parasitol. 26:397-518.

Williams, R. W., 1953. Helminths of the snapping turtle, Chelydra serpentina

from Oklahoma, including the first report and descriptions of the male

Capillaria serpentina Harwood 1932. Trans. Amer. Micro. Soc. 72:175-178.

FLEAS COLLECTED FROM COTTONTAIL RABBITS

IN WISCONSIN1

Glenn E. Haas2 and Robert J. Dicke

Department of Entomology, University of Wisconsin, Madison

This study primarily concerns two species of flees collected from

the Mearns cottontail rabbit, Sylvilagus floridanus mearnsii

(Allen), in Wisconsin. Notes are given on the morphology and

bionomics of Cediopsylla simplex (Baker), and on the bionomics of

Odontopsyllus multispinosus (Baker). Nine species of fleas which

commonly infest other mammals were also collected from the

cottontails.

Methods

Most of the rabbits were live-trapped from May 1955 through

November 1956 and shot from December 1955 through February

1956 in the University of Wisconsin Arboretum, Dane County,

Wisconsin. Twenty-eight were shot in other parts of the state from

March 1956 through August 1956. Rabbits obtained from late No¬

vember 1955 through early March 1956 were killed and placed in

plastic bags before the fleas were collected. All other live-trapped

rabbits were first confined to a cloth bag while the fleas were re¬

moved from the bag and rabbits. The rabbits were then tatooed and

released at the trap site. Fleas were also collected from cottontail

nests.

All stages of C. simplex were confined in 21 x 70 mm. vials

capped with cheesecloth and reared at 92-93% R.H. and 24-28° C.

Results and Discussion

Descriptions

Egg — Based on a single specimen, the egg of C. simplex is faintly

sculptured, shiny, subcylindrical in the middle, and with rounded

ends. It is pearly white at oviposition and measured 0.29 by

0.47 mm.

Larvae — Since those collected were not identified, they are not

described.

1 Based on part of a thesis submitted by the senior author to the University of

Wisconsin in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of

Philosophy. Approved for publication by the Director of the Wisconsin Agricultural

Experiment Station. Journal Paper No. 4 3, University of Wisconsin Arboretum Series.

2 Present address : U. S. Public Health Service Postdoctoral Trainee in Medical En¬

tomology, School of Tropical Medicine, University of Puerto Rico, San Juan, P. R.

125

126 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [VoL 48

Cocoon — The cocoons of C. simplex are brittle, light brown, shiny,

subcylindrical in the middle and with rounded ends. Debris fre¬

quently adheres to the surface. Average measurements were 1.0 by

2.5 mm.

Figure 1. County records of the rabbit fleas Cediopsylla simplex (Baker) and

Odontopsyllus multispinosus (Baker) in Wisconsin.

Adult — Baker (1904) stated that each species had a “. . . very

constant . . .” number of spines in the genal ctenidium. He recorded

eight spines in the C. simplex male. Among the nearly 25,000 speci¬

mens from Wisconsin, the usual number of spines was eight, but a

few specimens of both sexes had six, and one female was noted

with 10 on one side.

1959] Haas and Dicke — Fleas from Cottontail Rabbits

127

Biology and Ecology

Geographical distribution — The cottontail inhabits all counties of

Wisconsin (Wisconsin Conservation Department, 1935-1955), but

no animals were collected north of Polk and Forest Counties in

this study. Range limits of the two eastern rabbit fleas may exist

in Wisconsin. Known locality records, many of which are new, are

shown in Figure 1.

TABLE I

Collections of C. siviplex (Baker), on Unmarked Cottontails, University

of Wisconsin Arboretum, May 1955 to November 1956

Seasonal incidence — The flea population data are based on sam¬

ples of hosts from two aging populations. The first population be¬

gan in May 1955 with juveniles and ended in May 1956 with adults,

most of which were born in 1955. The second population existed

from June 1956 through November 1956 and was composed of

juveniles.

C. simplex was the more abundant rabbit flea. It infested cotton¬

tails throughout the year. Monthly population data on unmarked

cottontails in the Arboretum are presented in Table I. Although

flea incidence data are usually expressed in mean numbers per host

(infested animal), the median numbers were also calculated, be-

128 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

cause, in spite of their underestimation of the true population, they

were considered to be more representative by equalizing the

extremely high values with a lower more typical value.

Uninfested, unmarked cottontails were included in the t-test

analyses of C. simplex populations. As the distribution of the flea

was extremely skewed, shown partly by the relatively lower median

numbers, less weight was given to the high X-values by transforma¬

tion of data to the square root of X + 0.5.

TABLE II

Collections of 0. multispinosus (Baker), on Unmarked Cottontails,

University of Wisconsin Arboretum, May 1955 Through

Novemrer 1956

Month

May. . .

June. . .

July...

Aug. . .

Sept. . . .

Oct. . . .

Nov. . . .

Dec. . .

Jan. . . .

Feb. . .

March .

April. . .

May. .

June. . .

July. . .

Aug..

Sept. . . .

Oct. . . .

Nov.. . .

Total

The seasonal incidence in 1956 differed from that in 1955 in three

ways: 1) the autumn population increase significant at the 1% level

occurred between October and November rather than between Sep¬

tember and October, 2) the July through September decline did not

recur, and 3) in 1956 the populations of September, October and

November were significantly higher at the 1% level.

O. multispinosus could not be found on cottontails in the Arbo¬

retum during March, June, July and August (Table II). Had more

rabbits been trapped, the flea probably would have been detected in

1959] Haas and Dicke — Fleas from Cottontail Rabbits

129

March and June. It was collected in three west-central counties on

June 19, and a specimen was collected in June in Iowa by Joyce

and Eddy (1944). The latest arboretum record was May 3 and the

earliest September 1.

Sex ratio — C. simplex females infested 1,026 unmarked arbo¬

retum cottontails with a mean of 12 per host, a median of 8, and a

range of 1-132. For the males the respective data were 975, 8, 5

and 1-68. The differences are manifestations of the sex ratio, which

was 66 males per 100 females (8,055 males: 12,172 females).

Stannard and Pietsch (1958) reported a ratio of 56:100 in north¬

ern Illinois. By contrast, a study of a single Wisconsin cottontail

nest in August 1956 yielded 280 male and 254 female pupae and

teneral adults.

If months in which a 2-year total of over 1,000 C. simplex were

collected are analyzed according to the number of males per 100

females, the trend was up in the fall and down in the winter as

follows: 63, 68, 71, 61, 58 and 52, September through February,

respectively. The later emergence of males is perhaps partly respon¬

sible for the apparent delay in host acquisition by males until

October and November.

On the unmarked cottontails in the arboretum, the mean of both

male and female of O. multispinosus was 2 per host and a range of

1-11, but only 98 hosts carried the male in contrast with 122 that

carried the female. Totals of 187 males and 267 females were col¬

lected for a male to female ratio of 70 :100.

Behavior on host — Unlike the published observations by Stan¬

nard and Pietsch (1958), the two fleas were environmentally sepa¬

rated on the host. C. simplex infested the head, especially its top,

and fed on the tips and in the inner folds of the ears, and around

the eyes. Haugen (1942) noted that during the winter each inner

fold frequently had a row of fleas feeding and causing hemorrhages.

Probing the fleas that had their mouth parts inserted usually failed

to cause their withdrawal. In fact, dead hosts were found with dead

C. simplex adults attached by their mouth parts to the inner folds.

This flea was otherwise easily disturbed. Blowing into the pelage

stimulated many individuals to leap from the host, but on landing

they occasionally feigned death.

O. multispinosus, infested the back and sides of the cottontails.

It was difficult to stimulate by pelage blowing. Compared with the

smaller C. simplex this flea made fewer and shorter jumps but ran

more swiftly.

Breeding and development — Most of the female C. simplex on

adult hosts in the spring were gravid. A flea collected in November

1955 oviposited one egg in the laboratory. Eggs of an unidentified

130 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

species were collected singly from the pelage of a heavily infested

lactating host caged in the laboratory in April 1955 and in clusters

of less than 14 from a cottontail nest in April 1956.

The heat of nest rabbits may be available to eggs and larvae dur¬

ing most of a 16-day period (Ecke, 1955). C. simplex larvae were

concentrated in the moist organic matter on the bottom of the nest

where the grass and fur linings meet. There they spun cocoons and

pupated. Beginning in mid- April, a cottontail in southern Wiscon-

Figure 2. Part of the abdomen of a female Cediopsylla simplex (Baker) adult

cleared to exhibit the arrangement of fungus spores (x72).

Figure 3. Enlargement of the specimen in Figure 2, showing fungus spores on

the conjunctiva beneath the flange of sternum V (x240).

sin may have three or more litters per season. Each nest is a poten¬

tial breeding site and dispersal focus for hundreds of fleas. A total

of 564 immature fleas was found in a nest collected in August 1956.

C. simplex pupae were collected in Madison on August 7 from a

cottontail nest about 22 days old. Pupation was evidently recent,

since pigmentation was scant. In the laboratory the first adult, a

female, emerged on August 8. Three more females emerged on

August 11. The males did not begin emergence until the 12th. Maxi¬

mum emergence was on August 13 by females and on the 14th and

15th by males. Thus, at room temperatures the mean pupal periods

for females and males are not less than 6 and 7.5 days, respectively.

Lesson (1932) reported that Xenopyslla cheopis (Rothschild)

1959] Haas and Dicke — Fleas from Cottontail Rabbits

131

females emerge sooner than males. Ewing and Fox (1943) isolated

a C. simplex larva in a vial on April 11 and obtained an adult on

April 29. Apparently that larva did not spin a cocoon. All pupae

collected from the cottontail nest in this study were within cocoons.

Disease — A C. simplex adult female collected in the arboretum

in October 1956 was observed with a peculiar black area in the

abdomen from which minute, (at xl3) brown, oval, objects could

be forced. Disease was suspected from this observation. Steinhaus

(1949) reported that fleas appeared to be parasitized by an uniden-

I titled fungus and that culturing might be required for identifica¬

tion. His efforts, however, to germinate spores and to cultivate the

fungus on carbohydrate media, including Sabourand’s agar, were

not successful.

The spores, approximately 7.5 by 8.3 m/x, were usually concen¬

trated on the conjunctivae beneath the flanges of the terga and

sterna on one side of the abdomen (Figure 2). Occasionally only

the sterna were affected. In dorsal aspect the abdomen of those

fleas with enormous numbers of spores on one side usually was

curved with the spores on the convex side. The flanges were fre-

Iquently forced noticeably outward. The spores appeared more or

less oval and saucerlike (Figure 3) after clearing in ethenol. At

x430 they appeared to have a blackish spore wall but were colorless

within. They were readily seen beneath the flanges after clearing

in 10% KOH for nine hours. Discoloration and change in body

shape are considered by Steinhaus (1949) as common symptoms in

diseased insects.

In a peak population of C. simplex on unmarked arboretum cot¬

tontails in November 1956, 2.43% of the 1,896 male fleas and 2.53%

of the 2,643 females were considered diseased. On the 105 hosts of

C. simplex , diseased fleas were distributed as follows: 11 carried

only the male, 20 only the female and 15 both sexes. More fleas were

probably diseased but these were not detected either because the

infections were mild or because the sporulation stage had not been

reached. Although 0. multispinosus attained a peak population the

same month, it did not exhibit disease symptoms.

Other mammal fleas collected — The following nine additional

species of mammal fleas were collected from cottontails in the

arboretum :

Cteno cep halides fells felis (Bouche), Epitedia ivenmanni wen-

manni (Rothschild), Megabothris asio megacolpus (Jordan),

Monopsyllus ivagneri systaltus (Jordan), Nosopsyllus fasciatus

(Bose.) Opisocrostis bruneri (Baker), Orchopeas howardii how-

ardii (Baker), Orchopeas leucopus (Baker) and Thrassis bacchi

bacchi (Rothschild).

132 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [VoL 48

Madison apparently lies in the zone of intergradation of M. a.

megacolpus and Megabothris asio asio (Baker). The two females

collected appear to be the first subspecies, but the male is very close

to M. a. asio .

Summary

Descriptive notes are given for the egg, cocoon and adult of

Cediopsylla simplex (Baker) . Many new locality records for C. sim¬

plex and Odontopsyllus multispinosus (Baker) were obtained in

Wisconsin. The seasonal incidence of these rabbit fleas were deter¬

mined from May 1955 through November 1956 from collections of

1,105 cottontail rabbits, Sylvilagus floridanus mearnsii (Allen), in

the University of Wisconsin Arboretum. Both fleas attained peak

populations in November 1956, but C. simplex was always more

abundant. In the larger samples, females outnumbered males.

C. simplex infested the head of the host, while 0. multispinosus

infested the back and sides. C. simplex larvae spun cocoons and

pupated in a cottontail nest. Among the pupae and teneral adults

collected from the nest there were slightly more males than females,

but the period of maximum emergence of females preceded that of

males by only about 36 hours. A possible fungus disease of C. sim¬

plex adults was detected. The following nine species of fleas which

are common on other mammals were also collected from cottontails :

Ctenocephalides felis felis (Bouche), Epitedia wenmanni wen-

manni (Rothschild), Megabothris asio megacolpus (Jordan),

Monopsyllus wagneri systaltus (Jordan), Nosopsyllus fasciatus

(Bose.) Opisocrostis bruneri (Baker), Orchopeas howardii hoiv-

ardii (Baker), Orchopeas leucopus (Baker) and Thrassis bacchi

bacchi (Rothschild).

Acknowledgments

This study was supported in part by the Research Committee of

the Graduate School of the University of Wisconsin from funds

supplied by the Wisconsin Alumni Research Foundation.

The authors are indebted to all persons who aided, especially Dr.

R. A. McCabe, Dr. R. S. Ellarson and Mr. J. R. Jacobson who pro¬

vided many of the cottontails and certain information and equip¬

ment necessary for trapping and hunting. Dr. E. A. Steinhaus diag¬

nosed the apparent fungus disease of C. simplex, and assisted in

its study.

Literature Cited

Baker, C. F. 1904. A revision of American Siphonaptera, or fleas, together

with a complete list and bibliography of the group. Proc. TJ. S. Nat. Mus.

27:365-469.

Ecke, D. H. 1955. The reproductive cycle of the Mearns cottontail in Illinois.

Amer. Midland Nat. 53:294-311.

1959] Haas and Dicke — Fleas from Cottontail Rabbits

133

Ewing, H. E. and I. Fox. 1943. The fleas of North America. U. S. Dept. Agric.

Misc. Pub. 500.

Haugen, A. O. 1942. Life history studies of the cottontail rabbit in south¬

western Michigan. Amer. Midland Nat. 28:204-244.

Joyce, C. R. and G. W. Eddy. 1944. A list of fleas (Siphonaptera) collected at

Tama, Iowa. Iowa St. Col. J. Sci. 18:209-215.

Leeson, H. S. 1932. The sex of newly emerged fleas. Proc. Entom. Soc. London

7:40-41.

Stannard, L. J. and L. R. Pietsch. 1958. Ectoparasites of the cottontail rabbit

in Lee County, northern Illinois. III. Nat. Hist. Surv. Biol. Notes No. 38.

Steinhaus, E. A. 1949. Principles of insect pathology. McGraw-Hill. New

York.

Wisconsin Conservation Department. 1935-1955. Game census reports.

GROWING CORN IN WISCONSIN WITHOUT PLOWING1

A. E. Peterson and L. E. Engelbert2

Soils Department, University of Wisconsin, Madison

Planting corn without plowing may permit farmers to produce

this row crop under soil improving rather than soil depleting con¬

ditions. Corn has long been accused of being a soil robber and an

invitation to soil erosion. However since the moleboard plow was

invented more than 100 years ago, little effort has been made to

produce corn without plowing. In 1952 Scarseth (4) reported that

the trouble in producing corn is the method by which corn is being

produced rather than the crop itself and that adequate fertilizing,

properly timed and placed, may be the factor which can give sound

cash profit foundation to “mulch corn tillage” and thereby result

in a considerable improvement in soil and water conservation. With

the development of the mulch planter an entirely new approach was

possible to the corn production problems. Hulbert and Wittmuss (3)

indicated that combining tilling and planting into one operation

saves not only labor, but helps reduce water and wind erosion and

tends to reduce weed growth. Even though Borst and Mederski (1)

agreed that mulching reduces erosion, they indicated that mulch

tillage is much more of an art than is conventional plowing and

therefore may be extremely difficult to do a good job.

Methods

Experimental trials were established comparing the conventional

seedbed preparation and the mulch planting method on three major

Wisconsin soil types: (I) Miami silt loam on the University Farms,

Madison, (II) Spencer silt loam, near Marshfield, and (III) Fay¬

ette silt loam near Prairie du Chien. The conventional seedbed prep¬

aration, consisting of spring plowing, two discings and one or two

harrowings prior to planting, was compared with the once over op¬

eration of the mulch planter. The mulch planter is a combination

implement in which a regular corn planter is mounted on the back

of a tractor and two 3-foot sweeps that peel back the soil to a depth

of 3 inches are mounted on the tractor cultivator frame behind the

front tractor wheels. This leaves about 4 inches of undisturbed soil

between the sweeps. A second (18-inch) sweep is located 4 to 6

1 Published with the approval of the Director', Wisconsin Agricultural Experiment

Station.

2 Associate Professor and Professor of Soils, respectively.

135

136 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

Figure 1. Side view of the mulch planter showing location of large and small

sweeps that open furrow in the soil and place deep fertilizer application.

y>y:y.'.y.

. >

mmm

Figure 2. Rear view of mulch planter showing alignment of corn planter with

the furrow made by the front sweeps.

1959] Peterson and Engelbert — Corn Without Plowing 137

inches below (depending on setting) each 3 foot sweep and pene¬

trates to a depth of 7 to 9 inches. The lower sweep places the deep

fertilizer band and prepares the seedbed for the planting of the corn

as shown in Figure 1. The corn planter unit, pulled directly behind

the tractor, places the seed in the furrows left by the sweeps

(Figure 2).

Adequate plant food applications were made, which consisted of

broadcast applications of approximately 800 pounds of 10-10-10

per acre plowed down for the conventional corn planting treatment

or 800 pounds per acre of 10-10-10 placed 9 inches deep for the

mulch planter treatment. Three hundred pounds of 4-16-16 or

5-20-20 per acre of starter fertilizer were also drilled near the

corn row. The mulch-planted corn was usually cultivated once, while

the conventional plantings were usually cultivated 2 or 3 times. All

of the corn was sidedressed with 250 to 300 pounds per acre of am¬

monium nitrate when it was approximately knee high or at the

time of last cultivation. The treatments were only duplicated at each

location since the size of the equipment made it impossible to have

more replicates.

Results and Discussion

The yield of corn and the plant population for the mulch and

conventional planted corn for the four year period is given in

Table 1.

These yields indicate that in the better corn growing areas of the

state, namely the Miami and the Fayette soil type, approximately

equal yields were obtained with either the conventional or the mulch

planting method when the plant populations were about the same.

The 15 bushel greater yield with conventional planting on Fayette

soil in 1954 is believed due to the greater plant population. It is

doubtful if the yield differences in other years were significant.

It is of interest to note here that rodent and pheasant damage

was much more serious with mulch planting than with the conven¬

tional seedbed preparation. In some cases the corn had to be par¬

tially replanted two or three times by hand in order to obtain a

satisfactory stand with the mulch planting.

The comparatively low corn yield from the Spencer soil is due to

the relatively short growing season in the northern part of the

state. This soil has poor internal drainage and usually remains cold

and wet into early summer. Permitting vegetation to grow up until

corn planting time would seem to be an excellent method to help

dry and warm the soil in the spring and should result in earlier

planting date, better seed germination, and improved corn yields.

However, the 1953 and 1954 growing seasons were unusually wet in

this area and the corn yields were somewhat below the 65 bushel

138 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

long time average grain yield for the Marshfield Branch Experi¬

ment Station. The seven bushel average increase in yield from con¬

ventional planting is largely due to the higher plant population.

TABLE I

Soil Type, Population and Yield of Corn on Mulch and Conventional

Prepared Seedbed Experiment, 1952-1955

* Average yield of duplicate plots.

Since two corn planters were used in this study — one mounted

on the till planter tractor, and the other planter used by the Branch

Experiment Stations for the conventional corn planting, it was im¬

possible to obtain the same plant population. However, in another

study (2) it was found that when the sweeps were dropped off of

the mulch planter unit and the same planter was used for both con¬

ventional and mulch planting, the plant population averaged 4,000

more per acre on the mulch planted plots. This was significant at

the 5% level. The better stand on the mulch planted corn is be¬

lieved due to less structure damage and hence better aeration and

possibly less surface crusting.

1959] Peterson and Engelbert — Corn Without Plowing 139

The power requirements for pulling the mulch planter varied

greatly depending on the vegetative cover of the field, the moisture

content of the soil, and particularly the depth of penetration of the

bottom sweep. If there had been appreciable erosion so that the

bottom sweep penetrated the subsoil (B horizon) the power re¬

quirements increased substantially. It was necessary to add addi¬

tional wheel weights and fluid in the tractor tires to provide suffi¬

cient traction. If planting is in old sod it appears desirable to put

tire chains on the tractor, and disc twice before planting in order

to give the sweeps a better chance to penetrate the soil. It was un¬

necessary to disc grain stubble or corn stalks unless the material

was so long that it clogged the mulch planter. Mulch planting would

not be suitable for stoney land since the bottom sweeps would be

damaged.

When planting on contour slopes greater than 8 percent, it was

difficult to adjust the sweeps to cut at a uniform depth for traveling

in both directions. Also, when chains were not used on steep slopes

wheel slippage caused the tractor to turn at a slight angle to the

direction of planting and threw the planter out of alignment with

the prepared furrows.

With mulch planting the weed problem increased during the sec¬

ond and third year of continuous corn. The grassy and tall broad-

leaf annual weeds were a much greater problem than quackgrass.

Therefore, with continuous mulch planted corn chemical weed con¬

trol would appear to be necessary. A regular show type cultivator

was used without difficulty.

The effect of mulch planting on reducing erosion and water loss

during the summer growing season was spectacular. In one storm

recorded on June 2, 1954, a two inch downpour two days after

planting resulted in a loss of 1.75 inches of water from the conven¬

tional planting as well as 10.3 tons of soil per acre. However, where

the corn had been mulch planted no appreciable soil or water was

lost. In a year when such rains occur the saving in water by mulch

planting could well make the difference between a good or poor crop

if dry weather should follow.

Summary

A four year study was made to determine if corn can be grown

successfully in Wisconsin without previous plowing. Comparisons

were made of corn planted with conventional method and corn

planted with a special mulch planter. With average weather condi¬

tions and use of an adapted hybrid, excellent yields were obtained

for both methods.

The results indicate that to mulch plant successfully one must:

(a) provide adequate plant food for both corn and weeds, (b) fob

140 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

low normal good corn cultural practices, (c) make sure that a

tractor with the necessary power (3 plow or more) is available and

(d) carefully adjust the depth of the sweeps (this is especially

important on sloping land). Soil and water losses from mulch

planted fields having slopes up to 10 percent were negligible even

with intense rains of two inches per hour, whereas, with conven¬

tional planting, losses of ten tons of soil and 1.75 inches of water

per acre occurred.

Although the difficulties encountered in satisfactorily planting

corn with the mulch planter make it relatively impractical on the

average Wisconsin farm, this study clearly demonstrated the poten¬

tials of new soil tillage methods for growing corn. Many of the

advantages of mulch planting have recently been incorporated into

a promising new and simplified minimum soil tillage method called

“Wheel track corn planting”. (5)

Literature Cited

(1) Borst, H. L. and Mederski, H. J. 1957. Surface Mulches and Mulch Tillage

for Corn Production. Ohio Agr. Res. Bull. 796.

(2) Holmes, W. E. 1955. Mulch-Tillage and Pasturing Effect on Soil Produc¬

tivity and Physical Properties. Unpublished PhD Thesis. University of

Wisconsin.

(3) Hulbert, L. W. and Wattmuss, Howard. 1957. Fewer Field Operations

for Corn. Nebr. Agr. Expt. Station Summer Quarterly. Vol. 5:5.

(4) Scarseth, George. 1952. Mulch and Fertilizer. Agr. Engr. Vol. 33:65.

(5) Peterson, A. E., Berge, O. I., Murdock, J. T. and Peterson, D. R. 195&.

Wheel Track Corn Planting. Univ. of Wise. Circular 559.

ARTS AND LETTERS

141

THE CONCEPT OF THE JUDGE-PENITENT OF

ALBERT CAMUS*

Robert F. Roeming

University of Wisconsin — Milwaukee

In awarding the Nobel Prize for Literature, 1957 to Albert

Camus, the Swedish Academy honored him in the words of Dr.

Anders Osterling “. . . for his important literary production, which

with clear-sighted earnestness illuminates the problems of the

human conscience in our time.”1 Throughout his work Camus has

sought to redefine moral values in terms acceptable to a world which

by its actions has denied the validity of former sources of morality

and truth. In Combat he wrote, September, 1945, “. . . it is a matter

of finding out for ourselves whether man, without help of religion or

of rationalist thought, can solely by himself create his own values.”2

In accepting the Nobel Prize in Stockholm on December 10, 1957,

Camus elaborated this definition of the problem confronting his

contemporaries. He declared, “As the heir of a corrupt history that

blends blighted revolutions, misguided techniques, dead gods, and

worn out ideologies, in which second-rate powers can destroy every¬

thing today, but are unable to win anyone over, in which intelli¬

gence has stooped to becoming the servant of hatred and oppres¬

sion, that generation, starting from nothing but its own negations,

has had to re-establish both within and without itself a little of

what constitutes the dignity of life and death.”3

For Camus, total negation is the first step toward facing the

problem of life and its meaning. Without this negation, which in its

totality also includes that of one’s self as an identity, one remains

under the deceptive intellectual traditions of the past which assume

that the order of the universe is identical with that of human rea¬

son. The incompatibility between man’s desire for clear and com¬

plete explanations in his own terms and the inability of an irra¬

tional world to yield them produces the absurd. In “The Myth of

Sisyphus” Camus wrote, “This world in itself is not rational, that

is all one can say about it. But what is absurd is the confrontation

* Paper read at the 89th Annual Meeting of the Wisconsin Academy of Sciences,

Arts and Letters.

1 Albert Camus, “Speech of Acceptance upon the Award of the Nobel Prize for

Literature, December 10, 1957” (New York, Knopf, 1958), p. v. Quoted from the cita¬

tion read by Dr. Anders Osterling, permanent secretary of the Swedish Academay.

2 Albert Camus, “Actuelles I” (Paris, Gallimard, 1950). The quotation is reprinted

on page 111.

3 Albert Camus, “Speech of Acceptance upon the Award of the Nobel Prize for

Literature, December 10, 1957” (New York, Knopf, 1958), p. xi.

143

144 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

of this irrationality and of this desperate desire for clarity whose

cry resounds in the innermost depths of man. The absurd depends

as much on man as on the world. It is, for the time being, their

only bond.”4 The fundamental manifestations of the absurd is man’s

aspiration for the eternal and his subordination to duration and

death.

Camus finds the meaning of life then can only reside in confront¬

ing the absurd and in revolt against it, not in turning away from it.

“Now one will not live out this destiny, knowing it to be absurd,

unless one does everything possible to keep before oneself this

absurdity brought to light by the consciousness of it. To deny one

of the terms of this antithesis by which the absurdity lives is to

escape from it. To abolish conscious revolt is to evade the problem.

The theme of permanent revolt is thus carried into individual ex¬

perience. To live is to make the absurd live. Making it live is above

all looking at it. Unlike Eurydice, the absurd dies only when one

turns away from it.”5

For this reason suicide is inadmissible, since it is a conscious

avoidance of the total problem. God and other absolutes nullify the

contradictions of life by substituting a further inexplicable element.

Camus refuses to accept what is beyond his understanding. Since

the absurdity of the world is a cruel and hostile force, any subjec¬

tion to irrationality of any type is an humiliation of the intellect.

“I want to know whether I can live with what I know and with that

alone. I am still told that intelligence must sacrifice its pride and

that reason must humble itself. But if I recognize the limits of rea¬

son, I do not deny it by doing so, recognizing its relative powers.

I only want to pursue a steady course in this middle road where

intelligence can remain clear. If that is its pride, I do not see suffi¬

cient reason for giving it up.”6

Camus, therefore, remains firmly on the plane of the intellect;

and since he cannot get from the world an explanation of the

absurdity, he rebels against this humiliation and sets against it his

philosophy of revolt, which originates in a primitive feeling of

human solidarity and human dignity. This revolt protests against

absurdity, cruelty, and injustice and creates a moral value based on

suffering. It demands as much liberty as is consistent with the lib¬

erty of one’s neighbor. Any attempt to again revert to absolute

standards, even of liberty, again produces the absurd in the form

of a dictatorship. The rebel must always be prepared to answer the

question of how he will deal with the man who opposes him. We

have, therefore, the two basic elements of Camus’ philosophy; the

confrontation or recognition of the absurd and the revolt against it.

4 Albert Camus, “Le Mythe de Sisyphe” (Paris, Gallimard, 1942), p. 37.

5 Ibid., p. 76.

6 Ibid., p. 60.

1959] Roeming — Camus ancl the Judge-Penitent 145

Since Camus has made the absence of values the philosophical

center of his work, he cannot accept the absolute moral values of

traditional humanism. He is concerned with a restatement of moral

values which can be contained within the limits of man’s reason.

These moral values must necessarily rise from suffering, since the

absurdity of the world is cruel and hostile. Since all men are con¬

fronted with the same hostility and cruelty, they are bound to each

other in a dual bond; they are the cause of their own suffering;

and, through solidarity, the cause of their own moral judgments.

But to achieve that solidarity through recognition of guilt and

acceptance of penance, man must first examine his conscience.

This examination of conscience is the motivating force of The

Fall . The concept of the judge-penitent is a facet of this examina¬

tion of conscience.

In reading this recit of Camus, we find that he is interpreting

Judeo-Christian concepts in contemporary tones. In this sense, this

work becomes highly symbolical, and we must recognize ideals of

the New Testament enveloped in the cloak of the liberal humanism

of Camus.

In three of Christ’s parables presented as an integral unit of the

fifteenth chapter of Saint Luke, that of the lost sheep, the prodigal

son, and the lost coin, the lesson is clearly drawn that man must

lose himself before he can enter the Kingdom of Heaven, that he

must deny his own nature of self-interest to find himself again as

a living testimony of the love of God and the love of neighbor. The

first Christian symbol of this “losing of self” was John the Baptist,

a voice crying in the wilderness. John had the opportunities of

birth, as the son of a priest, which would have insured him a sub¬

stantial and respected place in life. He chose, however, to retire to

the wilderness and, in a state of abject humility, to call man to a

life of repentance, in other words, to an examination of the real

value of the individual in defining the meaning of life. The two con¬

cepts of penance, which is a form of suffering, and of judgment

embodied in John the Baptist are the foundation of The Fall and

its cultural theme of the judge-penitent.

The Fall is a monologue of self-accusation by the character Jean-

Baptiste Clamence to a chance acquaintance encountered in the

Mexico City Bar in Amsterdam. The symbolism of the first name

Jean-Baptiste, John the Baptist, is readily apparent. The invention

of the last name on the root of the Latin verb clamare (to call or to

cry out) reenforces the conviction that Camus was intent on re¬

interpreting the Christian Biblical missionary. Clamence is also a

bachelor with no emotional ties binding him to anyone. The Biblical

wilderness was the physical means of divesting man of his material

ties. In the same manner, the Mexico City Bar in Amsterdam is the

symbol of the divorce from materialism. Those who frequent this

146 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

bar “come from the four corners of Europe and stop facing the

inner sea, on the drab strand. They listen to the foghorns, vainly

try to make out the silhouettes of boats in the fog, then turn back

over the canals and go home through the rain. Chilled to the bone,

they come and ask in all languages for gin at Mexico City”7 “For¬

tunately there is gin, the sole glimmer of light in this darkness.”8

Clamence is a former Parisian lawyer who had risen to a great

success in his profession by mastering the art of parading self-

interest as virtue. He had by studied effort brought himself to a

perfect state of harmony with life. Being on the summits, on the

right side of the law, self-indulgent, though esteemed by all, Clam¬

ence considered himself above judgment. This was the absolute

value to which he attached himself, one to which he believed him¬

self designated and for which he was peculiarly favored. Contented

with his virtues, Clamence did not concern himself with the idea

that he could be judged by others. He completes the summation of

his character in these words, “I admitted only superiorities in me

and this explained my good will and serenity. When I was con¬

cerned with others, I was so out of pure condescension, in utter

freedom, and all credit went to me : my self-esteem would go up a

degree.”9

Though Clamence felt himself free, he did not realize that free¬

dom demanded responsibility and that the exercise of freedom in¬

volves the judgment of each action evolving from it. While crossing

the Pont Royal one night, he passed behind a feminine figure lean¬

ing on the railing and staring at the river. After he had crossed the

bridge, he heard the sound of a body striking the water and later a

cry, repeated several times, which was going downstream; then it

suddenly ceased. In this instant Clamence was confronted with the

need of making a decision, to save the woman or do nothing. This

decision was forced upon him from without the framework of his

personality and his virtue. He chose to do nothing. However, this

inaction was an exercise of his freedom and the consequent fate of

the woman, whether she lived or died, emanated from this exercise

of freedom. Even such an excuse as “too late” or “too far” did not

relieve him of responsibility in the life of this woman.

But Clamence was aware of the change in his life. He was now

subject to judgment. As a result of this incident, he found himself

insecure and questioning himself and his virtue. He had discovered

the fact that freedom and responsibility were not separable. He had

fallen from his summit, and his fall was this discovery of the

responsibility of freedom.

7 Albert Camus, “La Chute” (Paris, Gallimard, 1956). ‘‘The Fall”, translated by

Justin O’Brien (New York, Knopf, 1956 ), p 15. All following citations are from this

translation.

8 Ibid., p. 12.

9 Ibid., p. 48.

1959]

Roeming — Camus and the Judge-Penitent

147

The further realization of Clamence was that the exercise of this

responsibility was being judged by others. This realization is sym¬

bolized by his sensitivity to laughter which he heard on the dark

foggy streets of Paris at night. Finally when in an altercation with

a motorcyclist, he is struck and does not retaliate, he realizes that

he is no longer the physical master of his well being. These episodes

led him to distrust his physical and spiritual contentment. This dis¬

trust was in itself an act of judgment which awakened in him the

realization that no one is innocent and that he too was being judged

or accused and, therefore, was on the side of the guilty. This reali¬

zation of lack of innocence, this change of status and the full aware¬

ness of its implications, is also part of the fall of Adam. In the

Garden of Eden, Adam also learned that the exercise of a free

choice carried with it inescapable responsibility which placed him

among the guilty also. But just as Adam attempted to disclaim

responsibility by turning to Eve, so Clamence attempted to find

freedom without responsibility in debauchery or giving himself

entirely into the power of his senses.

“. . . true debauchery/’ he comments, “is liberating because it cre¬

ates no obligations. In it you possess only yourself ; hence it remains

the favorite pastime of the great lovers of their own person. It is

a jungle without past or future, without any promise above all, nor

any immediate penalty. The places where it is practiced are sepa¬

rated from the world. On entering, one leaves behind fear and

hope.”10 But again the world crowded in on him, and the image of

the woman drowning in the Seine came back. And so Clamence had

to come to terms with his “little-ease”, “malconfort”. Camus takes

the instrument of torture of the Middle Ages, the cell in which a

man could neither stand nor lie down, as the restriction which

encompasses man and makes him realize guilt.

“Moreover, we cannot assert the innocence of anyone, whereas

we can state with certainty the guilt of all. Every man testifies to

the crime of all the others — that is my faith and my hope. . . . God

is not needed to create guilt or to punish. Our fellow men suffice,

aided by ourselves.”11

The bond of guilt which the fall of Adam established for all man¬

kind is the identical one which the responsibility of freedom has

forged. Even the innocence of Christ in the eyes of Camus is com¬

promised by the “Slaughter of the Innocents”, for which He was

in a measure responsible, when his parents sought refuge for Him

in Egypt. So too the concept of the “just judge” is a fraud. For

Camus the judge sits above the guilty not the innocent. He por¬

trays this idea symbolically in the stolen picture of “The Just

10 Ibid., p. 103.

11 Ibid., p. 110.

148 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and. \ Letters [Vol. 48

Judges” by Van Eyck, which had formed one of the panels of “The

Adoration of the Lamb,” set in the altar of the St. Bavon Cathedral

of Ghent. In The Fall this painting is now stored in the closet of

Clamence after having hung for some time in the Mexico City Bar,

while in the cathedral altar a copy of the original painting substi¬

tutes fraudulent judges approaching the innocent lamb. For Clam¬

ence the balance of life is thus restored. He says, “Finally, because

this way everything is in harmony. Justice being definitely sepa¬

rated from innocence — the latter on the cross and the former in the

cupboard — I have the way clear to work according to my con¬

victions.”12

Thus Clamence, as an individual who has a full realization of his

responsibility in the exercise of freedom without any security in

the old virtue from which he had fallen, is fully experienced to

judge others, to accuse them in their exercise of freedom with

responsibility.

Clamence is the mirror of our times, the figure of ourselves. He

says “. . . I adapt my words to my listener and lead him to go me

one better. I mingle what concerns me and what concerns others.

I choose the features we have in common, the experiences we have

endured together, the failings we share — good form, in other words,

the man of the hour as he is rife in me and in others. With all that

I construct a portrait of all and of no one. A mask, in short, rather

like those carnival masks which are both lifelike and stylized, so

that they make people say: ‘Why surely Tve met him/ When the

portrait is finished, as it is this evening, I show it with great sor¬

row. ‘This, alas, is what 1 am!’ The prosecutor’s charge is finished.

But at the same time the portrait I hold out to my contemporaries

becomes a mirror.”13

The judge-penitent of Camus is his interpretation of the contem¬

porary liberal humanist. The study of man, conceived as a com¬

plete secular being, leads him to the conclusion that man is the

cause of his own suffering and guilt, which can be alleviated only

to the degree that each individual, through a complete denial of

self-interest, attains the right to judge the responsible exercise of

freedom in others. Justice and innocence are non-existent. Human¬

ity to move upward toward the summits must become its own judge-

penitent. The democracy of guilt will engender between men that

solidarity which will enable them to continue the quest for harmony

with life.

For Albert Camus the concept of the judge-penitent is the funda¬

mental and complete explanation of man in all ages. Through Adam,

as the figure of the first man, the universality of the guilt of man-

12 Ibid., p. 130.

13 Ibid., pp. 139-140.

1959] Roeming — Camus and the Judge-Penitent 149

kind became established in the Judaic tradition at its inception. In

like manner John the Baptist inaugurated the Christian era with

the same cry of accusation, “You brood of snakes! Who warned you

to escape from the wrath that is coming ?”14 Both these patriarchs

experienced the complete loss of self-interest in finding the mean¬

ing of the solidarity of mankind.

The intensity of this struggle for spiritual solidarity with man

and against spiritual isolation by being bereft of it arises from the

precarious balance upon which the life of the individual is poised.

The slightest misconception of one’s own nature at any given

moment can plunge one into a tragic impasse. In the concept of

Camus it is only the true judge-penitent who is within reach of this

kingdom, which has been promised to men of all ages from Adam to

John the Baptist to Jean-Baptiste Clamence.

u “The Complete Bible”, translated by Edgar J. Goodspeed (Chicago, University of

Chicago Press, 1948). Matthew 3, 7.

AMERICAN PROTESTANTISM AND THE MIDDLE

CLASS: 1870-1910*

Walter F. Peterson

Milwaukee-D owner College, Milwaukee

In the period following the Civil War, Protestantism seemed to

face nothing but problems. Those problems raised by Darwinian

evolution and by the High Criticism were mainly theological in

nature. Change was also taking place in the physical setting. The

Civil War had stimulated the growth of American industries, and

they were rapidly approaching the proportions of giants. Growing

industry in turn accelerated the tendency toward urbanization. The

rise of the city and the growth of industry presented practical

problems of great importance to the major Protestant denomina¬

tions, for although American Protestantism had been traditionally

rural in its psychology, this approach was now challenged by a new

set of physical conditions and by the new social classes resulting

from the new industrial society.

The clergy were not prepared to meet the new problems of the

city and industry directly, for they had no contact with them. Only

very rarely did ministerial candidates come from the ranks of those

classes produced by modern industrial society; the very rich and

the urban, industrial poor.1 Charles Stelzle once noted that the

average Protestant minister made the claim that having come from

a poor home he consequently was in a position to sympathize with

the unfortunate. At the same time these ministers completely failed

to comprehend the problems of industrial and urban poverty and

unemployment. Stelzle made a survey of ministers in relation to

this fact and found that fully ninety percent of the ministers that

he interviewed in city churches had been born and reared in what

might be classed as rural areas. The poverty to which they referred

was the simple life of the small town or of the farm which was

quite a different thing from the pangs of cold and hunger which he

had experienced in city tenements. Leaving their rural areas for

college and the seminary, they had no occasion to encounter the

realities of city life as it affected the urban poor.2 Consequently, if

* Paper read at the 89th Annual Meeting- of the Wisconsin Academy of Sciences,

Arts and Letters.

1 Walter Rauschenbusch, Christianity and the Social Crisis (New York, 1907),

p. 301.

2 Charles Stelzle, A Son of the Bowery; The Life of an East Side American (New

York, 1926 ), pp. 82 f. In a sample of 1800 ministers taken in 1930 it was found that

only 12 per cent were reared in cities over 100,000 population and 48 per cent came

151

152 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

many ministers through lack of education were unable to compre¬

hend the problems which science and biblical criticism posed for

them, they were certainly no more able to comprehend the basic

problems encountered among the masses in the cities or of indus¬

trial labor. The result was an ever widening rift between the Ameri¬

can worker and Protestantism.

To an ever increasing extent, it was the great American middle

class that came to sustain the churches of the major Protestant

denominations as the nineteenth century progressed. It was becom¬

ing ever more clear that the upper and lower strata of society,

both from an economic and educational point of view, had by the

turn of the century, ceased to lend active support to these denomi¬

nations. It was now the “solid” and “responsible” middle class that

came to be identified with the major Protestant denominations.3

This included the employers, salaried persons, small tradesmen and

farmers. It also included those who had a personal or sympathetic

attachment to this class or were engaged in personal service, such

as cooks, housemaids, and servants.4 The ministers readily admitted

that their churches were middle class and ministered primarily to

that class. Methodism, which had once been the province of the

lowly, had profited greatly during the period following the Civil

War both individually and collectively. By the turn of the century,

Theodore Roosevelt was probably quite correct in stating that he

preferred a Methodist audience to any other in America, for they

represented to him the great middle class and were in consequence,

the most representative church in America.5

As the major Protestant denominations came to be principally

composed of middle class families, the results were readily apparent

in the sermons prepared for such an audience.6 A very great change

in character is to be noted. The clergy of an earlier day read their

sermons, priding themselves in their logic and construction. But

after the Civil War an attempt was made to make the sermons

more interesting and more spontaneous. Henry Ward Beecher soon

from communities of less than 1000. In this same sample, less than 1 per cent reported

the economic status of their parents as wealthy. About 4 per cent said that their

parents were well-to-do, and one third reported that their parents were poor. Well

over half stated that their fathers were farmers or small tradesmen. Mark A. May,

“Theological Education,” The Church Through Half a Century; Essays in Honor of

William Adams Brown, eds. Samuel McCrea Cavert and Henry Pitney Van Dusen

(New York, 1936), p. 257.

3 Andreas Bard, The Dawn of To-Morrow and Other Sermons ( Burlington, Iowa,

1911), p. 30. Lewis O. Brastow, The Modern Pulpit: A Study of Homiletic Sources and

Characteristics (New York, 1906), p. 321.

4 Clinton Locke, Five Minute Talks; Second Series, (Milwaukee, 1904), p. 170.

Shailer Mathews, The Church and the Changing Order (New York, 1907), p. 120.

6 Charles A. and Mary R. Beard, The Rise of American Civilization (New York,

1937), II, pp. 400 f.

6 Brastow, The Modern Pulpit, pp. 325 f. George B. Cutten, The Psychological

Phenomena of Christianity (New York, 1909), pp. 384 f.

1959] Peterson — Protestantism and Middle Class 153

came to speak extemporaneously and was one of the first of the

leading members of the clergy to adopt this practice. In fact,

Beecher was said to prepare his morning sermons in the hour and

a half between breakfast and the time of service. Phillips Brooks

soon followed Beecher’s example. T. De Witt Talmage brought this

movement to its culmination. As orthodox in his theology as he was

unorthodox in his presentation, he specialized in bazaar topics for

his sermons presenting them with superb eloquence and startling

illustrations.7 However, some ministers still called for a return to

the old fire and brimstone preaching of the past.

But the Protestant pulpit could not return to the principles of the

past, for beneficial as the Puritan sermons might have been they

were not always congenial. Fire and brimstone and the middle class

did not seem to mix. The call now went out to preach the ‘‘gospel.”

The movement seems to have started shortly after the Civil War,

and it gained momentum as it progressed. The “gospel” seemed to

be whatever would not offend a middle class audience. As a conse¬

quence it dealt primarily with the past rather than the present.

Charles Stelzle received most of his training for the ministry in the

school of hard knocks among the Brooklynites and Chicagoites while

his more fortunate Presbyterian brethren were in the seminaries

immersed in the study of the Amalekites and Hittites. He found

that when he preached about the problems of the Pittsburghites,

discussing the same questions that his brothers were preaching

about in relation to the Jebusites, he was rudely reminded that it

would be much better if he would preach the “simple gospel.”8 In

preaching the “simple gospel” the average Protestant minister be¬

came oblivious of life outside his middle class parish.

In keeping with this genteel middle class sentiment, the church

now came to be regarded as the center of social refinement and

culture ; for it was there that men could learn “many of those arts

which add to the beauty and refinement of society.”9 This can be

seen in the field of music where it was found that the middle class

was attracted by those churches whose music pleased them. Conse¬

quently, those congregations that could afford to do so spared no

expense in getting the best available artists. Since volunteer choirs

were difficult to maintain, and trained choirs proved to be too costly

save for the wealthiest congregations, many turned to the profes-

7 George Harris, A Century’s Change in Religion (New York, 1914), pp. 205 f.

Leonard Woolsey Bacon, A History of American Christianity (New York, 1897), pp.

384 f.

8 Stelzle, Son. of the Bowery, pp. 55 f.

9 The fact that this quotation comes from one of the patriarchs of American

Methodism is interesting-, for it tends to illustrate that this denomination, which initally

contained more of the lower classes of society than others, was striving valiantly for

a measure of social prestige. Bishop Matthew Simpson, Sermons by Bishop Simpson;

of the Methodist Episcopal Church (New York, 1885), pp. 216 f,

154 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

sional quartet as did Plymouth Congregational Church, Milwau¬

kee.10 Congregations now praised God by proxy.

As the major Protestant denominations increased in wealth, ever

more attention was given to the art of worship. Cushions were

placed in the pews so that the congregations might better appre¬

ciate the beauties of the service in greater comfort. Choirs now

donned robes as did many ministers, and liturgical forms of greater

or less complexity were introduced in the nonritualistic churches.

One is no longer surprised to find the use of vestments, procession¬

als, crosses, and even candles in churches which a half century

earlier would have scorned their use as a tendency toward

“Romanism.”11

The practice of renting pews seems to have been quite common

in this period, especially so in the case of the Episcopal Church.

Within this denomination those congregations which had not made

this a standard practice prior to the Civil War frequently did so

afterwards to ensure adequate financial support.12 In fact, at a

vestry meeting on August 6, 1873, in the Episcopal Church at Mus¬

catine, Iowa, it was voted to collect by suit at law all delinquent

pew rents that were more than six months in arrears.13 It was per¬

haps not unusual that Baptist churches in Chicago should follow

the practice of renting pews, but that the First Baptist Church of

Anoka, Minnesota should adopt it as a means of securing a popular

minister seems rather surprising.14 Pews were generally rented to

the highest bidder at auction at the beginning of each year; the

rate for pews seating five persons varied from less than twenty-five

dollars in more modest congregations to one hundred fifty dollars

and more in the wealthier. The rental of pews made the church

something of a proprietary institution which existed to minister

only to those who had been admitted to its membership and paid

for its support.

As many churches assumed the proportions of a middle class

club for the mutual benefit of the members, it is to be expected that

changing vacation habits would be reflected. The practice of taking

a vacation for as much of the summer as possible was bound to

have its effect. The middle class character of Protestantism is indi-

]0 Although it called itself an “Institutional Church” it is interesting to note that

Plymouth Church consistently spent more for its paid quartet during the 1890s than it

did on its entire institutional program. Plymouth Rock (Plymouth Congregational

Church, Milwaukee, 1890-1900).

11 Winfred Ernest Garrison, The March of Faith; The Story of Religion in America

Since 1865 (New York, 1933 ), p. 145.

1B Bishop H. B. Whipple, Christian Unity; A Lecture in the Opera House, Minneapolis

During the Winter of 187Jt—5. MS. Minnesota Historical Society.

13 J. P. Walton, History of Trinity Episcopal Church, Muscatine, loiva (Muscatine,

Iowa, 1892), p. 32.

14 George C. Lorimer, Isms Old and Neio; Winter Sunday Evening Sermon Series for

1880-81 Delivered in the First Baptist Church (Chicago, 1881), p. 343. Mrs. George H.

Wyman, History of First Baptist Church of Anoka, MS. Minnesota Historical Society.

Peterson — Protestantism and Middle Class

155

1959]

cated by the fact that the practice of closing the church doors for

one to three months during the summer became increasingly com¬

mon. During this time the pastor and the congregation alike betook

themselves to the seashore or the mountains.15

That such congregations should become show places is to be

expected. Fashion reigned supreme, especially in regard to women's

dress. Competition among women in this respect became so pro¬

nounced that the Reverend S. P. Long of Mansfield, Ohio, felt it

necessary to state that he could no longer tell the rich from the poor

in his audience.16 Perhaps his congregation contained few if any

of the poor. One Episcopal rector stated that the Bible did not in

any way prescribe how churchpeople were to dress during the week,

but St. Paul did specifically state that women should not dress too

extravagantly for church. This comment was brought about by the

fact that the women of his congregation seemed to feel that the

main purpose of the Sunday service was that it served as a place to

display their jewels, fine bonnets, and gowns.17 As a result of this

emphasis on superficial matters, more and more people in the lower

income group stayed away from the churches, being in no position

to compete in such matters with their employers.

Individual churches and denominational organizations were cor¬

porations with all the problems of budgets, building funds and

endowments that face such organizations. They found in the post

Civil War period that the laity could be utilized for their resources

and business abilities. The time was particularly opportune, since

the clergy, especially in the Methodist Church, had proven them¬

selves completely incompetent in handling the church’s financial

and business affairs.18 In American Methodism prior to 1870 the

laity had little control; but with the discovery of not only clerical

incompetence but also actual fraud in the handling of the affairs

of the Methodist Book Concern in the late eighteen sixties, the de¬

mand for the seating of lay delegates in the General Conference

grew rapidly. One of the great scenes in American Methodist his¬

tory occurred at the Meeting of the General Conference in Brooklyn

in 1872 when one hundred twenty-nine lay delegates, who had been

elected by their local areas, appeared at the door, demanded en¬

trance and were duly seated. Permanent participation by the laity

in the affairs of the church was then realized with the election of

prominent businessmen and lawyers to the various committees.

From this point on the laity came to participate to an ever greater

15 George F. Hall, A Disciples of Christ minister in Chicago who was independently

wealthy through his presidency of a Chicago corporation, advocated summer vacat'ons

for all his members for as long as they could afford to be away. Temple Addresses

(Chicago, 1909), pp. 34 2 ff.

16 S. P. Long, Prophetic Pearls (Columbus, 1913), p. 1G.

17 Locke, Five Minute Talks, pp. 74 f.

18 Garrison, March of Faith, p. 229. J. M. Buckley, A History of Methodists in the

United States (New York, 1896), p. 531.

156 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and, Letters [Vol. 48

extent in church government and policy.19 To an increasing degree

the business of the church now fell more and more into the hands of

laymen, a tendency which was especially apparent in the admin¬

istration of the Methodist colleges. As the number of wealthy lay¬

men increased they came to take the place of ministers on the

boards of trustees. Not infrequently laymen not affiliated with

Methodism were given such positions in the hope that they would

contribute liberally to the institutions. Wealth and position were

now the primary considerations in the election of church committees

and institutional boards, not only in American Methodism but in

the other major denominations as well.20

In the post Civil War period, the successful businessman became

the symbol of modern America; and his ideals and methods began

to permeate almost every phase of American life. It is not at all

strange that the church responded to this influence. More emphasis

was placed on efficiency, system, and organization within the

churches. The Reverend Charles E. Bronson, pastor of the First

Presbyterian Church, Saginaw, Michigan, directed the attention

of the church to the need for “more business in religion ; more of

the directness, energy, adaptation of means to definite ends, con¬

centration of purpose in the Lord’s business which we see in secular

affairs.”21 As this sermon continues it becomes increasingly obvious

that the conception of God has somewhat changed under the influ¬

ence of industrial society for now, “God is the Great Manufacturer,

the great Business Manager of the universe.”22 This tendency

toward Christian efficiency did not pass without some opposition,

however, for one of the criticisms of the church, especially by the

older and more pietistic segments of the congregations was that

business meetings were now taking the place of prayer meetings.

Such opposition was not able to reverse this tendency, however,

and Ernest Abbott found in 1901 that in many places the old Prayer

meeting had ceased to exist and elsewhere it was most certainly

declining.23

The growing tendency toward democracy in the administration

of the various churches, together with the increasing participation

on the part of the laity, produced a profound effect on the relations

of the minister with his congregation. By the turn of the century

it was admitted that it was virtually impossible to impose an un¬

wanted pastor on a financially independent congregation. Churches

19 Halford Edward Luccock and Paul Hutchinson, The Story of Methodism (New

York, 1926), pp. 370 ff.

20 William Warren Sweet, Methodism in American History (New Yrork, 1933 ), pp.

338 f.

21,Charles E. Bronson, “Christ’s Appeal to Men,” The Presbyterian Pulpit; A Volume

of Sermons by Ministers of the Synod of Michigan (Monroe, Michigan, 1898), p. 210.

22 Ibid., p. 212.

"Ernest Hamlin Abbott, Religious Life in America ; A Record of Personal Observa¬

tion (New York, 1902), pp. 361 f.

1959]

Peterson — Protestantism and Middle Class

157

which were being subsidized by missionary bodies might be re¬

stricted in their choice, but this was seldom the case when a con¬

gregation was sufficiently prosperous to manage its own affairs.24

In fact, the minister was now more than ever subject to the whims

of his congregation, and a great many became nothing more than

“cooperatively sustained private chaplains of well-to-do cliques.”25

This dependence upon the congregation continued to increase until,

after the turn of the century, there were probably very few preach¬

ers, as Walter Rauschenbusch pointed out, who could honestly say

that they had never been influenced by the fear of endangering

their income when they shaped or delivered their message to their

congregation. They were “in bondage through fear.”26

The Methodists had originally attempted not only to serve their

scattered frontier churches in a better manner but also to preserve

the independence of their clergy from congregational domination

through the use of an itinerant ministry. Originally the time limit

was one year, but in 1802 it was extended to two years. This limit

was raised to three years in 1864, and in 1888 to five years. In 1900

the limit was removed altogether, and a minister could be appointed

to a church indefinitely.27 Pressure for this change came primarily

from the middle class city congregations who wished to retain their

ministers if they approved of them, and on the part of the min¬

isters of such congregations who enjoyed a great measure of secu¬

rity, if not of independence. The Reverend Doctor H. W. Thomas

of Centenary Methodist Church, Chicago, expressed this feeling in

1877 when he stated that the then existing arbitrary limitation of

three years stood in the way of the best efforts for success in the

large cities “where the better class become established and want

something settled in their pastoral relations with those who shall

baptize their children, shall marry them, and shall stand by their

graves.”28 Doctor Thomas apparently enjoyed security more than

independence.

The rise of a great business civilization in the post Civil War

period brought new moral problems to American Protestantism.

Perhaps the major denominations were confused by the complexity

of the new moral issues, or it is possible that they were blinded by

the generosity of those who piously spent a part of the money that

they had gained in rather devious ways. Almost every major Prot¬

estant denomination profited financially from the increasing con¬

centration of wealth. The speculative activities of men such as

24 Emory W. Hunt, The Genesis of the Sects ; A Series of Discourses Delivered in

the Ashland Avenue Baptist ' Church , Toledo, Ohio (Toledo, 1899 ), pp. 45 f.

26 Mathews, Church and the Changing Order, p. 122.

20 Rauschenbusch, Christianity and the Social Crisis, p. 304.

27 Luccock and Hutchinson, Story of Methodism, pp. 460 f.

28 Austin Bierbower, Life and Sermons of Dr. W. H. Thomas (Chicago, 1880 ), p. 254.

158 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

Daniel Drew, John D. Rockefeller, and Cyrus McCormick were

sometimes called into question ; but ministers generally came to

their aid, for as one Professor of Intellectual and Moral Philosophy

stated, there was nothing essentially wrong with speculation,

after all, “A man must think about his business or he will come to

grief.”29 Indeed, to gain wealth was now held to be a Christian

duty. As the Reverend Oscar C. McCullock put it in 1892, “Wealth

is the rich soil in which a human soul-root unfolds its powers and

becomes its possibility. God meant that we should flee poverty.”30

But, once a man was rich he must keep in mind that he is only a

steward of God’s gifts, and the Master would in due time call all

the wealthy men to whom he had given gifts for an account of their

stewardship.31 So that rich men could better account to their Master

for the use of his gifts, John R. Mott suggested that they follow

the “gospel of wealth” suggested by Mr. Andrew Carnegie by giv¬

ing of their substance to missions and to other worthy causes.32

In this way Protestantism accommodated itself to a changing eco¬

nomic order.

In addition to this concept of stewardship, Protestantism

attempted to prove its usefulness to the middle class by stressing

the fact that it was profitable to be a Christian. It was pointed out

that the moral and Christian man would always think more clearly

and more correctly than would an equally endowed man who was

immoral or un-Christian. Godliness was held to*be especially profit¬

able in a business career, for it made men sober, economical, pru¬

dent, generous, honest, just, industrious, kind, cheerful, and oblig¬

ing; all of which were held to be essential to success in business.33

Christianity was not only held to be a very profitable thing for the

individual, but foreign missions were described as having done

more than any single factor to increase the commerce of civilized

nations. It was pointed out that in 1871 all the foreign missionary

societies in America spent $1,633,892. on all their fields of labor.

Yet the trade with the Sandwich Islands, which had been created

as a result of missionary labor, in the same year returned

$4,406,426. For every $100. sent out all over the world, this one

field of labor had returned $275. The entire cost of Christianizing

the Sandwich Islands was less than $1,200,000. But two years’

trade paid back that sum, and commerce with the Islands was in-

29 David Edwards Beach, Sermons and Addresses (Marietta, Ohio, 1890), p. 69.

30 Oscar C. McCulloch, The Open Door, Sermons and Prayers (Indianapolis, 1892),

p. 145. Also, D. W. C. Huntington, Half Century Messages to Pastors and People

(Cincinnati, 1905), p. 164.

31 M. Loy, Sermons on the Gospels for the Sundays and Chief Festivals of the Church

Year (Columbus, 1888), p. 526.

33 John R. Mott, The Pastor and Modern Missions ; A Plea for Leadership in World

Evangelization (New York, 1904), p. 134.

33 Euther Alexander Gotwald, Joy in the Divine Government and Other Sermons

(New York, 1901), pp. 92 ff.

1959]

Peterson — Protestantism and Middle Class

159

creasing every year.34 Christianity at home and abroad was now

profitable in terms of dollars and cents.

From 1870 the major Protestant denominations provided ever

increasing evidence that they were participating in the general in¬

crease in prosperity. By 1910 they had built costly buildings, pro¬

vided better music, and made their services more dignified. There

was to be found in them an air of culture and urbanity. The

message of Protestantism had also been shaped to meet the needs

of the prosperous middle class. But while these adjustments were

being made, one segment of society had been largely forgotten. A

gradually growing group of Protestant ministers realized this situa¬

tion. Few, however, were as pointed in their criticisms as George D.

Herron, pastor of the First Congregational Church, Burlington,

Iowa, who in 1892 delivered a sermon on “Unconsecrated Service

the Peril of the Church.”

Much of what we call Christianity is no less than an aristocratic and

shameless pauperism, thriving on the wealth of sacrifice inherited from the

past; resting- in high-priced pews and fashionable residences; cunningly

squeezing a luxurious living out of humanity, and superciliously labelling

as charity the appeals made to serve the humanity that supports it. It is

the victorious forces of time the church worships — prudence, thrift, re¬

spectability, reputation, culture— while it is practically infidel to the

Christian gospel.35

Criticisms such as this caused a good deal of discussion but pro¬

duced little real action. In the long run the middle class remained

safe, secure and content in the Protestant Church that they had

come to dominate.

31 H. A. Gobin, “Co-ordination of the Mission of Christ and the Mission of the

Church,” The Kansas Methodist Pulpit (Topeka, Kansas, 1890), pp. 72 f.

35 George D. Herron, A Plea for the Gosjjel (New York, 1892), p. 25.

HUGO VON HOFMANNSTAHL AND THE

SYMBOLIST DRAMA*

Haskell M. Block

University of Wisconsin, Madison

It is not usual to discuss symbolist drama. We commonly asso¬

ciate the symbolist movement in literature with French poetry of

the past hundred years, and it is generally assumed that the interest

and importance of the movement is largely limited to poetry. Cer¬

tainly, it would be difficult to speak of a symbolist novel — although

the attempt has been made1 — and while historians of the theatre,

especially in France, have given some recognition to the role of the

symbolist movement in the shaping of the modern drama,2 there

has been virtually no attempt to examine from a comparative stand¬

point the implications of symbolist theory and practice for Euro¬

pean drama in the later nineteenth and the twentieth centuries.3

It is important at the outset of our discussion to recognize the

broad and tentative sense in which the efforts of the French poets

and theorists of the later nineteenth century constitute a move¬

ment. For despite the programmatic declarations of the young

avant-gardists of 1885-95, 4 it is fair to state that “L’Ecole Sym¬

bolist e avec un E et un S majuscules ne fut qu’un my the auquel ,

seuls, accorderent creance les critiques hostiles aux directions nou-

velles .”5 We may speak of a common set of attitudes, themes, and

techniques which interrelate and give direction to the efforts of

Baudelaire, Villiers de l’lsle Adam, Mallarme, and Valery, among

others, and which we may loosely define as the core of “le mouve-

ment symboliste,” but we should also remember that literary sym¬

bols were employed long before Baudelaire set forth the aesthetic

of correspondences, and in a broad sense are part of the resources

of any poet. We may speak of symbolic situations, characters, or

language in Homer, Virgil, or Dante, without implying any neces¬

sary relationship between their works and the poetry of the sym-

* This essay is an expansion of a paper presented at the 88th Annual Meeting- of

the Wisconsin Academy of Sciences. Arts and Letters.

1 In Edmund Wilson’s Axel’s Castle (New York, 1931), the novels of Joyce and

Proust, among others, are discussed as expressions of the symbolist movement in

France.

2 The most recent study is Jacques Robichez, Le Symbolisme an theatre (Paris,

1957).

3 Perhaps the most serious attempt in this direction is John Gassner’s discussion in

Form and Idea in Modern Theatre (New York, 1956), pp. 97-109.

4 Their aberrations have been catalogued in full detail by A. G. Lehmann, The

Symbolist Aesthetic in France, 18S5—1S95 (Oxford, 1950).

5 Frangois Ruchon, Jules Laforgue (Paris, 1924 ), p. 215.

161

162 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

bolist movement; and yet, there is a particular set of theories and

techniques which characterize and define the efforts of the French

poets and their confreres, and which, while not the exclusive prop¬

erty of Baudelaire and his followers, nonetheless receive from them

a unique emphasis and elaboration as well as a more direct appli¬

cation to poetic thought and expression than we can find in earlier

literature.6 A brief discussion of the fundamental assumptions of

French symbolism will help us to understand the symbolist drama

and to see how these assumptions affect the dramatic writings of

Hugo von Hofmannstahl.

The most important achievements of the symbolist poets in the

theatre in France are the dramas of Villiers de ITsle Adam and

Maurice Maeterlinck, which are anticipated in many important

ways by Mallarme’s unfinished dramatic poem, H erodiade.7 To their

poetry and drama, Villiers, Mallarme, and their Belgian disciple,

Maeterlinck, brought a poetics which asserted that art was the

revelation of a mystery to which the poet alone had the key. In full

agreement with the mysticism of Baudelaire, they viewed the poet

as endowed with the magical power to perceive the hidden wonder

of the universe through analogies and correspondences which he

alone can grasp and is capable of translating into his poetry.

Dreams, reverie, the unconscious, the visionary or intuitive, all pro¬

vide direct illumination of the essential spirituality of the cosmos,

both in the world of man and that of nature.* Through the explora¬

tion of his inward vision, the poet can experience this spirituality,

and through allusion and suggestion, he can recreate its mystery in

his poetry. The language of symbolist drama, like that of symbolist

poetry, is richly evocative, expressive of the intensity and depth of

the poet’s necessarily personal and private experience. Its vague¬

ness together with its musicality makes for a re-creation in the

poet’s composition of his intuitive and mystical vision, revealing his

apprehension and fusion of inner and outer realms of being. Objec¬

tive reality has no independent existence, but is purified of coarse

materiality and incorporated into a higher, transformed reality,

the product of the poet’s direct and immediate awareness of the

spiritual character of all things. The celebration of this spirituality,

the evocation not of literal events, but of a mood, an atmosphere,

or an uetat d’ame,” animates the dramatic attempts and aspirations

of the symbolists just as fully as it lends purpose and direction to

their poetry.

0 1 am aware of the close relationship of French symbolism to the symbolist

aesthetics of German romanticism, but there are important differences in emphasis

and application as well as in their role in subsequent literary developments. The

fullest discussion of this subject to date is Lloyd Austin, L’Univers poetique de

B nude1 air e (Paris, 1956 ), pp. 78—82 and 139—184.

7 See my essay, “Dramatic Values in Mallarmes Herodiade,” forthcoming- in Stil-

und Formprobleme in dev Literatur (Proceedings of the Congress of the International

Federation of Modern Languages and Literatures, Heidelberg, 1957).

1959]

Block — Hofmannstahl and Symbolist Drama

163

When we examine the effect of symbolist poetics on dramatic

technique, we should not be surprised to find action reduced if not

eliminated, character generalized rather than individualized, and

language rendered in a consciously poetic style, with all elements

of prose subdued, if not refined altogether out of the poet’s expres¬

sion. Symbolist drama is necessarily lyric drama, for the funda¬

mental impulse underlying the concept of the poet and the nature

of his activity is derived from lyric poetry rather than from the

practical demands of the theatre; and precisely because of the

dominance of musicality, suggestiveness, and internalization of ex¬

perience, symbolist drama is necessarily, to a greater or lesser de¬

gree, static drama. It has been argued that there is an inherent

contradiction in the very notion of “symbolist drama,”8 and it is

at least clear, even from our cursory description, that the lyric

drama and static drama of the symbolist playwrights militates

strongly against traditional realistic or naturalistic notions of the

nature of dramatic representation.

It is not difficult to understand why a young Viennese poet who

began writing at the beginning of the 1890’s should be attracted

by the symbolist example. Precisely at the time that the unusually

precocious Hugo von Hofmannstahl began his literary career, it was

the French symbolists who represented what was fresh and experi¬

mental in the literature of the day. Brunnettiere’s proclamation

of the bankruptcy of naturalism was echoed by the Viennese critic,

Hermann Bahr, in Die Uberwindung des Naturalismus (1891), and

Stefan George, who experienced the full force of Mallarme’s influ¬

ence on his visit to Paris in 1889, asserted in his Blatter fur die

Kunst, begun in 1892, the primacy of absolute poetry in the face

of a society increasingly indifferent or hostile to the claims of

art.9 Hofmannstahl could not escape the impact of his older French

contemporaries, The young Hofmannstahl’s familiarity with the

contemporaries, nor did he attempt to. He was steeped in the tradi¬

tion of French and German romanticism out of which the sym¬

bolist movement developed, and he, like Stefan George, rediscovered

the romantic heritage of Novalis, the Schlegels, Schelling, and their

contemporaries. The young Hofmannstahl’s familiarity with the

literature of his time was immense. In his notebooks for 1891 we

find, a propos of Stefan George, allusions to Baudelaire, Verlaine,

Mallarme, Poe, and Swinburne, to name only a few of his early

interests.10 He knew and loved the poetry of Victor Hugo, the fiction

of Balzac, the journal of Amiel, all of which embody attitudes cen-

8 Gassner, op. ext., p .108.

9 See E. L. Duthie, L’Influence du symbolisme frangais dans le renouveau poetlque

de Vallemagne (Paris, 1933 ).

10 See “Aus Hofmannstahls Aufzeichnung'en 1890-95,’* Corona, IX (1939), 667. Also

see G. Bianquis, “Hofmannstahl et la France,” Revue de Htterature comparee, XXVII

(1953), 308,

164 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

tral to the symbolist aesthetic. One of his first reviews, to which

Hofmannstahl signed the pseudonym of “Loris,” was of AmieFs

Fragments d’un journal intime,11 in which the Viennese poet was

especially struck by the vagueness, suggestivity, and atmospheric

evocation in AmieFs depiction of nature, in his concern with the

effect of nature “sur Vet at de Vame.” He singles out for special

praise the diarist’s preoccupation with the obscure, the half-

revealed, the radically subjective,12 and adds that AmieFs defini¬

tion, utout paysage est un etat de Vame” has gained common cur¬

rency in contemporary France. He may have had in mind Mal-

larme’s famous remarks to Hu ret, for the French poet had de¬

clared: “Nommer un objet , c’est supprimer les trois-quarts de la

jouissance du poeme qui est faite de deviner peu d pen: le suggerer,

voild le reve. C’est le parfait usage de ce mystere qui constitue le

symbole : evoquer petit d petit un objet pour montrer un etat d’dme,

ou, inversement, choisir un objet et en degager un etat d’dme, par

une serie de dechiffrements.”13 HofmannstahFs familiarity with the

background as well as the foreground of French symbolism should

not make us view him simply as an Austrian counterpart of Mal-

larme, but the affinities in his poetry as well as in his lyric drama

with contemporary attitudes and techniques in France suggest that

his extensive study of French poetry and drama of the nineteenth

century entered directly into his own efforts.14 To describe the

young Hofmannstahl as a u symboliste” is no rpore accurate than to

label him a decadent, an aesthete, or a “A euromantiker ,” and in

later life, the poet protested strongly against such simplifications ;

yet, without forcing interpretation or text, we can find convincing

proof of a common set of attitudes and techniques, in a lyric drama

that provides a significant expression of the symbolist movement

in its European context.

It is instructive to consider HofmannstahFs critical prose for the

light his essays shed on the drama he was writing at the same time.

Among the very first of his published writings was a death notice

of Theodore de Banville,11 and it is noteworthy that Banville is

praised particularly for his artistic purity and for the dominance of

the dream-like and idyllic, not only in his poems, but in his Come-

u First published in the Moderne Rundschau, III (1891) and reprinted in Loris: Die

Prosa des jungen Hugo von Hofmannstahls (Berlin, 1930 ).

12 Ibid., p. 44.

13 Mallarme CEuvres completes, texte etabli et annote par Henri Mondor et G. Jean-

Aubry (Paris, 1956), p. 869. The view that poetry is the expression of an “etat d’ame"

is perhaps first expressed in Diderot’s account of language as a representation of

“l’etat de l'ame” at a given instant. See Diderot, Lettre sur les Sourds et Muets, in

CEuvres completes (Paris, 1875 ), I, 369. Cf. James Doolittle, “Hieroglyph and Emblem

in Diderot’s Lettre sur les Sourds et Muets,” Diderot Studies, II (Syracuse, 1952),

148—167.

14 For a discussion of symbolist affinities in Hofmannstahl’s poems, see Duthie,

op. cit., pp. 430-445.

15 Loris, p. 61.

1959]

Block — Hofmannstahl and Symbolist Drama

165

dies, “ seinen dramatischen Marchen ( Fourberies de Nerine, Diane

au Bois, Gringoire, Deidamia etc.) reinste Traumpoesie, hinaus-

fliichten aus der Welt in eine rosig angehauchte, grazieatmende

Transfiguration der griechischen Idyllenwelt. . . .”16 We may recall

that Mallarme’s Herodiade was originally conceived as a drama

modelled in part on Banville’s Diane au Bois,17 which also helped to

shape the poet’s conception of UL’ Apr es -midi d’un faune.”18 In

many of Hofmannstahl’s early reviews, mysticism, musicality, and

the suggestive power of language are repeatedly invoked as positive

values in the new literature of the time. The interest of the young

poet in Swinburne, Pater, the English Pre-Raphaelites, D’Annunzio,

and Verlaine, among others, testifies to his transcendent view of

poetry, his rejection of commonplace realism, and his rigorous

separation of poetry from the anecdotal or didactic, or from the

practical exigencies of every-day life.

Perhaps the best illustration of this facet of Hofmannstahl’s

early development is the lecture of 1896, “Poesie und Leben,”

wherein he declares : “ein Gedicht ein gewichtloses Gewebe aus

Worten ist, die durch ihre Anordnung, ihren Klang und ihren In¬

halt, indem sie die Erinnerung an Sichtbares und die Erinnerung

an Horbares mit dem Element der Beivegung verbinden, einen

genau umschriebenen, traumhaft deutlichen, fiuchtigen Seelenzu-

stand hervorrufen, den wir Stimmung nennen.”19 This “ Seelenzu-

stand” or “etat d’dme ” is evoked by the magical properties of lan¬

guage, musical yet precise, fixed and yet moving, dream-like and yet

expressive of the deepest human experiences. By their very nature,

words are repositories of both life and dream; the language of

poetry, Hofmannstahl insists, must be free from the rhetorical or

didactic, from conformity to external reality in any form. Poetry is

essentially the expression of inner life, the reflection of the spir¬

ituality of the universe through udie schwebenden, die unendlich

vieldeutigen, die zwischen Gott und Geschopf hangenden Worte.”20

This view of poetry and the poet, markedly close to the central posi¬

tion of both Novalis and the German romantics, and of Baudelaire

and the French symbolists, is re-echoed repeatedly in the critical

statements of the young Hofmannstahl. We may see the fruition of

his meditations on the symbolism of poetry in uDas Gesprdch uber

Gedichte ” published in 1904. Appropriately, the dialogue begins

with the citation of poems from George’s Jahr der Seele, which

Gabriel — who seems to represent Hofmannstahl’s own views —

singles out as expressive of the purest and loftiest beauty. Gabriel’s

16 Ibid.

17 See Mallarme, op. cit., p. 1441.

18 Ibid., p. 1449.

19 Loris, p. 263,

20 Ibid., p. 266,

166 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

poetic theory is based essentially on the symbolist aesthetics of the

romantics and symbolists, but he insists that the symbolic view

of language take full account of the human origins and human per¬

tinence of poetry. Thus, he cannot accept the statement of his part¬

ner, Clemens, that poetic language is symbolic in that “Sie setzt

eine Sache fur die andere .”21 For Gabriel, and presumably for Hof-

mannstahl, the symbolic character of poetry resides in its power to

express the deepest and most intimate essence of things rather than

to substitute one object for another. And when Clemens rejoins,

“ Es gibt also kerne Vergleiche? Es gibt keine Symbole?” Gabriel

replies, “Oh, vielmehr, es gibt nichts als das, nichts anderes .” Anal¬

ogies and symbols are inherent in the very existence of things;

they are part of the essence of objects, which the true poet reveals

in its fullest identity. All poetry, Gabriel asserts, or at least, by

implication, all great poetry, “ driccken sie einen Zustand des Ge-

miites aus,” that is, expresses an “etat d’dme” ; hence, the primacy

of mood creation, of shadowy evocation, of dream and magic in

poetry. All poetic objects are symbols, “ eig entlichen Hieroglyphen,

lebendige geheimnisvolle Chiffern, mit denen Gott unaussprechliche

Dinge in die Welt geschrieben hat.”22 The poet, through his unique

insight into the meaning of these magical signs, may embody them

in his poetry, but no literal or complete elucidation is possible. Lan¬

guage in its descriptive function cannot define symbolic values, but

the language of the poet is imbued with power to express the

magical and the archetypal residing in the world of symbols

around us.

The “ Gesprach iiber Gedichte,” written at a time when Hof-

mannstahl had already abandoned the lyric drama and was moving

sharply away from George and his followers, mingles symbolist

poetics with a more pervasive Platonic mysticism that underlies the

poet’s preoccupation with the archetypal. In 1904, the symbolic for

Hofmannstahl is both the correspondent and the situationally rep¬

resentative. The deliberate concern with general and universal

values points toward the poet’s later work, but the interest in sug¬

gestiveness and mystery stems from the poetic theory which ani¬

mated his earlier poetry and drama.

It is revealing to compare these views with notations in the poet’s

notebooks during the period 1890-95. From the beginning of his

career, Hofmannstahl embraced the traditional romantic view

that the language of poetry is an expression of the divine mysteries

of the world, and the essential unity of the cosmos: “Alles was ist,

1st, Sein und Beieutung is eins, folglich is alles Seiende Symbol.”23

21 Hofmannstahl, “Das Gesprach iiber Gedichte,” in Prosa, II (Frankfurt am Main,

1951), p. 98.

22 Ibid., p. 102.

23 "Aus Hofmannstahls Aufzeichnungen, 1890-95,” Corona, IX (1939), 678.

1959]

Block — Hofmannstahl and Symbolist Drama

167

Hofmannstahl never abandoned his view of the intrinsically sym¬

bolic character of objects in the visible world or in the universe at

large, but in the course of his development, he moved toward an in¬

creasingly personal mysticism, of mixed oriental and neoplatonic

origins, which the mature poet incorporated into a total explana¬

tion of man and the cosmos.24 Unquestionably, the affinities in Hof-

mannstahl’s poetic theory and that of the French symbolists are

closest at the time when Hofmannstahl took the keenest interest in

their work, that is, in the 1890’s.

Hofmannstahhs beginning as a writer is marked by his publica¬

tion in 1891, at the age of 17, of the lyric drama, Gestern, to which

he affixed the pseudonym of Theophil Morren. We should not under¬

rate the importance of this slight and self-conscious adolescent

attempt for our understanding of the structure, themes, and impli¬

cations, of all of the poet’s work of the 1890’s. It is plainly incor¬

rect to view Gestern as autobiographical in any literal sense,25 and

yet in some measure, the hedonism and passivity in the face of end¬

lessly changing experience is a condition which the poet knew and

may have shared.28 Andrea, the hero of the play, is a typical noble¬

man and patron of the arts of the Italian Renaissance.27 He lives

lavishly and munificently in a world of pleasure, free from care of

any kind. Life he accepts as an endless flow of experiences, existing

only in an eternal present, with no past or future. For Andrea, the

world is simply the objectivization of his inner feelings; the ex¬

ternal universe is but a symbol of the internal:28

1st niclit die ganze ewige Natur

Nur ein Symbol fur unsrer Seelen Launen?

Nothing endures beyond the moment, and the way to happiness is

through the acceptance of what pleasure the moment may bring.

It is in the subversion of this attitude that the drama of Gestern

resides. The dream of Andrea’s idyllic and essentially false exist¬

ence is shattered by Arlette’s infidelity, by the imposition of the

action of another’s independent will on Andrea’s pattern of life.

He comes to learn that he too has deceived himself, that neither

24 For an excellent study of Hofmannstahl’s mysticism, see Werner Metzeler,

Ursprung und Krise von Hofmannstahls Mystik (Miinchen, 1956 ). Metzeler recognizes

the affinities of Hofmannstahl and the French symbolists but adds, quite rightly, that

the Austrian poet’s mysticism cannot be explained from a historical, poetic, or psycho¬

logical point of view simply in the light of somewhat similar preoccupations of the

French poets. Cf. pp. 33-35.

23 For the view that Andrea is a self-portrait, see Karl J. Naef, Hugo von Hof¬

mannstahls Wesen und Werk (Zurich, 1938 ), p. 44.

23 Cf. “Englischer Stil,” Loris, p. 172. Valentin Pabst in Hugo von Hofmannstahls

Weg und Wandlung vom Lyriker zum Dramatiker (unpublished diss., Wiirzburg,

(1952), p. 33, sees Amiel as a direct source of Andrea.

27 This discussion is based in part on the essay of Richard Alewyn, “Hofmannstahls

Anfang: Gestern,” Trivium, VI (1948), 241-262.

28 Hugo von Hofmannstahl, Gedichte und Lyrische Drame,n (Stockholm, 1946),

p. 235.

168 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

the self nor the moment are self-sufficient, that yesterday has con¬

tinued existence in today. In this sense, what action the play con¬

tains issues in a moral generalization defining the destruction of

Andrea’s inadequate values as the curtain falls.

It should be clear, even from this brief account of the movement

of the drama, that altogether in keeping with the constriction of

the one act play, almost no physical action occurs ; but the paucity

of action stems principally from the introspective, meditative char¬

acter of the hero, as well as from the poetization of inward experi¬

ence in the language of the drama. The meaning of Andrea’s dis¬

covery can be expressed only as a realization, as a state of con¬

sciousness, and the locus of drama, its crisis and resolution, is nec¬

essarily fixed within the mind of the central character. It is clear

that Gestern turns away from the traditional drama of external

events depicted with a high degree of verisimilitude, and substi¬

tutes a relatively static drama of internal events.

Hofmannstahl defined the form of his lyric drama in a letter of

August 5, 1892, 29 in which he writes of ”Meine Lieblingsform,”

udas Proverb in Versen mit einer Moral” ; and he adds, “im Anfang

stellt der Held eine These auf, dann geschieht eine Kleinigkeit und

zwingt ihn, die These umzukehren; das ist eigentlich das ideale

Lustspiel, aber mit einem Stil fur Tanagrafiguren oder poupees de

Saxe.” The immediate origin of Hofmannstahl’s “proverb in verse”

is in all likelihood the comedies of Alfred de Musset, who con¬

structed such plays as II faut qu’une porte soit ouverte ou ferme

precisely in the manner that Hofmannstahl describes above.80 Yet,

the static drama with its internalization of action that we find in

Gestern is also akin to the technique of Maeterlinck, whose work

Hofmannstahl already knew by 1891.31 It is very likely that he

was aware of the high praise accorded to Maeterlinck’s early work,

both through his keen interest in the Parisian literary scene, and

through his close association, from 1891, with Hermann Bahr, who

was perhaps the principal intermediary between the French sym¬

bolists and the young Austrian writers of the early 1890’s.32 In his

volume of 1891, Die Uberwindung des N aturalismus , to which Hof¬

mannstahl refers in a letter to Bahr of July of that year,33 and

29 Hofmannstahl, Brief e 1890-1901 (Berlin, 1935), p. 62.

30 Alewyn, op. cit., p. 258. A somewhat fuller discussion is provided by Bianquis,

op. cit., pp. 316-317.

31 A good discussion of this relationship is provided by S. O. Palleske, Maurice

Maeterlinck en allemagne (Paris, 1938 ), pp 122, 132ff. Also of interest are the unpub¬

lished dissertations of Adolf Wally, Maurice Maeterlinck im Drama und in der Kritik

Deutschlands (Wien, 1938), and Silke Briickler, Hugo von Hofmannstahl und Maurice

Maeterlinck (Wurzburg, 1953). Cf. G. Bianquis, La poesie autrichienne de Hofmann¬

stahl d Rilke (Paris, 1926), pp. 132—135, and “Hofmannstahl et la France,’’ Joe. cit.,

p. 317.

32 For the relationship of Hermann Bahr to French symbolism and the symbolist

drama, see Heinz Kindermann, Hermann Bahr (Graz, 1954), esp. pp. 102-123.

33 Hofmannstahl, Briefe 1890-1901 (Berlin, 1935 ), p. 18.

1959]

Block — Hofmannstahl and Symbolist Drama

169

which we may assume the young poet to have studied with some

care, Bahr provides a detailed account of Maeterlinck’s earliest

dramas and his dramatic theory and technique, emphasizing the

rejection of external realism and consecutive linear action, and the

deliberate exploitation of suggestiveness which the Belgian play¬

wright derived from his intimate association with the French sym¬

bolists.34 It is impossible to determine to what degree, if any, the

conception of lyric drama which Hofmannstahl brought to Gestern

is based on such early plays of Maeterlinck as L’Intruse or Les

Aveugles. It is probable in any event that in his verse drama of

the later 1890’s, the Viennese poet drew directly on the work of

his Belgian contemporary. What is of special importance for our

purposes is not the presence or absence of parallel passages or

situations in the plays of Maeterlinck and Hofmannstahl, but the

degree to which both playwrights drew on a common romantic and

symbolist heritage in the development of their art.35

Hofmannstahl’s second lyric drama, Der Tod des Tizian , was

published in the first issue of George’s Blatter fur die Kunst, in

October, 1892. It is even more static in movement and more lyrical

in expression than Gestern. The entire “action” consists only of the

creation of a mood, inspired by the imminence of the great paint¬

er’s death. Much more of an elegy in dialogue than a drama, Der

Tod des Tizian is a sustained hymn to the greatness of art, a pas¬

sionate assertion of the mystery of genius and of the superiority

of the unseen world of artistic creation to the common world of

visual experience. There is neither characterization nor sequential

action; only a momentary revelation of truth.

It is when we come to the third of the lyric dramas, Der Tor und

der Tod (1893) that we find Hofmannstahl creating a play which

enters significantly into the repertoire of modern dramatic litera¬

ture. Yet, the importance of Der Tor und, der Tod as one of the

foremost expressions of poetic drama in the later nineteenth cen¬

tury has been recognized only recently.36 The play is a landmark in

Hofmannstahl’s career; and while it is relatively slight in length,

its dramatic form is completely adequate to the experience it re¬

creates. In its reduction of physical action, passivity of the hero,

and inward focus of revelation, it is clearly an expression of the

same symbolist dramaturgy which we have seen in the earlier lyric

dramas ; but here the arc of life is broader, the dramatic movement

deeper and more significant.

34 Hermann Bahr, Die Uberwindung des Naturalismus (Leipzig-, 1891), pp. 194-195.

36 It would be interesting- to compare in detail the symbolist aesthetics of Maeterlinck

and Hofmannstahl. Maeterlinck’s early views are set forth most clearly in his response

to Jules Huret, Enquete sur revolution litteraire (Paris, 1891), pp. 116-129.

3s The best g-eneral discussion is the admirable introduction of Mary E. Gilbert to

her edition of Der Tor und der Tod (Oxford, 1945). Also see Ronald Peacock, The

Poet in the Theatre (New York, 1946), pp. 131-134 and Richard Alewyn, “Hofmann-

stahls ‘Tor und Tod’,” Monatshefte fur deutschen TJnterricht, XXXVI ( 1944), 409-424.

170 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

Claudio’s predicament is markedly close to that of Andrea.

Wealthy, independent, seemingly free from all care, Claudio luxuri¬

ates in the splendor of art and in the pleasure of the moment.

Yet, he has a far deeper sense of unfulfillment than Andrea. In the

long soliloquy which opens the play, we have a vivid expression of

the total divorce in Claudio between thought and feeling, art and

life. Claudio is from the very outset of the play aware of the arti¬

ficiality and futility of his life of aesthetic self-indulgence, and in

this consciousness of his empty existence lies the source of his

transformation.

The visible appearance of Death, followed by the spectres of

Claudio’s mother, beloved, and friend, creates what Hofmannstahl

called in his prologue a “Totentanzkomodie”.37 The medieval dance

of death cycles and morality plays undoubtedly underlie the struc¬

ture of the drama, and there are good grounds for considering it at

least in part as “ein Faust kleinsten Formats’’ , 38 yet, the delinea¬

tion of the central character is wholly the work of the poet. Con¬

fronted with the imminent end of his earthly existence, Claudio

exclaims to Death, “Ich Kobe nicht gelebt /” and Death must instruct

him in the meaning of life through the evocation of the phantoms

of the past. The climax of the play is not Claudio’s physical disso¬

lution, but his prior realization of the passionate and purposeful

character of life and its interpenetration with death. The imagery

in the final lines is of awakening: “Erst, da ich sterbe, spur ich,

dass ich bin.” Claudio’s assertion of his identity is the crown of his

existence, the revelation of an inner transformation that consti¬

tutes the central action of the play. Hofmannstahl’s exploitation of

the traditional morality structure lends concreteness and actuality

to the drama of the soul. For while Claudio is presented as a medi¬

tative rather than an active figure, his reflections are constantly

moving outward into a context of social relationships.39 It is a mis¬

take to see Der Tor und der Tod as an expression of fin de siecle

aestheticism; at bottom, it is a critique of aesthetic Narcissism, of

the emptiness and futility of a life directed solely to self-gratifica¬

tion.40 The conclusion of the play is rhetorical. It may well embody

a crisis in the personal experiences of the young poet,41 but its im¬

pact is outward : an exhortation to the reader or spectator to reflect

on his own existence. Life demands involvement, participation, pur¬

posiveness, and we need not wait until our final moment to grasp

this central truth.

37 Hofmannstahl, Gedichte und Lyrische Dramen, p. 178.

38 Robert F. Arnold, Das moderne Drama (Strassburg, 1912), p. 309.

39 Cf. Peacock, op. cit., p. 132.

40 Cf. Alewyn, “Hofmannstahls ‘Tor und Tod’,” loc. cit., pp. 420-421. Also see Hof¬

mannstahl, ‘‘Ad me ipsum,” Die n.eue Rundschau , 65 (1954), 378.

41 See Ernst Feise, ‘‘Gestalt und Problem des Toren in Hugo von Hofmannstahls

Werk,” Germanic Review, III (1928), 219—228, for an impressive list of parallels of

thought between Der Tor und der Tod and Hofmannstahl’s early essays.

1959]

Block — Hofmannstahl and Symbolist Drama

171

Unquestionably, the structure of the morality play, which was to

serve Hofmannstahl many times in the course of his dramatic

career, is in large part responsible for the unusual symmetry and

coherence of Der Tor und der Tod. With the center of action located

in the consciousness of the hero, the constriction of time, space, and

physical movement is inescapable. Soliloquy is used not so much

for exposition as for the creation of mood. The language of the

drama moves toward allusion and suggestion rather than toward

overt statement. The subordinate characters are spirits, evocations

of the hero’s past rather than part of an emerging present. Despite

the allegorical typifications and the moralistic conclusion, we can

see the same symbolist techniques present in Der Tor und der Tod

as in Hofmannstahl’s earlier lyric dramas, but here they are

marked by an intensity and depth that gives vitality and richness

to the hero’s inner transformation. It may well be that with the

passage of time, Der Tor und, der Tod will emerge as its author’s

finest play, for if it lacks the broad canvas and the philosophical

density of the later work, it compensates by its wonderful and alto¬

gether satisfying fusion of the demands of poetry and drama. Com¬

plex character relationships and conflicts demand a wider arc of

life than the one act play can afford, yet within its limits, Der Tor

und der Tod is effective and absorbing theatre,42 as well as moving

dramatic poetry.

Hofmannstahl’s subsequent dramatic compositions in the 1890’s

are for the most part one act plays in the '‘Format des Gestern,"

characterized by the same lyrical and reflective qualities that we

have seen in his earliest dramatic efforts. Such plays of 1897 as

Der weisse Fdcher, Die Frau im Fenster, Der Kaiser und die Hexe,

and Das kleine W eltt heater , can all be described as static drama,

concerned far more with the revelation of an inner spiritual con¬

dition than with external conflict and resolution. In all of these

plays of the 1890’s we can see a deliberate appropriation of the

language and style of lyric poetry; their literary interest is high,

and as Hofmannstahl subsequently made clear in Ad me iysum ,

their autobiographical value is considerable. From the standpoint

of the poet’s contribution to the modern drama, they represent an

intensification of his quest for an appropriate dramatic form. It is

these plays of the later 1890’s that constitute the closest link be¬

tween Hofmannstahl and the symbolist drama, for while the Aus¬

trian playwright was soon to recognize the conflict beween the

literary and the theatrical which a symbolist aesthetic imposed, he

turned away from the lyric drama only after he had explored and

enriched its possibilities.

42 Cf. Herman Bang, “‘Der Tor und der Tod’ in den Berliner Kammerspielen

1906/07,” in Helmut A. Fiechtner (ed.), Hugo von Hofmannstahl (Wien, 1949), pp.

326-330.

172

Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

The impact of Maeterlinck on Hofmannstahl’s Theater in V er sen

and other plays of the later 1890’s has been studied in some detail.4"

Die Frau im Fenster presents marked overtones of Pelleas et MelF

sande in its dream-like atmosphere, its evocation of the fragility of

life, and the heroine’s passive resignation to death. The same sug¬

gestion that we may see in Maeterlinck’s early work of the pres¬

ence of death lurking in the shadows, silently invading the domain

of every-day experience, is also present in Der weisse Fdcher, a

drama of internal separation marked by a deep sense of futility

and loneliness; the epilogue is among the most darkly pessimistic

utterances in any of Hofmannstahl’s works. The decor of his lyric

dramas may also owe something to Maeterlinck; the walls, doors,

corridors, gardens, fountains, grottoes, and the rest reinforce the

shadowy atmosphere and mystery of the action.44 In Die Hochzeit

der Sobeide (1899), Hofmannstahl again portrayed the stark iso¬

lation and total failure of communication that we find in virtually

all of his plays of this epoch. The futility of love, the vague and

indecisive utterances, the dream-like melancholy, the pool, tower,

and oriental decor, the nostalgia and longing for a deeper, more

passionate way of life, the dominance of death, all combine to de¬

fine the atmosphere and control the action. Despite the intensity of

the heroine’s self-assertion and the shrill violence of the conclu¬

sion, Die Hochzeit der Sobeide may rightly be described as the most

Maeterlinckian of Hofmannstahl’s dramas.45 The. lyric drama as we

find it in Hofmannstahl’s plays is largely a meditation on life, on

cosmic as well as personal destiny, in which the central character

reveals his innermost longings and anxieties, in which the indi¬

vidual struggles with himself far more than with other men, and

action gives way to dramatic monologue. We have seen the play¬

wright experimenting in this form from his earliest writings, and

it is probable that the example of Maeterlinck served not so much

to originate as to support and complement his impulses and in¬

clinations — to intensify rather than to control in any fundamental

way the direction of his early dramatic efforts.

It is important to take account of the variety of attempt that

distinguishes Hofmannstahl’s lyric dramas from other plays in the

symbolist manner. Der Kaiser und die Hexe may be described as

static drama in that the action, the liberation of the emperor from

the sorceress — begins virtually at the point of its climax, and the

emphasis throughout is on the thoughts and attitudes of the central

figure. The groundwork of the drama is supernatural and fantastic,

while the emperor’s progressive realization of his condition is

13 See G. Bianquis, La poesie autrichienne de Hofmannstahl d Rilke, pp. 132-135.

Cf. n. 31 above.

44 Cf. S. O. Palleske, op. cit., p. 13 3.

4r’ Bianquis, La poesie autrichienne , p. 134.

1959] Block — Hofmanns tah l and Symbolist Drama Yl&

similar in pattern to a morality play. On the surface, Der Kaiser

and de Hexe is an appeal to activity in the human world as

opposed to sensuous and perilous self-indulgence. The emperor

learns that the past is a powerful force in the present, and that

choice and conduct must be guided by an inner spiritual fidelity.

Hofmannstahl later described the liberation of the emperor and

his return to the purely human realm as an attempt to reconstitute

this world.40 Unquestionably, the contest between emperor and sor¬

ceress is the projection of a personal mysticism imposed by the poet

on the drama and from which the salvation of the central character

must take its meaning. It is this abstract symbolism, along with

the fortuitous and disconnected series of incidents in the play, that

weakens its dramatic effectiveness.

Das kleine Welttheater oder die Glucklichen is a morality play of

a more traditional stamp, in which the characters are largely ab¬

stract typifications. The poet, gardener, youth, stranger, girl, serv¬

ant, doctor, and madman appear as embodiments of distinct and

isolated attitudes. Without names, without a past, without any

personal relationships, the characters are nonetheless not mere

marionettes; they matter intensely for the vision of life they set

forth individually, and for the revelation of the meaning of exist¬

ence that emerges cumulatively from their utterances. None of Hof-

mannstahl’s plays has so little physical movement, yet the structure

of the morality play provides a dramatic framework completely

adequate to the philosophical complexity of the vision that unfolds

within it.

Like the emperor of Der Kaiser and die Hexe, the poet later de¬

scribed the happy ones of Das kleine Welttheater as “ Angehoriger

einer hochsten Welt.”*1 Without pausing to summarize the par¬

ticular ways in which each of the happy ones reveals his or her

awareness of the mystery and wonder of the universe, we can see

in the movement from the gardener to the madman a panorama of

the complexity and variety of man’s relation to the cosmos, begin¬

ning on the plane of visible nature as sign and symbol of a higher

reality, and proceeding in a series of dream-visions to a full and

intimate realization of the oneness of the visible and the invisible.

The madman is the happiest of all because he sees directly into the

mysteries of creation. He represents an “achieved completeness,”48

in that his whole being has been transformed into an ecstatic vision

of the interpenetration and fusion of all the planes of existence,

whose individual qualities are described by the earlier figures in the

play, but whose spiritual identity is revealed only in the climactic

final scene.

46 “Ad me ipsurn,” Zqc, Q\t ,, P. 359.

47 Ibid., p. 358,

48 Ibid., p. 365,

174 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

At once symbolic and symbolist, Das kleine W elttheater is per¬

haps the fullest expression of the correspondence of visible and

spiritual realities in all of Hofmannstahrs work.49 Its symbolic

character rises not simply from the structure of the morality play,

but from the interweaving motifs and shifting perspectives in

which each section illuminates all the others.50 Its symbolist affini¬

ties are evident in the pervasive magic and mysticism of the emerg¬

ing vision of the universe, as well as in the almost total elimination

of external movement for the sake of an inner vision, a collective

revelation of an uetat d’dme.” Critics of Das kleine Welttheater

have assailed its static quality and condemned it as no play at all.51

Yet, to demand of it the qualities of a fuller and more objectified

drama is to overlook not only its rich poetic language, but also the

genuinely dramatic interplay of its separate scenes. Within the

minds of the characters, the “action” of the play is not static but

intensely dynamic; the internal movement is profound and com¬

plete, marked by a unique accord between the resources of the poet

and the demands of the dramatic form in which he wrote. A one

act morality play could not be markedly different. Das kleine Welt-

theater offers one of the most satisfying illustrations of the fitting

together of Hofmannstahrs poetic vision and his conception of the

lyric drama.

Hofmannstahl’s last important work which may clearly be de¬

scribed as a symbolist drama is the five act 'play, Das Bergwerk

zu Falun, written in 1899. Only the first act was published by the

poet ; the remainder of the play did not appear until after his death.

It is a complex and unusual drama, and it would justify much more

detailed examination than is possible in this essay. The play is far

more personal in its mysticism and symbolism than anything Hof-

mannstahl had previously written in dramatic form, and it is

readily understandable why most commentators have read the play

as part of his spiritual autobiography. The hero, Elis Frobom, is

from the very beginning of the drama cut off from common life ; a

lonely and contemplative sailor, he refuses the consolations of

pleasure and society to give himself wholly to a life of introspec¬

tion and dream. Even on his first appearance, we see that physical

reality has no positive value for him. Elis moves from the natural

to the supernatural plane of existence as if predestined. The spirit,

Torbern, shows Elis the way to the Queen of the Mountain, and

under her spell, he resolves to cast off the contingency and mor¬

tality of earthly life to become wholly part of her mysterious king-

49 The mystical affiliations of the play and its symbolic values are discussed in detail

by Gerhart Baumann, “Hugo von Hofmannstahl : ‘Das kleine Welttheater’,’’ Ger-

manisch-Romanische Monatsschnft, VII (1957), 106-130,

50 Ibid., p .128.

51 Cf. Pabst, op. cit., p. 59.

1959] Block — Hofmannstahl and Symbolist Drama 175

dom and to live for her love. First, however, he must purge himself

of all vestiges of earthly attachment. The boundaries between the

real and supernatural fade away at the end of the first act, as a

boatsman rises as if from the dead to lead Elis to the mines of

Falun where he is to work out his salvation.

If the first act of the play is an arresting revelation of the inner¬

most dreams and longings of the hero, and their relation to an un¬

seen and altogether magical realm of being, what follows is almost

wholly on the human plane, with only sufficient supernatural evoca¬

tion to control Elis’ movement toward consummation of his mortal

life. He falls in love with Anna despite the forces that impel him

to cast off the claims of this world, and then deserts her in the

moment of their marriage, to lose and to find himself forever in

the depths of the mine.

Among Hofmannstahl’s early plays, Das Bergwerk zu Falun is

his most ambitious drama of spiritual transformation, yet after

the visionary and magical prelude of the first act, what follows is

rooted squarely in the world of common experience. The play has

been called the most humanly vibrating of all of Hofmannstahl’s

dramas ;r'2 far more richly than the one act lyric dramas, it presents

the interplay of character in action. Elis and Anna experience deep

love and intense suffering out of their common destiny. The inward

stress and strain of Elis is counterbalanced by Anna’s growing-

realization of the futility of her love and the inevitability of Elis’

sacrifice of her as the price he must pay for spiritual liberation.

For Anna too, at the final curtain the world counts for nothing,

and her anguished acceptance of her plight is the final measure of

the intensity of her love. Torbern prefigures the supernatural des¬

tiny of Elis after the curtain falls, but Anna’s fate is on an alto¬

gether human plane, and serves to lend actuality and immediacy

to a drama that might otherwise reside wholly in mystical trans¬

formation.

The affinities of Das Bergwerk zu Falun with the earlier plays

are striking and important. Elis Frobom’s vision of a life beyond

life is an extension and elaboration of the “madness” of uder Wahn-

sinnige” in Das kleine WelttheaterA 3 In Ad me ipsum Hofmann¬

stahl wrote of Das Bergwerk zu Falun and Der Kaiser und die

Hexe as both constituting an analysis of poetic existence. '4 Yet, Elis

transcends the world, while the emperor regains harmony with it.55

Not only the attitudes of the hero of Das Bergwerk zu Falun, but

the cosmic values implicit in the mysterious realm of the Queen of

the Mountain, offer a direct expression of a magical and mystical

52 Naef, op. cit., p. 67.

53 Cf. H. Steiner, “Eine Szene aus clem Nachlass,” Neue Rundschau, 61 (1950), 178.

54 “Ad me ipsum,” loc. cit., p. 365.

55 Ibid., p. 359.

176 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

view of poetry, derived perhaps from Novalis, E. T. A. Hoffmann,

and other romantic sources of the play,56 and closely associated

with Hofmannstahrs concept of Prdexistenz .57 The inwardness,

mystery, and spirituality common to this play and other symbolist

dramas all testify to the close relationship of symbolist and Ger¬

man romantic thought and expression : in Das Bergwerk zu Falun

we have perhaps the nearest approximation to the quest for “L’ ex¬

plication orphique de la Terre” which animated Mallarme and his

followers, and which they shared with the great figures of German

literature at the beginning and at the end of the nineteenth century.

If Das Bergwerk zu Falun represents a culmination of both a

personal mysticism and a series of experiments based upon a sym¬

bolist conception of drama, it is also a turning point in Hofmann¬

stahrs art. It has been argued that he did not publish the entire

play because of his subsequent rejection of Elis Frobom’s values,58

but artistic motives may also have played their part.59 It is difficult

to see the character drama as adequately related to the plane of

supernatural experience, and it may well be that Hofmannstahl re¬

jected the play because its poetic elements overpowered its inade¬

quately developed theatrical qualities. In any event, Das Bergiverk

zu Falun may fittingly be described as uder letzte Ausdruck der

offenen Jugendmystik des Dichters .”60 With it, a major phase of

Hofmannstahl’s art comes to a close.

In later life, Hofmannstahl was keenly awaye of the opposition

of the lyric poet and the playwright in his works of the 1890’s.61

The preoccupation with mood, with magic, mystery, and inner

spiritual situations militates against any full panorama of social

action or complex development of character. The inability of litera¬

ture to present a total revelation of magical communion calls into

question the very role of language in human utterance and com¬

munication. Der Brief des Lord Chandos (1901) is of central im¬

portance in Hofmannstahl’s dramatic evolution because it points

directly to the danger that a symbolist drama, founded on a

thorough-going mysticism, may end as a drama of silence.

In spite of their implicit rejection by the poet, the lyric dramas

are not dramas of silence at all, but expressions of sensuous and

moving poetry in the theatre. The musicality and magic of Hof¬

mannstahrs idiom is no less effective for the ear than for the eye,

and the rich suggestiveness of the verse blends harmoniously with

M Cf. Walter Brecht, “liber Hugo von Hofmannstahls Bergwerk zu Falun,” Corona,

III (1932-33), 227-228.

67 See C. von Faber du Faur, “Der Abstieg in den Berg,’’ Monatshefte, XLIII (1951),

1—14 ; also see Naef, op. cit., p. 68.

58 Brecht, op. cit., pp. 221—222; also see Pabst, op. cit., pp. 74—77.

6i' Naef, op. cit., p. 70.

m Brecht, op. cit., p. 222.

01 See Hugo von Hofmannstahl and Rudolf Borchart, Brief wechsel (Frankfurt am

Main, 1954), p. 178.

1959] Block — Hofmannstahl and Symbolist Drama 177

the fantasy and mystery of the dramatic scene. The lyric dramas

are not mere closet dramas. All of them were performed soon after

their composition,02 and the best of them have been presented re¬

peatedly in German-speaking Europe. It is fashionable these days

to condemn Hofmannstahrs early plays as “utterly unsuited for the

stage,”03 and some of them may properly be better described as

dramatic monologues than dramas ; but we must not view Hof¬

mannstahrs efforts to weld poetry and drama through the cate¬

gories of realistic or representational theatre. Quite apart from the

popular success or failure of the Viennese poet's attempt to impose

a poetic drama on an indifferent or hostile public, his example re¬

mains significant for all concerned with the possibilities of dramatic

art.

Hofmannstahrs subsequent development as a playwright moved

sharply away from the “Format des Gestern” and its symbolist

assumptions, toward a more traditional dramatic structure and a

more direct concern with character relationships. Nevertheless, it

is a mistake to divide his dramas sharply into Fruhwerk and Spdt-

werk .°4 Many of the themes and techniques of the lyric dramas re-

emerge in J edermann,G5 Die Frau ohne Schatten ,60 Das Salzburger

Grosse Welttheater, Der Turm, and other dramas of the mature

Hofmannstahl. If we share the poet's view of the culmination of

his career as a playwright in uDas erreichte Soziale: die Ko-

modien,”67 we must also recognize the anticipation of the drama of

complex social motives and relationships in such plays of the 1890's

as Der Abenteurer und, die Sdngerin and Das Bergwerk zu Falun.

The later plays are perhaps better known to readers and theatre

audiences alike, but in theme and technique they owe much to their

author's earlier experiments. Unquestionably, the mysticism of the

later work is more elaborate and more personal than the relatively

traditional exploitation of mystery and magic in the earlier plays,

yet even in the lyric dramas we cannot explain the concern with

symbolic and supernatural values merely by analogy with the

French symbolists. To call Hofmannstahl's early plays symbolist

dramas is not to suggest any conscious attempt on the part of the

Viennese poet to imitate his French contemporaries; and yet it is

clear that his lyric dramas present striking affinities with the dra¬

matic theory and practice of Mallarme, Villiers de 1’ Isle Adam, and

02 See R. Arnold, op. cit., p. 307, n. 1.

03 Hanns Hammelmann, Hofmannstahl (London, 1957). p. 22.

64 For a discussion of the interrelations of the early and later plays, see Naef, op.

cit., pp. 91—92.

65 It is also important to recognize the contrasting- implications in Der Tor unci der

Tod and Jedermann. On the meaning- of salvation in the two plays, see M. E. Gilbert,

op. cit., pp. xxx— xxxi.

m Die Frau ohne Schatten is discussed as a symbolist drama by F. C. St. Aubyn,

“Herodiade : eine Frau mit Schatten?,” Revue de litterature comparee, XXXITI ( 1959),

40-4 9.

67 “Ad me ipsum,” p. 367.

178 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

Maeterlinck, and also with the poetic drama of the young W. B.

Yeats. In this perspective, Hofmannstahrs dramatic compositions

of the 1890?s are an important part of an effort to create a modern

poetic theatre.08

Hofmannstahrs lyric drama is important intrinsically, and not

simply because it is the most significant expression of symbolist

drama in the literature of the German language. For Hofmannstahl,

the lyric drama rests primarily on the intensity and authenticity

of his private vision, and on the ability of the poet to invest the

theatre with mystery and wonder through his evocative power of

language and his penetration into the intuitive and visionary

sources of human experience. From Hofmannstahl to the art the¬

atre and the theatre of magic of the twentieth century is but a

short step. In the best of his early plays he contributed a freshness

and an imaginative freedom which helped to enlarge the boundaries

of the art of the drama. Hofmannstahrs early dramas are not the

only plays worthy of this praise, but they deserve recognition as

dramas which still have distinctive claims on our attention.

08 See the stimulating' remarks on this subject by Ronald Peacock, op. cit., pp.

147-148.

FENIMORE COOPER AND SCIENCE.* I

Harry Hayden Clark

University of Wisconsin, Madison

Although science was by no means a primary influence on Cooper,

he was not as indifferent to it as has been generally assumed. In

fact Cooper offers an interesting illustration of the way in which

an essentially conservative American of the early nineteenth cen¬

tury reacted to different aspects of current ideas associated with

science, and managed to weave them into the fabric of his total pat¬

tern of thought. In the following study, I shall try to explore not

only Cooper's references to science itself on a popular level, but the

extent to which his general attitudes tended to parallel (and were

doubtlessly reinforced by) ideas associated with the science of his

day. In addition to his semi-dramatic Leather-Stocking series,

which hinges on the tension between nature and civilization,

Cooper is important in books such as The American Democrat and

H omeward Bound as the spokesman of American conservatism in

both religion and politics. Cooper is worth study not only because

of his intrinsic merits but because of his immense vogue; he ranks

high among American writers who managed to get his ideas widely

read and discussed, among those who were eminently successful in

giving Europeans their image of American nature, taste, and ideas.

William Charvat’s edition of The Cost Books of Ticknor and Fields

(New York, 1949), covering the years 1832 to 1858, shows how far

he outstripped other Americans in arousing a demand for his

books. And the Literary History of the United States (pp. 623-24),

edited by Robert Spiller and others, shows that “at least fifty edi¬

tions of his work appeared in England in the last twenty years of

the nineteenth century,” and that even Russia published thirty-two

editions of his work before 1927. Whether we today personally like

or dislike Cooper, he is obviously, because of his enormous vogue,

a very significant index to public opinion and taste, a man whose

thoughts even on a subject such as ideas associated with science

helps to illuminate social and intellectual history. For the sake of

orderly procedure the following study will be divided into succes¬

sive chapters treating, in part I, 1) the scientists to whose work

Cooper was exposed; 2) science in relation to Cooper’s other in-

* Grateful acknowledgment is made of the fact that I have been greatly aided in

getting this study into its present form through several versions by John Rathbun and

David Kuryk, Research Assistants generously provided for this purpose by the

Graduate School of the University of Wisconsin. They deserve much credit.

179

180 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [VoL 48

terests such as religion, reason and the idea of progress, and

obscurantism; 3) his interest in astronomy and Newtonian paral¬

lels; and in part II, 4) his treatment of environment (especially

the primeval forest) and heredity (racism) in relation to his theory

of “gifts”; 5) his respect for the practical utility of science as

advancing navigation and commerce; 6) and finally his use of

science in the art of fiction including the management of his plots.

I

1. Knowledge of Science

While Cooper had little systematic introduction to the history of

science, he was more familiar than were most belletristic writers

(such as Longfellow) with the broad outlines of thought of the

major scientists.1 He was educated at Yale from 1802 to 1805;

although the great Professor Silliman did not take up his full teach¬

ing duties at Yale until Cooper's last year, his appointment in 1802

led to much sympathetic discussion of the implications of science

in that small student body. As Professor of Chemistry and Natural

History Silliman emphasized the utility of science and also the idea

that in an over-all view science and religion ought to reinforce one

another,2 — two ideas to which Cooper was ardently devoted. Silli-

man’s biographer3 shows that Cooper regarded Silliman as “his

favorite master” and corresponded with him in later life. Silliman

had been appointed by Yale's masterful president, Timothy Dwight,

who was also devoted to the two ideas mentioned; Dwight was

especially known for his crusade against the rational infidelity of

the French Revolutionists who (he thought) had perverted the

teachings of Sir Isaac Newton and other scientists whom Dwight

honored. At Yale Cooper enrolled in a course in astronomy by Pro¬

fessor Day, to whom he refers in his correspondence with Silliman.4

1 Cooper also knew some scientists personally. He met Cuvier at a dinner. According

to his daughter, Susan, Cooper was “quite intimate” with “the celebrated naturalist,”

Charles Bonaparte (Correspondence of Janies Fenimore Cooper, New Haven, 1922,

I, p. 59). While in Rome Cooper met the scientist, Bunsen, and “was much interested

in the information he received from him” (Susan Cooper, “A Second Glance Back¬

ward,” Atlantic Monthly , LX, Oct., 1887, p. 481). Cooper also knew the scientific

naval explorer Wilkes personally and borrowed from his Narrative ( 1844) for The

Crater and Sea Lions ( Correspondence , II, pp. 525-526 ).

2 Silliman was taught by Robert Hare, the great Philadelphia chemist, who in 1801

discovered the oxy-hydrogen blowpipe as a means of producing great heat for fusing

refractory substances. Hare’s literary interests are attested by his novel Standish the

Puritan (1850).

3 G. P. Fisher, Life of Benjamin Silliman , I, pp. 336-337. Cited by Robert Spiller

Fenimore Cooper, Critic of His Times (New York, 1931), p. 39.

4 Cooper studied under Silliman in 1804, and in his third and last year at Yale

enrolled in an astronomy course taught by Prof. Day, the third professor to whom

Cooper wished to be remembered in a letter to Silliman. Marcel Clavel, Fenimore

Cooper, sa vie et son oeuvre: La jeunesse: 1789-1826 (Aix-en-Provence, 1938), p. 152,

mistakenly thought that this course was taught by Silliman, and that it was Silliman

who influenced Cooper’s astronomical reflection? in Sdtanstoe and The Crater.

1959]

Clark — Fenimore Cooper and Science — I

181

In Switzerland , Part Second (1859-61 ed., II, p. 62) Cooper calls

Francis Bacon “one of the wisest men who had ever lived” ; and in

The Crater (chapter one) he ardently hopes that our colleges may

produce another Bacon or Newton. In Mercedes of Castile (Lovell-

Coryell ed., p. 254) he implies that Bacon represents the introduc¬

tion of “precise and inductive reasoning” which was to give us so

“many accurate and sublime glimpses” of truth, which he contrasts

with the benighted superstitions of Columbus’ era. The Prairie has

Dr. Battius, whose scientific pretensions Cooper satirizes, familiar

with Buff on and Linnaeus ; if Leather-Stocking attacks Dr. Battius

for not being able to recognize his own donkey in the dusk, it should

be noted that what is being attacked is bookishness as opposed to

what might be called inductive Baconian observation.

One can readily find evidence, by using the indexes to Cooper’s

Correspondence and the two volumes of his Gleanings in Europe

(edited by Spiller in 1928 and 1930), of Cooper’s knowing a con¬

siderable number of other scientific thinkers. If, as Sir William

Dampier says in his History of Science (1936, p. 297), Darwin “at

once recognized the essence of his own theory” of the struggle for

existence in T. R. Malthus’s Essay on Population , 1798, Cooper’s

intelligent reference to Malthus helps to illuminate his concern for

the larger aspects of the economic struggle for existence among

human beings as not incompatible with a divine providence which

is benign. Cooper’s most extended and enthusiastic discussion of

any one scientist involves LaPlace, whose Celestial Mechanics ex¬

tended and reinforced Newtonian astronomy; Cooper in Gleanings

used LaPlace to illustrate how the scientific proof of design in the

cosmos reinforced belief in a divine designer as well as awe and

reverence. The Crater, where this view is elaborated, also testifies

to his veneration for Herschel. Beyond Silliman,5 the scientist

whom Cooper knew best personally was S. F. B. Morse, a painter

and a scientist both utilitarian and religious. In Morse’s Memorial

of James Fenimore Cooper (New York, 1852, p. 36), Morse testi¬

fies, “We were in daily, almost hourly intercourse while in Paris

during the eventful years of 1831, 1832 (when Morse was develop¬

ing his telegraph, finally demonstrated successfully in 1844). 1

never met with a more sincere, warm-hearted, constant friend. No

man came nearer to the ideal I had formed of a truly high minded

man.” The spirit of piety behind Morse’s science is illustrated by

the fact that the first words he chose to transmit by his invention

5 Silliman, like Cooper, was intensely religious. In 1839 he argued that geology

proved “the harmony of his (God’s) revealed word with the visible creation’’ (Fisher,

I, p. 385). Silliman’s attempt to justify the Bible through geology was attacked in a

famous controversy by Thomas Cooper in 1833. But many scientists felt like Silliman.

In 1836 Plymouth Academy in New Hampshire started a new course on “anatomy

and natural history, as illustrating the Divine Existence’’ (E. Douglas Branch, The

Sentimental Years, New York, 1934, p. 35). And Agassiz in his Essay on Classification

(1857) said science discovered the thought of the creator.

182 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [VoL 48

were, “What hath God wrought?” Cooper acknowledged it was his

“good fortune to be an intimate acquaintance” of Morse, “a dis¬

tinguished citizen” who would “transmit his name to posterity, side

by side with that of Fulton.”0

Cooper was also closely associated with DeWitt Clinton, U. S.

Senator and governor of New York (1817-22, 1825-28) who was

devoted to the application of science to practical problems and

mainly instrumental in developing the Erie Canal (1825), which

Cooper eulogized, and also the canal from Lake Champlain to the

Erie Canal and the Hudson River. Cooper’s Correspondence and

Gleanings not only show his long intimacy with Morse and Clinton

but with other utilitarian scientists such as the British John

Loudon McAdam whose scientific experiments “finally transformed

most of the highways of the island (England) into the best of the

known world” ; according to Cooper’s view, “few men have con¬

ferred more actual benefit on Great Britain.” But in the United

States, through applied science, Cooper concluded that “we have

actually done as much in the same time as England, in canals, rail¬

roads, bridges, steam-boats, and all those higher improvements,

that mark an advanced state of society. These are the things of

which we may justly be proud, and they are allied to the great prin¬

ciple on which the future power and glory of the nation are to be

based.” The reader should bear such a statement carefully in mind

as counter-balancing Cooper’s fictional praise of the illiterate (and

primitive?) Leather-Stocking and his concern with what appears

to be obscurantist piety. If a transcendentalist such as Thoreau

might have attacked the things Cooper listed as evidence of a de¬

plorable materialism, it is noteworthy as characteristic of Cooper’s

kind of religion that he welcomed applied science as a means of

implementing Christian charity and as a means to advance the

good life in a practical and paternalistic way for all the people.

Cooper’s close association with Dr. James DeKay,7 his family

physician and fellow-member of the Bread and Cheese Club, was

one of several sources for Cooper’s important belief in the current

theory which DeKay elaborated in a published Address on the

Progress of the Natural Sciences in the United, States (New York,

1826) as the great “chain of beings” which provided scientific and

cosmic sanction for acceptance of a parallel doctrine of the right¬

ness of social gradations8 as opposed to the kind of equalitarianism

0 Sea Lions (Lovell-Coryell ed., New York), p. 127, Chap. 10.

7 In Gleanings in Europe: France (Phila., 1837), reprinted with an Introduction by

Robert Spiller (New York, 1928), Cooper addressed several chapters to his friend De

Kay, including- discussions of industrial arts and animal magnetism.

8 De Kay, in his Anniversary Address on the Progress of the Natural Sciences in

the United States (New York, 1826 ), p. 68, notes that everyday discoveries of fossil

remains, “insensibly” leads men to admit that “the idea of a chain of beings is

neither visionary nor unphilosophical.” And on page 40, he writes that “Zoologists

themselves leave too often overlooked the history of man, as if he was not a link in

the great chain of animated nature.”

1959]

Clark — Fenimore Cooper and Science — /

183

associated with Thomas Paine. Cooper was also friendly with Dr.

John W. Francis, his family physician during the later part of his

life;9 Robert Spiller ( Cooper , Critic . . . , p. 296) thinks Francis

“sat for the portrait of that admirable physician, Dr. McBain, in

Ways of the Hour,” 1850. It is quite possible, since he quoted from

Swift among the mottoes which preface the chapters of his novels,

that Swift’s hilarious satires of scientists for their oddities may

have inspired Cooper to satirize physicians such as Dr. Sitgreaves

of The Spy, but this tendency appears to have involved comic relief

of a literary sort rather than any deep-seated hostility toward

medical science.

Cooper’s concern with the benefits of applied science appears to

have been reinforced by his very favorable review of Parry’s book

on his quest for the Northwest Passage and by his enthusiasm for

Charles Wilkes’ Exploring Expedition during the years from 1838

to 1842. Cooper was of course much concerned with naval science,

as is illustrated at great length in his History of the Navy of the

United, States (1839) and the fact that nearly a dozen of his novels,

beginning with The Pilot deal with ships. In books such as Jack

Tier (1848) he devotes much satire to the misuse of naval terms

and the urging of a more accurately scientific use of them. A recent

study by Warren Walker10 defends the authenticity of Cooper’s

naval terminology. His two years in the navy, reinforced by his

personal inclinations, led Cooper to dramatize his devotion to the

need for social gradations and a hierarchy of command in terms of

naval life which illustrates his scientific theory of the ladder-like

“great chain of beings” throughout nature serving as a model for

orderly social life. The scientific theory of the “great chain” was

also popularized in Alexander Pope’s Essay on Man, I, 233-240,

in Akenside’s Pleasures of Imagination, first version, II, 323-50,

and in Thomson’s Seasons (Summer) , lines 333-37 ; we know that

Cooper was closely familiar with these authors because he selected

from them quotations to preface (and adumbrate the action of)

several of his chapters. He also knew Alex von Humboldt, whose

Cosmos contained (Vol. II, pp. 1-105) a chapter on the Poetic

Delineation of Nature.

Cooper’s Monikins (1835) makes extensive if satirical use of

Lord Monboddo’s pre-Darwinian notions of evolution as expressed

in his The Origins and Progress of Language (1773). Monboddo

associated man and the ourang-outang as species of the genus

Homo, although he was a creationist and did not suggest transmu-

9 Cooper, through De Kay perhaps, knew several of the leading men in the medical

profession. In Afloat and Ashore (Lovell-Coryell ed., New York), he mentions such

people “as Hosack, Post, Bayley, M’Knight, More, etc., and even thought of procuring

Rush from Philadelphia.” (p. 4 22, Chap. 28).

:0 Warren S. Walker, “Ames Vs Cooper: The Case Re-Opened,” Modern Language

Notes >, LXX (Jan., 1955), pp. 27—3 2.

184 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [VoL 48

tation. The Crater, as H. H. Scudder’s studies have shown in de¬

tail, shows Cooper was very familiar with and made extensive use

of Lyell's evolutionary geology. It has been suggested that Cooper

may have been introduced to Monboddo’s notions of evolution and

men with tails by Thomas Love Peacock's novel Melincourt, 1817,

which aimed, Peacock said, to satirize “perfectibilians, deteriora-

tionists, status quo-ites, phrenologists, transcendentalists, political

economists, theorists in all scientists. . . ."

Cooper made considerable use of the current psychological theory

of associationalism involving ideas and moods evoked by actual

historic geographical places (such as Fort Ticonderoga in Satans-

toe) and also a belief in the primacy of what Cooper called “the

bias of the feelings" as opposed to rationalism. This theory, as

elaborated by David Hartley and Joseph Priestley, not to mention

William Wordsworth as interpreted by Wisconsin's Professor

Arthur Beatty, was ultimately based on Sir Isaac Newton's

Principia.

If The Leather-Stocking Series represents a semi-dramatic fic¬

tional treatment of the tension between primitive nature and civ¬

ilization, another series crusading against the anti-rent movement

(The Littlepage Manuscripts, made up of Satanstoe, The Chain-

bearer, and The Redskins ) show Cooper as the sophisticated and

intellectual defender of a conservative and cultured social order,

as do Homeward Bound and Home as Found: Educated at Yale,

moving in the cultured circles of upper-class English and European

society for seven years (1826-33), a member of the Bread and

Cheese Club of New York made up of intellectuals such as W. C.

Bryant and Dr. DeKay, a host to celebrities at Cooperstown,

Cooper must have heard much about the trends of science in a

popular way by word of mouth. Miss Dorothy Waples' The Whig

Myth of James Fenimore Cooper, 1938, based on a Yale disserta¬

tion, shows how closely, in watching for libels on himself, Cooper

read the newspapers and magazines, a practice which must have

done much to keep him abreast of discussions of science on a

popular level. Evidence about his wide reading may be extended by

reference to his daughter Susan's introductions to the novels in the

Household Edition, 1874, 1881-84, and to her articles entitled “A

Glance Backward," and “A Second Glance Backward," in The

Atlantic Monthly, LIX (1887), pp. 199-206; LX (1887), pp. 474-

487. Even the belletristic reading which he did, embodied a good

many popularizations of ideas associated with science, as many

recent studies of scientific influence on literature have amply

demonstrated.

The following pages will show how Cooper utilized science to

buttress his own attitudes toward man, society, and God and how

science was often used to enhance the quality of his fiction.

1959]

Clark — Fenimore Cooper and Science — I

185

2. Cooper’s Attitude Toward Science

Religion, Reason, and Social Progress

The matter of Cooper’s religion is highly important, underlying

as it does, in part, his literary, scientific, and political interests. He

never swerved from his belief that nature was a revelation of God

(second only to the Bible) and that the metaphysical basis of nat¬

ural law discoverable there, served to substantiate unchanging

moralities and inalienable human rights. But while nature might

give a philosophy of religion, it was incapable of giving a theology

of religion. The point is important. Cooper sometimes deprecated

the “vain-glory” of intellect and “philosophical theology’’ when

they opposed themselves to faith and good works and failed to

“substitute humility for pride of reason.’’ His episcopalian, trini¬

tarian beliefs eventually led him to vigorously attack partisan

sects. He roundly denounced Unitarianism as a godless abomina¬

tion shamelessly pushing onward with “the goal of infidelity in

open view.’’11 It was “utopian” to think that everyone could be re¬

duced to the same economic, educational, and social levels.12 He had

complete faith in God’s “unwavering rules of right and wrong.”13

Man had to formally acknowledge that he was wholly dependent

upon “the hand that does not suffer a sparrow to fall unheeded.”14

With such intellectual certitude as to the reality of God and the

need for religion, and with such faith in reason rightly disposed, it

was inevitable that Cooper would see the discoveries of science as

confirming his own beliefs. The sailor who lived in the “immediate

presence” of God’s work came to see a “parallel” between the

“grandeur” of the natural world and the “grandeur which seems

inseparable from images that the senses cannot compass.”15 Man,

he wrote in The Heidenmauer, “is not left without the powerful aid

of that intelligence which controls the harmony of the universe”

(p. 59) . We share with God a portion of his attributes. We can peer

into nature and discover its intricate parts, its complex harmony

which is complete proof of a superior harmonizer.

In spite of the inanities and crudities that Cooper, as a satirist,

had a faculty for finding in the society around him, he did, in his

own way, believe whole-heartedly in the progress of humanity

toward an ultimate perfection. “For ourselves, we firmly believe

that the finger of Providence is pointing the way to all races, and

colours, and nations, along the path that is to lead the East and the

11 The Redskins (1846 ed.), II, pp. 129-130.

12 Quoted by Robert Spiller, Fenimore Cooper , Critic of his Times, p. 313.

13 Preface to Oak Opeyiings ( Lovell-Coryell ed., New York), p. 5.

14 Preface to The Sea Lions (Lovell-Coryell ed., New York), p. 5.

35 The Pathfinder, p. 1.

186 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

West alike, to the great goal of human wants. ”16 ‘The main course

is onward,” he wrote, and he busied himself with showing how it

was to be effected.17 In American history he saw “the prodigious

progress of the people in morals, public and private virtue, honesty,

and other estimable qualities,”18 great advances in the sciences,19 in

in commerce and resultant prosperity.20 At times he could see the

first dim glow of the dawn of a glorious new political era.21 The

progress of Occidental civilization, with America as its crown, he

thought an “inscrutable and grand movement of Providence” from

the savage ages of “furious superstitution and debased ignorance”

through the borrowed and magnificent yet sordid time of Rome,

the feudal violence and “its progeny of wrong,” and finally the

struggle of monk against baron which had brought about much

that characterized modern Europe.23

In the United States, at least, Cooper seemed to see progress

operating on a certain semi-evolutionary and nonstatic pattern

which in turn required the existence of certain definite conditions.

Some of his best books were written in illustration or argument of

these points. The basic pattern of American progress seemed, quite

naturally to one whose father had been a genteel pioneer, the prog¬

ress from a first time of mutual struggle and privation when “mere

animal force” reigned to the detriment of higher social values. In

the natural course this passed into a second' period when wealth

commenced the struggle resulting in “gradations of social station

that set institutions at defiance.” This was a time of struggle and

ruthless competition, and Cooper felt that he was living in the

midst of its greatest activity. Eventually a “third and last condi¬

tion of society” would be evolved, when society would be divided

into “more or less rigidly maintained” castes.28 This would be the

era of the gentleman, when men of wealth would accept their re¬

sponsibility and be repaid in privilege. The central idea of “grada¬

tion” of which Cooper speaks is obviously associated with the great

hierarchical “chain of being” interpreted by De Kay, Cooper’s

scientific friend.

M Oak Openings (New York, 1873 ed., P. Appleton and Co.), p. vi. Unless otherwise

specified, all further references to Cooper’s novels will be to this edition of his works.

17 Oak Openings , p. vi.

18 Afloat and Ashore, p. 165. Wing and Wing is a full-length attack on the French

deistic rationalism embraced by Raoul.

18 Notions of the Americans, Uetter XXIV, in Fenimore Cooper: Representative Selec¬

tions, ed. Robert Spiller (New York, 1936 ), p. 21.

20 Ibid., Letter XXXVII, p. 39ff.

21 Ibid ., Letter XXXVIII, p. 64.

32 The Heidenmauer, p. 440.

2SHome as Found, pp. 188-189. This theory of the three stages of civilization may

possibly be derived from Condorcet, but the idea was a popular one in America. Timo¬

thy Dwight, president of Yale when Cooper was there, developed much the same idea

in Travels in New England and New York (1821) ; so did Benjamin Rush in his essay

on “The Progress of Population in Pennsylvania” (included in his Essays, 1798).

1959]

Clark — Fenimore Cooper and Science — I

187

Cooper’s political and social thought thus had reference to his idea

of the gentleman. His religion taught Cooper that the gentleman

was also the man who conformed to moral laws and patterned his

life on church precepts. His knowledge of science convinced him

that there was a “scale of being” ordained by God. Even within the

species there was gradation, with the gentleman occupying the top¬

most rung. The concept of the great chain of being was reinforced

by the order-giving appearance of Newtonian physical theory. In

the eighteenth century it had been bolstered by the idea that

throughout the universe there was a plenitude of beings of almost

infinite gradated forms. The idea of plenitude was further con¬

firmed by nineteenth-century findings in geology and botany and

by what was revealed through the microscope. Many men, like

George Bancroft, found in Lyell’s researches countless gradated

species. But even before Lyell this was current thought; Erasmus

Darwin voiced it, and it could not have been unfamiliar to Silli-

man. Cooper could have found the great chain idea in Animated

Nature of Goldsmith, whose biography his friend Irving wrote.

And it seems possible that his boon-companion of the Bread-and-

Cheese Club as well as his personal physician, Dr. James De Kay,

acquainted him with the doctrine.

Men believed that the design of the universe showed God’s unity,

wisdom and power, and hence the need for humility, devotion, and

gratefulness in man.24 Cooper was constantly referring to the

“order-giving touch of the Creator.25 He thought that the Deity’s

“intelligence” in controlling the “harmony” of the universe was

paralleled in the moral order.26 In Sketches of Switzerland he held

that God had established “equitable laws, and implanted in every

man consciousness of right and wrong, which enables the lowest in

the scale to appreciate innate justice.”27 He felt that true piety was

based on knowing one’s position “in the long scale of animated

beings.”28 Consequently in The Heidenmauer (Lovell-Coryell ed.,

N. Y.) he censured the religious hermit who turned from society.

“The task assigned to man is to move among his fellows doing good,

filling his part in the scale of creation, and escaping from none of

the high duties which God has allotted to his being; and greatly

24 This was the thought, for instance, of Yale’s Denison Olmsted's Letters on Astron¬

omy. See Merle Curti, The Growth of American Thought (New York, 1943), p. 322.

25 The Headsman, p. 494.

26 Wing and Wing, p. 48.

27 Sketches of Switzerland (Phila., 1836), pp. 113-114. Lovejoy, The Great Chain of

Being (Cambridge, 1933), p. 206, claims that the great chain “gave a metaphysical

sanction to the injunction of the Anglican catechism : each should labor truly ‘to do

his duty in all that state of life’ — whether in the cosmical or the social scale — ‘to

which it hath pleased God to call him.’ ” This is a good expression of Cooper’s idea

as well.

28 Satanstoe, p. 482. In Ways of the Hour (p. 297), he held that democratic institu¬

tions are good in causing “every person to feel that he is a man, and entitled to

188 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

should he be grateful, that, while his service is arduous, he is not

left without the powerful aid of that intelligence which controls the

harmony of the universe.1 ” (p. 41, Chap. 3). It was this belief that

the order of the universe was seconded by order in the social body

that led Cooper to expect such high things of America and to be so

brutally disappointed when it became apparent that sin was a de¬

stroyer of order. His turn to religious thought, then, is explicable

as an attempt, through religious guidance, to return man to that

state of order ordained by God as the natural condition of the

universe and society.

This inequality in the hierarchy of nature had to be frankly rec¬

ognized in political and social life. Thus in The Monikins one of

Cooper’s sober conclusions is that “nature has created inequalities

in men and things, and, as human institutions are intended to pre¬

vent the strong from oppressing the weak, ergo , the laws should

encourage natural inequalities as a legitimate consequence” (p.

452). 29 Cooper has his hero Captain Truck in Home as Found tell

the Commodore of the Lakes, “I have been captain of my own ship

so long that I have a most thorough contempt for all equality. It is

a vice that I deprecate. ... I am of opinion that equality is nowhere

borne out by the Law of Nations [he constantly cites Vattel] ;

which after all, commodore, is the only true law for a gentleman

to live under. . . . That is the law of the strongest, if I understand

the matter, general . . . Only reduced to rules.” (p. 323). 1 30 The

aristocratic Signor Gradenigo in The Bravo defends his vested in¬

terests “by analogies drawn from the decrees of Providence.” He

argues that because God had established “orders throughout his

own creation, in a descending chain from angels to men,” men

ought to enforce a similar order in human society” (p. 99). No ex¬

pedients,” Cooper concluded in The American Democrat, could

“equalize the temporal lots of men” (p. 190). The thought runs

like a musical theme through practically all of Cooper’s writing. It

received early treatment in The Prairie, where Dr. Battius spoke

of the “links of harmony, order, conformity, and design” between

men and animals (p. 223). Mark Woolston’s education at Prince¬

ton, while it had “not made him a Newton or a Bacon,” had fitted

him for a particular social level that was unassailable and differ¬

entiated him from other classes.31 Everywhere there was inequality,

in America the “unavoidable result of the institutions” which the

20 The circumstances indicate that here Cooper is speaking- in his own voice and has

for the moment abandoned the Swiftian satire. For background see Willi Muller, The

Monikins von J. F. Cooper, in ihrem Verhciltnis zu Gulliver’s Travels von J. Swift

(Rostock, 1900).

30 In Homeward Bound, Captain Truck is glamorized in contrast to the exponent of

equality Steadfast Dodge, the unscrupulous journalist. Cooper satirized Dodge as view¬

ing “all things as gravitating towards the great aggregation’’ and hence losing all

individuality (p. 101).

31 The Crater , p. 16.

1959]

Clark — Fenimore Cooper and Science — /

189

founding fathers, acknowledging* the lesson taught by nature, had

set up.32 For since men were by nature unequal, in “order not to

interfere with the inequality of nature, her laws must be left to

their own operation, which is just what is done in democracies.”133

The great chain theory fitted in nicely with Cooper’s own emphasis

on individuality, and indeed probably was a contributing factor.

The result for Cooper was a justification for a natural caste sys¬

tem, that each man should know “his own place in the social scale”

and forget the falsehood that he is “as good as another either in

nature or in social relations, in political axioms any more than

political truths.”34

Important differences between Cooper and other believers in

progress should be noted. He was far from agreeing with ration¬

alistic spokesmen of the Enlightenment such as Paine and Barlow

that human nature could attain perfection through science alone.

When Dr. Bat tells Natty in The Prairie that scientific education

might “eradicate” the principle of evil, he is brought up short by a

retort so clear and conventional that it shows Cooper excitedly

forgetting to keep the fictional Natty in character. “That for your

education,” is Natty’s answer, as he snaps his fingers. “Cruel

enough would be the order that should come from miserable hands

like thine! A touch from such a finger would destroy the mocking-

deformity of a monkey ! Go, go, human folly is not needed to fill up

the great design of God. There is no stature, no beauty, no propor¬

tions, nor any colors in which man himself can well be fashioned

that is not already done to his hands.”35 Cooper had no sympathy

for reform based only on abstract justice without a concern for

circumstances and practicality, and he was furious at the Northern

violators of the Fugitive Slave Act whom he thought obstructed

the proper solution of the problem by slow emancipation.36 Nor was

there anything primitivistic about Cooper’s idea of progress. In

accord with current racial theories, he thought it perhaps fitting

that “the red man disappears before the superior moral and

physical influence of the white.”37

32 The American . Democrat (1838 edition), p. 83. Unless otherwise specified, all fur¬

ther references to this book will be to this edition.

33 Ibid., p. 78.

34 Afloat and Ashore, p. 399.

35 Dr. Bat also has overtones of Holofernes. See Edward P. Vandiver, Jr., “Cooper’s

Prairie and Shakespeare,” PMLA, LXIX, (Dec., 1954), p. 1302-1304. At no time did

Cooper fail to recognize the importance of the supernatural in the scheme of progress,

although, as we shall see, his emphasis on this aspect differed in degree during certain

periods of his writing.

33 See New York, ed. with an introduction by Dixon Ryan Fox (New York, 1930),

p. 33, where Cooper fulminates against the “machinations of demagogues and the

j ravings of fanaticism.” See also Dorothy Waples, James Fenimore Cooper and the

Whig Myth (New Haven, 1938), p. 41.

37 Notions of the Americans (Phila., 1839), II, p. 277. On Cooper’s non-Rousseauistic

theory of progress see John F. Ross, The Social Criticism of Fenimore Cooper, Uni¬

versity of California Publications in English, III (1933), pp. 2, 17-18.

190 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and ' Letters [Vol. 48

In the non-fictional Gleanings in Europe: France, the basis of

Cooper’s optimism appears as a tacit faith in the beneficence of

the universe as revealed by astronomy and as interpreted by La

Place. The “vast and beneficent design” of nature would seem to

provide an example it would profit man to follow. Cooper’s own

order-loving temperament fitted him to speculate on the economy

of the cosmos. If a comet has sometimes no apparent nucleus, and

aerolites are formed into pure iron by a natural process in the

atmosphere, then perhaps, he thought, the fixed stars that some¬

times unaccountably disappear, become comets and later condense

into solid matter to take up regular planetary orbits, establishing

thereby a “regular reproduction of worlds to meet the waste of

eternity.” Furthermore, if as many astronomers believed, the solar

system, along with the thousands of other systems, revolved around

some central focal point in the universe, Cooper’s pious imagina¬

tion designates this point as the throne of the Most High (p. 250).

Such scientific considerations of the omnipotence of God awakened

in man a sense of his insignificance and the need for humility. It

was no matter for disbelief that the petty affairs of the forked

radish inhabiting this small portion of the universe should be as

yet imperfect, the throne of the Most High having larger issues to

contend with.

Much of Cooper’s thought is confusing unless it is studied in the

light of the genetic development of his mind and attitudes as a

whole. The nationalistic optimism of Cooper’s earlier views of

progress rested on current scientific views of environmentalism,

racism, and freedom of thought. The Bravo, The Heidenmauer,

and The Headsman set energetically to work to prove the superior¬

ity of the new American liberalism to Walter Scott’s version of the

dark and bloody past.38 Even on his return from Europe, on the

threshold of bitter disillusionment, Cooper wrote with conviction

that “the heart of the nation ... is sound.”39 Manufacturing, based

on scientific inventions, seemed about to sky-rocket.40 And religion

was deserting silly sectarianism. But quarrels with the unbridled

press and a natural reaction following, the contrast between the

ideal America he had glorified in Europe with the everyday actual

America he now observed began to jaundice his critical eye. He

complained of the irresistible tendency toward mediocrity in a

nation where the common mind so imperiously rules.41 He became

38 Thomas Lounsbury, James Fenimore Cooper (Boston, 1882, p. 123, records that

Italian censors refused to permit the publication of The Water-Witch in Rome because

of its unfavorable comparisons of the vanished glory of the Eternal City with the

rising might of youthful America.

39 Correspondence, I, p. 328.

40 Fenimore Cooper : Representative Selections, p. 39ff.

41 See Home as Found (Lovell-Coryell ed., New York), p. 79, Chap. 7. It should be

pointed out that Cooper always distrusted scientific theories which seemed to him to

point toward a completely materialistic universe or concept of man. As his religious

1959]

Clark — Fenimore Cooper and Science — /

191

a conservative, not because he was temperamentally reactionary or

because he thought old times better than new, but because he felt

the movement of American civilization to be away from true prog¬

ress — which included a caste system based on free competition and

the great chain of being. The Letter to His Countrymen (1834)

saw Cooper attacking the press, Congress, and the Presidency. But

it ended with a return to the former optimism, postdated : “the

democracy of this country is in every sense strong enough to pro¬

tect itself. Here the democrat is conservative, and, thank God, he

has something to preserved’42

The final conviction reached by Cooper as age, weariness in the

warfare of ideas and customs, and a hardening of the religious

arteries grew upon him can be illustrated from virtually all his

later works. Cooper still felt that the world was advancing,

although he was skeptical of some of its features, but he wondered

if perhaps progress might not be due as much to unthinking acci¬

dents as to the design of man. In Oak Openings he summarizes

almost perfectly his view that rationalism needs the support of

revelation :

When men tell us of the great progress that the race is making toward

perfection, and point to the acts which denote its wisdom, its power to

control its own affairs, its tendencies towards good when most left to its

own self-control, our minds are filled with scepticism. The everyday experi¬

ence of a life now fast verging toward three score, contradicts the theory

and the facts. We believe not in the possibility of man’s becoming even a

strictly rational being, unaided by a power from on high; and all that we

have seen and read, goes to convince us that he is most of a philosopher,

the most accurate judge of his real state, the most truly learned, who

most vividly sees the necessity of falling back on the precepts of revela¬

tion for all his higher principles and practice. We conceive that this mighty

truth furnishes unanswerable proof of the unceasing agency of a Provi¬

dence, and when we once admit this, we concede that our own powers are

insufficient for our own wants (Lovell-Coryell ed., pp. 357-358, Chap. 26).

The obscurantist, withdrawn, and, in a practical sense, pessimistic

trend of the foregoing is obvious. It was echoed in the Preface to

The Crater, in the statement that God’s providence in government

would effect an eventual happiness if man did not interfere with

his eternal talk about “the people, the people.”

Indeed, the whole message of The Crater is that man may build a

Paradise on earth with the materials God has given him if he em-

views developed into a kind of quietism, the hand of God was seen more and more as

guiding- human affairs, social improvement being incidental to moral reform. Principles

of natural causation like environment and heredity were less stressed than God’s

providence.

42 It is possible to comb anti-progressive sentiments out of the conversation of the

Leatherstocking series, if one disregards the dramatic propriety of Natty’s utterances.

In the light of the whole sweep of progress, Natty must be regarded as the potent

agent of the very first stirrings of civilization in the American wilderness. His annoy¬

ance at its advance, then, cannot be taken to represent Cooper’s own feelings as a

whole.

192 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

ploys the right principles, but that the wrong principles and meth¬

ods of American publicity, social levelling, economic exploitation

and sectarian strife could destroy it in a short time. He scored the

man of science for intellectual presumption. Instead of extolling

the “pride of reason” the scientific man should be brought to “feel

that profound reverence for Him that the nature of our relations

justly demands.”43 Christianity was at once the goal and the means

of progress. “Do we then regard reform as impossible, and society

to be doomed to struggle on in its old sloughs of oppression and

abuses?” he pretended to ask. Cooper’s answer was that Christian¬

ity would be a “faultless” guide to the future. “In due season this

code [of Christianity] will supersede all others, when the world

will, for the first time, be happy and truly free.”44 Cooper’s ideal,

apparently, would be that of his old Yale teacher, Silliman, devoted

to both scientific rationalism and Christian revelation.

If the religious scientist Silliman seems to be Cooper’s living

ideal, Columbus in Mercedes of Castile (1840) may be perhaps his

fictional counterpart. Cooper praises Columbus for his knowledge

of the more advanced geographical and astronomical science of his

era : “this extraordinary man had many accurate and sublime

glimpses of truths that were still in embryo as respected their de¬

velopment and demonstration by the lights of precise and inductive

reasoning.”45 While Cooper finds Columbus has a “profound defer¬

ence” toward most of the Catholic doctrines, he was scientifically

advanced in thinking that most miracles came about “through the

agencies of nature” and he was sceptical about a recently reported

miracle in which “real tears were seen to fall from the eyes of the

image of the holy Maria. . . .”46

As a Christian, it is noteworthy that Cooper wrote of Columbus

as “not strictly a devotee; but a quiet, deeply-seated enthusiasm,

which had taken the direction of Christianity, pervaded his moral

system, and at all times disposed him to look up to the protecting

hand of the Deity and to expect its aid.”47 Such characteristics are

common to all the heroes and heroines of Cooper’s extremely reli¬

gious later period, but they can be observed, in nascent form, in all

his writings. Cooper was habitually influenced by his own theories

of ontologism and morality, and his characters are admirable or

inferior according to the way they paralleled Cooper’s beliefs. Uni¬

versal sympathy was not a Cooper attribute. Today we might see

Cooper’s depiction of Columbus as of a rarified, idealized sort; but

to Cooper Columbus was man as he should be, pious, temperate, im-

43 Preface to Sea Lions (Povell-Coryell ed., New York), pp. 3-4.

44 Oak Openings, p. 272.

43 Mercedes of Castile (Lovell-Coryell ed., New York), p. 254, Chap. 18.

46 Ibid., p. 269, Chap. 19 ; and p. 174, Chap. 13.

47 Ibid., p. 165, Chap. 12.

1959]

Clark — Fenimore Cooper and Science — /

193

bued with the highest sense of being a disciple of God. Thus Colum¬

bus sets as his main mission in life the fulfilling of God’s designs by

spreading the Gospel over the earth.48 Only secondarily does he

think of the wealth that may be derived from the Orient; much of

Cooper’s dis-esteem for Ferdinand of Aragon stems from that mon¬

arch’s putting material matters foremost.

Coincident with Columbus’s pietism was the scientific tempera¬

ment which contributed so much to his personal stability. Columbus

“entered little into the popular fallacies of the day.”49 Instead, he

relied “on demonstration and probabilities — a course that the

human mind, in its uncultivated condition, is not fond of taking.”50

Columbus’s “notions had got the fixed and philosophical bias that is

derived from science,”51 and in them he had sharply differen-

cast by the earth in the eclipses of the moon.” Columbus asks tri-

tiated himself from those “who were too little accustomed to

learned research properly to appreciate the magnitude of the pro¬

posed discoveries.”52 Thus with true scientific detachment, Columbus

answers to the queries on Prestor John that “I find no scientific or

plausible reasons to justify me in pursuing what may prove to be

as deceptive as the light which recedes before the hand that would

touch it.”53 He was, too, far from “the weakness of thinking” that

attributing manifestations of nature to “direct miraculous agen¬

cies,” but thought, as Lyell and other scientists of Cooper’s time

thought, that it was “more in conformity to the practice of divine

wisdom” to utilize natural means for one’s advancing in the ways

of the world. “My thoughts,” says Columbus, “have first been

turned to the contemplation of this subject; then hath my reason

been enlightened by a due course of study and reflection, and sci¬

ence hath aided in producing the conviction necessary to impel my¬

self to proceed, and to enable me to induce others to join in this

enterprise.”54

There is no doubt that his Columbus repeats some of the favorite

dicta of Cooper himself. Columbus, of course, as Cooper admits,

was “necessarily subject to much of the ignorance of the age,”55

yet is much too intelligent to pass up “such aids as may be gleaned

from science”50 or to neglect “the every-day laws of nature.”57 He

could be prone to error, as when he neglects to follow up his sur¬

mise that the difference in degrees between the north star and the

48 Ibid., p. 53, Chap. 4.

49 Ibid., p. 89, Chap. 7.

50 Idem.

51 Idem.

32 Ibid., p. 86, Chap. 7.

E3 Ibid., p. 90, Chap. 7.

04 Ibid., p. 207, Chap. 15.

55 Ibid., p. 89, Chap. 7.

58 Ibid., p. 226, Chap. 16.

57 Ibid., p. 245, Chap. 18,

194 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

compass needle might be due to “regions where the loadstone

abounds/’58 and explaining the divergence instead as caused by the

movement of the north star. Cooper speculates on whether Colum¬

bus was resorting to a ruse to reassure the seamen or whether he

actually meant what he said: “No person of any science believed,

even when the variation of the compass was unknown, that the

needle pointed necessarily to the polar star. . . .”59 Yet Cooper

thinks it not improbable that Columbus was capable of “uttering

so gross a scientific error, at a time when science itself knew no

more of the existence of the phenomenon than is known today of its

cause.”00 Thus there was some extenuation. In all, the regard that

Columbus entertained for nature as “a legislator that will be re¬

spected” and his faith that science was capable of unlocking many

of the secrets in the material sphere, as well as his simple con¬

fidence in a protective, benevolent God, serve to illustrate Cooper’s

own attitudes toward these matters.

If progress was to be made, then, it would best be made with

minds culturally independent, capable of adapting the sciences to

man’s end but never losing sight of the fact that man’s ultimate

goal is the glorification of God. His learning had taught him that

nature was a “vast and beneficient design,” that its order had the

kind of stability at least partially open to reasonable analysis. It

was a mistake to think that scientists could set themselves up as so

many gods ; but scientists, when properly reverential, could help

much in the forwarding of the affairs of the human race.

b) Obscurantism

Cooper was persistent in admitting the efficacy of science in

meliorating the condition of mankind. He was equally persistent

in refusing to admit that science was the key to man’s universal

emancipation. Placed in its proper position and properly subordi¬

nated, science was a useful tool; but it was not the be all and end

all of human accomplishment. Throughout his career as a writer

Cooper urged men to recognize “the imperfections of human pow¬

ers,” to avoid “the vain-glory of intellect,” to avow the need for

substituting “humility for pride of reason,” to stand properly awed

before a “mandate of a wisdom that is infinite.”61 Cooper held to no

rigid anti-rational position. It was simply that man boasted too

much of his reason. And he held in contempt those men who like

Ishmael Bush were “ignorant of the application of any other intelli¬

gence than such as met the senses.”62

68 Ibid., p. 242, Chap. 17.

™ Ibid., p. 253, Chap. 18.

00 Ibid., p. 254, Chap. 18.

01 The Pioneers, pp. 136-138,

02 The Prairie p. 80,

1959] Clark — Fenimore Cooper and Science — I 195

In The Prairie Cooper uses the straw-man Dr. Obet Bat, the

“philosopher of nature” who studies Button and Linnaeus, as a

means of satirizing the extreme view that science alone has the

power to eradicate all evil from the world. Symbolically, Dr. Bat is

mounted upon an ass. He scoffs at Natty’s simple belief that all

the beasts were “literally collected” in the Garden of Eden (p. 207) .

The ultimate arrives when Dr. Bat scientifically catalogues the

enormous physical dimensions of a “new” beast he has “discov¬

ered” — and finds he has come across his own jackass moving along

in the dusk. He finds fault with the formation of all quadrupeds

and can’t decide which scientific means of locomotion would im¬

prove them, the principle of the lever or the wheel. And when he

argues that education and science can end evil, Natty sees such

faith in rationalistic knowledge as “mortal wickedness,” a symbol

of man’s impious “pride and vanity” (p. 224) ,63

The fault with such men as Dr. Bat lay in their perversion of

reason. No one, not even scientists, as Cooper remarks elsewhere,

can “tell us what is life and what is death. Something that we can¬

not comprehend lies at the root of every distinct division of natural

phenomena.”04 The attitude thus early begun was an intrinsic part

of Cooper’s artistic and spiritual development, resulting in the reli¬

gious novels of his last years. The “sublimest facts taught by in¬

duction, science, or revelation”65 may well turn out to be alike or at

least complementary, but when Mary Pratt asserts that “this

boasted reason” was insufficient to explain “a single mystery of the

creation” one can see Cooper affirmatively nodding his head from

behind his pen.66

Even Cooper’s theories of education, which deserve exhaustive

study, involved in later life a marked limitation in order to empha¬

size fallible man’s dependence on God. In The Crater, after Mark’s

election to governor, he screens the admission of new colonies to

avoid importing “moral diseases” into his “body politic” and takes

care that the children are not taught anything they should not

know. Mark absolutely forebade teaching the youngsters that the

human mind was infallible. Everything was orientated toward reli¬

gious truth (p. 415). One cannot help but note how different Coop¬

er’s educational view is from that of Paine or Jefferson, both of

whom believed in complete freedom of ideas and in debating all

03 Allowance should be made for the possibility that in creating- Dr. Battius, Cooper

as a disciple of the satiric Swift is in accord with a literary convention which used

the scientist for comic relief. See for orientation, C. S. Duncan, “The Scientist as a

Comic Type,” Modern Philology, XIV (1916), p. 281 ff . In contrast to Natty’s simple

Moravian beliefs, one should contrast Cooper’s years at Ya’e, his wide reading-, his

association with such well-educated scientists as Dr. De Kay, and his habitual exalta¬

tion of education as essential to the cultivated social order of intelligent gentlemen.

64 Preface to Sea Lions, p. 7.

05 Ibid., p. 9.

66 Ibid., p. 118.

196 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

conflicting beliefs. In the light of Leatherstocking’s pugnacious op¬

position to Dr. Battius’s scientism, it is more than probable that if

Cooper had his way such scientific ideas would not be offered for

free debate in schools, although its utility and power to stimulate

man’s awareness of the Creator would be taught. If we are tempted

to ridicule Cooper’s educational views, it is well to remember that

today (1959) probably a majority of Americans believe that edu¬

cators should limit or focus ideas presented in American schools in

such a way that Communism should not appear superior to

democracy.

Cooper’s marked taste for Swiftian satire makes it likely that it

was the follies and foibles of man rather than science per se that

engaged Cooper’s attention. The Monikins is a wholesale satire of

practically all scientific studies. Yet Cooper we know was pro La

Place and pro Lyell, numbered many friends among scientists, and

always regarded science rightly used as indispensable to progress.

Law, medicine, religion, all come in for their share of ribbing in

The Crater. Mark feels that while law as a science is “a very useful

science” such a science might be done without for a few years

(p. 325). One doctor is sufficient for the expedition, for it is “better

to die under one theory than under two” (p. 325). And man is so

contrary and contentious that it is almost impossible to have a

priest for every religious persuasion (p. 325). In Upside Down, or

Philosophy in Petticoats (1850) Fourierism, Owenism, and the

Brook Farm doctrines, the new-fangled idea's of the 1840’s that

Cooper thought an insult to the age, are held up for mockery.67 And

the naive way in which trusting souls look to science for the cure

of the world is held up to ridicule in Jack Tier, where the credulous

Aunt tells her niece Rose Budd, who is well, that the voyage was

taken to benefit Rose’s pulmonary condition, that “hydropathy”

was to be the cure (p. 76). The satire on Dr. Sitgreaves, who urges

the American soldiers to saber the British in such a way that he

can stitch them up neatly as a surgeon, is based on Smollett’s

satiric art.68

Regarding the sea, Cooper felt that the “interminable waste of

water” inspired an unscientific attitude toward life. Even scien¬

tific explanations for natural phenomena tended to buttress a sea¬

man’s general credulity. “Where is the seaman,” asks the Red

Rover, “who has not, on some evil day, been compelled to admit

that his art is nothing when the elements are against him?” (p.

264) 69 No matter how a man may have fortified his thinking proc-

07 See John Kouwenhoven, “Cooper’s ‘Upside Down’ Turns Up,’’ The • Colophon ., n.s.,

Ill ( 1938 ), pp. 524-530. Fourier tried to derive his utopian notions of “social attrac¬

tion’’ from Newtonian science.

88 Dr. Sitgreaves was taken over directly from Lee’s book about an actual physician

in the Revolutionary War who had such a comic quirk.

89 Red Rover ( Lovell-Coryell ed., New York), Chap. 20.

1959]

Clark — Fenimore Cooper and Science — /

197

esses, superstition was a quality that seemed indigenous to the

ocean. It led the less gifted seaman at every step of his pilgrimage,

to seek relief of some propitious omen. The few omens which are

supported by scientific causes give support to the many which have

their origin only in his own excited and doubting fancy.

Cooper’s true attitude toward science was early set forth in No¬

tions of the Americans and remained fairly constant even though

his emphasis changed. Intelligence was the affair of all. It was the

preregotive of no one to “pronounce on the boundaries which the

Almighty has been pleased to set between the efforts of our reason

and his own omniscience” (I, 1839 ed., p. 108). It was good to ex¬

press humility while approaching the great body of undiscovered

truth. But it became almost a sacred duty to tax the “faculties to

the utmost” and to investigate “the truth in its more useful and

practical forms.” Intelligence was “the parent of all that is excel¬

lent and great in communities” (I, 1839 ed., p. 108). This at first

seems to strangely contrast with The Crater where Cooper belittles

science for its lack of religious humility. But like Hawthorne,

Cooper actually appears to have wanted intelligence and reverence

(the heart) to be developed in counterpoised and harmonious bal¬

ance. There was in Cooper’s final period ( cf. Oak Openings) a great

deal of religious resignation. God and not man forwards human

events. But all history went to show that God after all found it

most to His liking to consummate His desires through natural

means. The business of man then became one of obedient humility,

refraining from imposing his will before the Divine will, and rec¬

ognizing that the finite cannot completely fathom the Infinite.

Thus Raoul in Wing and Wing has a vision of the truth and is

converted to a belief in God by the contemplation of the stars and

his knowledge of astronomy. Scientific pride is cooled and the “in¬

significance of our being” affirmed. Cooper condemned rationalism

and scientific deism as often leading to sheer atheism by attributing

events “to fate or fortune instead of to God.” It was a “dreadful

evil” caused by the “shallow philosophy so much in fashion”

(p. 478). Because God was incomprehensible He merited worship.

That was why the Indians, child-like in notions and behavior, never

raised “hollow objections” to the incarnation of Christ. Cooper well

knew the Biblical injunction that only as we act as children shall we

enter the Kingdom of Heaven. In Cooper’s time men aspired too

high. “It is when we begin to assume the airs of philosophy,” he

wrote in Oak Openings (p. 399), “and to fancy, because we know

a little, that the whole book of knowledge is within our grasp, that

men become skeptics.” Always the Creator’s work will “exceed the

power of human comprehension” and “transcend our understand¬

ing” (p. v). From Notions of -the Americans to Oak Openings

198 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

# *

Cooper turned to a denial of the principle of intellectual freedom

and a belief that indiscriminate reading is dangerous to morality.

Quietism was reinforced by dogmatism. Yet science had its value,

and when properly understood and properly used, was of inesti¬

mable value to man’s spiritual and material welfare.

3. Cooper’s Scientific Interests

a. Astronomy

Astronomy was to Cooper one means of arriving at an aware¬

ness of God’s power and design. Cooper had been introduced to

astronomy at Yale and had reacted to it as his hero Corny Little-

page reacts to its study in Satanstoe. And in The Crater Cooper

wrote that “in impressing the human race with a sense of the

power and benevolence of the Deity, we think the science of astron¬

omy, with its mechanical auxiliaries, is to act its full share. The

more deeply we penetrate into the arcana of Nature, the stronger

become the proofs of design ; and a Deity thus obviously, tangibly

admitted, the more profound will become the reverence for his

character and power” (p. 153).

About 1831, writing of the eclipse of the sun he had seen as a

boy, he said nothing had ever given him a clearer idea of the

“majesty of the Almighty” and the insignificance of man. “It

seemed as if the great Father of the Universe had visibly, and

almost palpably veiled his face in wrath. But, appalling as the with¬

drawal of light had been, most glorious, most sublime, was its res¬

toration.”70 He ridiculed those “philosophers” who refused to be¬

lieve in eclipses because they had not seen one. From his early days

as a sailor wondering at the silent majesty of the stars which

guided his ship, to the later Crater and Gleanings in Europe:

France he glamorized the science of astronomy as not only prac¬

tically useful to mariners, but as inspiring as awe which reinforced

faith in a Divine and Benevolent Designer.

In Mercedes of Castile, a story whose action begins in Spain in

the year 1469 and involves Columbus, Columbus is made out as

seeking to “prove the wisdom of God by actual experiment;”71 and

the science glorified is astronomy and navigation. Cooper remarks

that at that time : “The revolution of the planets, the diurnal motion

of the earth, and the causes of the changes in the seasons, were then

profound mysteries even to the learned ; or, if the glimmerings of

the truth did exist, they existed as the first rays of the dawn dimly

and hesitatingly announce the approach of day.”72 He treats sym-

7° “The Eclipse,” Putnam’s Magazine, n.s., IV (Sept., 1869), p. 358.

71 Mercedes of Castile ( Lovell-Coryell ed., New York), p. 106, Chap. 8.

72 Ibid., p. 144, Chap. 11. On p. i 5 0, Cooper proceeds to ridicule those who at that

time supposed the earth was not round.

1959]

Clark — Fenimore Cooper and Science — /

199

pathetically Columbus’s empirical reasonings to demonstrate the

roundness of the earth, such as the fact that at sea what one sees

of an approaching ship is the top-sails, and the round “shadows

cast by the earth on the eclipse of the moon.” Columbus asks tri¬

umphantly, do not observers “see that these shadows are round,

and do they not know that a shadow which is round can only be

cast by a body that is round?”73

The sea predisposed Cooper toward a sense of awe and mystery.

In Sea Lions, he spoke of it as having the aspect of eternity, with¬

out beginning or end, in ceaseless movement, its dangers prompt¬

ing one to belief in a protective Providence who alone prevents our

being abandoned to the domain of chance.

La Place was one of the main figures on whom Cooper depended

for much of his knowledge of astronomy. Such a man was alone

“sufficient” to “redeem” the French from the imputations that they

were no more than “dancing-masters, petits maitres, and perruqui-

ers .” Astronomy was of practical concern. But it could also strike

sparks “from the spirit of some dormant Newton” and inspire “a

contemplation of the power and designs of God.”74 Indeed, this last

point is the keystone to Cooper’s attitude toward astronomy. Sci¬

ence could be bad and lead to the extreme of pride, or it could be

good and cause the scientist “to humble himself and his utmost

learning, at the feet of Infinite Knowledge and power, and wisdom,

as they are thus to be traced in the path of the Ancient of Days!7r>

A knowledge of astronomy, Cooper felt, could breed a “truly philo¬

sophical indifference” toward the insignificant earth. “Admiration

of human powers, as connected with the objects around me, has

been lost in admiration of the mysterious spirit which could pene¬

trate the remote and sublime secrets of the science; and, on no

other occasions, have I felt so profound a conviction of my own iso¬

lated insignificance, or so lively a perception of the stupendous

majesty of the Deity.”76 There was no “risk” involved in the study

of astronomy when such study could lead men to consider God’s

omnipotence, although, he wrote, “it certainly might be dangerous

to push our speculations too far.”

Mark Woolston’s knowledge of and attitude toward science in

The Crater can pretty much be taken as Cooper’s own. Cooper,

after his initial study at Yale, continued to interest himself in

astronomy while in the navy and afterwards when he had occasion

to meet scientists at the various New York clubs and during his

extensive travels. Mark similarly pushed on in his studies and

found that they made him “a somewhat more accurate astronomer”

73 Ibid., pp. 159-161, Chap. 12.

74 Gleanings in Europe : France (Spiller ed.), p. 248-9.

75 The Crater, p. 155.

76 Gleanings in Europe: France (Spiller ed., 1928) p. 249.

200 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

than he might otherwise be (p. 154). Both Mark and Cooper were

aware of Herschel and the consequences for philosophy of his dis¬

coveries. But their similar attitudes toward nature and God are

most important. Both moved from a study of the skies from a sense

of “curiosity and a love of science/’ to a point where astronomy

helped them determine their own position in “the scale of created

beings.”77 In Cooper’s final period it became all important to see in

the heavens “the hand of God instead of the solution of a prob¬

lem.”78 Thus when Mark views the stars through his telescope, the

feeling flows over him that they testify to the “existence of a vast

and beneficent design,” prompting him to “love and adoration” for

the “Divine First Cause,” “the dread Being which had produced

all these mighty results” (p. 154).

b. Newtonian Parallels in Political Ideas

Cooper’s use of Newtonian physical thought is not so all-

embracing as his comparable use of astronomy, but in a study of

scientific influence on his writing it should be considered. Cooper’s

political and social ideas were highly important in determining his

creative bent and are often characterized in Newtonian terms. One¬

sided greed and self-indulgence follow a law associated with the

correspondence between material and ethical laws. Because people

were greedy, checks and balances are necessary to neutralize the

conflicts of greed. For Cooper, the equilibrium of the moral order

was under constant threat. Discussing the evil miser Goldencalf in

The Monikins, Cooper points out that the lust for gold was self-

perpetuating. “This is a moral phenomenon that I have often had

occasion to observe, and which, there is reason to think, depends on

a principle of attraction that has hitherto escaped the sagacity of

the philosophers, but which is as active in the immaterial as is that

of gravitation in the material world” (p. 40, Chap. 3).

Gravitation was also used to explain what Cooper regarded as

the tendency of democracy toward mediocrity. He pointed out in

The American Democrat (1838 ed.) that only numbers count in a

democracy and hence a “high standard” is difficult to form. All

the arts, including literature, tended “to gravitate towards the

common center” rather than rise to a superior plain (p. 71). Cooper

found that in Europe the “extremes of society” are mutually re-

77 Yet even later Cooper could be enthralled with astronomy for its own sake. In

The Sea Lions ( Lovell-Coryell ed., New York, pp. 277-280, Chap. 22), he interrupts the

course of the story to explain the physical reason for seasonal change so that even the

“most clouded” mind could understand it.

78 In Wing and Wing, even as he is dying, Raoul’s devotion to astronomy as the

idea of God as merely a “principle” retards his acceptance of God as a person.

Astronomy has seized on Raoul’s fancy but not his heart. As he dies, Raoul ponders

on whether other planets are inhabited and imagines man’s inventing “ ‘instruments to

trace the movements of all these worlds’ ” and calculating “ ‘their wanderings with

accuracy for ages to come.’ ” (pp. 476-477).

1959]

Clark — Fenimore Cooper and Science — 1

201

pelling, while in America the tendency is to “gravitate toward a

common center.” “Thus it is, that all things in America become

subject to a mean law that is productive of a mediocrity which is

probably much above the average of that of most nations, possibly

of all, England excepted; but which is only a mediocrity after all.”79

Cooper also used physics to explain how the oscillation in Ameri¬

can life from one extreme to another was like the swing of a pen¬

dulum. He thought that “public opinion, however, like all things

human, can work evil in proportion to its power to do good. On the

same principle that the rebound is proportioned to the blow in

physics, there can be no moral agent capable of benefiting man

that has not an equal power to do him harm.80 Cooper wrote that

as soon as men’s minds reach the saturation point they recoil to the

opposite extreme. “Men are constantly vibrating around truth, the

passions and temporary interests acting as the weights to keep the

pendulum in motion.”81 In discussing “American Principles,”

Cooper states that : “It is a general law in politics, that the power

most to be distrusted, is that which possessing the greatest force,

is the least responsible.”82

The theory of checks and balances in Cooper’s political thought

also has reference to Newtonian physics. Many political thinkers in

America, John Adams for instance, justified the tripartite division

of government by analogy with Newtonian thought. They felt the

Constitution was “the best example of the ideas of mechanics ap¬

plied to politics, and thought of society as a microcosmic universe,

in which the laws of cohesion and repulsion analogous to those of

the physical world operated according to the arrangements of their

creator, the wise maker of constitutions. In a very real sense, we in

the United States, live under the Newtonian system.”83

Cooper’s ABC letters of 1835 answered Daniel Webster’s argu¬

ments that a strong executive power was unjustified, and his Letter

to His Countrymen claimed that the United States really had a

system of checks and balances whereas in England it was a fiction

whereby money actually ruled. “So admirable,” he wrote in No¬

tions of the Americans, “is the practise of checks and balances

throughout all the departments of this government, and so pow¬

erful and certain is the agency of public opinion, that no political

management, except in cases that, by common consent, are thought

to come fairly within the scope of political maneuverings, can easily

be exercised” (II, 1839 ed., p. 226). And in The Monikins (p. 414)

70 The Sea Lions, p. 11.

80 The American Democrat, p. 156.

81 Gleanings in Europe: England, ed, with an introduction by Robert Spiller (New

York, 1930), p. 187.

82 The American Democrat, p. 28.

83 Theodore Hornberger, Scientific Thought in the American Colleges, 1638-1800,

(Austin, Texas, 1945), pp. 86—87.

202 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

Cooper used the doctrine of centrifugal and centripetal action to

satirically explain the “rotary” action of politicians oscillating from

party to party: “Their great rotary principle keeps them pretty

constantly in motion, it is true; but while there is a centrifugal

force to maintain this action, great care has been made to provide

a centripetal counterpoise in order to prevent them from bolting

out of the political orbit.”84

The general scheme of Newtonian law being in balance so long

as it is not interfered with provided a real basis for Cooper’s belief

in laissez-faire economic theory.85 When commerce remained in its

proper sphere and forebore to wield any “direct influence in poli¬

tics” Cooper had no quarrel with it, although this was a condition

he rarely saw in a society burgeoning into a bourgeois state of

ostentation and money-grabbing. Very early he wrote that “The

secret of all enterprise and energy exists in the principle of indi¬

viduality.”86 The function of government was a benevolent fore-

bearance characterized by “physical advantages” and “fortified by

its moral and intellectual superiority” which enabled it “to leave

man to the freest and noblest exercise of his energies and will.

. . .”87 It is, he wrote, a “well-established principle . . . that trade

will make its own laws.” “Trade issues its own edicts, and they are

ordinarily found to be too powerful for resistance, wherever there

are the concentrated means of rendering them formidable by the

magnitude of the interests they control.”88

It was all to the good of American well-being that manufactur¬

ing should be left “to the operation of natural influence.” Cooper

81 Many scholars have noted Cooper’s continual references to Newton when he wishes

to show the rightness of a belief or action. His admiration for Newton never faltered.

Mr. Frank Collins, in an unpublished University of Wisconsin dissertation ( 1954 ),

notes that the “extent of the novelist’s dependence upon the conception of the universe

associated with Newton is indeed everywhere revealed in his writings, not only in his

accounts of the vast harmony perceived in the heavens but even in his casual allu¬

sions and analogies.” p. 773. There are many examples of this. In The Chainbearer, for

instance (p. 341), Mordaunt Uittlepage observes that the members of the Thousand-

acres’ family were probably “just as well satisfied with their land-ethics, as Paley

ever could have been with his moral philosophy, or Newton with his mathematical

demonstration.”

85 Robert Spiller says that Cooper “accepted . . . without question” the laissez faire

optimism of political thinkers of the period” who “saw no reason why competition

and altruism should not co-exist” (Fenimore Cooper: Representative Selections, p.

330). A fruitful field of inquiry still remains open regarding Cooper’s reaction to the

vogue of Malthus in the United States, and how Mai thus might have helped reinforce

the great chain theory and Newtonianism in general in inducing Cooper’s belief in

laissez faire. From Cooper’s reference to Malthus in Gleanings in Europe: England

(p. 322), it is evident that he knew his work, which Darwin admitted first suggested

his idea of the struggle for existence as a result of the fact that population outruns

food supply. Cooper would undoubtedly have been familiar with the ideas Robert Hale

expressed in his book, A Brief View of the Policy and Resources of the United States

(Rondon, 1810), which quotes Adam Smith’s Wealth of Nations and also the Mal¬

thusian Blodget’s Economica, to the effect that our numbers are doubled every twenty-

three years, since Hale had been Silliman’s instructor. In many ways Cooper’s views

parallel those of Malthus.

88 Notions of the Americans (Phila., 1839), I, p. 14.

87 Ibid., I, p. 15.

88 New York (New York, 1930), pp. 53—54.

1959]

Clark — F enimore Cooper and Science — /

203

felt that policy would always indicate “its own wants” in the final

decision. He was well aware that “the governing motive of com¬

merce, all over the world, is the love of gain,”89 but he believed

the “facts prove that this state of things has many relieving shades”

and raises men above “the more sordid vices of covetousness and

avarice in detail.”90 Indeed, he thought that “the present advanced

condition of the human species” was due to the “conservative prin¬

ciple” which held that “ ‘they shall get who have the power, and

they shall keep who can/ ”91

It is interesting to notice that Cooper held that “for the improve¬

ment of the race and the advancement of truth, it is only necessary

to give a man an opportunity to exercise his natural faculties in

order to make him a reflecting and, in some degree, an independent

being.” When applied to his economic theories, as in The Sea Lions,

this devolved into a belief that unregulated competition was the

“wisest” course for providing incentive. Competition, he says, “is

the principle that renders the present state of society more health¬

ful and advantageous than that which the friends of the different

systems of associatings that are now so much in vogue, wish to

substitute in its place.” (p. 175). The “political economist” could

only succeed “in advancing civilization” by using competition as a

“most powerful auxiliary” (p. 175). 92 The same idea had been

earlier expressed in The Prairie when Natty exclaimed, “might is

right, according to the fashions of the ’arth; and what the strong

chooses to do, the weak must call justice.” (p. 234). This fictional

view is more strongly put here than ever Cooper wrote in polemic.

As Cooper came near the end of his writing career his economic

ideas changed somewhat, primarily under the influence of Henry C.

Carey.93 Cooper knew Carey personally as his publisher, and to¬

gether they distrusted the English government and the English

landed and commercial aristocracy. With Carey, Cooper approved

of the theory that the least possible government restriction upon

the individual the better. Carey began his career as a pro-laissez-

faire and free-trade man {The Harmony of Nature, 1835), but

so Ibid., p. 16.

00 Ibid., p. 17.

91 The Heidenmciuer (New York, 1859—61 ed), p. 279. Cooper became most obtuse in

defending- Southern “moral improvement’’ and in denying- the commonest dictates of

humanity (freeing- the slaves), because freeing- them would cut down on profits.

92 Cooper’s thought here is sometimes contradictory. While he noted that an aristo¬

crat is “one who is willing to admit of a free competition, in all things’’ ( The Ameri¬

can Democrat, p. 98), in speaking of free trade he thought it was “set up’’ by design¬

ing Europeans, particularly Englishmen, “to prevent other states from resorting to the

same expedients to foster industry.” Thus free traders were the “dupes of English

sophistry.” This idea early expressed was to receive more extended treatment in The

Crater, where Cooper, following Henry Carey’s Newtonian economic views, wrote that

the idea of free trade as a means of “humanizing, enlightening, liberalizing, and

improving the human race ... is evil and second only to politics as a corrupter.”

93 On the relation of Cooper’s later economic views to those of Henry C. Carey, I

am indebted to Harold H. Scudder’s article, “Cooper’s The Crater,” AD, XIX (May,

1947), pp. 109-126.

204 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Aids and Letters [Vol. 48

eventually he concluded that the only effective weapon with which

other lands might wage war upon the predatory Europeans was a

high protective tariff, and that, paradoxically, the only means of

achieving free trade was by a policy of protection. These views

were not published until 1848, but Carey had undoubtedly reached

them in 1847, when Cooper was writing The Crater . Here Carey's

views find their clearest exposition, the new-sprung islands serv¬

ing while they remain above water “as a stage upon which he dem¬

onstrates that although Carey's economics is sound, man's innate

perversity is inescapable."94

Actually Cooper's acceptance of Carey's views helped to

strengthen the logic of his own position. While he could remain an

adamant exponent of individualism in economics as well as in the

social and political spheres, he was enabled to hedge it with quali¬

fications which brought his economic theory into line with the quali¬

fied individualism in man’s other activities and the idea of social

gradations associated with the doctrine of the great chain of be¬

ings" which he hoped would prevent a rampant, disruptive, anarchy.

But if Cooper himself eventually came to oppose complete laissez-

faire and squatters (as in the Anti-Rent trilogy), his semi-dramatic

presentation of Leatherstocking in The Prairie and elsewhere as

the spokesman of self-reliant free men scornful of government re¬

strictions, of a laissez-faire doctrine associated with the science of

his day, probably did much to make his hero appealing. Thus Leath¬

erstocking tells Middleton that in frontier “America . . . man is left

greatly to the following of his own wishes, compared to other coun¬

tries ; and happier, aye, and more manly and more honest too, is he

for the privilege ! . . . A wicked and a troublesome meddling is that,

with the One who has not made his creatures to be herded like oxen.

. . . A miserable land must that be where they fetter the mind as

well as the body. ..." This passage is quoted in The Leather stocking

Saga (New York, 1954, p. 22) by Allan Nevins, who adds that such

a doctrine “has the ring of American denunciation of the totali¬

tarian state" even in 1954.

(Part Two will follow in the next issue of The Transactions.)

04 Harold H. Scudder, “Cooper’s The 'Crater,” p. 110. Scudder’s thesis is that “Lyell’s

Principles of Geology seems to have been his principle source.”

AN ENGLISH SCIENTIST IN AMERICA 130 YEARS

BEFORE COLUMBUS

H. R. Holand

Ephraim, Wisconsin

For thousands of years navigation was almost entirely confined

to coast-wise traffic. The sailors of these early years had no compass

to tell them in what direction they were sailing nor any astrolabe or

sextant to determine their position. About the year 1300 the com¬

pass came into use, and some time later also the astrolabe. Then the

vast oceans lost most of their terrors and the great age of discovery

followed.

The Norsemen did not wait for the discovery of mechanical aids

to cross the Atlantic. There was a colony of several thousand Norse¬

men in Greenland which constituted an entire bishopric, and from

the tenth century onward there were many crossings between Nor¬

way and Greenland. But aside from this commerce, no sailing from

any other country to the western world is reported until in the

middle of the fourteenth century. Then we come to an English friar

who is said to have spent at least two years in a subarctic part of

America.

The name of this friar is doubtful, but Richard Hakluyt who

lived 400 years nearer to the friar’s time than we do called him

Nicholas of Lynn. He was an astronomer who became famous for

making an astrolabe which enabled seamen to make fairly accurate

observations of the latitude. He made one for John of Gaunt, Duke

of Lancaster, who at that time was the principal English patron of

the fine arts. Because of this very useful instrument, friar Nicholas

was also called The Man with the Astrolabe.

About 1364 he wrote a small book entitled De Inventione For-

tunata (The Fortunate Discovery). In this he tells of an alleged

voyage to an inland ocean which was called Mare Sugenum (the

indrawing sea) , which, if the narrative is true, can only have been

Hudson Bay. He presented this book to the King, Edward III. As

this was long before the days of printing, the book is now lost, but

there are some annotations about it on the margin of old maps

made by prominent cartographers and also other references. Rich¬

ard Hakluyt, the great preserver of early voyages, in 1589 wrote

the following report on Nicholas’ discoveries as condensed in The

Dictionary of National Biography.1

1 Vol. 4 0, p. 418.

205

4

206 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

“Hakluyt states that Nicholas of Lynne made a voyage to the lands

near the North Pole in or about 1360. His authorities, Gerardus Mercator

and John Dee, who make no reference to Nicholas by name, derive their

information from James Cnoyen of Bois-le-Duc, a Dutch explorer of

uncertain date. Cnoyen’s report, written in ‘Belgica Lingua/ is lost. Mer¬

cator made extracts from it for his own use, and sent them in 1577 to John

Dee. These extracts are preserved in the British Museum. From them it

appears that Cnoyen’s knowledge was obtained from the narrative of ‘a

priest who had an astrolabe.’ This report was presented to the King of

Norway in 1364. According to this priest’s account, an Oxford Franciscan,

who was a good astronomer, made a voyage in 1360 through all the north¬

ern regions, and described all the wonders of these islands in a book which

he gave to the King of England, and inscribed in Latin Inventio

Fortunata.”

Because of the limited knowledge about Nicholas, historical writ¬

ers have been cautious in evaluating his achievements. An exception

to this is Professor E. G. R. Taylor of the University of London.

She calls him “The Outstanding Figure of the Fourteenth Century/’

in geographical research.2 Another supporter is B. F. De Costa, the

late well known writer on geography.3 Still another is Jon Duason,

a voluminous writer on medieval Icelandic explorations.4 Ferdinand

Columbus and Bartolome de Las Casas are among the early writers

who briefly but approvingly mentions Nicholas’ book.5

Not only was this book, Inventione Fortunata, seen by many, but

we also have the testimony of Jacob Cnoyen, a Dutch traveler,

who in or about 1364 visited Bergen, Norway, where he talked with

Ivar Bardson, the Officialis of the Greenland bishopric. The latter

returned from Greenland in 1364 or the preceding fall in company

with Nicholas of Lynn (or whatever was his name) and seven other

survivors. Cnoyen writes

“The priest who had the astrolabe7 related to the king of Norway that

in A.D. 1360 there had come to these Northern Islands an English Minorite

from Oxford who was a good astronomer etc. Leaving the rest of the party

who had come to the Islands, he journeyed further through the whole of

the North etc, and put into writing all the wonders of those Islands, and

gave the King of England this book, which he called in Latin Inventio

Fortunatae, which book began at . . . latitude 54°, continuing to the Pole.”

This 54th parallel where the narrative starts enters Labrador at

Hamilton Inlet. From here he passes on to a sea which is called the

s Tudor Geography, 1930, pp. 3, 133, See also her contribution to Arthur P. Newton,

The Great Age of Discovery , London, 1932, pp. 199-206.

3 Journal of the Am. Geo. Soc. 1880, vol. 12, pp .172, 178, 189.

4 Landkonnum og Landnam, Reykjavik, 1941, pp. 163-74.

5 Quoted by De Costa, see note 3 above.

Mercator says that he had had a copy of Cnoyen’s original report, but later sent

it back to its owner. As emended by John Dee, it is interlarded with remarks about

King Arthur’s imaginary settlement of Greenland in the year 530. Dee’s copy is pre¬

served in the British Museum. It is registered as Cotton M.S. Vitellius C. VII. In 1955

I obtained a photostatic copy of it. It has been translated by Professor Taylor and

was published in Imago Mundi, 1956, XIII, pp. 55-68. The passage quoted above is on

pp. 58, 59.

7 It will be shown below that this refers to Ivar Bardson.

1959] Holand — Precolumbian Exploration of America

207

indrawing sea where he found many big islands, swift currents and

whirlpools. If he followed the coast northwestward he would come

to Hudsoy Bay. It now remains to see if Nicholas’ description of the

physiographic features in his ‘sucking sea’ agree with existing

details in Hudson Bay.

With this in view 1 set out on a course of reading everything

that had been written about Hudson Bay. But the material proved

disappointing. The big encyclopedias, both foreign and domestic,

had practically no information about Hudson Bay. While many sci¬

entific expeditions have been sent up there, they were practically

all interested only in the geology or ornithology of the bay, and

Nicholas does not mention these things. A personal visit was con¬

sidered but rejected because of the great cost. The situation

remained unsolved.

Then came good news. In 1957 the Canadian Hydrographic Serv¬

ice published its first Hudson Bay Coast Pilot , and after some delay

I obtained a copy. In it I found a full description of all its islands,

currents, whirlpools, magnetic disturbances, etc., and these are the

things that Nicholas dwells on. Let us now see how far Nicholas’

descriptions agree with the Coast Pilot .

1. The Zugende Zee (the sucking sea), so called because of its

swift currents and islands, which, Jacob Cnoyen was told, was the

principal field of operations of the priest with the astrolabe, lay

beyond, that is, west, of Greenland.8

An inspection of the map in Hudson Bay Coast Pilot or any good

atlas will show that the only sea which can be called a sucking sea

because of its islands and currents is Hudson Bay.

2. Captain George Beste, the historian of the first Frobisher ex¬

pedition in 1576, wrote the following description of Nicholas’ in¬

drawing sea : “As Mercator mentioneth out of a probable author,

there was a frier of Oxford who himself e went verye farre north

above 200 years ago. ... He reporteth that the southwest parte of

that lande is a fruitful and a holesome soyle. The northeast parte

is inhabited with a people called pygmei, whiche are not at the

uttermost above four foote high. . . .”9

To understand this description it must be remembered that

Nicholas had no other opportunity of observing the land around

the sea than what could be seen from the deck of his ship or at a

camp on shore. He did not travel by land and knew nothing about

the interior of America. Nor did anyone else. When he says that

the land to the southwest had a fruitful soil, he means the land on

the southwest side of the sea on which he was sailing. Similarly,

the pygmies that he saw were on the land northeast of him.

8 John Dee’s version of Cnoyen narrative in Imago Mundi, 1956, p. 57.

8 V. Stefansson’s edition of The Three Voyages of Mai tin Frobisher, Vol. 1, p. 19.

208 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

This is true of Hudson Bay. The land on the southwest side of the

bay is covered by a vast forest of spruce and tamarack on a front

of more than 200 miles; and on the northeast is Baffinland, inhab¬

ited only by Eskimo. There is no other sea in the western hemi¬

sphere where similar conditions obtain.

3. Mercator quotes Cnoyen as saying that ‘There is never in

these parts so much wind as might be sufficient to drive a

cornmill.”10

This is an exaggeration, but the quietness of the atmosphere in

Hudson Bay has been noted by many. The New International Ency¬

clopedia says : “Hudson Bay is singularly free from storm or fog.”

This is also proven by the meteorological tables in the Coast Pilot

page 328.

4. Cnoyen was also informed that “the Minorite (that is,

Nicholas of Lynn) said that large parts of the “indrawing sea” did

not freeze over in winter.11 Johan Ruysch on the margin of his

world map of 1508 also says this sea did not freeze in winter.12

This is also true of Hudson Bay, which is the only subarctic sea

in or near America which is open for the greater part in winter.

The Hudson Bay Coast Pilot (p. 13) says that the ice in winter

“extends off the east coast shore for 60 or 70 miles to include the

islands (a long string off the east shore) and the remainder of the

bay from one to 5 miles.”

5. In Cnoyen’s report of what he in 1364 was told about Nicho¬

las’ exploration of the sucking sea there is a .statement that this

sea received many small ( ?) rivers, some one, some two, and some

three kenning s wide.13

Hudson Bay is the only sea in subarctic America receiving any

considerable river drainage ; but it is a mighty reservoir as it

receives the rivers of fully one-fffth of the entire North American

area.

6. Most of the quotations from or about Nicholas dwell on the

many strong currents in the Mare Sugenum. Captain George Beste

who in his book, True Discourse, published in 1578, shows himself

well informed for that period, quotes Mercator’s description of the

sea visited by the author of Inventio Fortunata. He says “it is

divided into four partes or Ilandes by foure greate guttes, indrafts,

or channels, running violently, and delivering themselves into a

monstrous receptacle and swallowing sincke, with such a violent

force and currant, that a Shippe beyng entred never so little within

one of these foure indrafts, cannot be holden backe by the force of

10 See annotation on the margin of Mercator’s map of 1569; see also Taylor, Imago

Muncli XIII, p. 65.

11 Cnoyen’s narrative (fol. 268 v.), printed by E. G. R. Taylor in Imago Mundi, p. 60.

p. 60.

12 Ibid., p. 64.

13 Ibid., p. 57. A kenning was 17-20 miles” (note 6 on same page).

1959] Holand — Precolumbian Exploration of America 209

any great winde, but runneth in headlong by that deep swallowing,

into the bowels of the earth. ”14

In the northeast corner of Hudson Bay, where its waters meet

the waters of Foxe Channel and Hudson Strait, lie four large

islands which are constantly pounded by the swift currents of these

opposing waters. These are the two Mill Islands and Salisbury and

Nottingham. The two Mill Islands were so named by William Baffin

in 1615 because of the great grinding of the ice in that vicinity.

Mr. Putnam, director of the Putnam expedition in 1937, in an

article in the Geographical Review, in which he describes the north¬

eastern part of Hudson Bay, wrote : ‘The fabulously swift tidal

currents with their propensity for grinding the ice and swirling it

fearsomely hither and yon, are as startling today as then.”15

7. Nicholas is quoted by Mercator, Heylin and Beste as saying

that this sea drains into a gulf with many whirlpools, so difficult

to navigate that sailing vessels caught in them cannot get away.

This is a good description of Hudson Strait through which the

waters of Hudson Bay reach the Atlantic. The strait has a tide of

35 feet — even 52 feet has been recorded in the Hudson Bay Coast

Pilot, and when this meets the current from Hudson Bay, the

problem of navigating a sailing vessel becomes very serious. If in

addition to this a wind is blowing, the situation becomes desperate.

8. This gulf, according to Nicholas, is a hundred miles wide.

While the width of Hudson Strait varies, the usual statement is

that it is 100 miles wide.

9. Ruysch, on the margin of his map of 1508, says that in the

Mare Sugenum “the compasses become useless, and ships that carry

iron cannot get away.”

The Hudson Bay Coast Pilot (page 263) says that there is so

much magnetic disturbance in the northern part of Hudson Bay

that “The magnetic compass cannot be relied upon in the approach

to Churchill Harbor (on the west coast) in consequence of this

magnetic disturbance.”

10. Ruysch and Heylin both quote Nicholas as saying that below

the arctic pole is “A high mountain of magnetic rock, 33 leagues in

circumference, the land adjoining being torn by the sea into four

great islands.”16

The map accompanying the Hudson Bay Coast Pilot shows that

just west of the four big islands (see number 6 above) stands

Mount Minto, a towering rock more than a thousand feet high and

in plain view of them. It is now known to be an appendage to South¬

ampton Island, but, according to the Coast Pilot (p. 266), was for-

14 The Three Voyages of Martin Frobisher, Stefansson’s edition, 1938, Vol. 1, p. 19.

15 Vol. 18, 1928, p. io.

36 Taylor, Ibid., p. 64.

210 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

Figure 1. A. Portion of Frisius globe of 1537, with Hudson

Bay as Mare Glaciate.

1959] Holand — Precolumbian Expiation of America

211

merly thought to be a separate island. It lies close to the area where,

according to the Coast Pilot, “the compass cannot be relied upon.”

With these facts before us, there can be no doubt of Nicholas’

voyage to Hudson Bay. Only after personal inspection was it pos¬

sible to describe the physical circumstances of Hudson Bay as

closely as he has done.17

There is another probable proof of Nicholas’ sojourn in Hudson

Bay. About fifty years ago a globe of the world was found in Zerbst,

Anhalt, Germany. It was made in 1537 by Gemma Frisius, one of

the best cartographers in the Sixteenth Century and was repro¬

duced in part in 1911 in A. A. Bjornbo’s Cartographia Greenland-

ica.18 This shows a very good map of Hudson Bay as shown on the

accompanying photostat (Figure 1). In the north end we see the

opening to Foxe Channel and in the south is James Bay, somewhat

too large. On the northeast we see the opening to Hudson Strait.

The west coast is almost perfect, with Chesterfield Inlet, Churchill

River and the Nelson, all shown in their proper places. There are

two rivers having a joint outlet — the Nelson and the Hayes, and

this is also shown. It might be objected that this Mare Glaciate is

pictured as lying in Asia, but how would Frisius know where Asia

began? He would only know that this sea lay far northwest of

Greenland.

But the critic will object: How would it be possible for Nicholas

to make a voyage to America in the 1360’s? An exploration of sev¬

eral years’ duration would cost a lot of money, and Nicholas, a

mendicant monk, certainly had none. Nor was the government in¬

terested. Aside from John Cabot’s voyage in 1497, it was about 250

years before the English became interested in America.

This is quite true, but there was an expedition in American

waters at that time, and it spent about two years, 1362 and 1363,

in Hudson Bay. This was a royal expedition, initiated and financed

by Magnus Erikson, King of Norway and Sweden. It was fitted out

with great care, and Sir Paul Knutson, one of the leading noblemen

of Norway, was appointed Commodore. We have four different re¬

ports or channels of information about this expedition. It was not

primarily an exploring enterprise, but a crusading endeavor to

bring a large group of Norse Greenlanders back into the Church.

THE FIRST REPORT is the historical record of the cause and

purpose of the expedition. It gives the King’s commission to Sir

17 This was emphasized in 1577 by Captain George Beste in the following words:

“This so particular a description of the land and countries lying about the Pole,

argueth that this Oxford frier tooke great pains therein, and induceth great probabili¬

ties and likelihood of the truth thereof, because he observed so diligently by measure,

the bredth of the indrafts, what time, and how long they continued frozen, and with

how manye mouths or receipts every one of them received the ocean.” The Three

Voyages of Martin Frobisher, publications of the Hakluyt Society, Ed. of 1867, Vol.

38, pp. 34 ff.

18 See Meddelelser om Gronland . Vol. 48, Plate 4.

212 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

Paul to find a certain group of Greenland people who were reported

to have given up the true faith and emigrated to parts unknown.

These people lived in what was known as the Western Settlement.

This was about 250 miles northwest of the main settlement in

Greenland.

In 1342 these people disappeared. We have the report of a promi¬

nent man who visited this settlement in that year and found that

the entire population had vanished. He was Ivar Bardson, the

steward of all the large properties of the Church in Greenland.

There is also a late copy of an Icelandic Annal, stating that the

people in the Western Settlement had given up the Christian faith

and in 1342 had emigrated to America.19

As Greenland was a crown colony and private trading was

strictly forbidden, these people were entirely dependent upon the

King for all their imports. He had neglected both their temporal

and spiritual welfare. Eventually he learned of their miserable

condition many years later and then, full of self-reproach, he sent a

very strongly worded letter to Sir Paul providing for a relief expe¬

dition. The following is a translation of a sixteenth century copy

of the letter.

“Magnus, by the grace of God, King of Norway, Sweden and Skaane,

sends to all men who see or hear this letter good health and happiness.

“We desire to make known that you [Paul Knutson] are to select the

men who shall go in the Knorr . . . from among my bodyguard and also

from among the retainers of other men whom you jnay wish to take on the

voyage, and that Paul Knutson the commandant shall have full authority

to select such men whom he thinks are best qualified to accompany him

whether as officers or men. We ask that you accept this our command

with a right good will for the cause, inasmuch as we do it for the honor

of God and for the sake of our soul and for the sake of our predecessors,

who in Greenland established Christianity and have maintained it to this

time and we will not let it perish in our days. Know this for truth, that

whoever defies this our command shall meet with our serious displeasure

and thereupon receive full punishment.”

“Executed in Bergen, Monday after Simon and Judah’s day in the six

and XXX year of our rule (1354) by Orm Ostenson, our regent. Sealed.”20

The reader will note that this was not a commercial but a mili¬

tary rescue party, requiring a select body of trained men.

As Sir Paul’s commission is dated October 27, 1354, the expedi¬

tion could not have started until the summer of 1355. However,

the Icelandic Annals for that year report that 1355 was so exces¬

sively stormy that no ship arrived in Iceland or left in that year.

The earliest possible date for the departure of the expedition would

therefore be 1356. It will be shown below that Ivar Bardson, the

19 P. A. Munch, Unions perioden, Vol. 1, p. 314; Gronlands Historiske Mindes. Ill,

259.

20 See Gronlands Historiske Mindesmerker III, 120-122; Gustav Storm, Studier over

Vintlandsreiserne, 1888, p. 73 ; H. R, Holand, Westward From V ini and , 1940, pp. 90, 91.

1959] Holand — Precolumbian Exploration of America

213

bishopric’s officialis , returned to Bergen in 1364, bringing with him

eight survivors of the expedition. There is no explicit mention of

the return in Norwegian records. For this reason some critics have

doubted that it ever set out.

But there is plenty of evidence that it took place and in part

returned. There is first of all the compelling need of it. Greenland

was a crown colony and therefore under the immediate supervision

of the King himself. He had failed in this, and, being a very pious

man, he eventually realized his guilt most keenly. For this reason

he writes in his letter that he was sending this expedition ‘Tor the

sake of our soul.” As he felt that his salvation depended on his

effort to rescue these lost Greenlanders, it is not likely that he would

neglect to do so, providing he could find the money that was needed

in fitting out the expedition.

This was fortunately in his possession. In 1351 he had sent a

delegation to the Pope, requesting a big loan to be used in his cam¬

paign against the heretical Russians. The Pope approved his re¬

quest and ordered that a holy crusade be preached in Germany and

Poland as well as in the Scandinavian countries. The King was also

permitted to retain half of the tithes collected in Norway and

Sweden during the four years from 1352 to 1356. 21 As the King was

obliged to give up his third campaign against Russia because his

men refused to expose themselves to a third attack of the Black

Death (the Asiatic cholera), he had sufficient funds for his expe¬

dition to Greenland and the West.

Concerning the purpose and time of return of this expedition,

Professor Gustav Storm, in his time an expert on old Norwegian

history, says :

“The object of this expedition is said to be to maintain Christianity in

Greenland, i.e. a battle with the Eskimo, including an effort to strengthen

the colony generally, perhaps also to explore the new lands. One thing is

sure that the conditions of the colony and its fate were thoroughly con¬

sidered in Bergen whence the expedition departed, and to which it re¬

turned after a number of years, most likely in 1363 or 1364. ’,32

We have further information about this expedition is a state¬

ment by Archbishop Claus Magnus. He writes :23

“In the year 1505 I personally saw two skinboats above the western

entrance within the cathedral dedicated to the sainted Halward. ... It is

stated that King Haakon captured them when he with his battle fleet

passed the coast of Greenland. . . .”2i

21 P. A. Munch, Unionsperioden f Vol. 1, pp. 535, 536.

22 Studier over Vinlandsreiserne, 1888, pp. 73-74. See also A. A. Bjornbo, <Carto-

graphia GroenJandica, 1910, p. 14 ; A. Steinnes in Syn og Segn} 1958, pp. 7—8 ; J. Dua-

son, Landkonnum, 1941, 163—174.

23 Hist or ia de gentibus septentrionalibus, Rome, 1555, Book II, Chap. 9.

si while the expedition was planned by King- Magnus in 1354, it was carried out by

King Haakon, who succeeded his father in August, 1355.

214 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

Manifestly, the capture by a battle fleet of two small one-man

skin-boats was not such an outstanding victory that the prize was

given a place of honor in a cathedral ! But if they were the only

mementos of the men who had sacrificed their lives in their effort

to save their humble countrymen from eternal damnation, we can

see that their presence in the cathedral was a well deserved honor.

And there they hung for generation after generation to testify to

the self-sacrifice of these men.

At this time (the middle of the Fourteenth Century) there was

much interest in the western lands. In 1347 a company of Green¬

landers went to Markland to get a cargo of timber. Markland was

the Norse name for Nova Scotia and possibly New-Foundland. On

their return voyage they were storm-driven to Iceland, and thus

their voyage became recorded.25 A few years before that event Sir

Hauk Erlendsson, who was Sir Paul’s immediate predecessor as

Judge of Gulathing, had written a book about the Norse discov¬

eries in America which is still a basic document.26 As both of these

men lived in Bergen, and in view of Sir Paul’s appointment as com¬

modore of this new expedition, he no doubt studied Sir Hauk’s book

with care. In this he would learn much about Vinland, a very pleas¬

ing place, where grapes grew in abundance. Most commentators

agree that Vinland lay in the southern part of New England. Here,

probably, Sir Paul built a fortified base where crops could be grown

while subdivisions searched the shores for signs of the Greenland

apostates, which might take several years.

It is not likely that the search went southward very far, because

a people accustomed to the climate of Greenland would not care for

the hot weather of the south. But northward the prospect was more

promising. And when Sir Paul’s men got far north to Hamilton

Inlet and beyond, where the climate was like that of Greenland,

they would have good hopes of succeeding in their search. This

coastwise passage would lead them into Hudson Bay, unless the

exiles were found before going so far.

We thus see that the royal expedition had good reason for being

in Hudson Bay early in the 1360’s. And they were there at the same

time as Nicholas, because he and the survivors of the royal expedi¬

tion returned to Greenland in 1363, and in 1364 they arrived in

Norway, as will be shown below. It is beyond belief that there were

two independent expeditions in that remote part of America and at

exactly the same time. The only reasonable conclusion is that

Nicholas was a member of the royal expedition.

But is it likely that an Englishman would be a member of a

Swedish-Norwegian expedition?

25 Islandske Anncder, Storm’s Ed., of 1888, pp. 213, 353, 403.

20 The title is Hauksbok ; A. M. Reeves, The Finding of Vinland the Good , London

1895, contains photographic reproductions of the text.

1959] Holancl — Precolumbian Exploration of America 215

The knowledge of geography in the Middle Ages was so scant

that all countries interested in exploration were glad to avail them¬

selves of foreign experts. Spain’s greatest progress was made by

help of three foreign navigators — Columbus, Vespucci and Magel¬

lan. The first French voyage to America was guided by Verrazano,

a Florentine, and the first English vessel sent into the West was

commanded by John Cabot, a Venetian. Lynn in Norfolk, England,

was the principal port of Norwegian trade in England and many

Norwegians lived there.27 There was therefore brisk intercourse

between Lynn and Bergen, from which port the royal expedition

set out. Moreover, Gisbrikt, the Bishop of Bergen, was an English¬

man, and he was no doubt deeply interested in the success of this

great religious enterprise to an unknown country. He would there¬

fore urge upon Sir Paul, who also lived in Bergen, the wisdom of

securing the service of his famous countrymen, ‘the man with the

astrolabe.’

Below we shall see that the royal expedition not only operated

in the same remote part of America, but that it was there at exactly

the same time and returned to Bergen the same year.

THE SECOND REPORT. This is Nicholas’ report in Inventione

Fortunata as preserved in the fragments cited above. The original

probably told of how he reached America.

THE THIRD REPORT is Jacob Cnoyen’s interview with the

priest, Ivar Bardson, in 1364 as preserved in the British Museum

papers. For fifteen years the latter had waited in Greenland for a

ship so he could return to Norway and report that the Greenland

bishop was dead. Finally in 1363 Nicholas returned to Greenland

with seven survivors (see below), and the next year he brought

them with Ivar to Norway.28

When Jacob Cnoyen came to Bergen, Nicholas had probably left

for England because Cnoyen does not say he had spoken with the

Englishman. Cnoyen made a report of what he had learned about

Nicholas’ great voyage, but as much of this dealt with things and

places he had never heard of, it is not strange if his narrative is

sometimes incomprehensible. For instance, he reports that Nicholas

had seen a black magnetic mountain right at the North Pole.

This plainly shows that Nicholas had been misunderstood. Johan

Ruysch (1508), quoting from Nicholas’ book, placed the Sucking-

Sea with its magnetic mountain about 1500 miles from the Pole

(see his World Map of 1508 in the Rome Ptolemy).

27 Alexander Bugge, “Handelen mellem Norge og England,” Historisk Tidskrift, Oslo,

1896.

28 We know that Ivar Bardson was in Bergen in 1364 because he was then appointed

Canon of the Church of the Apostles in Bergen, the most important of the fourteen

royal chapels. See Diplomatarmm Norwegicum , IV, p. 341,

216 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

As Nicholas had an astrolabe by which he could check the direc¬

tion in which the compass needle pointed, he was the first to dis¬

cover that the needle diverges farther and farther from true north

as one travels northward along the eastern coast of North America.

But to the people in Europe this was all incomprehensible. To them

the identity of the magnetic pole with the arctic pole was an in¬

herited and undebatable conclusion without any dissenters. That is

why the cartographers for 200 years afterward continued to place

Nicholas’ magnetic mountain at the North Pole.

This black magnetic mountain was probably Mount Minto, 1060

feet high, in the northern part of the bay, which can be seen from

all the surrounding islands. Nicholas may have thought of it as a

magnetic center because it prevented further search for the mag¬

netic pole. It stands off the northeastern point of Southampton

Island which extends southward and westward for 200 miles. Nor

could he push northwestward by ship because the Coast Pilot says

that “the steep northeastern coast [of this island] is practically

always blocked with ice from Foxe Channel.” (P. 265).

Cnoyen mentions the survivors of the expedition three times :

“Anno Domini 1364 came 8 of these persons to Norway to the King.

Among them were two clerics. One of them had an astrolabe who in the

fifth generation was descended from Brusselites. These 8 were of the orig¬

inal party who had penetrated into the northern regions.”20

On the next page there is a similar but *somewhat different

statement :

“The priest who had the astrolabe told the King of Norway that a

Minorite from Oxford who was a good astronomer had come into these

northern islands in 1360. He separated from the others who had come . . .

and wrote about all the remarkable things among these islands in a book

which he gave to the King of England which he in Latin called Inventio

Fortunatae. This book begins at the last climate, that is to say from lati¬

tude 54, and goes up to the Pole.”30

Here we find that while the astrolabe was first exhibited by

Nicholas, it later came into the temporary possession of Ivar Bard-

son in exchange for a testament. Later Cnoyen says that when

Nicholas left Norway, he gave the astrolabe to his seven shipmates.

Cnoyen writes that Ivar, in repeating what Nicholas had told about

a magnetic mountain, says :

“And it is so high (so the priest said) that his people, who had received

the astrolabe as a gift from the Minorite, had told him, and that he had

himself heard the Minorite say, that the mountain was visible from the

shore of the sea” etc. (page 268 recto).

20 Brit. Mus. M. S. Ott. Vitell. C. VII, 264—268. Now translated and published by

K. G. R. Taylor in Imago Mundi , 1957,

3° Ibid. 266 verso and recto,

1959] Holand — Precolumbian Exploration of America

217

By this we see that Nicholas was not alone nor did he travel by

his ‘‘Magical! Arts” as Mercator says a dozen pages back. He must,

of course, have had a ship and some men. And this ship was

manned by Norwegian men of whom seven survived and returned

to Bergen with Nicholas and Ivar. In other words, they were mem¬

bers of the royal expedition, and Nicholas was its astronomer and

navigator.

THE FOURTH REPORT tells of what happened to the larger

part of the divided expedition. This is told on the Kensington

Stone, concerning which there has been much dispute. This stone

was found in the Fall of 1898 by a recent immigrant from Sweden

while clearing a tract of primeval timber land. It contains a long

inscription in runic characters. Copies of the inscription were sent

to scholars in the University of Minnesota, Northwestern Univer¬

sity, and the University in Oslo, but none of the scholars in these

institutions were able to transliterate the entire inscription. It was

therefore rejected on philological grounds as “a clumsy forgery,”

and the stone was forgotten. Nine years later the inscription was

correctly translated, but by that time it had a bad reputation, and

those who had rejected the inscription without knowing its con¬

tents continued their opposition.31

The following is a transliteration of the inscription. To save time

and labor, the runemaster omitted all the words that could be

omitted without impairing the sense of the message. These omis¬

sions are supplied in parenthesis :

(We are) 8 Goths and 22 Norwegians on (an) exploration voyage from

Vinland through the West We had camp by (a lake with ) 2 skerries one

day-voyage north from this stone We were (out) and fished one day

After we came home (we) found 10 (of our) men red with blood and dead

AV(E) M (ARIA) save (us) from evil

(We) have 10 of (our men) by the sea to look after our ships H day-

voyages from this island (In the) year (of our Lord) 1362

This inscription parallels the Nicholas narrative. He is reported

to have said that he in the year 1360 began his research among

the northern islands at latitude 54°. This parallel enters Labrador

at Hamilton Inlet. As this place loomed so big in his mind, he no

doubt found something here of special interest. This apparently

was the big variation of the compass. When he took his observa¬

tion and checked his compass he would find that the needle did not

point north but northwest. It showed a variation of 38 degrees

31 The principal presentations of the arguments pro and con the authenticity of the

inscription are, in the order in which they appeared in print, H. R. Holand, Westward

From Vinland, 1940, pp. 87—215 ; S. N. Hagen, Speculum, 1950, pp. 311-356 ; Johannes

Bronsted, Aarbog for Nordisk Oldk. og Historie, Copenhagen, 1950, pp. 64—152 ; Wm.

Thalbitzer, Smithsonian Miscellaneous Publications, 1951, Vol, 116, No. 3, 1—71 ; and

Erik Wahlgren, The Kensington Stone, 1958,

218 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and. Letters [Vol. 48

from north! No doubt he made many observations in the vicinity

to see if a local magnetic center caused this great aberration, be¬

cause if it did not, then the magnetic pole was not at the north

pole, but more than a thousand miles below it! This was a great

discovery indeed, and explains the title of his book, De Inventione

Fortunata: It was a fortunate discovery indeed to find that the

magnetic pole was far from the North Pole.

The men who left the Kensington were also at Hamilton Inlet in

1360, because they arrived in Hudson Bay in the Fall of 1361.

Hamilton Inlet is more than a hundred miles long with a shore line

of about three hundred miles, with plenty of timber for fuel and

housebuilding and also good fishing and hunting. It would there¬

fore seem an ideal place, in which to look for the lost Greenlanders.

As Hudson Strait is navigable for sailing vessels less than four

months in the year, it seems fairly certain that the search party

spent the winter of 1360-1361 somewhere on Hamilton Inlet. The

summer of 1361 would be needed to bring the expedition to Hudson

Bay, where we find it in 1362.

Is there any evidence that the men who left the Kensington

Stone visited Hudson Bay? Yes, the inscription says they came

from the north, from an ocean (havet) , which they estimated was

about a thousand miles from the finding place of the stone. This is

approximately correct.32

Nicholas reports that after he arrived in Hudson Bay, the expe¬

dition of which he was a member divided in two, but he does not

say why this was done.

This is explained, however, on the inscribed stone which says

that out of the total number of thirty, twenty men decided to go in¬

land, “leaving ten to stay by the ships.” This is corroborated by

Nicholas who is quoted as saying that after the expedition divided

he had abundant opportunity to make extensive explorations. Ten

men were left with the ships in Hudson Bay, but when he returned

to Bergen he had only eight survivors including himself. This is

what might be expected, because Hudson Bay is a cruel place in

which to spend the winter. Nicholas was fortunate in losing only

two.

The Kensington inscription says that this division took place in

1362, and this agrees with Nicholas’ schedule because in 1363 he

made the voyage to Greenland, about two thousands miles away.

Thus we see that the Kensington inscription is not an isolated

freak without historical connection, but reports a tragic climax in

32 The distance is given as “14 day-voyages.” This was a nautical unit of distance

originally based on the length of an average day’s sail- — about 75 English miles. These

men did not do much sailing, but arrived at each unit by dead reckoning. See Wm.

Hovgaard, Voyages of The Northmen 1914, and G. M. Gathorne-Hardy, Norse Dis¬

covery of America , 1921.

1959] Roland — Precolumbian Exploration of America 219

one of the world’s greatest exploration expeditions. It is one of four

reports about King Magnus’ royal expedition, but viewed from dif¬

ferent viewpoints. To the remorseful King and the Commandant it

was an earnest endeavor to save the souls of the neglected Green¬

landers from eternal damnation. To the scientist, Nicholas of Lynn,

it was a grand achievement in the fields of navigation, magnetic

attraction and geography. While to the adventurous young men

who went inland

“For to admire and for to see,

For to behold this world of ours,”

it was a venture into a land of romance which ended in a stagger¬

ing tragedy. But with staunch fortitude they inscribed their story

on a stone so that later travelers might know of their earlier

presence.

With these facts before us we can now make the following

summary :

1. The Kensington Stone tells of a voyage to Hudson Bay in the

early 1360’s. The Nicholas of Lynn report also tells of a voyage to

Hudson Bay at this time.

2. After arriving in Hudson Bay the Norse expedition divided

in two, the larger number (20) going inland, leaving ten men to

take care of the ships. The Nicholas narrative also says that the

company divided after reaching Hudson Bay.

3. According to the Kensington Stone, this division took place

in 1362. The Nicholas report does not give the year, but, as shown

above, it must have been in 1362.

4. The twenty men who went inland met with disaster and none

returned. Evidently the group that parted company with Nicholas

also came to grief because in 1363 when he returned to Greenland

he had only seven survivors besides himself.

5. The Kensingtone Stone is a record of a Norse exploration

(eight Goths and twenty-two Norwegians). Nicholas’ party were

also Norsemen because all his seven surviving companions returned

to Norway, not England.

6. Professor Storm says that the royal expedition returned to

Bergen in 1363 or 1364 (see note 22, above). According to Jacob

Cnoyen this was the same time and place when the survivors of the,

Nicholas of Lynn returned.

The above identifications prove that these three narratives all

deal with the same expedition.

.

S. T. COLERIDGE: HIS THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE*

Joan Larsen

University of Wisconsin , Madison

“The first step to knowledge, or rather the previous condition of all insight

into truth, is to dare commune with our very and permanent self.”

Inquiring Spirit

As such scholars like Alice D. Snyder and Kathleen Coburn have

suggested, Samuel Taylor Coleridge throughout his life was ex¬

traordinarily conscious of man thinking, and especially of himself

thinking.1 Coleridge lived in an age which had read Descartes,

Locke and Hume. He, himself, had also read Kant and other German

philosophers. So his preoccupation with mental processes is not un¬

usual. But Coleridge consistently attempted to avoid the pitfalls

involved in a subjective approach to knowledge, and therefore tried

to establish objective truth and an objective universe which could

be known by the human mind. Nevertheless, although Coleridge

felt he had re-established man in a cognizable and infinite universe,

this construction was achieved, ironically, only through a more in¬

tense brand of subjectivity. Although, too, this search was undoubt¬

edly carried on by great eclecticism in terminology and thought,

Coleridge’s philosophic merits, as J. H. Muirhead insists, should be

judged apart from philosophers like Kant.2 Coleridge pretended to

synthetic originality, and we must, at least initially, take him at

his word.

In order to understand the search Coleridge made for the know-

able, it is necessary that Coleridge himself be understood — insofar

* Paper read at the 89th Annual Meeting- of the Wisconsin Academy of Sciences,

Arts and Letters.

1 Alice D. Snyder emphasizes this aspect of Coleridge’s thought when she says,

“. . . no one . . . can question the fact that he [Coleridge] took keen delight in the

process of thinking, irrespective of the end toward which it was directed.” Coleridge

on Logic and Learning (New Haven, 1929), p. 11. Further citations from Coleridge’s

work on logic will be to Alice D. Snyder, Coleridge on Logic and Learning (New

Haven, 1929). Kathleen Coburn also emphasizes Coleridge’s ‘‘psychological approach

to all human problems.” Inquiring Spirit (London, 1951), p. 15.

2 Rene Wellek has demonstrated Coleridge’s relation to Kant and other German

philosophers in Immanuel Kant in England (Princeton, 1931). He does, however, ‘‘in¬

sist on a fundamental lack of real philosophical individuality in Coleridge, whether

his thought was fragmentary or not,” p. 66. He goes on to say, “Already The Friend

shows everywhere how Kant’s teaching has become central for Coleridge’s thought.

One wonders how even quite recently in J. H. Muirhead’s Coleridge as Philosopher it

ever could have been denied, that Kantian thought is determining the essentials of

Coleridge’s theoretical doctrines and coloring even the minutest tag's of his terminol¬

ogy,” p. 102. J. H. Muirhead, on the other hand, had felt that Coleridge erected a “far

more coherent body of philosophical thought than he has been anywhere credited

with.” Coleridge as Philosopher (London, 1930), p. 15. This opinion he reasserted in a

later article contradicting Wellek : “Metaphysician or Mystic,” in Coleridge Studies by

Several Hands on the Hundredth Anniversay of his Death, ed. Edmund Blunden and

Earl L. Griggs (London, 1934), pp. 179-197.

222 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

as that known was developed through conscious self-probing. Early

in his philosophical thinking Coleridge said of himself : “If one

thought leads to another, so often does it blot out another. . . . The

first thought leads me on indeed to new ones; but nothing but the

faint memory of having had these remains of the other, which had

been even more interesting to me . . . my thoughts crowd each

other to death” {Anima Poetae, p. 189). 3 Thus, too much existed

in the mind of Coleridge — too many thoughts, too many ideas, and

no real progression or logical order. We have only to read through

the Anima Poetae, or the Biographia Literaria to see the chaos as

well as the flash of brilliance.

Because of Coleridge’s sense of mental chaos, perhaps, he felt a

profound distrust of mere feeling and involuted thought as a means

toward knowledge. Such distrust is found again and again through¬

out his writings. In the Anima Poetae Coleridge specifically denied

validity to all those feelings that the mind believed, wrongly, to

constitute objective knowledge. He named this process the “think¬

ing disease,” and characterized it as morbid and essentially futile.4

Later in the Aids to Reflection and The Friend, Coleridge again

insisted that feelings, emotions or moods were wholly delusive, for

the mind objectified feeling and emotionally falsified the object.

“The shapes of the recent dream [he said] become a mould for the

objects in the distance, and these again give an outwardness and

sensation of reality to the shapings of the dream” ( Aids to Reflec¬

tion, p. 131). 5

Coleridge then identifies this falsifying nature of the emotions

with the mystic’s intuitions, which he thinks equally delusive. In

the poet’s language of moonlight and shadow, he describes the

mystical fantasy as it “spreads its soft shadowy charm over all,

conceals distances, and magnifies heights, and modifies relations;

and fills up vacuities with its own whiteness, counterfeiting sub¬

stance” ( Aids to Reflection, p. 355). But Coleridge applies similar

imagery indiscriminately throughout his writings to what he con¬

siders false perceptions of knowledge. So his concept of pernicious

and idle dreaming is blurred with his concept of the mystical expe¬

rience, just as it is also blurred with what he thinks is blind sense

perception. This use of imagery, I believe, although Muirhead would

perhaps have disagreed in part, ultimately confuses the distinc¬

tions between kinds of false knowledge, and may finally assist to

obscure Coleridge’s categories of true knowledge.6

3 Citations from the Anima Poetae in my text are to Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Anima

Poetae , ed. E. H. Coleridge (London, 1895).

4 pp. 169-70.

5 Citations from the Aids to Reflection, The Friend , and The Statesman’s Manual in

my text are to Samuel Taylor Coleridge, The Complete Works , ed. E. H. Coleridge

(London, 1895).

6 Muirhead said that “. . . the exuberance of his language and the vividness of his

imagery were too apt to run away with him, and to lead to his frequent failure to

1959]

Larsen — Coleridge: Theory of Knowledge

22

Q

O

Nevertheless, Coleridge thought it necessary to establish the

value of the mind's functionings. In 1811, again using his own mind

as a basis, Coleridge was already questioning the relationship be¬

tween thought and objective truth.7 The most obvious object for

thought is, of course, the external world. But Coleridge, following

British empiricism and later Kant's distinction between phenomena

and noumena, felt that the external world could be perceived only as

a series of sense impressions which possess no more than subjec¬

tive reality. In The Friend, Coleridge says man discovers “that the

reality, the objective truth, of the objects he has been adoring, de¬

rives its whole and sole evidence from an obscure sensation, which

he is alike unable to resist or comprehend . . .” (p. 460). 8 Coleridge

extends this familiar concept of the subjective nature of sensory

perceptions into a strained theory of history. Since he feels that

man individually represents the cumulative history of man generi-

cally, Coleridge believes that one individual mind's progress

towards knowledge is a repetition of the whole span of history.

Man, before the rise of Greek civilization, depended entirely upon

knowledge which falsely attributed objective validity to things per¬

ceived by the senses. This subjectivism is morally judged and con¬

demned as depraved.9 Thus, both individually and collectively, man

is forced by experience itself to acknowledge the inadequacy of

experience as a criterion of truth. Not only is experience finally

subjective, but, if it is believed to be objectively valid, it also leads

to self-destruction.

Coleridge, however, could not accept the possibility that no crite¬

rion of objective knowledge existed, and positively rejected such

a consideration. His inability to accept a system like Hume’s, or

even chaos as fact, he found itself a negative proof of order and

truth. Coleridge felt that the need to believe exists as an essential

part of man’s being, and in this need, I think, he grounded the

basis of his whole epistemological attempt.10 Furthermore, this

distinguish between metaphor and argument,” p. 258. But the difficulty, I think, in

Coleridge’s use of language is not only to be found in the mental leap the reader must

make between what is rationally argued and what is emotionally felt through poetic

image, but also in Coleridge’s practice of using similar or identical imagery to describe

separate categories of thought processes. Compare also The Friend , pp. 134-6.

7 Animci Poetae, pp. 245—6. Here Coleridge saw chaos as the only alternative to order

existing in the mind and its perception of reality.

8 See also The Friend, p. 444. Coleridge said that both Plato and Bacon “saw that

there could be no hope of any fruitful and secure method, while forms, merely sub¬

jective, were presumed as the true and proper moulds of objective truth.”

9 “Those . . . who determined to shape their convictions and deduce their knowledge

from without, by exclusive observation of outward and sensible things as the only

realities, became, it appears, rapidly civilized. . . . They became the great masters of

the agreeable, which fraternized readily with cruelty and rapacity ; these being, in¬

deed, but alternate moods of the same sensual selfishness,” The Friend, p. 453. See

also the Treatise on Method, p. 48. Citations to the Treatise on Method in my text are

to S. T. Coleridge’s Treatise on Method , ed. Alice D. Snyder (London, 1934).

10 Rene Wellek insists that Coleridge’s philosophy is split into an unreconciled dual¬

ism of faith and logic. I feel, rather, that Coleridge occasionally attempted to build a

logical superstructure upon what is not so much “faith” as it is the need for a faith,

224 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

need to believe may explain much of the tortured logic to be found

in his epistemology. It is expressed, through metaphor as usual,

in the Aids to Reflection: “And shall man alone stoop? Shall his

pursuits and desires, the reflections of his inward life, be like the

reflected image of a tree on the edge of a pool, that grows down¬

ward, and seeks a mock heaven in the unstable element beneath it,

in neighborhood with the slim water-weeds and oozy bottom-grass

that are better than itself and more noble, in as far as substances

that appear as shadows are preferable to shadows mistaken for

substance. No!” (p. 181).

In The Friend, Coleridge calls the need to believe “instinct.” It is

true categorically, this desiderium of the mind, as is its object: “In

a self-conscious and thence reflecting being, no instinct can exist

without engendering the belief of an object corresponding to it,

either present or future, real or capable of being realized” (p. 449) .

Even though Coleridge never reconciled this concept with his dis¬

trust either of sense perceptions or feelings, he did believe, never¬

theless, that instincts exist in the mind innately and point towards

knowledge. Thus instinct becomes a force impelling man to delve

through appearance to reality. As he later said in the Treatise on

Method, instinct is “a Pursuit after unity of principle, through a

diversity of forms” (p. 24). 11 This appetency is directed in a dis¬

tinctly Kantian way toward the Laws underlying and governing

the superficial objects of sense. Because of the direction taken by

instinct, Coleridge saw this faculty as the precursor of the mind’s

Ideas. These Ideas are also innate, although not all minds possess

identical Ideas. They are true absolutely, and are the mental coun¬

terparts of those Ideas which, given form in nature, constitute

Laws.12

and that, as Muirhead said, logic is confined to the realm of the Understanding-, not

the Reason. Wellek, pp. 69, 81. Muirhead, pp. 67-8. Coleridge said, early in The Friend ,

“But what are my metaphysics? — Merely the referring- of the mind to its own con¬

sciousness for truths indispensable to its own happiness !" p. 103. See also The Friend,

p. 459.

11 Often instinct is defined in purely poetic terms : “instinct, a vag-ue appetency

towards something which the Mind incessantly hunts for, but cannot find, like a name

which has escaped our recollection, or the impulse which fills the young Poet’s eye

with tears, he knows not why.” Treatise on Method, p. 6.

12 J. H. Muirhead strongly denies that Coleridge relied on the doctrine of innate

ideas, and defines the Coleridgean ideas, which “rise in the mind, as something which

is neither merely given from without nor as something merely imposed from within,

but as something in which outer and inner are united, deep calling to deep, in the

self-evolution of truth,” p. 102. In The Friend Coleridge explains his conception of

ideas : “. . . idea and law are the subjective and objective poles of the same magnet,

that is, of the same living and energizing reason. What an idea is in the subject, that

is, in the mind, is a law in the object, that is, in nature,” footnote, pp. 449-50. But,

later in this same essay Coleridge emphasizes that man “discovers and recoils from

the discovery, that the reality, the objective truth, of the objects he has been adoring,

derives its whole and sole evidence from an obscure sensation, which he is alike unable

to resist or to comprehend, which compels him to contemplate as without and inde¬

pendent of himself what yet he could not contemplate at all, were it not a modifica¬

tion of his own being,” p. 460. Coleridge says again in The Friend , “In order there¬

fore to the recognition of himself in nature man must first learn to comprehend nature

in himself, and its laws in the ground of his own existence. Then only can he reduce

1959]

Larsen — Coleridge: Theory of Knowledge

225

Coleridge understood nature to be a continuum of life which fol¬

lows certain Laws and tends towards one particular end. Following

the developmental theories current at the time, Coleridge believed

that the Law of evolution involves constant individuation.13 Along

with the tendency of nature to individuate is an opposing tendency

towards unification, since Coleridge thought that the individuation

of members within a particular kind involves a more iptense uni¬

fication.14 Man himself stands at the apex of nature, and thus ex¬

emplifies most fully the combined process of individuation and fur¬

ther unification. “In Man the centripetal and individualizing tend¬

ency of all Nature is itself concentrated and individualized — he is a

revelation of Nature!” (“Appendix C,” Aids to Reflection, p. 412).

Because man heads and fulfills nature’s processes, Coleridge

thought, man can recognize the Laws of nature most fully within

himself. Since man partakes of these Laws, he knows them to be

true. Thus man is able to “recognize in her [nature’s] endless

forms, the thousandfold realization of those simple and majestic

laws, which yet in their absoluteness can be discovered only in the

recesses of his own spirit” (“Appendix C,” Aids to Reflection,

p. 396). Such an analysis of the correspondence between man and

nature is, of course, an attempt to establish order within the natural

universe, and is as much akin to Hooker as it will be to Darwin.

But Coleridge slips away from both with his only half-admitted

theory of innate Ideas, which he wanted to exist absolutely as well

as subjectively in man’s mind, and which he also seems to have seen

as Laws working themselves out materially in man himself. Nor

indeed did Coleridge successfully bridge the gap between nature

and the mind of man, for he finally took refuge in the subjective

intuition of this truth described through metaphor.15

Coleridge’s concept of the natural universe and the means towards

its knowledge becomes complicated in his theory of method — and

without method, he found only chaos.16 The principle of method

presupposes a progression of thought within the mind which syn¬

thesizes Ideas, presumably in the same way Laws work themselves

out in nature. The active mind thus parallels the functioning of the

material universe and, in so doing, organizes what nature super-

phaenomena to principles . . . p. 46 2. Ideas, then, would seem to be necessarily

innate, even though they correspond to laws in nature. See also Treatise on Method,

pp. 5—10 ; Logic , pp. 135—7. In the Aids to Reflection, Coleridge identifies the law with

the will, insofar as it works itself out in nature, “In irrational agents, namely, the

brute animals, the will is hidden or absorbed in the law. The law is their nature,’’

p. 296.

13 “Appendix C,” Aids to Reflection , p. 391.

14 “Appendix C,” Aids to Reflection, p. 388. Muirhead sees Coleridge’s theory of life

principally in terms of individuation, rather than both individuation and reunification,

pp. 127-130.

45 See The Friend, pp. 462—464.

16 See Treatise on Method , p. 3,

226 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

ficially does not, to establish immutable knowledge. Rather poeti¬

cally, Coleridge says that the man of method “organizes the hours,

and gives them a soul : and to that, the very essence of which is to

fleet, and to have been , he communicates an imperishable and a

spiritual nature” (Treatise on Method, p. 13).

But Coleridge’s concept of method, where the mind constructs

“unity in progression” and thus achieves permanency by ordering,

became further complicated in what seems to be an extension of his

theory of trichotomy.17 The processes of life had been defined in

terms resembling the logical “Identity, Thesis, Anthesis.” Coleridge

then defined life dynamically as force and change. “Life itself is

not a thing — a self-subsistent hypostasis — but an act and process' ’

(“Appendix C,” Aids to Reflection, p. 416). Life is the oscillation

between the forces of individuation and those of unification. The

flux, therefore, that Coleridge wanted so intensely to organize and

perhaps stop became the prerequisite for order.18

The mind’s knowledge of this process is dynamic, and knowledge,

too, is identified with force. In his schematic work on logic, Cole¬

ridge said, “I regard that alone as genuine knowledge which, sooner

or later, will reappear as power ” ( Coleridge on Logic and Learn¬

ing, p. 73). Coleridge also developed this concept in The States¬

man’s Manual. There he said that the man of Ideas will “receive the

spirit and credentials of a lawgiver,” and that the “power of an

idea” is “the one lawful qualification of all dominion in the world

of the senses” (p. 445). However, Coleridge did not correlate his

concept of knowledge as power with the knowledge of nature or

with his theory of life, nor, as ever, was there any real attempt to

correlate the three. The knowledge so obtained is to be understood

merely as the power to act in some commanding way towards man

and nature, or is described generally in the metaphor that defeats

itself by its very scope.

Up to this point in my argument, of course, I have been con¬

cerned primarily with that knowledge given by or peculiar to what

Coleridge called the Understanding. Coleridge defined the Under¬

standing many times over in The Friend and the Aids to Reflec¬

tion, and Rene Wellek among others has pointed out Coleridge’s

dependence upon Kant’s description of the Understanding.19 It is,

simply, that faculty through which knowledge of the external world

is received. Furthemore, just as the Understanding is not passive

17Muirhead discusses Coleridge’s theory of trichotomy, and defines it as a kind of

logic where opposites are forms of a single, higher, unity, pp. 82-8. The terms he uses

are Coleridge’s: “Identity, Thesis, Anthesis.’’

18 See also “Appendix C,” Aids to Reflection, p. 392.

19 Rene Wellek, pp. 103-4. Muirhead, pp. 65-7. See The Friend, pp. 143-7; Aids to

Reflection, pp. 233-4.

1959]

Larsen — Coleridge: Theory of Knowledge

227

in knowing, it can be aware of itself knowing, and thus aware of

its distinction from the remaining natural universe.20

More importantly, Coleridge believed that self-awareness given

by the Understanding insures the existence of a higher kind of

knowledge. But before Coleridge could describe the implications of

self-awareness, he felt he must postulate a faculty lying behind

even that of consciousness : the moral faculty of conscience. Con¬

sciousness, said Coleridge, “presupposes the conscience as its ante¬

cedent condition and ground” ( Aids to Reflection, p. 185). By plac¬

ing the conscience, the faculty of judging rightly, prior to the know¬

ing faculty, Coleridge at once identified morality with knowledge —

even that knowledge which is least significant. Knowledge of the

self thus becomes conditional upon right and wrong, conditional,

therefore, on a determination which exists outside the self. Else¬

where in The Friend, Coleridge did explicitly identify the con¬

science with the laws of God, for he described the conscience as

“the power, and as the indwelling word, of a holy and omnipotent

legislator” (p. 106).

Coleridge also believed that the working of the conscience deter¬

mined the working of the will.21 Since the will directs the mind to

the right possession of knowledge, it thus becomes analogous in

function to the instinct. For the will directs the mind to spiritual

truths, just as instinct directs the mind towards knowledge of the

material world. As Coleridge said early in The Friend, “All specu¬

lative truths . . . suppose an act of the will ; for in the moral being

lies the source of the intellectual” (p. 108). (Coleridge, however,

rather confused the issue when he said later in The Friend, “. . .

all morality is grounded in reason” and reason is “the fountain of

all morality” [pp. 175,6].) The will is then identified with self-

knowledge, perhaps self-awareness, as that which defines the indi-

dividual self : “that will which is the true and only strict synonyme

of the word, I, or the intelligent Self” ( Aids to Reflection, p. 196).

However, the will, like the conscience, is a spiritual power, existing

above the natural world because of its ability to determine itself.

Said Coleridge in the Aids to Reflection, “If there be aught spir¬

itual in man, the Will must be such” (p. 192).

Although man is given the faculty of will, a faculty above nature,

as an indication of individuality and for the purposes of knowledge,

Coleridge also identified the will of man, as he had before the Ideas,

20 . . in every act of conscious perception, we at once identify our being with that

of the world without us, and yet place ourselves in contradistinction to that world,”

The Friend, p. 4 4 9.

el Coleridge asserts that the law of conscience ‘‘commands us to attribute reality,

and actual existence” to the idea of ‘‘free-will, as the power of the human being to

maintain the obedience which God through the conscience has commanded, against all

the might of nature.” The Friend, p. 106. In Aids to Reflection, Coleridge says again

that the “responsible WILL” is the subject of the law of conscience, p. 195.

228 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and l Letters [Vol. 48

with the Laws working themselves out in nature. '‘In irrational

agents, namely, the brute animals, the will is hidden or absorbed in

the law” ( Aids to Reflection, p. 296). And Coleridge assumed that

the will, though spiritual in nature, could not operate in the isola¬

tion of the spirit since it determines action in a material world.-2

Thus the distinctions between the natural and the spiritual may

again be obscured, as the will functions in the realms of each.

Nevertheless, Coleridge more frequently saw the will working in

conjunction with Reason. The will operates upon Reason in some

way to inform that knowledge which belongs to the rational fac¬

ulty. “For the personal will comprehends the idea as a reason, and

it gives causative force to the idea, as a practical reason” ( Aids to

Reflection, footnote, p. 296). Applying concretely the rule of the

golden superlative, Coleridge then defined the self, and self-

knowledge in terms of Reason. He said in The Friend, “Whatever

is conscious self-knowledge is reason,” and with Reason comes

“self-consciousness, and personality, or moral being” (pp. 145,4).

As everyone knows, Coleridge felt that Reason is the highest fac¬

ulty possessed by man, that faculty which allows man to know abso¬

lute truth.23 Thus reason must be possessed equally by all men.24

Thus, too, as Rene Wellek says, the knowledge given by Reason is

intuitive.25 For Coleridge said, in the Aids to Reflection, that “Rea-

32 “. . . therefore the will is pre-eminently, the spiritual constituent in our being.

But will any reflecting man admit, that his own will is the* only and sufficient deter¬

minant of all he is, and all he does? Is nothing to be attributed to the harmony of

the system to which he belongs, and to the pre-established fitness of the objects and

agents, known and unknown, that surround him, as acting on the will, though doubt¬

less, with it likewise?” Aids to Reflection, p. 150.

23 Early in Aids to Reflection, Coleridge sees Reason ‘‘comprehending the will, the

conscience, the moral being,” for Reason ‘‘is the organ of wisdom, and, as far as man

is concerned, the source of living and actual truths,” p. 215. See also The Friend,

pp. 143—150 ; Aids to Reflection, pp. 233-4 ; The Statesman’s Manual, p. 439 ; ‘‘Appendix

B,” The Statesman’s Manual, pp. 456-63 ; Logic, p. 110.

24 ‘‘Every man is born with the faculty of reason. ... In respect of their reason all

men are equal.” The Friend, pp. 17 5-6.

25 Rene Wellek, restating his contention that Coleridge is caught between a dualism

of logic and faith says, ‘‘Coleridge is defending a dualism between logic, for which

he has a traditional awe, and some sort of superlogical instrument of philosophy, in¬

stead of seeing that there is only one Reason which knows the highest and the lowest

truth,” p. 81. Later he says, ‘‘Coleridge’s Reason is, first and foremost, dangerously

similar to intuition,” p. 127. Commenting on Coleridge’s Essay on Faith, he says

‘‘Reason is intuitive,” p. 133. Muirhead, in Coleridge as Philosopher, denies the in¬

tuitive nature of reason, pp. 106—110. In “Metaphysician or Mystic,” written in answer

to Wellek, he qualifies his position by saying, “It is that the work of the reason, as

the highest of which the mind is capable and as the expression of its own inner unity,

is in essential continuity with that of sense and understanding. If it seems to act in¬

tuitively, the intuitiveness is an ‘intellectual’ one, and that makes all the difference.

For it means that however immediate the act may seem, it is penetrated with a light

which it owes to the organizing power of thought,” pp. 191—2. Miss Coburn defends

Coleridge’s subjectivity generally by saying, “It surely does not invalidate his critical

or systematic views at all to suggest that in this sense their great strength and piercing

insight depend largely on the subjective element in them,” p. 17. The difficulty lies, I

think, not in the fact of the subjective and ultimately intuitive nature of knowledge,

but in the failure on Coleridge’s part to distinguish between what he felt true and

false intuition, true and false subjectivity, and his extraordinary distrust of those very

faculties (mind and emotion) upon which he was forced to ground his philosophical

speculations.

1959]

Larsen — Coleridge: Theory of Knowledge

229

son . . . affirms truths which no sense could perceive, nor experi¬

ment verify, nor experience confirm” (footnote, p. 252). Moreover,

Coleridge believed that the intuitive truths of Reason can not and

should not be forced to correspond with ratiocinative logic : “Wher¬

ever the forms of reasoning appropriate only to the natural world

are applied to spiritual realities, it may be truly said, that the more

strictly logical the reasoning is in all its parts, the more irrational

it is as a whole” ( Aids to Reflection , p. 265).

Coleridge also defined Reason as the unifying spiritual force

within man.- Because it is a force for unification, and not a mere

receptacle of knowledge, it gives meaning to those other faculties

possessed by man. Like the will and the conscience, Reason is the

“calm and incorruptible legislator of the soul, without whom all its

other powers would 'meet in mere oppugnancy’ ” ( The Friend ,

p. 176). Reason provides the basis for man's own organization by

directing man's thinking towards the highest object of knowledge,

God. Because man can know God intuitively through the Reason, all

knowledge is given validity and truth.26

Coleridge nevertheless did not or could not terminate his concep¬

tion of Reason at this point. Although Reason subsumes all knowl¬

edge — both spiritual and natural — under its knowledge of God, an

orthodox conception, Coleridge then identified Reason with the

object of knowledge itself. Reason becomes both knower and

known. Coleridge said in The Friend , “But then it must be added,

that it [reason] is an organ identical with its appropriate objects.

Thus God, the soul, eternal truth, &c., are the objects of reason;

but they are themselves reason” (pp. 144-5). 27 Rene Wellek quite

correctly sees statements like these concerning Reason as indica¬

tive of a doctrine very close to “neoplatonic Pantheism.”28 But Cole¬

ridge goes even further.

00 “Only by the intuition and immediate spiritual consciousness of the idea of God.

as the One and Absolute, at once the ground and the cause, who alone containeth in

himself the ground of his own nature, and therein of all natures, do we arrive at the

third, which alone is a real objective, necessity. Here the immediate consciousness de¬

cides : the idea is its own evidence, and is insusceptible of all other. It is necessarily

groundless and indemonstrable ; because it is itself the ground of all possible demon¬

stration. The reason hath faith in itself in its own revelation.” The Statesman’s

Manual, p. 4 39. See also The Statesman’s Manual, p. 430.

27 See also the Inquiring Spirit, where Coleridge proceeds into metaphor : “Lastly,

there is, it is admitted, a Reason, to which the Understanding must convert itself in

order to obtain from within what it would in vain seek for without, the knowledge of

necessary and universal conclusion— of that which is because it must be, and not

because it had been seen. May there not be a yet higher or deeper Presence, the

source of Ideas, to which even the Reason must convert itself? Or rather is not this

more truly the Reason, and the Universal Principles but the Gleam of Light from the

distant and undistinguished community of Ideas — or the Light in the Cloud that hides

the Luminary? O !” p. 126;. also Logic, p. 86; footnote, The Friend, p. 465; footnote,

“Appendix B,” Aids to Reflection, p. 4 63. (Early in the Aids to Reflection, Coleridge

denied the validity of pantheism, however, when he said, “I hold then, it is true, that

all the so called demonstrations of a God either prove too little ... or too much,

namely, that the World is itself God,” pp. 220-1. Nevertheless, Coleridge’s position

finally represented a variation of Neoplatonic pantheism.)

28 pp. 128-9. Later he says, “Reason, besides, is one with the absolute Will, the

Logos, the certain representative of the will of God in opposition to the individual

280 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

Man’s Reason has been defined as God’s Reason. Later in The

Friend, Coleridge redefined individual man, not in terms of the

will, self-awareness, or Reason, but explicitly in terms of infinitude

and universals. “For considered merely intellectually, individuality,

as individuality, is only conceivable as with and in the universal

and infinite, neither before nor after it” ( The Friend, p. 469).

While it is difficult to understand how time exists before or after

infinity, Coleridge here bypassed the more respectable doctrine of

contemplation to assert the individual’s necessary participation in

and identification with the infinite.

With this concept, of course, Coleridge’s attempt to structure the

external universe and man within that universe totally collapses.

The concept of the individual, as such, is lost in infinity, as is the

possibility of knowledge peculiar to the individual. The ability to

know the natural world in terms of man’s own individual order has

been forgotten in the necessity to expand him into God’s being. On

such a plane, knowledge itself becomes existence : “. . . to know God

is ... a vital and spiritual act in which to know and to possess are

one and indivisible” ( The Statesman's Manual, p. 449). Coleridge

said this more metaphorically in the Anima Poetae, where he saw

the philosopher “still pushing upward . . . towards the common

source whose being is knowledge, whose knowledge is being — the

adorable I AM IN THAT I AM” (p. 262). 29

In The Friend, Coleridge traveled yet another mile forward on

the mystical road as he redefined infinity in terms of man. God, or

absolute being, is dependent for existence upon man, the created :

“By the former [reason] we know that existence is its own predi¬

cate, self-affirmation, the one attribute in which all others are con¬

tained, not as parts, but as manifestations. It is an eternal and infi¬

nite self-rejoicing, self-loving, with a joy unfathomable, with a love

all-comprehensive. It is absolute ; and the absolute is neither singly

that which affirms, nor that which is affirmed ; but the identity and

living copula of both” (pp. 469-70).

Obviously, Coleridge has been forced into an epistomological

paradox in his endeavor to express such “an existence incompre¬

hensible and groundless, because the ground of all comprehension”

( The Friend, p. 468). But the fact that he finally achieved a con¬

cept based on paradox can explain, I think, many of the conflicts

found among his scattered statements and attempted definitions.

For Coleridge, that knowledge possessed by the Understanding in

will. Again it is quite uncertain in what relation this individual will stands to Rea¬

son,” p. 133. See also footnote, “Appendix B,” Aids to Reflection , p. 460, and p. 458.

29 See also The Friend, where Coleridge said that the elevation of the spirit to the

world of spirit is not a “sort of knowledge: no! it is a form of BEING, or indeed it

is the only knowledge that truly is, and all other science is real only so far as it is

symbolical of this,” p. 472.

1959]

Larsen — Coleridge : Theory of Knowledge

231

relation to an ordered universe was true only relatively, even

though at times he seems to have felt that this knowledge had abso¬

lute value. From a higher point of view, the point of view of the

Reason in its infinite existence, such distinctions are only manifesta¬

tions of a single infinite unity.30 In The Friend, Coleridge explained

this belief in terms of the difference between “substantial” and

“abstract” knowledge. The terminology here is significant, since the

one predicates a knowledge which has actual existence and the other

only a nominal meaning :

The groundwork, therefore, of all pure speculation is the full apprehension

of the difference between the contemplation of reason, namely, that intui¬

tion of things which arises when we possess ourselves, as one with the

whole, which is substantial knowledge, and that which presents itself when

transferring reality to the negations of reality, to the ever-varying frame¬

work of the uniform life, we think of ourselves as separated beings, and

place nature in antithesis to the mind, as object to subject, thing to

thought, death to life. This is abstract knowledge, or the science of the

mere understanding. By the former, we know that existence is its own

predicate, self-affirmation, the one attribute in which all others are con¬

tained, not as parts, but as manifestations, (p. 469)

Coleridge felt that this “substantiating principle of all true wis¬

dom” presented “the satisfactory solution of all the contradictions

of human nature, of the whole riddle of the world” ( The Friend ,

p. 471). Seen from this peak, the contradictions in Coleridge’s own

fragmentary epistemology partially disappear. His various cate¬

gories of thought and existence, the will, the conscience, the divi¬

sion between the Reason and the Understanding, all become

attempts to separate artificially what is inseparable, and indeed

only another aspect of the single unity.31 So Coleridge could and did

calmly reconcile Plato and Bacon into a new synthesis.

However, Coleridge’s elaborate system of categories somewhat

unhappily illustrates the difficulty of his attempt to “distinguish

without dividing” — the function of the Understanding — as he ran

the danger himself of committing his own worst heresy.32 Further-

30 Nearly all Coleridge’s critics, of course, have recognized Coleridge’s search for

“unity in diversity,’’ as the guiding principle of his metaphysics. Muirhead states this

perhaps most succinctly : “Whatever changes Coleridge’s philosophical opinions under¬

went, one thing remained fixed and constant, the guiding star of all his wanderings,

namely, the necessity of reaching a view of the world from which it could be grasped

as the manifestation of a single principle, and therefore as a unity,’’ p. 60. Thus it

seems only logical to realize also that Coleridge’s epistemological thinking paralleled

his metaphysical thinking. In the Aids to Reflection , Coleridge said, “It is the office,

and as it were, the instinct of reason, to bring' a unity into all our conceptions and

several knowledges,” p. 210. See also The Statesman’s Manual, p. 450.

31 Coleridge said this another way in The Friend, speaking of “that reason in which

the essences of all things co-exist in all their distinctions yet as one and indivisible,”

p. 466.

32 See The Friend, p. 470; “Appendix B,” The Statesman's Manual , where reason,

religion or will “loses its own nature at the moment that from distinction it passes

into division or separation,” p. 457 ; and “Appendix B,” The Statesman’s Manual,

p. 461.

232 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

more, in view of his condemnation of the feelings, and of mystical

intuition as a false foundation of knowledge, his own construction

of a universe known fully only through mystical participation in

the infinite is peculiarly ironic. Nevertheless, his desire to give man

knowledge as well as existence beyond the accepted limits must be

seen, I think, as a very valiant effort on the part of a man who was

always able to think more arduously, if not more coherently, than

most of his contemporaries.

SHELLEY’S “ALASTOR” AND ROMANTIC DRAMA

T. J. Spencer

University of Wisconsin Department of English*

“Alastor; or the Spirit of Solitude” is not the most popular of

Shelley’s poems, but among critics it apparently occupies the place

of a favorite problem child. It is Shelley’s earliest long poem after

“Queen Mab,” and although it exhibits a remarkable increase in

poetic power in the two years between the poems, it also presents

new and extraordinary problems, the solution of which challenges

the ingenuity, and sometimes the patience, of its critics.

The central problem faced by these critics is that of determining-

just what kind of performance it is. Clearly intended as a major

statement of some sort — with a preface by the poet and in the later

editions a note by Mrs. Shelley — the poem deals with readily identi¬

fiable, and in some cases typically Shelleyan, themes. But these

themes are presented in a strange and apparently disunified form,

so that the hardest questions to answer are : what sort of poem is

it, and what does it say? In attempting to answer these questions

critics have discovered at least two major difficulties which com¬

plicate, if indeed they do not cause, the central interpretative

problem. The first of these is an alleged contradiction between the

poem itself and Shelley’s statements about the poem in his preface.

The second is a supposed inconsistency between the events of the

narrative and Shelley’s attitude toward the central character par¬

ticipating in these events.

The preface is said to be in conflict with the poem on two issues :

in suggesting a single purpose for the poem, and in intimating that

a curse motif informs the poem. Shelley is said to have erred when

he implied that his poem has a single purpose, for manifestly the

poem answers to four nearly distinct purposes, a characteristic

explained by the fact that Shelley was a confused poet, not sure

about what he was writing in the heat of composition.1 One may

infer that Shelley’s error in the preface is explained by his further

inability to interpret what he had done when the work was finished.

This explanation — if it affords any satisfaction at all — can hardly

account for the second alleged inconsistency. Shelley implies, it is

said, in the second paragraph of his preface, that a curse motif is

* Now at the University of Notre Dame.

1 Raymond D. Havens, “Shelley’s Alastor,” PMLA, XLV (1930), 1098—1115. His evi¬

dence for Shelley’s “confusion” is Shelley’s own account of his modus scribendi to

Godwin in a letter of February 24, 1812 (p. 1106).

233

234 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

at work in the poem, whereas the poem itself does not reveal such

a motif. The first paragraph of the preface, furthermore, does not

bear out the implication of the second, thereby betraying still an¬

other inconsistency within the preface itself. The title, which does

suggest a curse motif, was composed, not by Shelley, but by Thomas

Love Peacock, and Shelley was apparently forced to write the sec¬

ond paragraph to account for his adopting the title.2 In addition,

Shelley insists in the preface and early in the poem that the central

figure, the Poet, deserves punishment, whereas the concluding lines

of the poem contain extraordinary praise of the Poet, praise

so completely unqualified as to obscure or negate this earlier

judgment.3

What this complex of charges against the poem suggests is that,

if Shelley was not himself hopelessly confused indeed, the methods

of modern criticism have not yet been able to account for the value

of the poem. In general, criticism when it is fair asks first what a

poet is trying to accomplish in his poem, and second how well he

has succeeded. The charges against “Alastor” proceed from the

critics’ discovery that Shelley was not sure what he was trying to

accomplish, that success was therefore impossible. Perhaps a res¬

toration of the poem can best be achieved, then, by assuming that

the poem is a success, and by deducing from it just what it succeeds

in doing.

The charge, for example, that Shelley’s attitude toward the cen¬

tral figure is inconsistent, can only be made on the assumption that

Shelley wanted either to assert that the Poet is “wrong,” or to hold

him up as a superior man. This restriction of Shelley’s purpose

ignores the fact that Western literature is filled with “tragic

heroes,” superior men who do something wrong;4 and this reflec¬

tion is the first indication of Shelley’s real intention in writing

“Alastor.”

I believe that “Alastor” is an early attempt by Shelley to bring

within the scope of his own Romantic poetics the tradition of Euro¬

pean drama. Shelley’s later efforts in this direction are well recog¬

nized as perhaps the nearest thing to successful Romantic drama :

his attempt to revitalize Elizabethan tragedy in The Cenci, and his

attempt to transplant continental philosophical-drama in Prome-

2 Carlos Baker, Shelley’s Major Poetry: The Fabric of a Vision (Princeton: Prince¬

ton University Press, 1948 ), pp. 4 2, 4 5. A. M. D. Hughes also concludes that the

preface and the poem are inconsistent in “Alastor, or the Spirit of Solitude,” Modern

Language Revieiv, XLIII (1948), 465-70.

3 Frederick L. Jones, “The Inconsistency of Shelley’s Alastor,” ELH, XIII (1946 ),

291-98. At least two critics have regarded the poem as consistent: Evan K. Gibson,

“ Alastor : a Reinterpretation,” PMLA, LXII (1947), 1022-45; and Albert Gerard,

“ Alastor , or the Spirit of Solipsism,” Philological Quarterly , XXXIII (1954), 164-77.

* Gibson refers to the “tragedy” of the poem (p. 1027), and Gerard suggests that

the poem is “cathartic” (p. 165), and that the Poet’s “sin” is a “tragic guilt of

ignorance” (pp. 1 7 5ff ) .

1959]

Spencer — Shelley’s Alastor

235

theus Unbound. His consideration of the drama from a thoroughly

Romantic position in his Defence of Poetry is a third such effort,

different of course in kind. I will try to show that “Alastor” is

Shelley’s fourth and earliest effort to incorporate the drama within

his own lyrical poetic impulse.

“Alastor,” like Prometheus but perhaps not so consciously, is

organized around a classical myth : the myth of the unloving young

man who is destroyed by love in a perverted form. Euripides tells

the story in the Hippolytus of a young man’s worship of Diana to

the neglect of Venus, and how it results in his punishment by Venus

through an incestuous love kindled in his step-mother, Phaedra.

Driven by her passion and its accompanying resentment at Hip¬

polytus’ refusals, Phaedra provokes her husband and Hippolytus’

father, Theseus, to execute his son. In Seneca’s play, titled either

Hippolytus or Phaedra, there is a scene in which Phaedra herself

reveals her love (a direct confrontation apparently too horrible for

the Greek audience) as well as much greater emphasis on the rav¬

ages which her unnatural love makes in Phaedra. It is this last

aspect of the traditional story which clearly predominates in

Racine’s version, so clearly that perhaps only the story remains,

and very little of its mythical import. O’Neill’s Desire Under the

Elms seems to restore or rework the myth at the same time that

nearly every aspect of the story is changed. Abbie Putnam Cabot,

the female component, is the central character. She dishonors love

by insincerely performing its rites with her step-son, Eben, in order

to inherit his father’s property. She is led to murder the infant

born of this illicit union when genuine and irresistible love for Eben

makes her resent his repudiation. In every case the elements of the

myth, whatever their order and emphasis, are the same : a failure

to honor love, or its spirit, or its goddess; an unnatural love; the

death of an innocent person; and a sense of justice or necessity in

the relationship among the other elements, religious in Euripides

and Seneca, ethical in Racine, ironic in O’Neill.

In Shelley’s version, “Alastor,” the central figure is a solitary

who fails to identify himself through love with humanity as a

whole. Accordingly, the spirit of human love sends him a vision —

an ideal mate constructed from the qualities, potentialities, and re¬

quirements of his own nature. The Poet thereafter searches for the

prototype of this vision throughout the world, finally seeking union

with her in death. The meaning of the myth here is not far from

that in the Euripides version : natural love denied will be revenged.

It is love of humanity as a whole, however, that Shelley expects of

us, and he emphasizes his condemnation of spiritual solitude by

extraordinary poetic condensation. The terrors of unnatural love,

which Euripides, Seneca, and Racine assign to another person, the

236 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

Phaedra figure, Shelley attaches to the hero himself ; the hero dies

by his own deluded will, and not by the intervention of a Theseus ;

and he remains all the while the innocent victim.

If we consider the poem, then, as a' typically Romantic effort to

combine the lyric and dramatic forms, with a tragic myth and a

tragic hero, the problems of “Alastor” can be resolved in this way.

First, the organization around a single purpose which Shelley claims

for the poem in his preface is now borne out by the poem itself.

Whatever secondary purposes he may have intended are subordi¬

nated to a clear organizing and unifying principle, the Hippolytus

myth. The alleged confusion in Shelley’s mind as he wrote is actu¬

ally nothing more than the reflection of his own doctrine in the

Defence that true poetry comes unbidden and unconsciously to the

poet. The opening lines of “Alastor” clearly anticipate — as in a dra¬

matic chorus — the poem’s ending, thereby revealing that at some

point in the composition, most probably at the beginning, Shelley

had a clear vision of the whole work. The so-called curse motif of

the second paragraph of the preface is actually present in the myth,

and consequently in the poem, and by implication in the first para¬

graph of the preface. In adopting Peacock’s title, then, Shelley was

only carrying out his original and single concept of the poem.

The problem of the inconsistency of the Poet’s “sin” and Shel¬

ley’s attitude toward him arises, as I have suggested, from the dra-

ratic character of the poem. The Poet’s sin is, as Shelley says in the

preface, a “generous error,” or, as we might say, a tragic mistake.

The praise of the Poet at the end is clearly intended to evoke the

traditional tragic response of pity , and the statement in the preface

that the poem “is not barren of instruction to actual men” justifies

the assumption that we are also expected to feel tragic fear.

Certain peculiar accidents seem to carry over from Seneca’s

drama into Shelley’s narrative, accidents which suggest that the

Roman play was influential in the composition of “Alastor” in more

ways than as the means by which Shelley came to know the Hippo¬

lytus myth. Although Shelley’s hero could never be a hunter, for

example, since hunters are on the Shelleyan black-list of inhumane

and savage villains, the association of the hero with Diana is pre¬

served in Shelley’s poem by numerous references to two of Diana’s

provinces : the moon and the secret places of the earth. The peculiar

fact that “youthful maidens” called the Poet “false names / Brother

and friend” (11. 266-69) seems to echo the scene in which Seneca’s

Phaedra asks Hippolytus to call her “sister.” Even the Poet’s meet¬

ing with the swan and his observation, in the conventional way,

that his own voice is “far sweeter than thy dying notes,” (1. 286)

suggests the tribute which Seneca’s chorus pays to Jupiter, that he

has “dulcior vocem moriente cygno.” These similarities are insuffi-

V

i-

1959] Spencer — Shelley's Alastor 237

cient to justify the attribution of an influence of Seneca on Shelley,

although they are interesting in themselves, and we know from Mrs.

Shelley’s notes to the “Early Poems” that Shelley was reading Sen¬

eca about the time he wrote “Alastor.” Yet while random parallels

such as these do not prove by any means that “Alastor” is based on

Seneca’s Hippolytus, if the identity of the myth in both works is

recognized, the occasional echoing of Seneca may help to solve inci¬

dental problems in Shelley’s poem.

The only real evidence that Shelley’s poem is an “Hippolytus-

poem” is the poem itself, and the importance of recognizing the

operation of the myth in the poem is chiefly that the major prob¬

lems of interpretation can be solved in this way. It is also signifi¬

cant, however, that we find Shelley trying so early in his career to

enlarge the formal possibilities of literature in the Romantic spirit

by combining lyric and dramatic virtues.

SWIFT AND THE ANIMAL MYTH*

Albert Ball

University of Wisconsin, Madison

Most modern critics have acknowledged the importance of the

animal myth as a recurrent element in the work of Swift. Never¬

theless there has been no single attempt to regard Swift's art in

the light of the happy beast tradition, particularly as it developed

in French thought. That Swift was fully aware of that tradition

there can be no doubt : besides the many explicit and implicit refer¬

ences he makes to the fabulists, there is his library, which contained

every important figure that contributed to the tradition — Aesop,

Pliny, Plutarch, Phaedrus, Montaigne, Descartes, Boileau, La Fon¬

taine.1 What he found and borrowed from the tradition, and what

he himself added to it will be the subject of my paper.

First of all, what precisely is the “animal myth"? Namely this:

that the animal kingdom consists of types, laws, and interrelation¬

ships that approximate human society. How universal this notion is

is suggested by the beast fables that most countries and ethnic-

groups possess as part of their folk lore and literature. As a literary

form the fable generally has one of three basic purposes : simply to

amuse, to instruct, or to satirize. Aesop's tales, the greatest early

collection in Western literature, are didactic. They teach us — and

how un-American Aesop was ! — not to resist tyranny actively but

to endure it.2 When, for instance, the lion, symbol of governmental

authority, withdraws from his promise by taking an unequal share

of the donkey’s carcass, the fox, symbol of the citizen, accepts his

meagre portion disgruntled but acquiescent. Though Aesop's fables

are not intentionally satiric, they furnished later satirists with a

convertible prototype by easily lending themselves to a disparaging-

image of man : for human dignity is nowhere to be found in them ;

cruelty, deceitfulness, and ignorance, everywhere.

When in Rome the animal myth did as the Romans and became

satirically oriented. That animals had souls had been previously

propounded by several Greek philosophers and is a theory that in¬

forms, of course, the Pythagorean concept of reincarnation. More

important to the Romans interested in chastizing man, however,

* Paper read at the 89th Annual Meeting- of the Wisconsin Academy of Sciences,

Arts and Letters.

1 Harold Williams, Dean Sioift’s Library (Cambridge, 1932). Of all the books Swift

possessed, nearly one-fifth were French.

e Jean de La Fontaine, “La Vie d’Esope,” Fables, Contes et Nouvelles (Paris, 1932),

pp. 13—28.

239

240 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

was animal reason. If, as Aristotle had believed,3 animals could be

shown to be rational creatures, then man, with his depravity and

overriding vices, would fare ill by comparison. Accordingly, writers

such as Pliny, Plutarch, and Phaedrus espoused what is technically

called “theriophilism,” i.e. the glorification of animals. “To man

alone, of all animated beings,” cries Pliny, “has it been given to

grieve, to him alone to be guilty of luxury and excess. . . .”4 Plu¬

tarch in turn, espousing theriophilism to an extreme, inverts the

normal conception of rationality and bestiality. For him animality

is equivalent to pure reason and human reason to what is usually

considered bestial. When, for example, Gryllus, the man metamor¬

phosed into a pig by Circe, rejects Ulysses’ offer to regain his

former shape, he gives as one reason for his refusal the preferred

state of his mind, which now has an understanding “purified” of

the base desires of mankind.5

Plutarch’s inversion effects a paradox that dogs the happy beast

tradition, confronting even Swift himself : to attain perfectibility

man must follow the example of lions, tigers, and kangaroos ; but to

do so he must renounce learning and every other intellectual en¬

deavour that not only separates him from the animal state but

tends to increase his reasoning power. In other words man must

become more bestial to become more reasonable. This dilemma

appears less torturous when one realizes that Plutarch was confus¬

ing animal reason with instinct, that natural, untainted faculty that

guards its owner against human viciousness. Nevertheless, Plu¬

tarch’s two poles of reason were maintained by French writers of

the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries who carried the tradition

to its most controversial stage.

Montaigne, like Plutarch, sets upon man’s ego, but in lieu of em¬

phasizing animal rationality he stresses human ignorance, presump¬

tion, and vanity. Thus, in a famous passage in his essay, The

Apology of Raymond Sebond he says : “When I play with my cat,

who can tell whether or not she is diverting herself with me more

than I am with her?”6 If animals are unable to understand our

language, we are no better off in failing to understand theirs. It is

because of his vanity that man considers himself superior to the

beasts, his vanity that blinds him to the true state of nature. In

undercutting man’s pride Montaigne lumps animal and human

nature together, and consequently sees greater resemblance be¬

tween individual temperaments of different species than of the

same species.7

3 Cf. Historia Animalium , Bk. I. i ; VIII, IX.

4 The Natural History, trans. John Bostock and H. T. Riley (London, 1855), Bk.

VIII, ch. i, p. 118.

5 “Beasts Make Use of Reason,” Morals, ed. W. W. Goodwin (Boston, 1883).

6 Essais, ed. Pierre Villey (Paris, 1922), Bk. IE, ch. xii. My translation.

7 Ibid., p. 183.

1959]

Ball — Swift and the Animal Myth

241

Montaigne's overthrow of the established cosmic order of nature

wherein man holds a medial position below the angels but above the

animals evoked opposition from those who felt that he and his dis¬

ciples, Charron and Pasquier, were undermining Christian precepts

by espousing a primitivistic cause which would lead man ultimately

to beastliness in its most depraved form. The foremost anti-

theriophilist was, of course, Descartes, who insisted that animals

are primarily only mechanisms, though incomparably better organ¬

ized than any machine man could devise.8 They have, moreover, no

reflective reason and although they possess a soul it is instinctive,

merely directing their actions automatically, and dies with the

body.9 Man's reason is, therefore, superior because it is intellective,

not merely instinctive and mechanical. In this way Descartes

attempted to solve the paradox of rational animality.

But Descartes' anti-theriophilistic arguments were themselves

strongly opposed.10 Time permits mention of only Boileau and La

Fontaine. Motivated by a satiric urge and following Plutarch, Mon¬

taigne, and their disciples, Boileau snipes at man’s vanity by prais¬

ing animal wisdom. Man, he asserts, is the only being who wars

against his species. Though he purports to rule other creatures he

is actually ruled by his own passions.11 La Fontaine answers Carte¬

sian mechanism by allowing animals a reasoning power similar to

that of children in its limited capacity to perceive and make imper¬

fect judgments only, not to reflect or construct complex ideas from

the images the mind receives. On the question of animal spiritual¬

ity La Fontaine maintains a Christian balance. Man’s soul, that is,

is twofold : one part has divine immortality and the other brute

mortality. This duality thus accounts for the paradox of man's

heavenly aspirations and terrestrial occupations.12

In England, where the controversy was engaged in with less

audacity and originality than in France, the Cartesians lost ground

to the theriophilists. Milton, for instance, concedes “much reason"

to animals.13 John Gay, echoing Boileau, accuses man of being the

only animal of prey to herd together hypocritically.14 And in his

Free Thoughts upon the Brute Creation (1742) John Hildrop, a

minor figure, grants immortality to the animal soul. This high re¬

gard for the animal kingdom has been ascribed by one modern

scholar to the current of humanitarianism overspreading Europe

at this time : “Men abandoned the love of God for the ‘love of

8 Discours de La Methode (Paris, 1948), p. 102.

0 Ibid.

10 For a succinct survey of this issue see A. Lytton Sells, Animal Poetry in French

& English Literature & the Greek Tradition (Blooming-ton, 1955), pp. xviii ff.

11 See his eighth satire, “Sur l’Homme” ( 1667 ).

12 Cf. the fable of “The Two Rats, The Fox, and The Egg,” and also the “Discours

a Madame de La Sabliere.”

13 Cf. Paradise Lost, IX, vv. 552-59.

14 The Beggar’s Opera, III. ii.

242 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

humanity/ as they thought; and it was felt that this should be

extended to animals, when convenient/’15

These then are only a few of the many contributors to the rather

complex happy beast tradition. They may, nevertheless, be taken

as representing the attitudes of the theriophilists and their

opponents.16

When considering Swift’s relation to the above tradition one must

keep constantly in mind three significant points : 1 ) Swift was a

sincere Anglican divine; 2) he was an extremely clear and con¬

sistent thinker; 3) he was a conscious artist. Hence, we can rest

assured that when he adopted the animal myth as part of his satiric

machinery he was fully cognizant of the implications involved in

the assimilation of man to beast.

Swift’s purpose in using the animal myth is closely related to his

Christian view of the universe. As the Dean of St. Patrick’s he up¬

holds the traditional view of man’s position in the creation. He

maintains, that is to say, that the “Scripture-system” is what we

are to believe : Adam was formed from clay, Eve from one of his

ribs ; the Creator intended man “to rule over the beasts of the field

and birds of the air” ; before the fall man wielded absolute power

over them, but after tasting the forbidden fruit he was rejected as

terrestrial ruler.17 The document from which this abstract has been

taken is so relevant to our topic that part of it, at least, warrants

quotation :

The first monarch after the flood was Nimrocl, the mighty hunter, who,

as Milton expresseth it, made men, and not beasts, his prey. For men

were easier caught by promises, and subdued by the folly or treachery of

their own species. Whereas the brutes prevailed only by their courage or

strength, which, among them, are peculiar to certain kinds. Lions, bears,

elephants, and some other animals, are strong and valiant, and their spe¬

cies never degenerates in their native soil, except they happen to be en¬

slaved or destroyed by human fraud : But men degenerate every day,

merely by the folly, the perverseness, the avarice, the tyranny, the pride,

the treachery, or inhumanity of their own kind.18

It is apparent from this passage that Swift accepted brute nature

as quite distinct from human nature. To him beasts conform more

naturally to their position in the chain of being, while man tends to

degenerate to a baser condition because of his progenitor’s binding

sin. But however pure animal nature may be and however much

15 Sells, op. cit., p. xxvi f.

10 In addition to Sells’ book, the following- works have proved useful to me for the

above synopsis : Dix Harwood, Love /or Animals and How it Developed in Great

Britain (New York, 1928 ) ; Georg-e Boas, The Happy Beast (Baltimore, 1933 ) ; Leo¬

nora C. Rosenfield, “Un Chapitre de l’Histoire de 1’ Animal-Machine (1645-1749),”

Revue de Litterature Comparee, XVII ( 1934), 461-87, and From Beast-Machine to

Man-Machine (New York, 1940 ).

17 “Further Thoughts on Religion,” The Prose Works of Jonathan Sivift, ed. Herbert

Davis (Oxford, 1938-41 ), IX, 264.

is Ibid.

1959]

Ball — Swift and the Animal Myth

243

Swift glorifies it, it can never surpass human nature; for man

alone is potentially capable of salvation inasmuch as his species

only is rationis capax. Nevertheless, the animal state can teach man

how to live consistent with the divine part of his own being. Swift

seems to imply this belief in two noteworthy places :

Creatures of ev’ry Kind but ours

Well comprehend their nat’ral Powers;

While We, whom Reason ought to sway,

Mistake our Talents ev’ry Day.19

And again in a religious context: “God Almighty hath been pleased

to put us into an imperfect State, where we have perpetual Occa¬

sion of each other’s Assistance. There is none so low, as not to be

in a Capacity of assisting the Highest ; nor so high, as not to want

the Assistance of the Lowest.”20 The assistance of the brute, the

lowest, can only be of an exemplary kind, but it is still assistance

and as such constitutes part of Swift’s satiric attack on mankind.

One of Swift’s borrowings from the animal myth is the fable

form itself, which he uses primarily for political purposes, as is

evidenced by the series of fables written between 1710 and 1715,

his most politically active period. Herein lies his obvious debt to

Aesop. Swift’s fables are remarkable for their wit and insinuating

allusions, qualities which distinguish them from their predecessors.

The fables of Aesop and La Fontaine generally lack ironic state¬

ment, aiming rather at a single moral conclusion. But Swift weaves

more than one moral into his : he implies other maxims while de¬

veloping the primary one. One example will clarify this. The Fable

of the Bitches (1715) was written in protest against the repeal of

the Test Act. Its characters include Bawty the pregnant bitch, who

represents the dissenters, Musick, another bitch, representing the

Church of England, and the brood of offspring, also dissenters. The

story is simple. Bawty, after having been refused refuge every¬

where, begs and obtains asylum in Musick’s house, where her pups

are eventually born. In order to feed her offspring Bawty must

devour everything in sight; but after several days Musick, in order

to ward off starvation, civilly requests that Bawty and hers leave.

The latter, however, begs and is allowed to stay on till her pups

open their eyes. But when Musick returns some days later, Bawty

sets her brood upon her and “drives her away from her right.” The

moral is, that if once the dissenters are given refuge in the Estab¬

lished Church they will thrive selfishly and soon turn upon their

benefactors. And yet Swift describes the appetite of the new born

pups so as to give richness to the characterization while at the

is “The Beasts’ Confession to the Priest,” 11. 203-206. Citations from Swift’s verse

are based on The Poems of Jonathan Swift, ed. Harold Williams, 3 vols. (Oxford,

1958).

20 "On Mutual Subjection,” Prose Works, IX, 143,

244 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

same time effecting a subsidiary moral about the ravenous nature

of dissenters in general. Bawty, to appease her pups, feeds upon

anything she can find,

WHOLE Baskets full of Bits and Scraps,

And Broth enough to fill her Paps,

For well she knew her num’rous Brood,

For want of Milk, wou’d suck her Blood.21

Besides writing his own fables Swift had recourse to the well-

known fables of Aesop and La Fontaine, allusions to which are

scattered throughout his work. He borrows, for instance, the lion

and the mouse to put in the Drapier’s mouth as illustration of a

point of honor: “It is no loss of honour to submit to the Lion, but

who, with the figure of a Man, can think with Patience of being

devoured alive by a rat?”22 In another letter the Drapier compares

the situation of the Irish peers who vie unsuccessfully with the

English for social prominence to that of the frog who tried to con¬

tend with the ox.23 It is evident from the nature of the two fables

alluded to here that Swift often does more than simply clarify in

analogical terms the argument he or his persona is advocating. One

word or image, like a kaleidoscope, is capable of reflecting several

patterns of meaning. Thus Swift’s fabulous allusions not only add

color and give a kind of universality to his discourse, they also

assist in depreciating the object of his attack. In the Drapier' s

Letters William Wood is his target, but elsewhere anyone from a

zany projector to a hypocritical preacher may be analogized in the

same manner.

Swift’s primary object in adopting the animal myth is to attack

man’s pride and vanity by contrasting the animal with the human

state, to the latter’s disadvantage. He discloses this intention ironi¬

cally in the Advertisement to The Beasts' Confession to the Priest:

The following Poem is grounded upon the universal Folly in Mankind

of mistaking their Talents; by which the Author doth a great Honour to

his own Species, almost equalling them with certain Brutes; wherein, in¬

deed, he is too partial, as he freely confesseth: And yet he hath gone as

low as he well could, by specifying four Animals; the Wolf, the Ass, the

Swine and the Ape; all equally mischievous, except the last, who outdoes

them in the Article of Cunning: So great is the Pride of Man.34

To make prideful man appear as insignificant as a louse is Swift’s

heartiest desire. Indeed, in a delightful poem, occasioned by the

brass currency issue of 1725, this is what he does to William Wood,

who is compared to three kinds of vermin : a wood-louse, because

24 LI. 19-22.

22 “A Letter to Mr. Harding,” Prose Works, X, 20.

23 ‘‘An Humble Address to Both Houses of Parliament,” Ibid., p. 130.

24 Italicized in the original version.

1959]

Ball — Swift and the Animal Myth

245

it rolls up in a ball, as Wood rolls himself in his brass; a louse of

the wood, which is swallowed for medicinal purposes, as Wood like¬

wise should be ; and a wood worm, whose curse can be blighted by

scalding him in boiling water, as Wood should be in his own melted

brass.25 Likewise, in Book Two of Gulliver's Travels the king of

Brobdingnag reduces all mankind in one swooping generalization to

“the most pernicious race of little odious vermin that nature ever

suffered to crawl upon the surface of the earth.” Though the cir¬

cumstances are not political, the objective is the same.

Swift is following ostensibly in the footsteps of Pliny and Plu¬

tarch, but he differs from them in one essential point : whereas

they, as heathens, had little conception of the teleological purpose

behind man’s seemingly disparate state in nature, Swift as a Chris¬

tian is aware of the humility necessary for man’s salvation. Hence,

though he situates man in an unfavorable light when comparing

him to the beasts, he does not seriously advocate bestiality. He is

primarily attacking man’s pride, as Montaigne did earlier; but un¬

like Montaigne he does not endow his animals with intelligence

equal or superior to man’s — except for a specifically satiric

intention.

The uniqueness of Swift’s adoption of theriophilism lies in his

synthesizing the two extremes of the tradition represented by Mon¬

taigne and Descartes. It is his Christian principles as well as his

intellectual conservatism that are responsible for his neither deny¬

ing that animals are “in their degree” wise and undegenerate nor

affirming that man conducts himself at the prompting of his rea¬

son. Christian theology substantiates both, and so Swift, working

from a central position, can consequently adopt Montaigne’s doc¬

trine of animal intelligence as well as Descartes’ belief in the irra¬

tionality of the animal soul. Montaigne’s partisan enthusiasm

prompted him to exalt animal nature above its appropriate condi¬

tion. Swift steers clear of Scylla. Descartes on the other hand

argues for a mechanistic animal intelligence in an attempt to keep

asunder two distinct faculties. Swift not only avoids this Charybdis,

he satirizes Descartes’ basic premise in A Discourse concerning the

Mechanical Operation of the Spirit. For Swift, one extreme view

was as untenable as the other. Like the theriophilists he could see

the danger in too wide a breach between man and brute, the danger

of pride. But like the anti-theriophilists he could also perceive the

fearful danger in man’s forgetting his own distinctive nature and

becoming an irreclaimable victim of his animal passions. For Swift

the solution to the dilemma lay in man’s humble use of his reason,

weak and imperfect though it may be.

25 “Wood, an Insect,” Poems, I, 350-52.

246 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

In a celebrated letter to Pope, dated Sept. 24, 1725, Swift de¬

scribes Arbuthnot, that virtuous and reasonable man whom he

ardently admired, as “not without fault; ” If such an exemplary

human being as Arbuthnot is not faultless, what then must be the

less admirable specimens of mankind! The point, I think, is that

Swift does not in the least expect infallibility in human beings. To

accuse him of hopeless idealism is to misread him entirely.26 Swift

was not an idealist-turned-misanthrope ; he was, as Professor Quin¬

tana has demonstrated, a Christian realist deeply aware of the

proximity of carnality and spirituality. Thus his constant reminder

to us how close we are to the bestial state :

Although reason were intended by providence to govern our passions,

yet it seems that, in two points of the greatest moment to the being and

continuance of the world, God hath intended our passions to prevail over

reason. The first is, the propagation of our species, since no wise man ever

married from the dictates of reason. The other is, the love of life, which,

from the dictates of reason, every man would despise, and wish it at an

end, or that it never had a beginning.27

When Swift borrowed the beast tradition for his satiric aims he

found himself precariously poised in the midpoint of a seesaw. In

order to maintain his balance he had to shift his weight from one

side to the other, now attacking man’s pride in believing himself

far removed from the animal state, now chiding man’s tendency to

identify human nature with animal. He is usually less vitriolic

when he treats of man’s propensity to link himself with brute

nature than when condemning him for his pride. In fact, he often

achieves a playfully ironic manner, as for instance in the following-

verses :

AS Mastive Dogs in Modern Phrase are

Call’d Pompey, Scipio and Caesar;

As Pies and Daws are often stiTd

With Christian Nick-names like a child;

As we say, Monsieur , to an Ape

Without offence to Human Shape:

So men have got from Bird and Brute

Names that would best their Natures suit.28

Similarly, in A Letter to a Young Lady on Her Marriage, he can

joshingly write: “When I reflect on this [i.e. women’s concern over

fashionable clothes] I cannot conceive you to be Human Creatures,

but a sort of Species hardly a degree above a Monkey; who has

more diverting tricks than any of you ; is an Animal less mischiev¬

ous and expensive, might in time be a tolerable Critick in Velvet

28 John Bullitt, it seems to me, is victim of this kind of misreading-. See Jonathan

Swift and the Anatomy of Satire (Cambridge, U. S. A., 1953), pp. 2, 3, 17.

27 “Thoughts on Religion,” Prose Works, IX, 263.

28 “The Description of a Salamander,” 11. 1-8.

1959]

Ball — Sivift and the Animal Myth

247

and Brocade, and for ought I know wou’d equally become them.”29

This last quotation exemplifies Swift’s double-edged satiric method :

the young lady’s pride takes a lashing by her being compared to a

monkey; but extreme theriophilism is also being satirized in the

same stroke.

This complexity of purpose and method often makes Swift

appear inconsistent, especially as he shifts from one viewpoint to

another. But it is because he synthesizes two opposing points of

view that he is able to satirize the very tradition whose concepts he

adopts. Furthermore, whether Swift takes up cudgels for or against

the theriophilists depends primarily upon the satiric occasion. For

the fool who prides himself on his rationality he accepts the premise

of the anti-theriophilists — viz., that animals are irrational brutes —

though rejecting their conclusion that man is superior, and then

proceeds to reduce the fool to that particular state of bestiality.

Thus the proud man, who would sympathize with the anti-

theriophilistic argument, is attacked on his own grounds. For the

fool of the opposite persuasion Swift reverses the process just de¬

scribed. He now adopts the view that beasts are so wonderful and

rational that they outwit human beings at their own game. And so

he humanizes the animal in all but its shape. The final satiric touch

is added when a credulous theriophilist has social intercourse with

the animal as if nothing could be more natural.

In its most successful form this latter technique was brought to a

climactic peak in the fourth voyage of Gulliver’s Travels, where

theriophilism reaches its logical extreme : the beast becomes the

master, man the servant. Much of the hilarity of this book is due

to the Houyhnhnms, whose forms are not at all suited for many of

the human activities in which they engage.30 The absurdity of a

horse threading and sewing with a needle is indicative of the satiric

comedy that until recent years had been completely overlooked by

Swift’s critics. The Houyhnhnms embody the ideal of the theri¬

ophilists to an outrageous degree, for they are neither bestial nor

human. They exist only in their creator’s imagination, as do the

Yahoos. Indeed, the juxtaposition of Yahoo and Houyhnhnm illus¬

trates Swift’s frequent method of introducing two extremes of an

issue and implying a preference that lies somewhere between them.

Gulliver, too naive to catch the implication, is bewildered by the

apparent dilemma and so chooses the side of the theriophilists, de¬

ciding that it is better to emulate a rational horse than remain in

a state susceptible of comparison with the odious Yahoo. The in¬

congruity of his determined way of life does not occur to him

__________ 1

29 Satires and Personal Writings by Jonathan Swift , ed. Alfred W. Eddy (Oxford,

1944), p. 67.

30 I am indebted for this particular point to Edward Stone’s article, “Swift apd the

Horses: Misanthropy or Comedy? MLQ, X (1949), 367-76,

248 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

because he sees only one side of the question. But Swift would have

us see both sides — in order that we might choose a third.

Because, in conclusion, theriophilism was germane to the impor¬

tant issue of man’s nature, Swift was magnetically attracted to it.

And, as is usual with him, he took from the tradition what he

needed for his own purposes, synthesizing, compromising, satiriz¬

ing, and developing finally what for him, at least, was the only

possible solution to the paradox of the happy beast.

THE WASHBURN OBSERVATORY, 1878-1959*

Charles M. Huffer and Edith Flather

University of Wisconsin , Madison

Eighty years ago the science of astronomy had not yet entered

the modern era of astrophysics. The popular idea of an astronomer

as an old, bearded philosopher peering through a telescope was

almost literally true. Astronomical discoveries were being made by

visual methods only, since the art of photography was in its in¬

fancy and had barely been applied to astronomy. Mathematical

astronomy was of great importance and the most famous astrono¬

mers of the first three quarters of the nineteenth century belonged

to that branch of the science. One branch of observational astron¬

omy was positional astronomy — which consisted of making accu¬

rate measures of star positions with a transit instrument.

It is true that the spectroscope was being used for the study of

stellar spectra, but these spectroscopic observations were limited

to the brighter stars and the classification of stellar spectra had

just been suggested. Other physical instruments had not been suc¬

cessfully used for studying the stars, partly because they were not

adapted to the study of light as faint as starlight. Many of course

had not been invented.

So the astronomical investigations of that epoch were limited to

the discovery of comets with small telescopes, search for new satel¬

lites of the planets with the largest telescopes, and the discovery of

minor planets, double stars and nebulae with whatever equipment

was available. These surveys of the sky were being conducted in

many parts of the world, principally in Europe and to a limited

extent in the United States.

In 1876 the Wisconsin State Legislature passed a bill appropriat¬

ing funds for the upkeep of an observatory at the university, should

one be built and equipped and then given to the university.

In 1877 former governor Cadwallader C. Washburn announced

his intention of building and equipping such an observatory. He

selected the picturesque and beautiful site atop a hill overlooking

Lake Mendota. “No better site could have been selected, situated as

it is in the midst of a green plain, and protected on all sides from

encroachments . ’ ’

The announcement of the “munificent gift” of a large 15-inch

telescope to the University of Wisconsin apparently aroused con-

* Paper read at the 89th Annual Meeting- of the Wisconsin Academy of Sciences,

Arts and Letters.

249

250 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

siderable interest in astronomy in the backward Middle West.

American astronomy before that date (1877) was limited to small

telescopes mostly in the east. The largest telescopes in the United

States were a 15-inch telescope at Harvard, an 18-inch telescope in

Evanston, and a 26-inch telescope in Washington.

The telescope given to the University of Wisconsin by Governor

Washburn, built by the Clark Brothers of Cambridge, Massachu¬

setts, was an excellent instrument. The specifications stated that

the large telescope should be equal to or superior to the telescope at

the Harvard College Observatory. This was not rivalry, but lack of

terminology for describing the requirements. The final size of the

objective lens was 15.6 inches, thus making it the third largest tele¬

scope in the country. Construction of the building to house the

telescope began in May, 1878.

It was only natural for the still young university to attempt to

obtain the services of a well-known astronomer. Professor James C.

Watson of the University of Michigan was noted as a discoverer of

asteroids and as a writer in the field of mathematical astronomy.

The attraction of a superior telescope lured him away from his po¬

sition in the department of astronomy at the University of Michi¬

gan, and he accepted the position of first director of the new Wash¬

burn Observatory.

Professor Watson took office immediately (October, 1878) and

was chiefly occupied with completing the main building, perfecting

the interior arrangements, and starting astronomical work. At his

suggestion, a wing was added to the original building almost imme¬

diately. This wing is on the east end of the original building and

was used for the office of the director and the astronomical library,

a gift from Cyrus Woodman, a friend of Governor Washburn.

At his own expense, Professor Watson started to build a Stu¬

dents’ Observatory to free the major equipment for research, and a

Solar Observatory on the hill south of the main building. The Stu¬

dents’ Observatory contained a small transit instrument for the

determination of time and latitude primarily, and a 6-inch telescope

which had belonged to Mr. Burnham, who was an expert double

star observer. Mr. Burnham was a Chicago court reporter, who

came to Madison on week-ends (and later to the Yerkes Observa¬

tory in Williams Bay) to measure his stars. The Solar Observatory

was to be used with a moving mirror set up on top of the hill to

direct the light from the sun down a tunnel parallel to the axis of

the earth. It was also to be used to rediscover a planet Watson

thought he had discovered. This planet was the so-called “Vulcan”

between Mercury and the sun. The observatory was unsuccessful;

the planet does not exist. The building was used for many years as

a storeroom. Finally it was about ready to fall apart, and as a uni-

1959] Huffer and Flather — Washburn Observatory 251

versity crew was starting to tear it down, it was set on fire and

burned.

Unfortunately Professor Watson did not live to see the fulfill¬

ment of his plans. He died a little more than two years after enter¬

ing his new position while engaged in superintending the comple¬

tion of the observatory.

One of the conditions of the gift of Governor Washburn was that

the public should be permitted to see the heavenly bodies through

the large telescope. Accordingly the first and third Wednesdays of

every month were set aside for visitors and all were welcome to see

the moon, some planet, or other object of interest, when the weather

permitted. These open nights are still well attended after eighty

years, the attendance during the summer months frequently pass¬

ing the 100 mark. The all-time record was set in 1954 when Mars

was in favorable position for observation.

Alexander Graham Bell was a personal friend of Watson’s and

provided two telephones. They were set up between the observatory

and Science Hall so that Watson could call his mechanic easily. The

first commercial phones in Madison were not installed for two more

years.

An observatory was a very important addition to the educational

institution because it was thought at that time that a college could

not become a university without one and Wisconsin citizens and

officials thought an observatory would be an indication of sophisti¬

cated education. When the Washburn Observatory was finished,

the University of Wisconsin was complete, and Wisconsin had be¬

come thoroughly civilized. (It is interesting to note that in 1954

when President Elvehjem, then Dean of the Graduate School, asked

the Alumni Research Foundation for funds to build a new observa¬

tory in the country, he said a modern observatory was needed to

continue research in astronomical studies of the universe.)

The new wing was finished in 1881. The original equipment in¬

cluded the 15.6-inch telescope housed in the large dome in the first

unit of the building, a meridian circle in the west wing where the

class-room is now, and three accurate clocks. One of these clocks

has always been used to keep sidereal time (star time) and the

other two for standard time, since time was sent out by wire to

the railroads of the region before the days of Western Union.

The 15.6-inch refracting telescope has a focal length of 243

inches (20' 3") and the objective is the usual achromatic visual

arrangement of two lenses separated by 1.78 inches. Its auxiliary

equipment includes a micrometer for measuring distance and

angles between components of a double star.

For more than 40 years after its erection, the 15-inch Clark re¬

fractor was used for visual observations, mainly of double stars,

252 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

Washburn Observatory.

1959] Huffer and Flath er — Wash burn Observatory 253

with the filar micrometer. Double star measures were made by Pro¬

fessor G. C. Comstock, who was the third director (1889-1922),

and by Mr. S. W. Burnham (mentioned above) who was observer

for a short time. Many new double stars were discovered with

Burnham’s famous six-inch telescope, which was still set up in

Madison until two or three years ago, and the large 15-inch tele¬

scope. The six-inch telescope was replaced by a more modern 12-

inch Cassegrain reflector on the same mounting. This mounting

was not the one originally used, but was a new mounting built

about 1930 in the university shops as experimental for remounting

the 15-inch. Burnham’s telescope has been on loan to a young-

astronomer in Appleton, but will soon return to Madison, and after

being remounted will occupy one of the two new domes on the roof

of the new addition to Sterling Hall.

The 15-inch telescope was remounted about 1932 on a modern

mounting designed after the type made by the Warner and Swasey

Company of Cleveland, Ohio. The new mountings for both tele¬

scopes were constructed by Mr. Mel Kidder in the shops of the engi¬

neering department. It is expected that the telescope and its mount¬

ing and equipment will be sold this summer after 81 years of useful

work. The money from the sale will be used to buy a new 16-inch

reflecting telescope for the Department of Astronomy.

Professor Comstock became very well known in American astron¬

omy. His university duties included teaching classes in descriptive

and practical astronomy; and during his later years, he was Dean

of the Graduate School of the University. He served many years as

Secretary of the American Astronomical Society and was President

of that society for a term of three years.

Another well-known work done at the Washburn Observatory

was that with the meridian circle — a 5-inch instrument from Ger¬

many. With this instrument, Mr. A. S. Flint measured minute

changes in the positions of stars caused by the motion of the earth

around the sun. These measures permitted the computation of the

rate of change of position of a star — its so-called “proper motion”

and also its parallax. From the stellar parallax it is possible to com¬

pute the distance of the star. The work of Professor Flint might be

considered as pioneer work in the determination of stellar distances,

since he was one of the first to make systematic determinations

with sufficient accuracy. His work was later surpassed in accuracy

with the building of larger and longer telescopes. Many of Mr.

Flint’s measures are still useful in accurate determinations of

stellar motions. His last measures were reduced and published in

1939 — sixteen years after the death of the observer.

In 1922 an abrupt change in the work of the observatory took

place. The older program of visual observations was replaced by a

254 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

branch of modern astrophysics — that of photoelectric photometry.

The photoelectric effect had long been known and had been applied

to astronomy some time before in Germany. The pioneers in the

United States in this field of astronomy were Stebbins and Kunz at

the University of Illinois. Jacob Kunz was professor of physics;

Joel Stebbins was professor of astronomy. Together they made

photocells and tested them on the telescope. Success was first

attained about 1916.

When Director Comstock and Professor Flint reached the age of

retirement, the University of Wisconsin again went to a sister uni¬

versity and called one of her professors to be director of the Wash¬

burn Observatory. This time Professor Stebbins came to Madison

and became the fourth director of the Washburn Observatory. He

was lured away from Illinois by the clearer skies of Wisconsin and

the location of the observatory with a lake to the north which was

to be a protection from encroachment and the smoke of industry.

The observational photoelectric work was transferred from Illi¬

nois to Wisconsin, with Professor Kunz remaining behind to make

the photocells in the laboratories in Urbana. One of the authors of

this paper (C. M. Huffer) came at the same time as an assistant in

astronomy with the privilege of working for the degree of Doctor

of Philosophy.

The association of Stebbins and Kunz was maintained even

though they belonged to separate institutions. The photocells made

by Kunz were important parts of the apparatus used at the Uni¬

versity of Wisconsin. No better cells of that type have ever been

made. Kunz cells were still used in Madison up to Warld War II,

although many commercial and special cells by wellknown firms

had been tried. It was always hoped that an especially successful

one would be found. The Kunz cells had their maximum sensitivity

in the blue region of the spectrum. They were strongly color-blind.

A photocell sensitive to the red would have been a big help and

would have extended the work in a very much to be desired

direction.

The application of the photocell to astronomy consists in illumi¬

nating the cell with star-light and then measuring the photoelectric

current which is produced when the molecules of potassium or other

metal in the sensitive cell are bombarded by quanta of energy from

the stars. If two stars are equal in brightness, the current pro¬

duced is equal in the two cases. If one star is brighter than the

other, it gives more current. The amount of current is strictly pro¬

portional to the amount of incident light. Hence this method is very

useful in comparing the brightness of the stars and in computing

how much brighter one star is than another.

Huffer and Flather — Washburn Observatory

255

1959]

Suppose a star, the star Algol in the constellation Perseus for

example, is known to vary in brightness and that it is desirable to

know the law of variation. A nearby comparison star is chosen

whose brightness can be shown to be constant and the variable star

is compared at frequent intervals with the chosen standard. In this

way the light-curve of the variable star can be plotted and studied.

If the variable star is an eclipsing binary — that is, if the variations

are caused by the eclipse of one body by another in a double sys¬

tem, — then the size, mass, and density of the two stars of the sys¬

tem can be determined. This requires in addition observations made

with the spectograph at some other observatory, but the light varia¬

tion is essential for the completion of the solution. Measures of

brightness made with the photo-electric photometer are more accu¬

rate than measures made with any other means and yield the most

satisfactory solutions of the problem.

The main work of the Washburn Observatory beginning in 1922

was with eclipsing variable stars, although the development of the

apparatus was by no means neglected. Several new eclipsing

binaries were discovered and studies carried through for the deter¬

mination of size, mass, and density. Others discovered elsewhere

were observed in order that the accuracy of solution might be

improved. Variable stars of other classes were also studied. These

stars included stars of the Cepheid class and several new discov¬

eries were added to the lists. A systematic survey of red stars of

class M added about sixty new variables. These stars vary irregu¬

larly and no attempt was made to carry the problem further than

the discovery and proof that most stars of this class are variable.

Beginning about 1930 the measurement of stellar colors was

added to the program of observation with the photocell. By the use

of colored filters, it was possible to compare the colors of stars and

to set up a system of standards by means of which the color of a

star may be described. In particular, the colors of blue-white stars

(class 0 and B stars) were compared with each other. The spectra

of these stars are nearly alike and the temperatures indicate that

they should all be the same color. This was found to be true for all

stars of this class outside the Milky Way. Inside the Milky Way,

however, stars showing the same spectrum were found to be redder

than those outside, except for the brighter stars which are known

to be closer than the fainter ones. The interpretation of this differ¬

ence is that the reddened stars are inside or behind a cloud of gas

or dust which not only absorbs the blue light more strongly than

the red, but decreases the total light of the star. The effect is the

same as the reddening of the sun when it nears the horizon except

that in the case of the stars, this reddening effect is produced by a

cloud in the Milky Way and at stellar distances from the sun. Hence

256 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences, Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

this study of the colors of stars of class B makes it possible to

detect the location of these dust clouds among the stars and in some

cases to determine their distances from the sun.

The study of the colors of stars made in Madison has been sup¬

plemented by similar studies of globular clusters and galaxies ob¬

served at the Mount Wilson Observatory with photo-electric appa¬

ratus made at the Washburn Observatory. The net result of all

these studies has been that the diameter of the Milky Way system

has been reduced from 200,000 to less than 100,000 light-years,

which is in agreement with the results obtained by studies of the

rotation of the system made with the spectrograph. These color

studies were extended to include distant stars of other spectral

classes with the hope that a better knowledge might be obtained

of the location, size, and distance of the galactic interstellar clouds

and the possible detection of a cloud of dust around the sun itself.

The development of photoelectric apparatus is also a necessary

part of photometric research. Since the current produced by the

photocell is very small, very sensitive instruments of measurement

are necessary. At the beginning of the photoelectric work at the

Washburn Observatory, an electrometer of very cumbersome type

was used to measure the photoelectric current. This instrument

made use of the change of position of a very fine wire placed in an

electric field. As the wire was charged by the current from the

photocell, its change of position was read with 'a microscope and the

current was measured by the rate at which the wire was seen to

move in the field of the microscope. This first electrometer was later

replaced by a smaller one produced by the Cambridge Instrument

Company. It had an advantage over the older one because it could

be used in any position, which was a decided help, since it was used

on the moving eye-end of a telescope.

It was not until 1932 that a major improvement was made in the

method of measurement of these small currents. That year it be¬

came possible to amplify the photo-current by means of a vacuum

tube. This was accomplished by A. E. Whitford, then a graduate

student in physics. Amplification was possible because of the devel¬

opment of special vacuum tubes which could be operated from stor¬

age batteries which give a very steady current. The circuit was

devised by physicists at other universities, but was successful for

astronomical observations when Whitford got the idea of placing

photocell and vacuum tube in a tank from which the air could be

pumped. This partial vacuum got rid of disturbances due to cosmic

rays and stray charges which were troublesome because they were

nearly as large as the current to be measured. The advantage of

amplification over the older methods of measurement was that it

now became possible to measure smaller currents and therefore to

1959] Huffer and Flather — Washburn Observatory 257

observe much fainter stars. This new photometer was as accurate

as the old one for bright stars. The new technique opened up a much

larger field of study since there were many more faint stars avail¬

able for study. So this method was used satisfactorily for several

years and was copied at other observatories.

Two further improvements in photoelectric techniques should be

mentioned. During the war a new type of receiver was perfected.

This new tube produced a current of electrons when exposed to

light as usual. But it also replaced the complicated amplifier which

had been used before and multiplied its own current by means of a

series of plates inside the tube. The amplification factor was of the

order of one million times. This tube is called the 1P21.

Also it became possible to record the amplified photoelectric cur¬

rent automatically. The first recorder was the Esterline-Angus re¬

corder. A strip of paper was moved automatically and a pen made

a tracing on the paper. The deflection of the pen measured the cur¬

rent and therefore the brightness of the light. This tracing could

then be read later. Before its use, it had been necessary to record

the rate of charge of an electrometer or to read the scale of a gal¬

vanometer. This old arrangement required two people — one to run

the telescope and photometer, the other to read the scale. With

automatic recording, a single person could operate the installation

and read the record at his leisure. The Esterline-Angus suffered

from uncertainties because of the drag of the pen. So it was re¬

placed by a better recorder, the Brown Recorder, which is still in

use.

The use of the 1P21 multiplier tube and the Brown recorder re¬

quired an amplifier in addition. These amplifiers were usually made

in the shops of the Washburn Observatory, although a commercially

made amplifier is now available and in use. The 1P21 multiplier

works better if refrigerated with dry ice. This means that it is

necessary to keep a supply of dry ice on hand and grind it to a size

small enough to put inside a cold box around the multiplier tube.

This is now standard practice.

In 1948 Professor Stebbins was retired and Dr. Whitford re¬

placed him as director. Whitford had been active in the perfection

of photometers and had spent several months of each year at the

Mt. Wilson Observatory. He and Stebbins had collaborated for

many years on the photometry of stars and had developed six-color

photometry which was successfully used on the large telescopes.

They also applied their techniques to observations of the globular

star clusters and to the galactic systems in reach of the 100"

telescope.

In 1954, the Alumni Research Foundation granted $200,000 to

the Department of Astronomy for the building of a new observa-

258 Wisconsin Academy of Sciences , Arts and Letters [Vol. 48

tory. This grant was obtained through the help of Dr. Elvehjem,

as mentioned earlier in this paper. The Alumni Research Founda¬

tion had some years before granted the research committee of the

University funds sufficient for the optics of a 36" telescope. The

two mirrors had been purchased from the Corning Glass Works

and had been figured in the shops of the Yerkes Observatory. The

new grant provided for the building of the telescope and the erec¬

tion of the building, which was completed in 1958 and dedicated at

a meeting of the American Astronomical Society. The new observa¬

tory is located about two miles north-west of the village of Pine

Bluff, and is 15 miles west of Madison.

The new telescope is the latest word in modern design. It is a

Cassegrain reflecting telescope and has electronic controls operated

from a control panel or by a control paddle at the eye end of the

telescope. Photoelectric observations in three colors have been un¬

der way since the summer of 1958, and later that year a specto-

graph of modern design was installed and tested.

On July 1, 1958, Dr. Whitford left the University to go as direc¬

tor to the Lick Observatory. He was the second director of that

observatory to be selected from the staff of the Washburn Observa¬

tory, Dr. Holden was the other one. Dr. Arthur D. Code, who had

formerly been a staff member of the Washburn Observatory, was

selected as director and came to assume the duties as director in

September, 1958. Dr. Donald E. Osterbrock came also as a new

addition with the rank of Assistant Professor. Dr. Theodore E.

Houck was retained as instructor and Dr. Robert Bless came as

project associate to work on the spectograph, which has a photo¬

electric scanning device, replacing the usual photographic plate.

Work on this program has been delayed because of severe weather

conditions during the winter and spring of 1959.

Then at about the same time as the planning and building of the

Pine Bluff Observatory, the Wisconsin Alumni asked for the old

building on observatory hill. The astronomy department consented,

provided that suitable quarters could be found on the campus.

Plans for building a wing on Sterling Hall were being made and it

was decided to give the sixth floor and roof to the department of

astronomy. The wing was finished and moving started in March,

1959.

The Washburn Observatory is and always has been a link in the

chain of astronomical research. Beginning with the study of double

stars and the pioneer measures of stellar parallax, through the

color observations for the determination of the size of the Milky

Way system, to the present work on various studies in the field of

astronomy, its work has been one of cooperation with other observa¬

tories. The observations made in Madison are published in the

1959] Huffer and Flather — Washburn Observatory 259

Publications of the Washburn Observatory and in various other

astronomical journals. We depend on other observatories for obser¬

vations with the spectograph and other physical instruments and

frequently hand on our observations for the help of some one en¬

gaged in other problems of research. Present knowledge of the

physical nature of the universe cannot be the result of the work of

a single individual or institution but must be done by cooperation

and the willingness to give the other fellow the benefit of experi¬

ence and results from the special field which any one observatory

undertakes.

With the moving of the department to another building, a long-

phase of astronomical work at the Washburn Observatory of the

University of Wisconsin is ended. It is difficult to give up the beau¬

tiful view of Lake Mendota and all the associations and memories

of Observatory Hill. But in the interest of improvement and an ex¬

pansion into the modern field of astrophysics, the move seems very

satisfactory. It is gratifying to see that astronomy today is even

more interesting than ever before and even essential to modern

civilization — whether for better or worse remains to be seen. As

the work of the old Washburn Observatory has been prominent in

astronomical circles for 81 years, it is to be hoped and expected

that the work of the new department will lead in coming astro¬

nomical developments. It would have been impossible in 1878 to

foresee the change from visual to electrical astronomy. We are just

as unable to foretell what future developments in astronomy will

bring. If space travel is to be the most important study of the next

few years, plans at Wisconsin will be and are being made to coop¬

erate and experiment in the new field. We wish our successors well

and have every reason to expect great things in astronomy in

Wisconsin in the future.