Triumphs and Wonders of the 19th Century: The True Mirror of a Phenomenal Era / A volume of original, entertaining and instructive historic and descriptive writings, showing the many and marvellous achievements which distinguish an hundred years of material, intellectual, social and moral progress

by James P. Boyd

II. DRAMA.

CHARLOTTE SAUNDERS CUSHMAN.

The theatre of the latter part of the century shows a remarkable advance, in certain respects, over the theatre of the past, which consisted of a “star,” an inferior company, poor scenery and appointments, et cetera; whereas to-day there are many more really good actors and actresses, the theatres are far more comfortable and artistic, the scenery, costumes and details are beautiful and correct.

We have no Mrs. Siddons, no Kemble, no Rachel, no Talma; but we are confident that the actors and actresses of to-day are like the theatre of to-day,—they have more finish, and the results, while they may not rise to the plane of the school of Shakespeare, are nearer nature than they have ever been.

The school of declamation, which belonged to the plays of the past, is the severest loss the stage of to-day has felt. The actors and actresses fail in elocution. They do not know where to put their emphasis. They seem lost when they appear in costume, and Shakespeare to-day has no distinguished exponents.

The English-speaking stage of the century has been adorned by such eloquent interpreters and powerful tragedians as Edwin Forrest, Charlotte Cushman, Edwin Booth, and Henry Irving. But this illustrious roll has been almost extinguished by death; and, especially if applied to America, the question may well be asked, where is the actor or actress who can play Hamlet, or Macbeth, or King Lear, or Shylock as we were wont to see them rendered by those masters of the dramatic art, or as they should be rendered? Salvini and Rossi have both passed away. Irving verges on retiracy. Of the great dramatic actresses left to the closing of the century, Mme. Sarah Bernhardt stands preëminent. The day of the imposing declamatory drama seems to have lost its lustre at the sunset of the century.

SCENE FROM SHAKESPEARE’S PLAY OF “ROMEO AND JULIET.”

But the modern dramas and comedies are acted, even in the smaller parts, with admirable intelligence and effect, and we may add that the vice that disgraced the stage of the past is by no means so visible in the theatre of the present.

The coarseness that clung so long to the theatre is gradually disappearing, and the theatre-goers of to-day have discovered that the theatre, which was created to entertain the world, can do so without recourse to vulgarity.

The theatres of the United States are the handsomest and most convenient in the world. This Mme. Sarah Bernhardt acknowledged the other day, while criticising the theatres of Paris, which lack many conveniences.

Up to within twenty-five years of the close of the century, plays written by American authors were rare. Managers had to rely upon those composed in Europe. But at present the United States possesses many able and successful playwrights, just as it does its artists in all departments. There has not been a time during the century when the personal character of actors and actresses has escaped discussion, and sometimes violent criticism, by those prejudiced against the theatre. This does not seem to have lessened the estimation in which dramatic art is held, nor to have seriously diminished in number the legion who find in the drama their most pleasurable recreation and keenest intellectual delight. In answer to challenges of the morality of the stage, Bronson Howard has fittingly said: “I have never yet seen anybody who wanted a bad picture just because it was painted by a good man. It is society that corrupts the stage, not the stage that corrupts society.”

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THE CENTURY’S LITERATURE
By JAMES P. BOYD, A.M., L.B.

In contrasting the world’s nineteenth century literature with that of the eighteenth, one is impressed with the many remarkable differences. But by no means all of such differences are to the discredit of the older literature. As instances, the prose literature of the nineteenth century may not surpass that of the eighteenth in elegance and accuracy of expression, though its progress has been very marked in the diversity of its applications to mental needs; and the poetical literature of the nineteenth century may not excel that of the eighteenth in beauty and virility, though it has advanced in loftiness of theme and tenderness of mode. And so, when literature is divided into its many minor branches, as history, philosophy, the sciences, etc., various features of the old compare favorably with the new.

It is in its general tone and universal aptitude that the literature of the nineteenth century stands out preëminent. The wonderful intellectual activity of the century has been, as it were, compelled to go forth along literary lines quite parallel with those that distinguish other fields of activity. This may have had a tendency in some instances to rob the century’s literature of some of the sweetly imaginative elements, and to harden it in some of its essential forms, but the process was necessary to secure for it just that quality which would best meet a progressive demand. As the drift of human energy was toward the practical, so the dominant literary thought took on the form of direct and exact expression. There was less and less room for the indulgence of literary foible or speculative whimsicality. Even where elegance of style met with occasional sacrifice, it was more than compensated by that general rise in literary tone which has characterized the century. Literature could not be untruthful amid active inquiry and scientific progress. It must reflect, more accurately than ever before, its birth inspirations and its legitimate uses. It must keep even pace with the demands for it. A world crying for intellectual bread could not be put off with an antiquated stone.

Without closer analysis, the above is true of the literature of all reading and writing peoples who have kept touch with the century’s progress. But it is especially true in the literature of English speaking peoples. History has, in accordance with a growing spirit of research, become more truthful, philosophy more expressive, and science more exact. The outcrop of books shows the yearnings of the century, not only as to their number but as to theme and treatment. Authors have multiplied as during no other world’s era, and the proportion of those who have attained permanent distinction was never larger.

“German literature,” says Professor Ford, in “Self Culture” for February, 1899, “has had its measure of ups and downs, but its first age was its golden age. From the beginning of the century to the present day is a far cry in German letters. Romanticism, idealism, realism—the Fatherland has lived through them all. And for what? In a land of scholars no great philosopher; among hosts of verse-makers no great poet; among innumerable story-writers, not one who has become known over a continent.

GEORGE BANCROFT.

“Still these last years in Germany have not been without some good work done, though often achieved under the spur of wrong ideals and improper motives. From the days of ’48, when Young Germany felt for the first time the seductive charm of revolutionism, a new feeling has possessed German literature—a feeling that the past is past and out of date, potent once but potent no longer, and that the new age of man demands new principles, new ideals, a new faith. And so the modern literature, particularly so since 1870, has been marked by iconoclasm and startling innovation; it has discarded sentiment and line writing, and made a plea for scientific methods, with the privilege of exhibiting exact, scientific results. Crimes, disease, and grinning skeletons have been dragged forth to the public gaze, for art is no longer art that portrays the ideal and not the true. Such, in short, is the creed by which the realistic or naturalistic school has thought to overthrow the old, conventional, and frivolous, to foster the spirit of the new nationality, and prepare a balm for the wounds of the poor.

“Two men stand to-day as leaders of this new movement,—Hermann Sudermann and Gerhardt Hauptmann,—the most commanding figures in contemporaneous German literature.”

During the nineteenth century the United States took a high and firm place in the domain of literature, and, it may be said, has evolved a literature that in scope and style is peculiar to her institutions and environment. Her array of authors, both in number and reputation, compares favorably with that of countries boasting of a thousand years of literary domination, and her literature is as diversified and practical as her activities. Among the many illustrious historians of the century she numbers her Bancroft, her Hildreth, her Prescott, her Motley, worthy counterparts of England’s Lingard, Hallam, Macaulay, Buckle, and Kinglake. Among her poets are Longfellow, Whittier, Bryant, Lowell, Halleck, fit companions of Tennyson, Browning, Wordsworth, Scott, Swinburne. Among her novelists are Cooper, Hawthorne, Stowe, worthy congeners of Dickens, Thackeray, and Eliot. And so, the comparison holds in travel, philosophy, theology, law, and science.

If in dramatic literature the United States has, during the century, produced few authors of permanent reputation, and perhaps none to be compared with Knowles, Boucicault, Taylor, and Robertson, of the Old World, nevertheless it cannot be said of these that their plays have had more than a stage value. The drama of the century in following the demand for artistic and commercial results has sustained only in part the reputation of its literature. But in lieu of this partial decadence, there have sprung up new branches of literature which are, in a measure, compensatory. Among these are the critical literature of arts and design, the literature of philology, or of language, and the literature of political and social science. To these must be added two other kinds or classes of literature which, if not peculiar to the century, have yet found in it their most surprising evolution, greatest glory, and widest influence. These are the literature of the newspaper and magazine, as distinguished from that of the book.

JOHN G. WHITTIER.

But before making further mention of these, let us read somewhat of New World literature as viewed from a critical English standpoint. Says the critic, “English critics are apt to bear down on the writers and thinkers of the New World with a sort of aristocratic hauteur; they are perpetually reminding them of their immaturity and their disregard of the golden mean. Americans, on the other hand, are hard to please. Ordinary men among them are as sensitive to foreign censure as the irritable genius of other lands. Mr. Emerson is permitted to impress home truths on his countrymen, as ‘Your American eagle is very well; but beware of the American peacock.’ Such remarks are not permitted to Englishmen. If they point to any flaws in transatlantic manners or ways of thinking with an effort after politeness, it is ‘the good-natured cynicism of well-to-do age;’ if they commend transatlantic institutions or achievements, it is, according to Mr. Lowell, ‘with that pleasant European air of self-compliment in condescending to be pleased by American merit which we find so conciliating.’

“Now that the United States have reached their full majority, it is time that England should cease to assume the attitude of guardian, and time that they should be on the alert to resent the assumption. Foremost among the more attractive features of transatlantic [American] literature is its freshness. The authority which is the guide of old nations constantly threatens to become tyrannical; they wear their traditions like a chain; and, in canonization of laws of taste, the creative laws are depressed. Even in England we write under fixed conditions; with the fear of critics before our eyes, we are all bound to cast our ideas into similar moulds, and the name of ‘free thinker’ has grown to a term of reproach. Bunyan’s ‘Pilgrim’s Progress’ is perhaps the last English book written without a thought of being reviewed. There is a gain in the habit of self-restraint fostered by this state of things; but there is a loss in the consequent lack of spontaneity; and we may learn something from a literature that is ever ready for adventures. In America the love of uniformity gives place to impetuous impulses; the most extreme sentiments are made audible, the most noxious ‘have their day and cease to be;’ and the truth being left to vindicate itself, the overthrow of error, though more gradual, may at last prove more complete. A New England poet can write with confidence of his country as the land

“‘Where no one suffers loss or bleeds
For thoughts that men calls heresies.’

ALFRED TENNYSON.

“Another feature of American literature is comprehensiveness. What it has lost in depth it has gained in breadth. Addressing a vast audience, it appeals to universal sympathies. In the Northern States, where comparatively few have leisure to write well, almost every man, woman, and child can read, and does read. Books are to be found in every log-hut, and public questions are discussed by every scavenger. During the Civil War, when the Lowell factory-girls were writing verses, the ‘Biglow Papers’ were being recited in every smithy. The consequence is, that, setting aside the newspapers, there is little that is sectional in the popular religion or literature; it exalts and despises no class, and almost wholly ignores the lines that in other countries divide the upper ten thousand and the lower ten million. Where manners make men, the people are proud of their peerage, but they blush for their boors. In the New World there are no ‘Grand Seigniors’ and no human vegetables; and if there are fewer giants, there are also fewer manikins. American poets recognize no essential distinction between the ‘village blacksmith’ and the ‘caste of Vere de Vere.’ Burns speaks for the one; Byron and Tennyson for the other; Longfellow, to the extent of his genius, for both. The same spirit which glorifies labor denounces every form of despotism but that of the multitude. Freed of the excesses due to wide license, and restrained by the good taste and culture of her nobler minds, we may anticipate for the literature of America, under the mellowing influences of time, an illustrious future.”

In treating of newspaper literature, one cannot proceed without blending its origin, style and aims with the business enterprise that cultivates and supports it. And this may be done all the more cheerfully and properly, for the reason that there is no history more interesting than that of the evolution of the newspaper, and no consummation of mental and physical energy that places the nineteenth century in more vivid contrast with preceding centuries.

HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.

For the fatherhood of the newspaper we have to travel to a land and date calculated to rob modern civilization of some of its boastfulness. The oldest known newspaper is the “Tsing-Pao,” or “Peking News,” mention of whose publication is made in Chinese annals as far back as A. D. 713, when it was then, as now, the official chronicler of the acts of the emperor, the doings of the court, and the reports of ministers. It has appeared daily for nearly fourteen hundred years, in the form of a yellow-covered magazine, some 3¾ by 7½ inches in size. The pages number twenty-four, and are printed from wooden movable type. Two editions are published, one on superior paper, for the Court and upper classes; the other on inferior paper, for general readers. Its editorship is in the Grand Council of State, which furnishes to scribes or reporters the news deemed fit for publication. As an official organ, it first finds circulation among the heads of provinces, and is by them further distributed to patrons. This ancient purveyor of news seems to have pretty fully gratified the Chinese taste for that kind of literature; for even at the present day there are few newspapers in the empire published in the native language. The few that have sprung up are confined to the larger cities, as Shanghai, Hongkong, and Peking, where they are liberally patronized. But their circulation and influence do not extend far into the interior, owing to the lack of postal facilities. The modern Chinese newspaper can hardly be called a native enterprise. It grew out of the necessity for a literature and a means of news communication which arose at the time the Chinese ports were forced open to the world’s commerce. As a consequence, a majority of the Chinese publications have found their inception in foreign brains and capital, and remain under the management of foreigners. The same is true of Japan, where the modern native newspaper practically dates from the arrival of the foreigner. But by reason of their greater mental and commercial activity, and the rapidity with which they adjusted themselves to modern modes of civilization, the Japanese have far outstripped the Chinese in their evolution of newspaper literature and enterprise. Whereas, what may be called the first modern Japanese newspaper was founded in 1872, there sprang up in the following twenty years the almost incredible number of 648 newspapers and periodicals, not only due to native capital and enterprise, but under native control. This wonderful growth took place, too, in the face of the severest code of press laws existing in any country.

In Europe, the earliest inklings of a newspaper literature consisted of news pamphlets of infrequent and uncertain publication, and dependent for circulation upon temporary demand. The earliest departure from this stage was in Germany, in 1615, when the “Frankfurter Journal” was organized as a weekly publication, for the purpose of “collecting and circulating the news of the day.” Antwerp followed with a similar enterprise in 1616. The first attempt to do likewise in Great Britain was in 1622, when “The Weekly News” was founded in London. None of these enterprises were by editors, in a modern sense, but by stationers, in the line of their ordinary trade. They did not depend for patronage on regular subscribers, but sold their publications on the streets through the agency of hawkers, corresponding to our modern newsboys, though they bore the classical name of “mercuries.”

The foundation of the first newspaper in France that attained permanence and fame was in 1631. It was called the “Gazette de France,” and owed its origin to a demand for mingled news and original discussion. It was largely under the control of Richelieu, and, of course, reflected his sentiments. In these beginnings of the newspaper, we find little or no attempt at journalism, as now understood and practiced; no promise and potency of a literature peculiar to newspaper enterprise. The journalist had yet to come into being. He first appeared as a writer of “news-letters,” generally from some capital, or seat of legislation, or commercial centre. His duty was to keep a line of masters or patrons supplied with news during their absence from court, legislative hall, or business mart. His duty evolved into a calling. His patrons became regular paying subscribers, to each of whom he wrote. These letters, coming from all countries of the continent of Europe, and covering a wide field of information, became of great interest, and many collections of them are still in existence in libraries, adding no little to their historic value.

The step was easy from this journalistic stage to the regular periodic publication, open not only to the “news-letter,” but to discursive thought. Thus, in 1641, “The Weekly News,” of London, began the publication of parliamentary proceedings in addition to its budget of “news-letters.” This era witnessed a rapid establishment of weekly newspapers, requiring editorial supervision and regular contributions. They were not without their vicissitudes. Many of their careers were brief and marked with pecuniary losses; yet out of the wreckage sprang some of the most important of the modern journals.

By 1703 Great Britain was ripe for a daily newspaper, and in that year one appeared under the name of “The Daily Courant.” The advent of this enterprise gave further impetus to newspaper publication. The English press of the eighteenth century rose into great popular favor. It was able, and quite too independent for royalty and royal courtier. For corrupt and ambitious government it often became a whip of scorpions, and in revenge was both severely taxed and invidiously censored. But it seemed to prosper amid opposition and persecution, and by 1776 fifty-three newspapers were published in London alone. During the reign of George III. (1760–1820) the history of the English newspaper is one of criminal persecutions, amid which editors and contributors were repeatedly defeated, and sometimes severely punished; yet it is doubtful if at any period the press gained greater strength from protracted conflict, or turned ignominious penalties into more signal triumphs. It is significant that out of this dark, tumultuous, and forbidding era sprang many of the newspapers whose influence is most potential to-day in English affairs of state and in the literature of journalism. The era marks the turn in newspaper values. The establishment became a concrete thing, a lively property, an energy composed of practical business minds, surrounded and supported by the best procurable literary talent, adapted for treating diversified topics. Thus “The London Morning Chronicle,” founded in 1789, rose to be a property in 1823 which sold for $210,000; while “The Morning Post” not only gave to Coleridge his fame as one of the greatest of publicists, but enlisted the brilliant attainments of Mackintosh, Southey, Young, and Moore. The sturdy “London Times,” which dates from 1785, and for years encountered malignant royal hostility, proved itself strong enough to brave the government and at the same time sufficiently enterprising to introduce steam printing and every mechanism calculated to give it precedence as a metropolitan journal. As a property, it is to-day worth a figure incredible at the beginning of the century, and so powerful was its hold on popular favor for the first half of the century that no other daily could compete with it. Indeed, it may be said to have had a lone field up to the establishment of “The Daily News,” in 1846, “The Daily Telegraph,” in 1855, and “The Standard,” in 1857.

The nineteenth century journalism of Great Britain is characterized by its great plenitude. Morning and evening papers abound in all the centres. The weekly paper is still an important literary and news factor. Class papers are numerous and excellent in their way. Again, the century’s journalism is characterized by its property value. Many of the leading English journals have become immense properties worth millions of dollars each, and requiring the ablest management to improve and perpetuate them. Further, the English press is characterized by able and conservative, if prosaic, editorial methods. Its correspondence is cautious, and covers every important field. Its news columns, so far as they depend on the telegraph and telephone, are sprightly and well filled, but limited and dull when the local reporter is the source of supply.

As already stated, the annals of French journalism began with the founding of the “Gazette de France” in 1631. The evolution of the French newspaper was not rapid till the eighteenth century was well along, when the era of the first revolution called for a news and literature peculiar to bloody and exciting times. Myriads of newspapers sprang into existence, all but two of which found their graves with the passing of the emergency which called them into being. Early in the nineteenth century (1836) the introduction of cheap journalism gave great impetus to enterprise, and by the middle of the century the number and circulation of French newspapers had more than trebled. This rate has been, in great part, sustained throughout the latter half of the century, and the French people are to-day abundantly supplied with a newspaper literature which for vivacity and amplitude is unexcelled. It may not have the solid and lasting influence of the soberer outcrop of other nations, but it is singularly adapted to a sprightly and mercurial people, and is well sustentative of the great political transition of the people and empire since the beginning of the nineteenth century.

The evolution of the newspaper in Germany was slow. Between 1615, the date of the founding of the “Frankfurter Journal,” and 1798, when the “Allgemeine Zeitung” (General News) was founded by the bookseller Cotta, at Leipsic, no journals of a high order made their appearance, and it needed the inspiration of the French Revolution to beget in the German mind a desire for a livelier newspaper literature than had preëxisted. Thus, the “Zeitung” soon sprang into great popularity as a purveyor of news and as a medium of discussion, and has ever since maintained a leading place in the German political press. It not only set the style of the press at the turn of the century, but proved to be a pioneer in that wonderful journalistic march which spread over all German-speaking countries during the nineteenth century, giving to them media of news and discussion as able and influential as exist in any land. By 1870 there existed in Germany proper 3780 newspapers and periodicals; in Austria-Hungary, 700; in Switzerland, 300; not to mention the many hundreds printed in German in other countries, especially in the United States. A proportionate increase would greatly augment the above figures by the end of the century. The rise of German socialism proved to be a prolific source of journalism. The socialist seems to be a born editor and literary combatant. He is also a great reader and bold and independent thinker. Under the socialistic demand for a literature peculiar to itself, there has arisen a score of German printing-offices and perhaps fifty political journals, a third of which are dailies.

In the Netherlands, Belgium, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Russia, Italy, Spain, Portugal, and other European countries, the press of the nineteenth century has kept pace with the mental needs and spirit of enterprise of the respective peoples. Indeed, there is no such an accurate criterion of the general make-up of a people, of their place in the lines of progress, of their influence upon civilization, as that afforded by their press. The Belgian press is nimbly commercial, that of the Netherlands prosy and substantial, while that of the Scandinavian countries is rugged, accurate, and solemnly influential. The Russian press, where free, is despotic and unprogressive. But it is so frequently under censorship that it can hardly be said to reflect with any degree of certainty the popular spirit of the empire. The Italian press is indolent and easy-going, inaccurate, spicy by spasms, of little relative influence, except as it has been improved since the unification of the Italian States. Spain is a country of 18,000,000 people, but has fewer newspapers and periodicals than the single State of New York. Of Spain’s 1200 papers, only 500 are newspapers. Of the rest, 300 are scientific journals, mostly monthly, 100 are devoted to religion, and 30 to satire, music, poetry, art, etc. Barcelona and Madrid are the great centres of journalistic literature. The political papers are the most powerful. The reading public of Spain is limited, and the average circulation of a Spanish newspaper is only about 1200 copies.

In the New World the demand for newspaper literature during the nineteenth century has proven quite as strong as in the Old World, and, in certain localities, even stronger. Even among the youthful and tumultuous republics of South America, with their large percentages of lower classes and illiterates, there are few centres of importance that do not support respectable and fairly influential journals. The news-gathering and news-consuming spirit may not be so active as elsewhere, nor the commercial sense so acute, yet the century has laid the groundwork of journalistic enterprise so firmly that future years can afford to build upon it with certainty. The same may be said of journalism in Mexico and the other Latin republics of North America.

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.

In Canada, the century shows a highly complimentary growth in newspaper literature and influence. Great pride is taken in accurate and able editorship, and in that kind of management which is best calculated to convert investment into permanent and profitable property. What they lack on the reportorial, or strictly newsy, side, they make up in free, clean, and independent discussion. The people are readers and, therefore, generous supporters of the enterprises designed to supply them with their periodical literature. During the century the newspapers and periodicals of Canada increased in number from a very few to 862, as reported in 1894. Of these, 87 are dailies, 583 weeklies, 138 monthlies, 3 tri-weeklies, 22 semi-weeklies, 6 bi-weeklies, 21 semi-monthlies, 2 quarterlies. The largest centres of circulation are the province of Ontario with 507 newspapers and periodicals, and Quebec with 132.

The century’s grandest field for journalistic opportunity has been the United States. Here journalism has developed with the greatest rapidity, exemplified its manifold features to the fullest extent, most successfully proved its influence as an educative and civilizing agency. Starting with the great and essential encouragement of freedom, it has found unremitting and energetic propulsion in the unprecedented growth of population, in the marvelous activities requiring intercommunication of thought, in an intelligence which constantly recruited armies of omnivorous readers, and in facilities for the preparation and dissemination of the literature at command.

The beginning of newspaper enterprise in the United States was in Boston, in 1690, when the “Publick Occurrences” appeared under the auspices of Benjamin Harris. It was designed to be a monthly, and was printed on three sides of a folded sheet, each side being only eleven inches long by seven wide. It was suppressed after its first issue by the colonial government of Massachusetts, thus restricting the avenues of news to the foreign journals or local coffee-houses. But the demand for home news was not thus to be crushed. There sprang up a medium of communication by news-letters, such as then existed in England; and in 1704 the postmaster of Boston undertook to keep certain functionaries informed of the course of events by a periodical news-letter in printed form. This he called “The News-Letter,” a title which, with some, is treated as that of a newspaper. It was to appear weekly, and would be sent to subscribers for such reasonable sum as might be agreed upon. After a lapse of fifteen years, without competition, it had attained a subscription list of only three hundred copies. A subsequent postmaster started an opposition sheet in 1719, called “The Boston Gazette.” Its appearance caused him to lose his office, but the rival papers continued to exist, “The News-Letter” up to the evacuation of Boston by the British troops in 1776, and the “Gazette” up to 1754.

“The Boston Gazette” appeared on December 21, 1719. One day after, December 22, 1719, Andrew Bradford started “The American Weekly Mercury” at Philadelphia. On August 17, 1721, James Franklin started “The New England Courant,” on which Benjamin Franklin learned the trade of printer. After an existence of seven years its publication ceased. On October 23, 1725, William Bradford started “The New York Gazette.” “The New England Weekly Journal” succeeded “The Boston Gazette” and “Courant” in 1727. “The Maryland Gazette,” the first paper published in that colony, appeared in 1727. In 1728 Samuel Keimer started “The Universal Instructor in all the Arts and Sciences and Pennsylvania Gazette,” at Philadelphia. The following year Benjamin Franklin bought Keimer’s plant, and shortened the name to “The Pennsylvania Gazette.” The first paper in the colony of South Carolina, called “The South Carolina Gazette,” was published on January 8, 1731. On November 5, 1733, “The New York Weekly Journal” appeared as a rival to the “Gazette.” In 1736 the first newspaper appeared in Virginia. It was published at Williamsburg, and was called “The Virginia Gazette.” In 1739 a German newspaper appeared at Germantown, Pa., and another, in 1743, at Philadelphia. All these pioneer papers, with the exception of a few, notably “The Pennsylvania Gazette” under Franklin, and “The New York Weekly Journal” under Zenger, were merely news purveyors, or, if any opinions were expressed, they were in accord with the authorities of the day.

After 1745 the press of the colonies became more independent and progressive, in obedience to a demand for literature bearing upon the questions relating to the coming revolution. New journals of the weekly class sprang up with considerable rapidity and, for the most part, in opposition to England’s methods of colonial government. Among these were “The Boston Independent Advocate,” started under the auspices of Samuel Adams, in 1748; “The New Hampshire Gazette,” in 1756; “The Boston Gazette and Country Gentleman,” in 1755; the “Newport (R. I.) Mercury,” in 1758; “The Connecticut Courant,” in 1764.

HORACE GREELEY.

Founder of “New York Tribune.”

By 1775, the commencement of the struggle for independence, the colonial press numbered thirty publications, all weekly. Of these, seven were published in Massachusetts, one in New Hampshire, two in Rhode Island, three in Connecticut, eight in Pennsylvania, and three in New York. In the first year of the war eight new weeklies were added to the list, four of them being in Philadelphia. On December 3, 1777, the first newspaper, “The Gazette,” appeared in New Jersey, and in 1781, the first in Vermont, “The Gazette or Green Mountain Post Boy.” Such was the fatality overhanging the colonial press that, of the sixty-three newspapers which had come into existence prior to 1783, only forty-three survived at that date.

From 1789, the date on which the Constitution went into operation, till the close of the eighteenth century and early beginning of the nineteenth, several newspapers were founded, most of which were ardently political, and, though employing writers of ability, were bitterly vituperative. The most powerful of this class were “The Aurora” of Philadelphia, Jefferson’s leading organ; “The Evening Post” of New York, the organ of the Federalists; and “The American Citizen” of New York, an organ of the Clintonian democracy. The close of the eighteenth century witnessed also the advent of the press in the Mississippi Valley. “The Centinel of the Northwestern Territory” was started at Cincinnati, November 9, 1793; and “The Scioto Gazette,” at Chillicothe, in 1796.

JOHN W. FORNEY.

Founder of “Philadelphia Press.”

The press of the early part of the nineteenth century grew rapidly in number, circulation, and influence. While it was largely partisan, the field of discussion gradually broadened, and the news departments became more vivacious and comprehensive. Many of the newspapers founded during the first decades of the century exist at its close, having enjoyed their long careers of influence with honor, and become properties of incalculable value. During this period the transition from the weekly to the daily newspaper gradually went on in the large cities. The first American daily paper, “The American Daily Advertiser,” was published at Philadelphia in 1784. With it came the first use of reporters, or regularly employed news-gatherers, an innovation as important to the public as the advent of the daily itself. Special, or class, newspapers also began to get a firm foothold during this period. “The Niles’s Weekly Register” appeared in Baltimore in 1811. The first religious newspaper attempted in the United States appeared at Chillicothe, O., 1814. The first of the agricultural press was “The American Farmer,” which appeared at Baltimore, April 2, 1818, to be followed by “The Ploughman,” at Albany, N. Y., in 1821, and by “The New England Farmer,” in 1822. Several strictly commercial and financial papers found an origin in this period, the most successful of which was “The New Orleans Prices Current,” established in 1822.

During this period the newspaper, whether daily or weekly, was distributed only to the regular subscriber,—the price of a single copy on the street being prohibitory. The slow-going mail facilities of the time prevented the large circulations that are credited to modern journalism. Prior to 1833 no leading newspaper could throw sufficient enterprise into its business to raise its circulation above 5000 copies. This kept the price of advertising low, and consequently limited a source of profit which has since grown to enormous proportions.

The period ended with the advent of the penny press, in New York, in 1833. The initial experiment in this line was made by H. D. Shepard with his “Morning Post,” and it proved a failure in the short period of three weeks. The next was “The Daily Sun,” September 23, 1833, claiming to be “written, edited, set up, and worked off” by Benjamin Franklin Day. It remained a penny paper for a long time and attained a large circulation. It was reorganized in 1867, when Charles A. Dana became its editor. Though the price was put up to two cents, it became under his control one of the most potential news and political factors of the century, and attained a circulation of over 100,000 copies daily. In May, 1835, James Gordon Bennett followed in the tracks of Day with “The New York Herald.” Its sprightly news columns and fantastic advertisements commended it to popular favor, and proved a source of great profit. It has since greatly varied its prices; but by dint of stupendous, if peculiar, enterprise, it has grown into enormous circulation, and become a property worth millions. In 1841, Horace Greeley started “The New York Tribune,” at first as a penny paper, though on an elevated plane. It soon grew into popular favor, and with its weekly and semi-weekly editions for country circulation became one of the most widely circulated and influential journals in the country. “The New York Times” also began as a penny paper in 1851, under the control of Henry J. Raymond.

JOSEPH MEDILL.

“Chicago Tribune.”

While the era of a distinctive and popular penny press was short-lived, it witnessed one of the most notable advances of the century in journalism. It stimulated newspaper enterprise throughout the entire country, and journals multiplied enormously. The era practically ended with the outbreak of the Civil War in 1861, which event caused a rise in the price of paper, a demand for expensive correspondence, telegraph news and battle scenes, and a consequent necessity for enlarged and quadrupled sheets. Many of the penny papers went up to a five-cent price under the stimulus of war excitement, the improved system of collecting news, and the added expense of publication. This era of phenomenal newspaper expansion extended even to the end of the century. It has witnessed the wonderful evolution of the newspaper in all its modern phases,—the advent of the Sunday newspaper; the growth of the daily sheet to mammoth proportions; the incorporation of the Associated Press, with its thousands of agents in every part of the country gathering and sending the minutest events of the day; correspondence from every quarter of the globe, and covering every field of activity; a highly improved and more independent editorship; a greatly enlarged, more active, and more conscientious reportorial staff; the coming of the interviewer, at first an impertinent pest, but now recognized as a valuable journalistic adjunct in reflecting opinions and sentiments not otherwise obtainable; the employment of the thousand and one new appliances for printing, such as stereotyping, electrotyping, improved types, typesetting machines, rapid presses, folding machines, etc.

By 1883 a reaction came on in the prices of leading journals, and they were forced to reduce them by reason of the strong competition offered by the numerous and powerful two-cent journals which had come into being and had proven to be valuable properties. Indeed, this reaction did not leave the two-cent journals untouched, for it brought many of that class to a one-cent basis, with the claim that a consequently increased circulation would enhance the profits from advertising. This claim is a debatable one, and it may be safely said that most of the newspapers established near the end of the century have adopted a two-cent basis as a golden mean between the one-cent and three-cent journals.

RECORD BUILDING, PHILADELPHIA.

Proportionally speaking, the growth of the press in the United States has been as even as it has been rapid. No leading city is without press establishments and prominent journals, some of them conducted on the largest scales of expenditure,—the West vying with the East, and the South with the North, in liberality and enterprise. The newspaper office of the early part of the century was generally dingy and cramped. The abode of many, especially in the larger cities, has become a handsome pile, conspicuous in architectural effects, capacious and cleanly,—fitting hive for the myriad of workers that toil at midday and midnight in pursuit of the “art preservative.” The annual expenditure of a single newspaper operated on a large scale has been thus computed: Editorial and literary matter, $220,000; local news, $290,000; illustrations, $180,000; correspondence, $125,000; telegraph, $65,000; cable, $27,000; mechanical, $410,500; paper, $617,000; business office, $219,000; a total of $2,153,500.

Nearly every town in the United States of 15,000 population has come by the end of the century to have its daily newspaper, and few of even 1000 population, especially if a county-seat, are without their weekly newspapers. It has become possible to conduct a rural weekly of fair proportions and with quite readable matter upon a very economic basis, by means of a central office in some large city. This office prints and supplies to the rural offices, of which it may have hundreds on its list, the two outside pages of a weekly, leaving to the local office only the duty of supplying and printing on the inside pages its domestic news.

In the number of its newspapers and periodicals the United States easily leads the world. Only approximate figures for the close of the century are at hand; but these, for the United States, gravitate around a total of 20,000 newspapers and periodicals, while those for other countries which report are as follows: Great Britain, 4229; France, 4100; Germany, 5500; Austria-Hungary, 3500; Italy, 1400; Spain, 1200; Russia, 800; Switzerland, 450; Belgium, 300; Holland, 300; Canada, 862. In the report of 1894 for United States newspapers and periodicals, the following subdivision appears: Dailies, 1853; tri-weeklies, 29; semi-weeklies, 223; weeklies, 14,077; bi-weeklies, 62; semi-monthlies, 290; monthlies, 2501; bi-monthlies, 70; quarterlies, 197. The States in which over one thousand newspapers and periodicals are printed are, New York, with 2001; Illinois, with 1520; Pennsylvania, with 1408; Ohio, with 1108. The States next in order, and with a number of newspapers and periodicals between 500 and 1000, are, Iowa, with 978; Missouri, with 907; Indiana, with 753; Kansas, with 732; Michigan, with 727; Massachusetts, with 664; Texas, with 656; Nebraska, with 639; California, with 637; Wisconsin, with 551; Minnesota, with 549.

The century’s newspaper literature in the United States has been further characterized by the introduction of the comic feature. The comic newspaper came into being about the middle of the century, but did not strike a practical minded people with favor. It was not until the century was well rounded out that the cartoonist’s and joker’s art came into sufficient demand to make a comic newspaper a commercial success. Even now their number is limited to a very few that can boast of permanent success.

The daily newspapers of the latter part of the century have not been dissuaded by earlier attempts to make illustrations a conspicuous feature. On the contrary, newspaper illustration has grown to the proportions of a special art, and all of the larger and better equipped dailies have organized departments into which are gathered photographs and engravings ready for reproduction as events demand. So the correspondent and reporter have added to knighthood of the pen that of the camera, and the scenic view has become an essential part of serious correspondence and sprightly reporting.

An immense, imposing, and highly useful current of literature flows through the magazines, which have, by their number, beauty, and adaptation, come to be a distinguishing feature of the nineteenth century. This class of literature is usually called “Periodical,” and it embraces the magazines and reviews devoted to general literature and science, the class magazines devoted to particular branches of science, art, or industry, and the publications of schools and societies. Most periodicals published in the English language are monthlies. The same is true of those published on the continent of Europe, save that there the old-fashioned quarterly style is still much affected.

Periodical literature found a beginning in France as early as 1665, in what is still the organ of the French Academy. The first English periodical was published in 1680, and was hardly more than a catalogue of books. The growth of the periodical or magazine proved to be very slow. Up to 1800, not more than eighty had found mentionable existence as scientific and technical periodicals, and only three as strictly literary periodicals. The advent of “The Edinburgh Review,” in 1802, gave great impetus to periodical literature in Great Britain, and the period from 1840 to 1850 was one of special development, but to be surpassed by that of 1860 to 1870, when the shilling magazine came into vogue. This class of literature also developed very rapidly in France during the century, Paris having 1381 periodicals of all kinds by 1890. There was an equally rapid development in Germany, Austria, and throughout the continent.

The English magazine found several imitators in the United States during the latter part of the eighteenth century, most of which had brief existences. Such was the fatality overhanging this class of enterprise, that until 1810 but twenty-seven periodicals could be counted in the United States. While the next forty years were marked by several magazine successes, such as the “Knickerbocker,” “Graham’s Magazine,” and “Putnam’s Monthly,” they were, nevertheless, strewn with long lines of melancholy wreckage. Indeed, it was not until the middle of the century that the demand for magazine literature became sufficiently intense to make investment in it profitable and permanent. Since then the development has been almost phenomenal, keeping even pace with that of the newspaper. At the end of the century the number of monthlies published in the United States approximates 2800; and there are over 300 fortnightlies, 56 bi-monthlies, and 192 quarterlies. These cover the vast domains of general literature, religion, science, art, and industry, and in many respects vie with the newspaper in popularity and influence. Many of them have developed into magnificent properties, whose value would appear incomprehensible to our grandfathers. They employ excellent talent when special topics are treated, and rise to occasions of war or other excitement through graphically written and highly illustrated articles. Indeed, one of their most impressive features is the high degree to which they have carried the art of illustration. Toward the close of the century, periodical literature has been greatly expanded and popularized by the introduction of the cheap magazine. The older and more dignified periodicals had not thought of permanent and profitable existence at a price less than twenty-five to fifty cents a copy; but those of the younger and ten-cent class, by dint of what seems to be a newly discovered enterprise, have found cheapness no barrier to commercial success. Within a decade they have duplicated patrons of magazine literature by the million, and proven quite as clearly as the newspapers have done that we are a nation of readers.

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THE RECORDS OF THE PAST
By MORRIS JASTROW, JR., PH.D.,
Professor of Semitic Languages, University of Pennsylvania.

The present century has so many distinguishing features that it is a hazardous undertaking to summarize its achievements. All branches of science—Philology, History, Mathematics, Medicine, Theology, and Philosophy—have felt the stimulating influence of a new spirit that made its appearance after the French Revolution. New methods of investigation have not only led to profound modification of views in all departments of science, but have brought about considerable additions to the sum of human knowledge. In the domain of natural science, the discovery of new principles and of hitherto unknown forces has widened the horizon of humanity and created new mental disciplines; but while perhaps less conspicuous, because not so directly connected with the actual concerns and needs of the present, the fertility of historical research during this century is not less remarkable. The larger area now embraced under the caption “history of mankind” furnishes the best proof for the success that has signalized the labors of scholars—philologists, historians, and explorers—devoted to the study of the past. Ancient history no longer begins with the Greeks or the Hebrews. Its certain limits have been removed to as remote a date as 3000 B. C., while the anthropologist, supplementing the work of the historian, has furnished a picture in detail of the life led by man in various quarters of the globe during that indefinite period which preceded the rise of culture in the true sense of the word. This extension of knowledge in the domain of human history is primarily due to the spade of the explorer, though it required the patience and ingenuity of the philologist and archæologist to interpret the material furnished in abundance by the soil that happily preserved the records of lost empires. Documents in stone, clay, and papyrus have been brought forth from their long resting-places to testify to the antiquity and splendor of human culture. By the side of written records, monuments of early civilization have been dug up, palaces, forts, and temples filled with works of art and skill, to confirm by their testimony the story preserved by those who belonged to the age of which they wrote.

THE “BLACK OBELISK” OF SHALMANESER II., KING OF ASSYRIA. B. C. 860–824.

(British Museum.)

Researches in Mesopotamia.—The archæological researches conducted during this century have definitely established the fact that the earliest civilizations flourished in the Valley of the Euphrates and in the district of the Nile. Until the beginning of this century, Egypt, Babylonia, and Assyria were little more than names. The spirit of skepticism which accompanies the keen desire for investigation led scholars to question the tales found in classical writers of the great achievements of the Babylonians and Egyptians. At the beginning of this century scarcely a vestige remained of the cities of ancient Mesopotamia. The site of Nineveh was unknown, and that of Babylon was in dispute. A profound sensation was created when, in 1842, P. E. Botta, the French Consul at Mosul, discovered the remains of a palace beneath a mound at Khorsabad, some miles to the north of Mosul on the east bank of the Tigris. Botta’s discovery marked the beginning of an activity and exploration in Mesopotamia which continues to the present day. At first the excavations were confined to the mounds in the north, in which the palaces of the great Assyrian kings, Sargon, Esarhaddon, Sennacharib and Asurbanibal (or Sardanapalus as he was called by Greek writers) were unearthed, as well as the great sacred edifices that formed one of the glories of ancient Assyria. The buildings exhumed abound in long series of sculptured slabs, on which are depicted incidents in the campaigns of the kings and in their private life. Historical records on stone and clay furnished the needed details in illustration of the scenes, and lastly, literary remains in profusion were found, which revealed the intellectual life and religious aspirations of the masses and of the secular and religious leaders. To England and France belongs the glory of these early explorations. Through Botta and Sir Austen Henry Layard, the ancient cities of Nineveh, Calah, and Ashur, were rediscovered. But as the field of activity extended to the mounds in the south, in the Valley of the Euphrates, other countries, notably Germany and the United States, joined in the work. The excavation of the remains of the city of Babylon were first conducted by Sir Henry Rawlinson in 1854, and much work was afterward done by Hormuzd Rassam; but the most notable achievements of recent years are the excavations conducted by DeSarzec, under the auspices of the French Government, at Telloh, from 1881 to 1895, and those of the University of Pennsylvania at Nippur, begun in 1888, and which are still going on.

Through these excavations the history of Babylonia has been carried back to the fourth millenium B. C., and while there are still some important gaps to be filled out, the course of events in Babylonia and Assyria from this remote period down to the year 587 B. C., when Cyrus the Mede established a new empire on the ruins of Babylonia and Assyria, is tolerably clear. Hand in hand with the excavations has gone the decipherment of the inscriptions found in such abundance beneath the mounds. On clay, stone, and metals, rulers inscribed records of their reigns; and added to pictorial illustrations accounts of their achievements in war as well as in the internal improvements of their empires. Clay, so readily furnished by the soil, became the ordinary writing material both in Babylonia and in Assyria, and in the course of time an extensive library, embracing hymns and prayers, omens and portents, epics, myths, legends, and creation stories, arose. In every important centre there gathered around the temples bodies of priests devoted to the preservation and the extension of this literature. Assyrian culture being but an offshoot of the civilization in the south, Assyria reaped the benefit of the literary work accomplished by the scribes of Babylonia, and the most extensive collection of the literary remains of Babylonia has come to us from a library collected through the exertions of Asurbanibal, and discovered in 1849 by Layard in the ruins of that king’s palace at Nineveh.

THE “MOABITE STONE.” ABOUT B. C. 850.

(Paris, Museum of the Louvre.)

Monument dedicated to the god Kemôsh by Mesha, king of Moab (2 Kings 3:4 ff.), to record his victory over the Israelites in the days of Ahab, and the restoration of cities and other works which he undertook by command of his god. The stone, which measures 3 ft. 10 in. × 2 ft. × 14⅓ in., and contains 34 lines of inscription in the so-called Phenician character, was found at Dibân (the Biblical Dibon, Num. 21:30; 32:34, etc.), in the land of Moab, by the German, Rev. F. Klein, in 1868. Unfortunately, soon afterward it was broken in pieces by the Arabs, but about two thirds of the fragments were recovered by the Frenchman, Clermont-Ganneau, and it is possible to give a nearly complete text of the inscription from the paper impression which was taken before the stone was broken.

The basis for the decipherment of the cuneiform inscriptions, as they are called from the wedge-shaped characters, was laid by George F. Grotefend early in this century, whose system was further worked out with great ingenuity by Edward Hincks, Jules Oppert, and Sir Henry Rawlinson. These pioneers have been succeeded by a large coterie of scholars in all parts of the world, who are still busy studying the large amount of material now forthcoming for the elucidation of the past. Not merely have we learned much of the public and official events and religious ideas and customs during the period covered by the Babylonian and Assyrian Empires, but through thousands of little clay tablets that formed the legal and commercial archives deposited for safe keeping in the temples, an insight into the life of the people has been obtained, of their occupation, of their business enterprise and commercial methods, and of many phases of social life, such as the position of women and slaves, of the manner in which marriages were contracted and wills drawn up. Perhaps the most characteristic feature of the remarkable civilization that arose in the Valley of the Euphrates is the domination of the priesthood over all except the purely political interests of the people. Thus the priests, as scribes, as judges, as astronomers, as physicians, brought that civilization to its high degree of excellence, while under their guidance, likewise, the religion of the country developed from a crude nature worship to an approach to a monotheistic conception of the universe. The heir of the Babylono-Assyrian empire was Persia, which, from the days of Cyrus till the advent of Alexander, swayed the fortunes of the ancient world. In all that pertains to art and architecture, Persia remained largely dependent upon Babylonia. Extensive excavations conducted at Susa by Dieulafoy, about ten years ago, and quite recently continued by M. de Morgan, have proved most successful in revealing the general nature and interior decoration of the great royal palace at that place. In brilliant coloring of the brick tiles which, as in Babylonia, formed the common building material, the Persians passed beyond the Babylonians and Assyrians. One of the most interesting rooms in the Louvre at Paris is that devoted to the exhibition of the colored wall decorations from the palace at Susa, representing such various designs as a procession of archers and a series of lions. The columns still standing at Persepolis have long been famous; and it is here likewise that the first cuneiform inscriptions were found which, couched in Persian, Median, and Assyrian, formed the point of departure for the decipherment of cuneiform scripts.

Egyptian Researches.—The civilization of Egypt rivals in age and grandeur that of Babylonia and Assyria. Here, witnesses to the past that survived in the shape of obelisks and pyramids gave scholars in this century a good start in the work of unraveling the fascinating narrative of Egyptian history. Notwithstanding this, our present knowledge of the history is due largely to the remarkable series of excavations which have been conducted in Upper and Lower Egypt since the early decades of this century, and which continue with unabated activity at the present time. The stimulus to Egyptian research was given by Napoleon in 1798, who, when setting out upon his Egyptian expedition, added to his staff a band of scholars entrusted with the task of studying and preparing for publication the remains of antiquity. The result was a monumental work that forms the foundation of modern Egyptological studies. Another direct outcome of the expedition was the discovery of the famous Rosetta stone, in 1799, which, containing a hieroglyphic inscription accompanied by a Greek translation, served as the basis for a trustworthy system of decipherment of the ancient language of the Nile. The Frenchman, Jean François Champollion, and the Englishman, Dr. Thomas Young, share the honor of having found the key that unlocked the mystery of the hieroglyphic script. As in the case of Babylonian archæology, so here, excavations and decipherment went hand in hand. A few years after the advent of Botta at Mosul, Mariette inaugurated in Egypt a series of brilliant excavations under the auspices of the French government. About the same time the German government sent Richard Lepsius on an expedition to Egypt, which resulted in the establishment of a large Egyptian Museum at Berlin. In 1883 England entered the field through the formation of the Egyptian Exploration Fund, and since that time a large number of cities in Lower Egypt, in the Fayum district, and in Upper Egypt have been unearthed. Year after year W. Flinders Petrie, Edouard Naville, F. L. Griffith, and others have gone to Egypt and returned richly laden with material that has found its way to the Museum at Ghizeh, to the British Museum, to Boston, to New York, and to the Museum of the University of Pennsylvania. The activity of the French was continued after the death of Mariette, through Gaston Maspero, E. Grebaut, J. DeMorgan and E. Amelineau, so that the mass of material at present available for Egyptologists is exceedingly large.

RUINS OF PHILÆ, OR PHARAOH’S BED, ON AN ISLAND IN THE NILE.

The cities of Memphis and Thebes have naturally come in for a large share of these excavations. Through the texts discovered within the pyramids at Thebes and the surrounding district, the history of the early dynasties was for the first time revealed. At Balas and Nagadah, a short distance to the north of Memphis, the excavations have brought us face to face with the indigenous population of the Nile that maintained its primitive customs long after those who founded the real Egyptian Empire had established themselves in the country. In the district of the Fayum, notably around Arsinoe, at Hawara, Illahun, and Gurob, traces of early foreign influence—Phœnician and Greek—were discovered, while in Lower Egypt the towns of Naukratis and Tanis represent extensive Greek settlements made in Egypt as early, at least, as the seventh century B. C. Through the magnificent illustrations in the tombs of Beni-Hassan, which have recently been carefully copied by English artists, almost all phases of ancient Egyptian life have been revealed. Though dating from the eleventh and twelfth dynasties, the picture that they afford applies to earlier and later periods as well. Thus, through the work done in all parts of the ancient empire, the links uniting the earliest period to the sway of the Ptolomies and the invasion of the Romans have been determined. Wonderful chapters, replete with interest, have been added to the history of mankind, and though much remains to be done, we are much nearer to a solution than ever before of that most important problem as to the origin of the mysterious Egyptian culture. We know for a certainty that when the Egyptians came to the region of the Nile, they found a fertile district populated by a people, or by groups of people, that had already made some progress on the road to civilization, though not yet knowing the use of metals. The Asiatic origin of the Egyptians is regarded as clearly established by so eminent an archæologist as M. DeMorgan, though it is likely that his views will be somewhat modified by further research. The infusion of Greek ideas, we now know, begins at a much earlier age than was formerly supposed, so that it becomes less of a surprise to find, even before the advent of Alexander, considerable portions of Egypt absorbed by foreign settlers.

A noteworthy feature of archæological work in Egypt during the past decade has been the discovery of a vast amount of papyri containing long lost portions of Greek literature. The famous work of Aristotle on the Constitution of Athens and the poems of Bacchylides may be mentioned as the most notable among these discoveries, and the sources from whence these treasures have come seem still far from being exhausted.

Greek Ruins.—The mention of Greek literature leads one naturally to speak of the work done in this century in that land which stands so much nearer to us and to modern culture in general than either Babylonia or Egypt. While, thanks to the activity and industry of Greek and Roman historians, the records of the inspiring history of the Greek states during their most glorious epoch are well preserved, the earlier periods were enveloped in doubt and obscurity, while of the remains of Greece, of her beautiful temples and her famous works of art, comparatively few vestiges remained above the soil.

The most notable of these were the Parthenon and the Erechtheum, with their works of art, that stood on the Acropolis, and it is precisely here that some of the most remarkable archæological discoveries of the century were made. The Parthenon dates from that glorious period in the history of Athens which follows in the wake of disasters in the fifth century, when the Persians entered the city and laid waste its beauties. The earlier Athens, which reached its zenith in the days of Pisistratus, has been brought to light through the excavations conducted by the Greeks themselves. In 1882 a systematic excavation of the Acropolis, under the auspices of the Greek Archæological Society, was begun. The foundations of the ancient Temple of Athena that stood close to the modern Parthenon were discovered, and numerous works of art, statues, fragments, pediments, bases and vases, dating from the earlier period, by means of which we are enabled to trace the development of Athenian sculpture from the rough beginnings to the perfection that it reached in the days of Phidias. The style of these earlier works differs totally from that which we had hitherto been accustomed to regard as the type of Athenian art, and yet even the rudest of the earlier statues possess already some of that charm which is so strongly felt in the works of the later period. Most remarkable, perhaps, among the remains of the earlier Athenians are a large series of figures that appear to have been set up in rows within the Temple of Athena. It is through these figures, dating from various periods, that we are best able to trace the evolution of Greek art. They are unquestionably votive offerings, the gift of faithful followers of Athena, and, while intended probably as representations of the goddess herself, but little care was taken to give the goddess those accompaniments in dress and ornament which are never absent in the best specimens of the later period. As a result of these excavations on the Acropolis, aided by the investigations of numerous scholars, among whom Ernst Curtius and William Doerpfeld merit special mention, the entire plan of the little sacred city that stood on the Acropolis can now be traced in detail. The construction of the beautiful Propylæa by Mnesicles, of which remains are still to be seen, has been determined, and various temples to Athena, worshiped under the different guises that she assumed, have been discovered. The place where the great bronze statue of Athena, one of the master works of Phidias, stood, has been fixed, and through the inscriptions found on the Acropolis, numerous problems of Greek history have been solved. Every one knows the story of the Elgin marbles that once formed the decoration of the friezes of the Parthenon, and which in the early part of this century were brought to London by Lord Elgin. That act, though frequently denounced as a piece of vandalism, has probably done more to arouse an interest in Greek archæology throughout Europe than anything else. Even the indignation which Lord Elgin’s act provoked has served a good purpose, not only in leading Greece to take better care of her great treasures, but in inducing scholars of England, France, Germany, and the United States to establish, in Athens, architectural schools where young archæologists may be trained, and where expeditions can be organized for the systematic investigation of the numerous cities of ancient Greece and the surrounding islands. The most important work done through these schools is the excavation of Olympia by the Germans, and of Delos and of Delphi by the French, while only some degrees less noticeable is the work done by a zealous Greek, M. Carpanos, at Dodona, by the Greek Society at Eleusis, Epidaurus, and Tanagra, and by the American School at Eretria and at Argos. At Olympia the discovery of the great Temple to Zeus, the grand theatre in which the famous games took place, the numerous shrines erected in honor of various deities that belong to the court of Zeus, and of hundreds of votive inscriptions commemorating the victors in the games, have enabled scholars to restore for us the ancient glories of the place, and to trace the history of the sacred city through its period of glory to its decline and fall. The master work of antiquity, the golden statue of Zeus made by Phidias, is, alas! forever lost, but it was at Olympia that the Germans found the wonderful statue of Hermes by Praxiteles, a find that in itself was worth the million marks spent by the German government as a tribute to ancient Greece. At Delos and Delphi, the careful work done by the French has added to our material for tracing the course of Greek religion. Next to Olympia there is, perhaps, no place in ancient Greece which had such a strange hold upon the people as the seat of the great oracle at the foot of Mount Parnassus. The work at Delphi is still progressing, but enough has been found to justify the great reputation of this religious centre in ancient times. We can now traverse once again the sacred way leading past numerous buildings to the great shrine of Apollo, and to the cave from which the Pythian priestess obtained her inspiration. Fewer works of art have been discovered here than in Olympia, though perhaps the soil still harbors treasures which the coming years may reveal.

The worship of Demeter and the nature of the Eleusinian mysteries are much clearer since the successful excavations that were conducted at Eleusis. Tanagra is of interest because of the clay figurines, the manufacture of which was one of the specialties of ancient Bœotia. Those figures, prepared partly from religious motives, partly as a tribute to the dead, are valuable as illustrations of popular customs. Great credit is due to the American school for the thorough manner in which excavations have been conducted by it, and while the results are not as striking as in some other places, so fundamental a problem as the arrangement of the Greek theatre, which has been engaging the attention of archæologists for the past decade, has been brought nearer to its solution through excavations at Eretria. At Argos a head of Hera was discovered, which is now famous as one of the best specimens of the Polycletan school.

No sketch of Greek archæology, however brief, would be complete without mention of a man who exhibited singular devotion and rare enthusiasm for the study of the past. Heinrich Schliemann, by dint of individual effort, laid bare the remains of pre-Grecian civilization at Mycenæ and Tiryns, and, prompted by a theory which for a long time provoked naught but ridicule, devoted many years and a large fortune to excavations at Hissarlik, on the coast of Asia Minor, which, he believed, was the scene of the Trojan War. At the latter place no less than nine cities, erected one above the ruins of the other, have been found, but the theory of Schliemann which identified the second layer with ancient Troy, afterward known to the Greeks as Ilium, has been shown to be false. It is the sixth layer that represents the ruins of Homer’s Troy. At the same time, it must be remembered that the Homeric poems, while based upon historic events, are not history, and the attempt to test their supposed historical accuracy by the results of excavations is now regarded by Greek students as futile and unscientific. But this view in no way diminishes the credit due to Schliemann, who not only did more to stir up popular interest in ancient Greece than any other man living, but has illuminated the early chapters of Greek history which were almost unknown to the scholars of this century. It now appears that Phœnician traders, settling on the coast of Asia Minor and in districts adjacent to the islands of the Ægean sea and harbors, which furnished a refuge for their ships, gave the first impulse to Greek art, and, although they were outdistanced by their apt pupils, the traces of Phœnician influence remain in Greek architecture, and more particularly in Greek cults, down to the latest times. Apart from the direct bearings of the excavations conducted in various parts of Greece upon the development of Greek art, the most important results of the work consist in the vast increase of material for Greek history, which is now being rewritten on the basis of the many thousands of inscriptions that have been found in the great centres of ancient Greece. As the work of excavation continues, each year brings its quota of new facts, and it is safe to predict that the recovery of ancient Greece will be noted in future ages as one of the most notable achievements of the nineteenth century.

THE SO-CALLED SARCOPHAGUS OF ALEXANDER THE GREAT IN MARBLE FROM MOUNT PENTELIKON. ABOUT B. C. 320.

(Imperial Ottoman Museum, Constantinople.)

Phœnician Ruins.—With Egypt, Babylonia, and Greece we are still far from having exhausted the field covered by archæology in this century. At Cyprus much has been done by Löhr, Cesnola, and Ohnefalsch-Richter. The cities of Cyprus are interesting as forming a meeting-ground for such various civilizations as Phœnician, Egyptian, Proto-Grecian, and to a limited extent Babylono-Assyrian. The result is a curious mixture of art and of equally strange syncretism in religious rites. It is one of the disappointments of scholars that we as yet know so little of the Phœnicians who played such an important role in history. The traces of this people of wanderers and merchants have been found in tombs and votive inscriptions throughout the lands bordering on the Mediterranean, in Northern Africa, in Southern Spain, in Sicily, Malta, Asia Minor, Cyprus, Crete, Italy, and even Southern France; but in Phœnicia itself but few inscriptions have been unearthed, and only scanty remains of the important cities of Sidon and Tyre, which once flourished on the coast of the Mediterranean. The fate of these cities, subjected in the course of centuries to so many different powers, is a sad one. Almost everything that belonged to a high antiquity has disappeared, and such scanty excavations as have been undertaken, the most notable of which is that of Um-el-Awamid by the late Ernest Renan, in 1861, have been of little value. Tombs have been discovered, but only few of them belong to the Phœnician period in the proper sense. The Sarcophagus of Eshmunazar, king of Sidon, with a long Phœnician inscription, is however a most notable monument and of great historical importance. But the most remarkable find within the limits of ancient Phœnicia was made a few years ago by Hamdi Bey under the auspices of the Turkish government. In the necropolis at Sidon a series of sarcophagi were unearthed which, belonging to the Greek period, are valuable as furnishing a specimen of the art of Greece transplanted in foreign soil.

Front View.

Rear View.

CUNEIFORM LETTER FROM LACHISH, PALESTINE. ABOUT B. C. 1400.

(Imperial Ottoman Museum, Constantinople.)

Researches in Palestine.—Ancient Palestine, likewise, so full of sacred recollections for millions, has been chary of yielding up the treasures which there is every reason to believe still lie somewhere beneath the soil. In 1870, a stone was found in the land of Moab which commemorated the victory of King Mesha over Israel, about 800 B. C., and forms one of the most valuable monuments for tracing the history of the Phœnician alphabet, of which the one we use is a direct successor. At Jerusalem a single inscription, belonging probably to the age of Hezekiah, was found by accident at the pool of Siloam. This paucity of archæological returns is not due to any lack of interest in recovering the monuments of ancient Palestine. In Germany and England, societies for the exploration of Palestine have been in existence for the past twenty years, and much important work has been done by them in making careful surveys of the country, in identifying ancient sites, and in adding material to our knowledge of the geography of the country. The combined opposition of fanatical Turks, Arabs, Christians, and Jews has prevented, until recently, the undertaking of excavations in the important centres of the country, such as Jerusalem, Samaria, Bethlehem, Hebron, and the like. A few years ago the mound Tel-el-Hesy, covering the site of the ancient city of Lachish, was thoroughly explored by F. J. Bliss, and no less than ten layers of cities identified by him; but the results, except for some pottery and a most important discovery of a cuneiform tablet which belongs to the El-Amarna series and dates from the fifteenth century B. C., have been rather disappointing. Recently Mr. Bliss has succeeded in obtaining permission to undertake excavations at Jerusalem. He has begun his work by tracing carefully the walls of the ancient city, but until this work is pushed to the extent of actually digging down some forty feet below the level of the present Jerusalem, it is not likely that significant discoveries will be made. There are good reasons for hoping that the time is not far distant when systematic work, such as has been done in Egypt, Babylonia, and Greece, will also be undertaken in Palestine. When that time does come, we may expect that many of the problems besetting students of the Old and New Testaments will find their solution.

ARCH OF TITUS, ROME.

Hittite Remains.—Archæology does not only solve problems, but frequently raises new ones. Such a new problem is that of the Hittites. During the past fifteen years, a large series of monuments, many of them sculptured on rocks, have been found in various parts of Asia Minor, from the district of Lake Van almost to the Mediterranean coast, and notably at Hamath, on the Orontes. They all betray the same art, and are accompanied by inscriptions in characters to which the name Hittite has been given. It is to be borne in mind that this term Hittite is to a large extent a conventional one, covering a series of peoples that may have belonged to different races. We hear of these Hittites in the Asiatic campaigns of Egyptian kings from the seventeenth century B. C. down to 1400 B. C. Establishing an empire on the Orontes, they gave the Assyrians a great deal of trouble, and it was not until the end of the eighth century that they were finally conquered. Though we know a good deal of the history of these Hittites from the records of Egyptians, Babylonians, and Assyrians, their origin remains wrapped in obscurity. The Hittite characters have not yet been deciphered, although various attempts of interpreters have been made. The last of these is that of Professor Peter Jensen, of the University of Marburg, who believes that the Hittite language is a prototype of the modern Armenian. Although a number of prominent scholars have acknowledged their acceptance of the Jensen system, it cannot be said as yet to have been definitely established, nor is it likely that a satisfactory key will be found until a large bilingual inscription containing a record in Hittite characters with a translation, perhaps, in Assyrian or Aramaic, shall have been found. Such a find may be expected at any moment. Meanwhile, it may be said that from an ethnological point of view, it seems more plausible to regard the Hittites as a part of the Turanian stock rather than belonging to the Aryan or Semitic races. The exploration of India, China, and Japan can scarcely be said to have more than begun. The notable series of inscriptions that recall the period of Indian history connected with Acoka may be regarded as a specimen of what we may expect when once those distant lands are as thoroughly explored as the countries situated around the Mediterranean sea.

HITTITE INSCRIPTION FROM JERABIS.

Roman Ruins.—Coming to the last and greatest of the empires of antiquity, Rome, a word should be said about the activity that has characterized the excavations at Herculaneum and Pompeii, and recently in the city of Rome, which are carried on so successfully by Rudolfo Lanciani. While our knowledge of Roman history has always been much more complete than that of Greece, still many questions of detail have only recently been settled through these excavations. An insight has been afforded into the public and private life of the Romans which supplements that which was to be gained from the study of the classical writers. Europe and America have also been seized with the archæological fever. In Germany, Austria, France, Sweden, Denmark, Holland, Switzerland, North America, and South America, the knowledge of the past has been extended through exploration and excavation. So large is the field of archæology at present, that it is impossible for one person to make himself familiar with more than a small section; but, on the other hand, so close is the sympathy between the various branches of mankind scattered throughout the world that there is no work carried on in one division of archæology which has not its bearings upon many others. What Goethe said of human life may be said of archæology: “Wo ihr’s packt, da ist’s interessant.”

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PROGRESS IN DAIRY FARMING
By MAJOR HENRY E. ALVORD, C.E., LL.D.,
Chief of Dairy Division, U. S. Department of Agriculture.

Nearly all industries have their branches or specialties. Farming is no exception, and one of the most interesting, highly developed, and remunerative of its branches is dairying. To be successful, dairying requires good judgment, knowledge of the relations of modern science to agricultural production, constant study, system, and close attention to details. Hence it is regarded as among the highest forms of farming. The occupation is itself so stimulating and the rewards are so substantial, when brains and brawn are applied to it in judicious combination, that dairying districts are commonly conspicuous as the most enterprising, prosperous, and contented of the rural communities of their section of country.

In all lines of farming at least one “money crop” seems to be the aim, although this term may include animals and animal products. A great disadvantage in certain kinds of farming is that the returns come at long intervals, perhaps but once a year, while the expenses are continuous for twelve months. Dairying, as conducted by modern methods, distributes the farm income through the year; the cash returns are monthly, or oftener, the pernicious credit system disappears, money circulates, and at all seasons a healthy business activity prevails in the whole community.

It is a noteworthy fact, that during periods of agricultural depression experienced in the United States during the nineteenth century, the products of the dairy have maintained relative values above all other farm products, and dairy districts seem to have passed through these periods with less distress than most others.

The greater part of this country, geographically, being well adapted to dairying, this branch of agriculture has always been prominent in America, and its extension has kept pace with the opening and settlement of new territory. For many years a belief existed that successful dairying in the United States must be restricted to narrow geographical limits, constituting a “dairy belt” lying between the fortieth and forty-fifth degrees of latitude, and extending from the Atlantic Ocean to the Missouri River; and the true dairying districts were felt to be in separated sections occupying not more than one third of the area of this belt. These ideas have been exploded. It has been shown that good butter and cheese can, by proper management, be made in almost all parts of North America. Generally speaking, good butter can be profitably produced wherever good beef can. Decided advantages unquestionably exist, in the climate, soil, water, and herbage of certain sections; but these influences are largely under control, and what is lacking in natural conditions can be supplied by tact and skill. So that, while dairying is intensified and constitutes the leading agricultural industry over wide areas, including whole States, where the natural advantages are greatest, the industry is found well established in spots in almost all parts of the country, and is developing in unexpected places, and under what might be considered as very unfavorable conditions.

Dairying existed in colonial times in America, and butter and cheese are mentioned among the early exports from the settlements along the Atlantic coast. But this production was only incident to general farming. Dairying, as a specialty in the United States, did not appear to any extent until well along in the nineteenth century. The history of this industry in this country is therefore identical with its progress in that century. This progress has been truly remarkable. The wide territorial extension, the immense investment in lands, buildings, animals, and equipment, the great improvement in dairy cattle, the acquisition and diffusion of knowledge as to economy of production, the revolution in methods and systems of manufacture, the general advance in quality of products, the wonderful increase in quantity, and the industrial and commercial importance of the industry, have kept pace with the general material progress of the nation and constitute one of its leading features.

During the early part of the century, the keeping of cows on American farms was incident to the general work, the care of milk and the making of butter and cheese were in the hands of the women of the household, the methods and utensils were crude, the average quality of the products was inferior, and the supply of our domestic markets was unorganized and irregular. The milch cows in use belonged to the mixed and indescribable herd of “native” cattle, with really good dairy animals appearing singly, almost by accident, or, at the best, in a family developed by some uncommonly discriminating yet unscientific breeder. The cows calved almost universally in the spring, and were generally allowed to go dry in the autumn or early winter. Winter dairying was practically unknown. As a rule, excepting the pasture season, cattle were insufficiently, and therefore unprofitably, fed and poorly housed. In the Eastern and Northern States, the milk was usually set in small shallow earthen vessels or tin pans, for the cream to rise. Little attention was paid to cooling the air in which it stood in summer, or to moderating it in winter, so long as freezing was prevented. The pans of milk oftener stood in pantries and cellars than in milk rooms specially constructed or prepared. In Pennsylvania and the States farther south, where spring-houses were in vogue, milk received better care, and setting it in earthen crocks or pots, standing in cool, flowing water, was a usual and excellent practice. Churning the entire milk was very common. Excepting the comparatively few instances where families were supplied with butter weekly, and occasionally a cheese, direct from the producers, the farm practice was to “pack” the butter in firkins, half-firkins, tubs, and jars, and let the cheese accumulate on the farms, taking these products to market only once or twice a year. Not only were there as many different lots and kinds of butter and cheese as there were producing farms, but the product of a single farm varied in character and quality, according to season and other circumstances. Every package had to be examined, graded, and sold upon its merits. Prices were low.

A TYPICAL DAIRY FARM.

These conditions continued, without material change, up to the middle of the century. Some improvement was noticeable in cattle and appliances, and in some sections dairy farming became a specialty. With the growth of towns and cities, the business of milk supply increased and better methods prevailed. Butter-making for home use and local trade, in a small way, was common wherever cows were kept, and in some places there was a surplus sufficient to be sent to the large markets. Vermont and New York became known as butter producing States. “Franklin County butter,” from counties of this name in New York, Vermont, and Massachusetts, was known throughout New England, and the fame of “Orange County” and “Goshen” butter, from New York, was still more extensive. New York, Ohio, and Northern Pennsylvania produced large quantities of cheese; and the total supply was so much in excess of domestic demand, that cheese exports from the United States, mainly to Great Britain, became established, and ranged from three to seventeen million pounds a year.

The twenty-five years following 1850 was a period of remarkable activity and progress in the dairy interests of the country. At first, the agricultural exhibitions or “cattle shows,” and the enterprise of importers, turned attention towards the improvement of farm animals, and breeds of cattle specially noted for dairy qualities were introduced and began to win the favor of dairymen. Then the early efforts at coöperative dairying were recognized as successful, and were copied until the cheese factory became an established institution. Once fairly started, in the heart of the great cheese-making district of New York, the factory system spread with much rapidity. The “war period” lent additional impetus to the forward movement. The foreign demand for cheese grew fast, and the price, which was ten cents per pound and less in 1860, rose to fifteen cents in 1863, and to twenty cents and over in 1865. There were two cheese factories in Oneida County in 1854, and twenty-five in 1862. The system spread to Herkimer and adjoining counties, and in 1863 there were 100 factories in New York, besides some in Ohio and other States. The number increased to 300 in the whole country in 1865, to 600 in two years more, and to over 1000 in 1869. From that time the coöperative or factory system practically superseded the manufacture of cheese on farms. Establishments for the making of butter in quantity, from the milk or cream collected from numerous farms, soon followed the cheese factories. Such are properly butter factories, but the name of “creamery” has come into general use for an establishment of this kind, and seems unlikely to change. Placing the real beginning of cheese factories as a system of dairying in 1861 or 1862, the first creamery was started in 1861, in Orange County, New York. In Illinois, the first cheese factory was built in 1863, and the first creamery in 1867; in Iowa, the respective dates were 1866 and 1871.

The effect of these industrial establishments, comparatively new in kind, is to transfer the making of butter and cheese from the farm to the factory. Originating in this country, although now extensively adopted in others, the general plan may be called the American system of associated dairying. The early cheese-factories and creameries were purely coöperative concerns, and it is in this form that the system has usually extended into new territory, whether for the production of butter or cheese. The cow owners and producers of milk coöperate and share, upon any agreed basis, in organizing, building (perhaps), equipping, and managing the factory and disposing of its products. Another plan is for the plant to be owned by a joint-stock company, composed largely, if not wholly, of farmers, and milk or cream is received from any satisfactory producer; the factory may be allowed a certain rate of interest on the investment, or may charge a fixed price per pound for making butter or cheese, and then divide the remaining proceeds pro rata according to the raw material supplied by its “patrons.” The proprietary plan is also common, being managed much like any other factory, the proprietor or company buying the milk or cream from the producers, at prices mutually agreed upon from time to time. And all these plans have their variations and modifications in practice.

MODERN CREAMERY AND CHEESE FACTORY, WITH ICE-HOUSE, ETC.

The third quarter of a century was also a period of unprecedented progress in the application of mechanics to the dairy. The factories and creameries required new equipment, adapted to manufacture upon an enlarged scale, and equal attention was paid to the improvement of appliances for farm dairies. The system for setting milk for creaming in deep cans in cold water—preferably ice-water—was introduced from Sweden, although the same principles had been in practice for generations in the spring-houses of the South. Numerous creaming appliances, or creamers, were invented, based upon this system. Shallow pans were changed in size and shape, and then almost disappeared. Butter workers of various models took the place of bowl and ladle and the use of the bare hand. Churns appeared, of all shapes, sizes, and kinds, the general movement being towards the abolition of dashers and the substitution of agitation of cream for violent beating. About this time the writer made a search of the United States Patent Office records, which revealed the fact that forty or fifty new or improved churns were claimed annually, and after rejecting about one fourth, the patents actually issued provided a new churn every fifteen days for more than seventy years. This illustrates the activity of invention in this line. It was admitted by all that at this period the United States was far in advance of any other country in the variety and excellence of its mechanical aids to dairying.

The same period witnessed the organization of dairymen in voluntary associations for mutual benefit in several States, the formation of clubs and societies of breeders of pure-bred cattle, and the appearance of the first American dairy literature of consequence in book form. The American Dairymen’s Association was organized in 1803. Its field of activity was east of Indiana, and accordingly the Northwestern Dairymen’s Association was formed in 1867. Both of these continued in existence, held periodical meetings, and published their proceedings for twelve or fifteen years. Then the formation of State dairy associations in Vermont (1870), Pennsylvania (1871), New York (1877), Wisconsin (1872), Illinois (1874), Iowa (1870), and other States took the place of the pioneer societies which covered wider territory.

The Short-horn breed led in the introduction of improved cattle to the United States, and for a long time the representatives of this race, imported from England, embraced fine dairy animals. Short-horn grades formed the foundation, and a very good one, upon which many dairy herds were built up during the second and third quarters of the century, and much of this blood is still found in prosperous dairying districts. This was the period of greatest activity in importing improved cattle from abroad. But Short-horns have been so generally bred for beef qualities that the demand for them is almost exclusively on that line, and they are no longer classed as dairy cattle. Ayrshires from Scotland, Holstein-Friesians from North Holland, and Jerseys and Guernseys from the Channel Islands, are the breeds recognized as of dairy excellence, and upon which the industry mainly depends for improvement of its milch cows. The first two named are noted for giving large quantities of milk of medium quality; the other two breeds, both often miscalled “Alderney,” give milk of exceeding richness, and are the favorites with butter makers. There are also the Brown Swiss and Simmenthal cattle from Switzerland, the Normandy breed from France, and Red Polled cattle from the south of England, which have dairy merit, but belong rather to what is called the “general purpose” class. Associations of persons interested in maintaining the purity of all the different breeds named have been formed since 1850, and they all record pedigrees and publish registers or herd-books. Pure-bred herds of some of these different breeds are owned in nearly all parts of the country, and half-breeds or higher grades are found wherever cows are kept for dairy purposes. The quality and production of the average dairy cow in America are thus being steadily advanced.

A TYPICAL DAIRY COW—AYRSHIRE.

The development of dairying in the United States during the closing decades of the nineteenth century has been uninterrupted, and marked by events of the greatest consequence in the entire history. The importance of two inventions during this period cannot be overestimated. The first is the application of centrifugal force to the separation of cream from milk. This is based upon the specific gravity of the milk serum or skim milk, and of whatever impure matter may have entered the milk, such gravity being greater than that of the fatty portion or cream. The dairy centrifuge, or cream separator, enables the creaming or “skimming” to be done immediately after milking, preferably while the milk is still warm. The cream can be at once churned, while sweet; but a better practice is to cure or “ripen” it for churning: this can be done at a comparatively high temperature, dispensing with the necessity of so much ice or cold water. The skim milk is available for use while still warm, quite sweet, and in its best condition for feeding to young animals. This mechanical method is more efficient, securing more perfect cream separation than the old gravity system, and the dairy labor is very largely reduced. The handling and caring for the milk may be thus wholly removed from the duties of the household. A usual plan is to have a “skimming station,” to which the milk is hauled at least daily from the producing farms in the vicinity, and where one or more separators are operated by power. Separators are also made of sizes and patterns suited to farm use, where they may be operated by hand or by light power,—electricity, steam, water, a horse, a bull, a sheep, or a dog. Besides its economy and its effect upon labor, this machine almost eliminates the factor of climate in a large part of dairy management, and altogether has worked a revolution in the industry. The centrifugal separator is still a marvel to those who see it working for the first time: the whole milk, warm, flows into the centre of a strong steel bowl, held in an iron frame; the bowl revolves at a rate of 1500 to 25,000 times per minute, and from two projecting tubes cream and skim milk flow in continuous streams to separate receptacles. The machines can be regulated to produce cream of any desired thickness or quality. These separators, of different sizes, are capable of thus skimming or separating, or more properly, creaming, from 15 to 500 gallons of milk per hour. A machine of standard factory size has a speed of 6000 to 7000 revolutions a minute, and a capacity for separating 250 gallons of milk an hour. The world is indebted to Europe for this invention, at least as a dairy appliance. Yet investigations were in progress contemporaneously in this country along the same line, and many of the material improvements in the cream separator and several entirely new patterns have since been invented here. The first separators were put into practical use in this country and Great Britain in the year 1879. The century closes with 35,000 to 40,000 of these machines in operation in the United States.

The second great dairy invention of the period is the fat-test for milk,—being a quick and easy substitute for chemical analysis. This is one of the public benefactions of the Agricultural Experiment Stations which, under State and national endowment, have been established during the last part of the century, so that there is now at least one in every State. A number of these have done much creditable work in dairy investigation, and from them have come several clever methods for testing the fat content of milk. The method which has been generally approved and is now almost universally adopted in this and other lands is named for its originator, Dr. S. M. Babcock, the able chemist and dairy investigator, first of the New York Station at Geneva and since of the Wisconsin Station at Madison. This tester combines the principle of centrifugal force with simple chemical action. The machine, on the Babcock plan, has been made in a great variety of patterns, simple and inexpensive for home use, more elaborate and substantial for factories. By them from two to forty samples of milk may be tested at once in a few moments; and by slight modifications in the appliances, the fat may be determined in samples of milk, cream, skim-milk, or butter-milk. This fat test of milk has wide application, and is second only to the separator in advancing the economies of dairying. The percentage of fat being accepted as the measure of value for milk for nearly all purposes, the Babcock test may be the basis for city milk inspection, for fixing the price of milk delivered to city dealers, to cheese factories and creameries, and for commercial settlements between patrons in coöperative dairying of any kind. By this test, also, the dairyman may prove the quality of milk from his different cows, and (with quantity of milk-yield recorded) may fix their respective value as dairy animals. With perfect apparatus in careful hands, the accuracy of the test is unquestioned, and it is of the highest scientific value. It should be noted that although clearly patentable, and offering an independence through a very small royalty, this priceless invention and boon to dairying was freely given to the public by Dr. Babcock.

CENTRIFUGAL CREAM SEPARATOR IN OPERATION.

The advent of the twentieth century finds the dairy industry of the United States established upon a plane far above the simple and crude domestic art of three or four generations ago. The milch cow itself, upon which the whole business rests, is more of a machine than a natural product. The animal has been so bred and developed to a special purpose, that instead of the former short milking period, almost limited to the pasture season, it yields a comparatively even flow of milk during ten or eleven months in every twelve; and if desired, the herd produces as much in winter as in summer. It is not unusual for cows to give ten or twelve times their own weight of milk during a year. And the quality has been so improved that the milk of many a good dairy cow will produce as much butter in a week as could be made from three or four average cows of the olden time. Instead of a few homely and inconvenient implements for use in the laborious duties of the dairy, generally devolving upon the women of the farm, perfected appliances skillfully devised to accomplish their object and lighten labor are provided all along the way. The factory system of coöperative or concentrated manufacture has so far taken the place of home dairying, that in entire States the cheese vat or press is as rare as the hand-loom, and in many counties it is as hard to find a farm churn as a spinning-wheel. Long rows of shining tin pans are no longer seen adorning rural dooryards, as one drives along country roads; but in their place may be found the bright faces of “the women-folks,” who rejoice over the revolution of modern dairying.

MILK TESTER (OPEN).

Here is an example of this radical change in the system of making butter: Northern Vermont has always been a region of large butter production. St. Albans, in Franklin County, is the natural business centre. During the middle of the century the country-made butter came to this town to market every Tuesday from miles around. The average weekly supply was 30 to 40 tons. This was very varied in quality, was sampled and classified with much labor and expense, placed in three grades—prime, fair, and poor—and forwarded to the Boston market, two hundred miles distant. During twenty-five years ending in 1875, 65,000,000 lbs., valued at $20,000,000, passed through this little town. All of this was dairy butter made upon a thousand or two different farms, in as many churns. In 1881, the first creamery was built in this county. Now, the Franklin County Creamery Company, located at St. Albans, has fifty-odd skimming stations distributed through this and adjoining counties. To them is carried the milk from 30,000 cows or more, and the separated cream is sent by rail to the central factory, where from ten to twelve tons of butter are made every day. A single churning room for the whole county! All of this butter is of standard quality, and sold on its reputation upon orders from distant points received in advance of its manufacture. The price is relatively higher than the average for the product of the same farms fifty years ago.

BUTTER-MAKING ON THE FARM—THE OLD WAY.

In one respect dairy labor is the same as a hundred years ago. Cows still have to be milked by hand. Although numerous attempts have been made, and patent after patent issued, no mechanical contrivance has yet been a practical success as a substitute for the human hand in milking. Therefore, twice a day, every day in the year, the dairy cows must be milked. This is one of the main items of labor in the dairy, as well as a most delicate and important duty. Allowing ten cows per hour to a milker,—which is pretty lively work,—it requires the continuous labor of an army of 300,000 men, working ten or twelve hours a day throughout the year, to milk the cows of the United States.

The industry is becoming thoroughly organized. Besides local clubs, societies, and unions, there are dairy associations in thirty States, most of them incorporated and receiving financial aid under State laws. In some States, the butter makers and cheese makers are separately organized. Sixteen States provide by law for officials known as Dairy Commissioners or Dairy and Food Commissions. These officers have a national association, and there are also two national organizations of dairymen. At various large markets and centres of activity in the commerce of the dairy, there are special boards of trade. The United States Department of Agriculture has a Dairy Division, intended to watch over and promote the dairy interests of the country at large. Dairy schools are maintained in several States, offering special courses of practical and scientific instruction in all branches of the business. These schools and the agricultural experiment stations, with which most of them are closely connected, are doing much original research and adding to the store of useful information as to the applications of modern science to the improvement of dairy methods and results. Weekly and monthly journals, in the interest of dairy production and trade, are published in various parts of the country. And during the last decade or two a number of noteworthy books on different aspects of dairying have been published, so that the student of this subject may fill a good-sized case with substantial volumes, technical and practical in character.

The business of producing milk for town and city supply, with the accompanying agencies for transportation and distribution, has grown to immense proportions. In many places the milk trade is regulated and supervised by excellent municipal ordinances, which have done much to prevent adulteration and improve the average quality of the supply. Full as much is being done by private enterprise, through large milk companies, well organized and equipped, and establishments which make a specialty of serving milk and cream of fixed quality and exceptional purity. This branch of dairying is advancing very fast, and upon the substantial basis of care, cleanliness, and improved sanitary conditions.

Cheese-making has been transferred bodily from the realm of domestic arts to that of manufactures. Farm-made cheeses are hard to find anywhere, are used only locally, and make no impression upon the markets. In the middle of the century about 100,000,000 pounds of cheese were made yearly in the United States, all of it on farms. At the close of the century the annual production of the country is about 300,000,000 pounds, and 96 or 97 per cent of this is made in factories. Of these establishments there are some 3000, varying greatly in capacity. New York and Wisconsin each have over a thousand; the former State makes nearly twice as much cheese as the latter, and the two together produce three fourths of the entire output of this country. The other cheese-making States, in the order of quantity produced, are Ohio, Illinois, Michigan, and Pennsylvania; but all are comparatively unimportant. More than nine tenths of all made is of the familiar standard variety copied after the English Cheddar, but new kinds and imitations of foreign varieties are increasing. The cheese made in the country, with the small importations added, gives an allowance of less than four pounds a year to every person; but as thirty to fifty million pounds are still annually exported, the per capita consumption of cheese in the United States does not exceed three and a half pounds. This is a very low rate, much less than in most European countries.

BUTTER-MAKING—THE NEW WAY.

Great as has been the growth of the factory system of butter-making, and fast as creameries are multiplying, especially in the newer and growing agricultural States, such as Minnesota, Nebraska, Kansas, and South Dakota, there is still much more butter made on farms in the United States than in creameries. Creamery butter controls all the large markets, the dairy product making comparatively little impression on the trade. But home consumption and the supply of small customers and local markets make an immense aggregate, being fully two thirds of all. Estimating the annual butter product of the country at 1,400,000,000 pounds, not much over 400,000,000 of this is made in the 8000 or 9000 creameries now in operation. Iowa is the greatest butter producing State, and the one in which the greatest proportion is made on the factory plan. This State has 850 creameries, only three counties being without them; about two fifths are coöperative. In these creameries about 90,000,000 pounds of butter are made annually from 750,000 cows. It is estimated that in the same State 50,000,000 pounds of butter in addition are made in farm dairies. The total butter product of the State is therefore one tenth of all made in the Union. Iowa sends over 80,000,000 pounds of butter every year to other States. New York is next in importance as a butter-making State, and then come Pennsylvania, Illinois, Wisconsin, Ohio, Minnesota, and Kansas. Yet all these combined make but little more than half of the annual butter crop of the United States, and in no one of them, except Iowa, is half of the butter produced made in creameries. The average quality of butter in America has materially improved since the introduction of the creamery system and the use of modern appliances. No butter is imported, and the quantity exported is as yet insignificant. Consequently the home consumption must be at the yearly rate of twenty pounds the person, or about one hundred lbs. annually to the family of average size. If approximately correct, this shows Americans to be the greatest butter-eating people of the world.

And the people of this country also consume millions of pounds every year of butter substitutes and imitations, known as oleomargarine, butterine, etc. Most of this is believed to be butter by those who use it, and the State Dairy Commissioners mentioned are largely occupied in the execution of laws intended to protect consumers from these butter frauds.

The cows in the United States were not counted until 1840, but they have been enumerated for every decennial census since. It has required from 23 to 27 cows to every 100 of the inhabitants to keep the country supplied with milk, butter, and cheese, and provide for the export of dairy products. The export trade has fluctuated much, but has never exceeded the product of half a million cows. With the closing years of the century, it is estimated that there is one milch cow in the United States to every four persons. This makes the total number of cows about 17,500,000. They are quite unevenly distributed over the country, being largely concentrated in the great dairy States. Thus Iowa leads with a million and a half cows, followed by New York with almost as many, and then Illinois and Pennsylvania with about a million each. The States having over half a million each are Wisconsin, Ohio, Kansas, Missouri, Minnesota, Nebraska, and Indiana. Texas is credited with 700,000, but very few of them are dairy animals. In the Middle and Eastern States the milk product goes very largely to the supply of the numerous cities and large towns. In the Central West and Northwest butter is the principal dairy product. It is estimated that the dairy animals of the United States include nearly half a million which are pure bred, and that this blood has been so generally diffused that more than one fourth of the cattle are grades.

THE DAIRY MAID.

The following table gives approximately an exhibit of the quantity and value of the dairy products of the United States in the year 1900:—

Cows, Millions.	Product.	Rate of Product.	Total Product.	Rate of Value.	Total Value, Dollars.
11	Butter	130 lbs.	1,430,000,000 lbs.	18 cents	257,400,000
1	Cheese	300 lbs.	300,000,000 lbs.	8 cents	24,000,000
5½	Milk	380 gals.	2,090,000,000 gals.	8 cents	167,200,000

This gives the grand total of the dairy products of the country a value of $448,600,000. If to this be added the skim milk, buttermilk, and whey, at their proper feeding value, and the calves dropped yearly, the annual aggregate value of the produce of the dairy cows exceeds $500,000,000. This may be accepted as a conservative estimate.

In a classification of the various annual farm products of the country by values, meats and closely related products stand first in order, the corn crop second, dairy products and the hay crop alternate in the third and fourth places, and wheat occupies the fifth. Hay and corn are so largely and directly tributary to the dairy as raw materials for its support, that it is fair to place the products of the dairy as second only to meat products in the general list. The cotton crop of the country is considered one of great importance, but during recent years it rarely equals the butter crop in value. The dairy aggregate exceeds all the mining products of the United States other than coal, oil, and gas. There never has been a year when the entire gold and silver product of the world was enough to buy the annual dairy products of this country at the present time. These comparisons show the commercial importance which the dairying of America has assumed. It is a branch of farming of such magnitude as to command attention and justify all reasonable provisions to guard its interests.

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THE CENTURY’S MORAL PROGRESS
By SARA Y. STEVENSON, Sc. D.,
Secretary Department of Archæology, University of Pennsylvania.

In dealing with a subject so indefinite in its limits as the progress of morals in the nineteenth century, it may be well to establish by a brief survey of previous facts some solid basis upon which to rest the discussion.

The notion of Duty or of moral obligation—i. e., of well-doing viewed in the abstract and outside of expediency—does not appear to have been brought forward by the Greek philosophers, to whom is mainly due the origin of our own conceptions with regard to morality.

Even Plato, who dealt with nearly all duties, while insisting especially upon the negative duty of committing no injustice or evil, even against one’s foes, nowhere systematically treats of Duty. Indeed, the Greek equivalent for the word did not exist in his time, and the notion was conveyed by a periphrase.

That morals have a bearing upon the welfare and character not only of the individual and of the family, but of the whole body politic, was however early recognized. Theognis, for instance, who lived in the sixth century B. C., stigmatized in the most energetic terms the evil influence exercised upon the destiny of nations by the immorality of the upper classes.

In the earlier schemes of civilization, where worship played a dominant political rôle, morals were regarded as under the protection of the sacred law. Worship and law were closely united in the government, and morals were included in these and governed by motives of expediency.

Man’s obligation to the Deity was then mainly confined to material offerings and propitiatory rites, whilst the law dealt with conduct in so far as order must be enforced, authority respected, and certain mutual rights recognized, if the welfare of the nation was to be maintained.

That the moral standards of these early societies were high cannot be doubted. Those which prevailed in ancient Egypt, as preserved to us in the maxims of sages, as well as in certain chapters of the sacred books, prove that the rule of conduct which was to insure to the subjects of the Pharaohs respect and popularity in this world and happiness in the world to come was in no way inferior to our own. The men who taught their contemporaries “Do not save thy life at the cost of another” had little to learn from the high-bred Parisians who recently escaped unhurt from the burning walls of the French Charity Bazaar.

For the Greek thinkers, however, who first systematically dealt with the subject, Ethics was a branch of Politics, i. e., the Science of Government. Aristotle, like Socrates and Plato, took for the starting point of his argument the sovereign good, or the idea of absolute well-being. All that man undertakes has an aim which, under analysis, is found to be the greatest advantage to him who is acting. Accordingly all knowledge tends to this end; and as all its elements are more or less connected, there must be one, the final end of which is essential; this is the political science which aims at the highest well-being not only of each man, but of man collectively, i. e., of society.

The nature of this highest “well-being,” which is generally termed “happiness,” gave rise among Greek philosophers to discussions which have been revived by modern thinkers.

It may therefore be stated that in ancient thought, at least until the time of the Stoics, morals and virtue were studied, whether in connection with religion or with politics, under the light of expediency rather than under that of abstract right, and that “they were discussed as functions more than as moral obligations.”

The fullness of significance which at present is conveyed in the word “Duty” is mainly due to the gradual and complex development of religious, legal, and philosophical modes of thought, in which certain human acts are regarded as enjoined and others as forbidden by a higher power, and in which conscience enters as an important and ever increasing factor. A sense of duty is the legitimate product of human nature under cultivation. But although we should look in vain among the ancients for the abstract notions which the words “Conscience, Duty, and Right” evoke in the modern mind, we find in groping our way up the stream of time that germs of these concepts had long lain concealed in the precepts of ancient moralists. The fact of virtue existed long before it was made the subject of theoretical systems, and if with the development of the reasoning faculty our moral code has been elaborated and our ethical terminology enriched, broadly speaking, the rules of conduct laid down by civilized men in the remote past and those which govern us to-day are, in kind, virtually the same. Thou shalt not kill; Thou shalt not steal; Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife; Thou shalt not bear false witness, are coeval with the beginnings of communities. It is in the scope and degree of their application—not in their nature—that mainly lies the difference existing in this respect between the past and the present.

In the highest stage of our moral development the unselfishness which seeks gratification in the welfare of others and in duty accomplished, at the cost of self, may in final analysis be reduced to a refined egoism. The motive held up to man by most moralists is still expediency. The reward, whether it is promised on this earth or in the world to come, is still a reward, and to the “greatest advantage of him who is acting.”

Moreover, moral standards to-day, as in the past, have a strong bearing upon political government, and it is in studying the development of democratic ideas that we may best follow the evolution of modern ethics as characteristic of our epoch; for to this development is due a higher sense of justice, the recognition of the rights of men and of the unimportance of the ego as compared with the race, all of which form distinctive features of the modern creed for which the words “altruism” and “humanitarianism” have been coined. It may also be said, to the honor of the present century, that there exists a growing tendency to accept abstract truth and right outside of expediency as standards of conduct, and to apply these regardless of sex, class, or persons according to the inflexible logic of a trained reason.

Two thousand years ago Christianity established itself upon the wreck of ancient civilizations, preserving that which in them was immortal. Grafted upon the Roman world, the gospel of democracy which it preached could be accepted as the official religion of the Empire only at the cost of its own purity. How could God and Mammon rule together? How could a Constantine rise to an understanding of the Teacher who said: “Ye know that they which are accounted to rule over the Gentiles exercise lordship over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them.... But so shall it not be among you; but whosoever will be great among you shall be your minister; and whosoever of you will be the chiefest shall be servant of all.” (St. Mark x. 42–44.) Christ had established religion among his followers as distinct from worship. The people soon relapsed into worship, whilst for the clergy theology took the place of religion.

With the alliance formed between Church and State in the Christian community, much of the Sermon on the Mount was necessarily forgotten; many of the parables in which the Teacher embodied his doctrine of justice, of tolerance, of love and humility, were to lose their living force. Under the banner of faith, conduct sank to the second rank. The dry subtleties of scholasticism helped to crush morality beneath the words and formulæ of a learned dialectic. Although for centuries the spirit of Christ continued to protect the weak and the lowly, although from the very body of the Church, then ever ready in its arrogance to cast its anathemas upon every effort of man to assert his freedom, sprang reformers who endeavored to restore to the gospel some of its early significance, the Church strayed ever farther from its founder. Was this because, as Michelet said, the reformers themselves needed reforming? Once more man found himself crushed under the law which Christ had declared was made for him, until, at last, in the forcible words of Mr. Darmesteter, of all the Teacher’s lessons Christian Rome seemed to remember only one, “Return unto Cæsar that which is Cæsar’s.” However fiercely monarchy might struggle against the temporal encroachments of the Church, it joined with it to repress the people. “Authority rested upon a mystery. Its right came from above. Power was divine. Obedience to it was a sacred duty and inquiry became a blasphemy.”

Then from the great schools and universities the developing intellect of Europe awakened to a sense of its rights. Suddenly there came inquiries into the reality of this spiritual power over human souls and over the human understanding which Rome claimed to be derived from Heaven. In its revolt against dogma, from Abélard and Arnold di Brescia to Huss and Wickliff, from Luther and Pascal to Voltaire and Rousseau, the human thought struggled for freedom under the banner of learning and of reason, and fought for the rights of the people against the privileged few. “I will not speak of tolerance,” cried Mirabeau, in his plea for the emancipation of the Jews in the National Convention (1791); “the freedom of conscience is a right so sacred that even the name of tolerance involves a species of tyranny.”

At the close of the last century, freedom at last planted its standard in Europe above the ruins of despotism. In the fiery torrent which swept away the ancient traditions of the Church, as well as those of the State, it seemed for a time as though religion as well as the church, right as well as might, must disappear from the surface of the earth, and that, in the smoke of battles and the revelry of reason, truth and morals must perish and anarchy prevail. But a moral rule is indispensable to society, and “Religion is after all but the highest expression of human science and of human conscience.” Its germ, innate in man, grows with his understanding in its constant strain to establish a relation between himself and the universe.

To the moral chaos that for a brief space followed the overthrow of the old order of things succeeded, in the beginning of this century, a period of readjustment, and now, in the words of a poet whose own mental processes are a type of those of his time, “Of a hopeless epoch is born a fearless age.”

After the absolute negations of the early years of the nineteenth century, after the violent controversies not only of arrogant science and of prejudiced faith, but of scientific and theological schools inter se which fill the serious literature of the last generations, a reconciliation between faith and science is taking place, a certain unity of thought is being reached with regard to conduct and to the rights of men. And the century, at its close, shows us the Protestant churchman less tenacious of his dogma, the Romanist less certain of the infallibility of Rome, the scholar less convinced of the infallibility of his science, the agnostic less boastful of his skepticism, the monarchist awakened from his dreams of a divine right of kings and of a preordained subjection of men, the socialist sobered of his revolutionary frenzy and repudiating the extremes of anarchy and nihilism born of his earlier teachings, all marching shoulder to shoulder under the banner of a broad tolerance toward a common goal, in a united effort to lift the masses from the depths of poverty, ignorance, vice, and often crime, to which centuries of repression seemed to consign them, and seeking in friendly coöperation to bring about a better social order.

For in our time has taken place a great broadening of the moral standpoint from which the old rules of conduct are in future to be applied. Toward the end of the last century the equality and fraternity of men was proclaimed to the European world and received a baptism of blood. This official declaration of the rights of men professed to be universal; but, like other dispensations that had preceded it, in its application it fell short of the democratic ideal. All men were declared equal, yet with striking inconsistency those who proclaimed the new creed held others in bondage, and race disqualification survived.

The honor of leading in the greatest moral reform which the world has seen is due to the French Revolutionary leaders. On February 2, 1794, the Convention decreed the abolition of slavery throughout the French colonies, and all slaves were admitted to the rights of citizenship. It was only in 1833 that slavery was abolished in the British colonies by Act of Parliament, and that coolie labor was substituted. In 1861 Emperor Alexander II., following the policy inaugurated by his father, Nicholas I., freed the serfs in Russia. It is a curious fact that the United States, which for many reasons might have been expected to lead in the movement, only followed in 1863. The terrible struggle of the public conscience against expediency and class interest, which then took place upon this continent, must form one of the most important lessons which this century will offer to posterity.

Right prevailed, and with this triumph of justice the human conscience, throwing aside casuistry and evasion for a time, faced its problems honestly and asserted its own sovereignty.

The consequences of the mighty struggle did not stop here. Once the principles of abstract justice established, not only against might but against tradition and expediency; once the rights not only of men (as in 1776 and in 1789), but of all men, recognized in a broader application of the principles of a true democracy, there came a tendency to extend its application to mankind at large; and women, who according to their station in life had hitherto been dealt with theoretically as either useful or ornamental possessions, began to find their place as members of the community. The rights of slaves as men had been officially proclaimed. The rights of women as citizens began to be discussed.

CZAR ALEXANDER II. OF RUSSIA.

In the widespread shifting of levels which has taken place in the last hundred years, affecting directly and indirectly the moral progress of all classes of society, certain important elements have entered which cannot be overlooked in the present discussion, and which in future ages must stand as preëminently characteristic of the nineteenth century and the Anglo-Saxon ascendency.

The reign of machinery in the industrial world, the advent of steam, of electricity, of compressed air, as motors, have done away with the human machine. Whether in peace or in war the skilled workman has crowded him out. Labor-saving inventions have done away with the necessity for a multiplicity of hands. The need to-day is for trained heads. From evaporated fruit and canned meats to heat, light, and inter-communication, science is brought to bear upon every detail of existence. As an immediate consequence of the part necessarily played by learning in our industrial and commercial life under modern conditions, public education has become the mainspring of national prosperity. Freedom and public education have made our laboring classes the self-respecting, thinking people they are. The human automaton upon which formerly played the greed, the vice, the craft of others now holds a comparatively small place in the modern community, outside of Latin Europe. The “vile multitude,” as M. Thiers still stigmatized it (before he turned republican), no longer exists. The world has moved, and so have men.

“If the shuttle would weave of itself,” said Aristotle in his apology for slavery, “there would be no need of slaves.” The miracle, which seemed impossible to the founder of science, has been accomplished with the predicted result. The shuttle weaves of itself and slavery has disappeared.

Even in Oriental lands, under Anglo-Saxon supremacy the carrying out of great public works is stimulating a demand for education among the people, and the sum total of ignorance and poverty is gradually decreasing and making way for better conditions; for only a trained hand guided by a trained intellect can use the modern tools. This applies to agriculture as well as to industries.

In the rising tide of intellectual and material progress, woman has been carried along to a great extent unconsciously. It is a matter of grave doubt whether the early “suffragists” did more than be the first to recognize and herald the logical drift of contemporary events. It is through higher education that woman has quietly forged her way to the place she occupies in the modern community, and that she is claiming her share of the common heritage of freedom and independence. The prophecy embodied in Bulwer’s “Coming Race” is being realized. From year to year her sphere is broadening. She is fast becoming self-supporting. In education she already holds a leading place. Her influence as a moving force is becoming patent. It is officially recognized to a varying degree in certain parts of the civilized world,—England, New Zealand, Russia, and twenty-two of the United States, where she stands before the law not only in her relation to man as his mother, wife, or sister, but in a direct relation to society, as a reasoning being and as a citizen.

SIR EDWARD BULWER.

The increased self-respect born in woman’s mind of a consciousness of equal training and culture, the growing number of women whose ambitions have been stimulated to higher achievement, and the consequent increasing influence wielded by them in the community, suggest the thought that in time their legal status will be generally established, as it already is now in several localities.

Much leveling has taken place since the abolition of the “ancient régime,” not only in the relations of the various classes composing society, but in the relation of men and women. The process is still steadily going on. And it is not unreasonable to believe that, with the gradual elevation of the ideals of one half of the population,—that half which is in control of the early training of children of both sexes,—a common standard of character and morality may in time be acknowledged which will admit of but one rule by which the actions of mankind, without distinction of persons, class, or sex, may be measured. The fact that all distinction in favor of the privileged class has already been removed in the eyes of modern public opinion holds out such a hope. The casuistry which still discriminates between evil-doers can but retard moral progress, and the more earnestly modern parents urge upon their sons the same observance of the laws of hygiene and propriety, of truth and self respect, as they exact from their daughters, the nearer to true civilization will society reach.

The world is yet far from this goal. No legislative act has as yet saved society from the ravages of vice, sensuality, and greed, and to-day every degree of savagery and immorality still exists in so-called civilized countries. Education, taking the word in its broadest sense, can alone, by its refining influence, force the savage to give way before reasoning man. And it is by the constantly increasing proportion of educated, self-respecting men and women that the coarser instincts of the human race are being controlled and brought to yield to reason. By holding up the same standards of conduct to humanity, the important place occupied by casuistry and expediency, in the discussion of the ethical problems set before the moralist, may be reduced, and a logical facing of the serious issues to be met may follow. Such a result must tend to strengthen the marriage tie and the family relation, upon which rests the whole moral structure of society.

At present, modern casuistry, if it no longer seeks to justify falsehood and crime committed on behalf of Church or State, still exonerates, in the world of affairs, the high railroad official or the industrial magnate of an infraction of the higher code by which his own personal integrity is judged, provided that infraction is committed in the interest of his constituents. Many a man of high standing, whose personal honor is beyond suspicion and whose conscience would not allow him to take an unfair advantage of another, does not hesitate to transgress when dealing with rival corporate bodies or with public interests. Hence the corruption which prevails in public life to a degree dangerous to the commonwealth, and which is in direct contradiction with the professed standards of the age. Must we then think that living up to the highest moral standard is incompatible with business success, and agree with M. Jules Lemaître that “the attaining to moral perfection is really possible only in the solitude of literary or artistic pursuits, in the humility of manual labor, or in the dignity of such disinterested functions as those of priest or soldier”?

However this may be, new conditions have created new problems which the public conscience alone can solve—as it has already solved that of slavery and of race—with unflinching logic.

The human mind, if less concerned than it was in the days of Molina with polemics on the nature of the human will,—a question, by the way, which Rome after eleven years and thirty-three Councils dared not then settle,—or with theological controversies regarding the value of indulgences, is not yet at peace with itself. Indeed, for being less immaterial, the issues now before it for adjustment are, owing to their bearing upon practical life, all the more vital to the moral health of the body politic.

To the respective rights and duties of labor and capital our best thinkers must turn their attention before an equitable solution can be reached. That such a solution must be reached cannot be doubted, for the interests at stake are fundamental.

Whilst individualism in thought and in conduct asserts itself at every turn, never were the principles of organization so actively carried out among all classes of society. To the strain caused by the forming of trades unions and of united labor leagues for the protection of the wage-earner is now succeeding the danger produced by the concentration of capital in the hands of powerful corporations and the creation of mighty trusts, the undue extension of which in this country seems to threaten the prosperity of the nation and to add to its political corruption. As against these monopolies, public ownership and operation of common utilities is being successfully tried, notably in England and the British Colonies, and the honest municipalization of all community service, carried on as the post-office is carried on among us, results in positive benefit to the people, that is, in good wages and reduced taxes. To discuss these important problems would encroach upon the domain of political economy and social science; but there is no doubt that the public morality is closely dependent upon their solution.

Whether so-called civilized nations, whilst regarding murder as a capital offense and punishing dueling when indulged in by individuals, will long continue to train their best men at enormous expense, in order that in cold blood they may scientifically destroy the greatest possible number of other trained and equally good men; whether peaceful communities of practical tradesmen will some day cease to emulate barbarians in their rejoicings over the slaughter of so-called enemies whom they are individually prepared to befriend and whose prowess they are ready to extol, are glaring contradictions offered by the problem of war which must be left to future generations to reconcile. The leading part which the Anglo-Saxon race has taken in urging arbitration as a proper means of settling international differences places it in the foremost rank of civilization; whilst the Peace Conference proposed by one of Europe’s most powerful potentates, the Czar of Russia, must bring a ray of hope to the hearts of those who labor for the advent of universal peace.

Such are the great moral issues of the present day; and in these many minor ones are included. Everywhere and at all periods of history the theory of ethics has widely differed from practical conduct. The race conflict which is taking place in France as the result of the Dreyfus trial, more than a century after the emancipation of the Jews before the law was proclaimed, is a late illustration of this fact. To this, the corruption and failure of justice which recent exposures have revealed in the highest circles of republican France add peculiar significance. As already stated, the broad outlines established in precept remain unchanged, and it is in their logical application that lie all present growth and future hope.

To trace, even in sketchy outline, the debit and credit account of modern ideas upon the various subjects involved in the above mentioned issues would be a serious undertaking. A chapter must be devoted to each nation, for the moral progress of each differs as does its besetting sin. Moreover, every shade of opinion must be weighed and considered. Inherited traditional views are, in each modern mind, hopelessly interwoven with the new articles of a code of morals which public opinion is even now evolving from contemporary conditions. “Each of us,” says Edmond Schérer, “belongs to two civilizations, that which is coming and that which is going; and as we are accustomed to the first, we are poorly placed to judge or enjoy the latter.”

There never was an epoch when the struggle for existence was fiercer and when earthly possessions were more keenly prized. But despite the many survivals which still point to a semi-barbaric inheritance of selfishness descended through millenniums, a decided moral gain may, on the whole, be placed to the credit of our era. With the decrease of the sum total of ignorance, not only among the lower but among the upper classes, the sum total of well-doing and well-being has immeasurably increased.

The sympathy for suffering is more widespread than it has ever been. No middle-aged person can fail to note the rapid change which has taken place in the public mind with regard to the general treatment not only of children, but of animals. The present mode of dealing with school children according to their individual capacity, the trust in their honor which governs their relation to the teacher, the absence of any corporal punishment, form a recent departure in education well calculated to produce the best moral results.

The improvement of modern methods in relief work as well as in the treatment of vice—now viewed more in the light of a pathological condition than in that of a sin—must make this a memorable epoch in the ethical history of humanity. No branch of civilization has undergone greater change in modern times both in theory and practice than public and private charity. To-day the humanitarian endeavors to lift up the fallen and the needy, and almsgiving on the part of the well-to-do is fast becoming relegated to the category of a self-indulgence which is not to be encouraged. The distinction between the old methods and the new is given in the formula that “henceforth the chief test of charity will be the effect upon the recipient.” Any relief calculated to undermine self-reliance and independence is discouraged by those who have in view the prevention of our moral ills rather than their relief.

CAPTAIN ALFRED DREYFUS.

Indeed, the new school preaches scientific charity as against emotional charity. What it may have lost in impulse it has more than made up in effectiveness. The attempt to teach the needy to help themselves, the work of college settlements and of the organized efforts in the poorest and most neglected districts of large cities, with a view to fostering by personal contact and example habits of thrift and self-respect where those virtues are most lacking, are among the truest if more homely glories of the closing century.

Verily, never was a more thoughtful effort made everywhere to mitigate the cruel distinctions of race and sex, of wealth and poverty, and to “harmonize the social antagonisms” of modern life. Never was so much consideration given to the betterment of humanity, nor was the aggregate of earnestness so great.

In our more robust intellectual world the tree is judged by its fruit, and acts tell, not creed. The principle that well-doing, unless it is disinterested, forfeits its claim to the highest respect of men, is growing in strength, whilst the feeling is gaining ground among the thoughtful that in the development of personality may be found a sufficient motive for the exercise of virtue, and that character, not reward, being not having, are the highest aims.

If we resume the moral progress of the nineteenth century, allowing for its inconsistencies, carefully weighing its negative and positive results, and taking as a balance what is original in its contribution to the ethical development of the human race, we will find that this contribution mainly lies in the direction of tolerance and of altruism. This altruism is distinct from the charity of St. Vincent, which sacrificed self in a loving attempt to relieve individual distress. Such pure sacrifice, admirable as it is, is not only narrow in its scope, but because of its austerity must fail to survive in the struggle for existence. Modern altruism aims at removing the main cause of individual distress, and spends itself in educational efforts, in which the well-doer finds happiness in the consciousness of usefulness. It is also unlike the socialism of Condorcet, which reached down in an endeavor to make all institutions subservient to the interests of the poorer and most numerous classes, for it aims at lifting these to the highest possible plane. The mountain summits are not to be lowered, but the valleys are being filled. To raise the people, to build up, not to tear down, is the avowed end of all modern moral effort, and must ever stamp the humanitarian struggles of the present age as distinct from those of the eighteenth and preceding centuries.

With this we may claim an increase in individual freedom, and a perceptible tendency to a logical and ever broadening conception, not only of the rights, but of the duties of citizenship; to a more honest recognition of the place assigned by expediency to evil in the social and business intercourse of a practical life; to a growing scorn of casuistry, and to a stronger faith in the reality of right and of abstract truth as they are revealed in every thinking man’s heart, and the uniformity of which is reflected in the public conscience.

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PROGRESS OF SANITARY SCIENCE
By CHARLES McINTIRE, A.M., M.D.,
Lecturer on Sanitary Science, Lafayette College, Easton, Pa.

Since blessings brighten as they take their flight, it may be difficult to realize how much of our present happiness and comfort depend upon the constantly abiding benefactions brought about by the progress of Sanitary Science in the present cycle. The proper care of the body and the prevention of disease, rather than its cure, have occupied the minds of men from the dawn of history. Moses is the author of a well-digested code of hygiene, and erudite scholars can find hints of the proper conservation of health in the Egyptian papyri. Hippocrates wrote about the prevention as well as the cure of disease; indeed, all along the course of time the master minds of medicine attempted the solution of many of the problems of Sanitary Science as eagerly as they sought for the elixir vitæ or for the universal solvent. Notwithstanding all this, one can truthfully say that sanitation could not be fairly termed Sanitary Science until its rules of procedure began to be formulated with more or less exactness upon careful experiment and accurately recorded observation. Sanitary science, as such, could not begin to be until pathology (a knowledge of the morbid processes of disease) and etiology (a study of the causation of disease) had builded upon a scientific foundation. Before this all deductions were from experience, and had no other reason than the seeming helpfulness of the procedure; after this, as fast as the facts were demonstrated, deductions were made that determined a procedure which would of a certainty accomplish the purpose. In the olden times, during an epidemic of a contagious disease, tar barrels were burned in the streets,—and not without some benefit. At the present, the room, with its contents, can be disinfected with a certainty of destroying every atom of contagion.

This difference must be kept in mind when comparing the old with the new, and the true reason of the great advance be recognized as due to the spirit of scientific investigation, which began in the latter part of the last century with the employment of instruments of precision in research, and which has developed so wonderfully up to the present that the experimental psychologist measures the minute portion of time it takes to form a thought. At the same time, it must be kept in mind that the sciences which furnish sanitary science much of its material are progressing and, because progressing, changing; that the conditions desired to be removed are prevailing, and the necessity of overcoming them urgent. Not in every case has the sanitarian fully demonstrated and laid down scientifically accurate data on which to base his method of procedure. Hence it happens that even now sanitary empiricism must needs be mingled with sanitary science, and the mingling is sometimes as much of a motley as the dress of the court fool of the Middle Ages.

Since sanitary science had its origin during the present century, it will be helpful to assign a definite period for its birth. Not that any one would have the temerity to dogmatically assert that the science came into being at a fixed date, but rather to fix a period of time when the conditions working through the ages were so shaped that, perforce, the problems of sanitation would thereafter be treated more in a scientific and less in an empirical method than before. This time is associated with the beginning of the reign of Queen Victoria of England, since the first Act of Parliament for the registration of births, marriages, and deaths was passed in 1837, and the beginning made of accurately gathering information which is to the sanitarian what the pulse is to the physician. With his fingers on this tell-tale of the flow of the heart-blood of the nation, he is enabled to determine whether disease is above or below the normal, the character of the disease that abounds, and its whereabouts. Knowing where to find any disease in excess, he can study the conditions and surroundings, comparing them with other places, whether afflicted in like manner or, more favored, free from the disease. By means of these vital statistics he can compare year with year, and tell with a degree of exactness heretofore impossible whether any disease is increasing or decreasing; he can lay his returns by the side of the figures of the meteorologist and learn if the weather has any influence on the death-rate; he can follow the results of his efforts to improve the condition of the people and vindicate his expenditure of the public money by pointing to the reduced mortality rate. It may seem to be a gruesome task for every physician in the land to send to the proper official a notice of each death and of each patient suffering from a disease apt to be communicated to some one else; and almost ghoulish for the officer to sit at his desk, day after day, and catalogue and tabulate these returns. But it is only a modern version of the old riddle of Samson, out of the bitter came forth the sweet; for without this, much of the progress of sanitary science would be well-nigh impossible.

The act adopted in Great Britain has been modified and improved upon since then, and in the United States many of our cities and some of our States have been engaged in a similar effort. As yet we have no central bureau or collecting office for the nation; nor is this necessary, if each State would do its duty, or, at least, the general government in that event need only tabulate the returns of each of the States. The effort is now making, under the auspices of the American Public Health Association, to secure a uniform method of registration in all offices collecting vital statistics, by which the same name will be given to the same disease and the same facts recorded in each return made. This will cause a little confusion at first in those offices where statistics have been tabulated for a number of years, but the advantage will be so great as to fully repay any inconvenience at the first. If we desire to obtain the full benefits from the advance of sanitary science, we must see to it that in every State there is an efficient bureau of vital statistics, whether under the supervision of the State Board of Health or some other department of the State. The absence of such a bureau reflects upon the intelligence of the people or the integrity of the law-making power.

Are there tangible results to warrant so sweeping an assertion? is a fair question, since at the time of the preparation of the census of 1890 New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, and Delaware were the only States collecting vital statistics, and since then but Maine and Michigan have been added. Before quoting figures, it must be premised that even now the returns only approximate accuracy; they were much more inaccurate at the first, and before the general registration was undertaken most of the statements are merely estimates, after the fashion of the geographer who gives the number of inhabitants in China, where a census never has been taken. It may happen that the benefits are not as great as the figures seem to show, but after making all allowance there is great improvement.

LIVES SAVED BY PUBLIC-HEALTH WORK.

Comparison of death-rates in Michigan from scarlet fever and small-pox before and since the State Board of Health was established, and from typhoid fever before and since its restriction was undertaken by the State Board. (Compiled from the State Department’s “Vital Statistics” of Michigan.)

The “Encyclopædia Britannica” asserts that two centuries ago the mortality of London was 80 per 1000, while now it is but a little over 20. In 1841, out of every 100,000 people in England, 30,000 would have died before reaching the age of 10, and one half would have died before they were 40 years old; in the decennium 1881–90, before 30,000 would have died out of each 100,000 some would have lived to be 17, and some would have lived to be 55 before one half of the number had departed into the unknown and the hereafter.

The figures of the statistician must be quoted again and again in the progress of the article, as no more tangible evidence can be given of the benefits resulting from improved methods of sanitation. Very early a coincidence was observed between the uncleanly and the death-rate. Neighborhoods where little or no care was taken to remove the refuse, where there were foul drains and a deficient water supply, were found to be the abodes of special forms of disease,—so much so, that these diseases soon received the name of “filth diseases.” Acting upon the suggestion, the gospel of cleanliness was preached and its practice enforced. There was a “redding up” in its eventuality as thorough as the cleansing of Santiago de Cuba in recent days. It did not take long to discover that decaying organic matter in some way was the offending body, and that this contaminated the water supply. Wells were condemned and public water supplies installed; means were sought to enable the cleansing to be constantly carried on, and sewers for house drainage followed or accompanied the water supply. In proportion as this has been thoroughly done has the death-rate from certain diseases diminished. During the last century the European armies were decimated by fever (typhus or relapsing) to such a degree that the work of the fell destroyer at Santiago was trifling in comparison. On into the present century, the great scourge of Great Britain was these same two fevers; so much so, that “the fever” meant the dread jail or typhus fever. It was imported into this country, and epidemics of “ship fever” were of frequent occurrence. Thus, as late as 1846, it was estimated that in Dublin alone there were 40,000 cases of fever, with a total in Ireland of 1,000,000 cases. There were 10,000 deaths in Liverpool, a city especially prone to the disease; while in Edinburgh one person out of every nine of the population was attacked, and one out of every eight of the sick died. Turning from this account to the medical returns of the war for the Union, there were reported only 1723 cases, with 572 deaths, to the office of the Surgeon General, and even these a very competent authority after careful investigation decided not to be instances of true typhus. Or turn to civil practice: the disease is found so seldom with us that it is not necessary to assign to it a column along with the other diseases in publishing the mortality returns by our health authorities. The deaths from fever in London during October, November, and December, 1898, were but 296. London has an estimated population of 4,504,766, and the “fever” in the report included typhoid, simple and ill-defined forms of fever, as well as typhus. This makes a death-rate of but 0.26 per 1000.

Had sanitary science no other trophy, its votaries could still boast of the great benefits to humanity brought about by their labors. This is but one of many; thus, scurvy, the great bane of the navy, is now a disease that few physicians have the misfortune to see, or patients to endure. Then that disease somewhat akin to typhus, and until within the memory of the fathers confounded with it, hence called typhoid fever, is likewise fast disappearing, more rapidly in cities than in rural communities however. The suppression of typhoid proceeds with equal step with the introduction of a public water supply in our towns, the adoption of the proper means to furnish this water unpolluted, and the proper removal of domestic waste through sewers, whose contents are so treated as to work no harm after they escape. Notwithstanding these great triumphs, if boasting is permissible, the sanitarian’s boast is rather that his science, which had its beginning, as we have seen, at the time when there was a great awakening of the national conscience in British politics for “the larger sympathy of man with man,” has broadened with the years of its growth; has endeavored to care for one’s brother so that his blood would not cry up from the ground; so that, after forty or fifty years had passed, a distinguished sanitarian could write with literal accuracy: “Whatever can cause, or help to cause, discomfort, pain, sickness, death, vice, or crime—and whatever has a tendency to avert or destroy, or diminish such cases—are matters of interest to the sanitarian; and the powers of science and the arts, great as they are, are taxed to the uttermost to afford even an approximate solution of the problems with which he is concerned.”[1] And the crowning glory of the science to-day is the care it bestows upon the weak, the ignorant, and the helpless; the efforts it makes to ameliorate every undesirable condition of society.

[1] Dr. J. S. Billings in Ziemssen’s Encyclopædia.

MAP SHOWING “REGISTRATION STATES” NOW AVAILABLE FOR THE MORTALITY STATISTICS OF THE TWELFTH U. S. CENSUS (1900).

Note.—States having immediate registration of deaths and requiring burial permits are black. The only additions to the list since the Census of 1890 are Maine (1891) and Michigan (1897).

It would be misleading to infer that all of these benefits have been brought about solely through the collection of vital statistics, although much of it would have been difficult without the knowledge furnished by these statistics. Workers in almost every branch of pure science have contributed to the progress,—the physicist, the meteorologist, the chemist, and by no means the least, the biologist. Indeed, with the more recent investigations, the culture tube of the biologist has almost revolutionized medicine and all that pertains to it.

Sanitary science seeks to accomplish two ends; it purposes to prevent disease and to promote public health. If it seeks to prevent disease, after the fashion of the oft-quoted cook-book, it must first secure the disease, or what is essentially the same thing, know what causes it. If the cause be known, and we can conquer the cause, we can prevent the disease. Thus a disease known as trichinæ spiralis, from the name of the parasite invading the body and causing sickness and death, is caused by eating pork infected by the trichinæ. We can certainly prevent trichinæ in persons by forbidding pork; but we also know that the trichinæ do not occur in all pork, and that their presence can be detected by the microscope. If, then, a sample from every slaughtered pig is submitted to the microscopist, the infected pork can be discovered. This is done in our large packing establishments, especially for that pork which is to be exported. Again, a thorough cooking will kill the trichinæ, even if present. Only the grossest carelessness, consequently, can account for a case of trichinæ, and, indeed, it is a very rarely occurring disease. This illustrates the importance of a knowledge of the cause of the disease, to enable one to devise a method for preventing it. In the study of disease causes, the biologist has been very successful during the past few years, and a number of our communicable diseases are demonstrated to be caused by the growth and development of bacteria. From this demonstration in the case of some, a general hypothesis has been formulated, which is useful as a working hypothesis, but by no means safe to call a theory as yet. This hypothesis is that all of our communicable diseases are caused by living organisms originating in one person and conveyed to another, where they begin to grow, to reproduce their kind and to perform their life functions. Hence all communicating diseases are infectious. Some of these infectious diseases, like measles or smallpox, are capable of direct communication from one person to another, rendering them contagious; others, like typhoid fever and cholera, are not contagious in this sense of the word. This is a very excellent distinction to make in the use of these much abused words.

The biologist has rendered sanitary science great service not only in discovering the causes of certain diseases, but also by aiding to determine the nature of the disease in any outbreak. It makes a vast difference if a given case is one of true diphtheria or not, or of Asiatic cholera or not, and often the symptoms alone are not conclusive. Here the biologist comes to our aid, as is seen so often in cases of supposed diphtheria. A portion of the throat secretion is sent him under such precautions that no bacteria from the outside can possibly contaminate. With this secretion he stabs or inoculates a jelly composition which he has placed in a test-tube, stuffs a wad of absorbent cotton in the mouth of his tube and puts it in a warm chamber or incubator. If there are any microbes present, they will begin to grow, and the expert biologist can tell the bacteria from its manner of growth as readily as the gardener can distinguish between his radishes and lettuce when they sprout in the spring, and in this way is able to report the nature of the germs. If he is in doubt, he carries his cultivation further and employs other tests to prove his observation.

LABORATORY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA.

The biologist has also rendered great aid to sanitary science in discovering many other species of bacteria that are helpful to man. Our polluted waters could not be purified, our air could not be cleared from foul odors, nor the proper decomposition of organic matters go on, without the aid of bacteria. These little vegetable growths, while working much harm upon humanity, contribute far more to their comfort, well-being, and happiness than they do to their ill. Possibly no better illustrations can be given of the value of bacteriology to sanitary science, and the great progress it has brought about, than to contrast a cholera outbreak of a few years ago with one occurring more recently; or to point to the efficacy of purifying water by the assistance of bacteria. Another disease, pulmonary consumption, may also be noticed, but the triumph here is not so marked as yet.

The first outbreak of cholera in the United States occurred in 1832. In one special hospital in New York city, 2030 patients were received in the nine weeks from July 1 to September 1, and of these 850 died. An eye-witness, who was personally known to the writer, one not given to exaggeration, said that the state of dread and alarm had been increasing until, when the disease first made its appearance in New York, fully one half of the population had left the city, many of the physicians fleeing with the rest. There was no efficient health department, and no organized system for the protection of the public health. This gentleman was a city missionary, and, in the performance of his duties, visited many of the houses. He mentioned visiting one of these on a morning when the fifteenth body had been carried out. It was the time of the rumble of the dead cart and the indiscriminate burial in public trenches. Contrast the horrors of this scene with the last attempt of cholera to invade the United States, in 1893, when, notwithstanding its presence at the quarantine station in New York harbor, and the actual presence of a few well-authenticated cases in the city itself, not one of these cases proved a focus for the spread of the disease.

The opinion that water in some way acts as a conveyer of disease can be generalized after a very little observation. To explain how it does this is a problem that was attempted to be solved by the chemist. He added vastly to our knowledge, but it was not until the biologist showed the presence of the disease-producing bacteria in water that a full explanation was possible. But the biologist has done more: it has been found, and notably in the very complete series of experiments carried on by the Massachusetts Board of Health, that even an effluent of a sewer, if filtered through a bed of sand, is purified to such an extent that the filtrate is a perfectly safe water to drink. The dangerous organic matter disappears, and ninety-eight per cent of the bacteria is removed. And it is pleasing to note, when one has so much to say of the dangers of bacteria, that the purification is entirely brought about by the action of bacteria working for the good of man. A sand filter bed does not purify water properly until it has been in operation for a few days, when the top of the bed is covered with a slime in which the bacteria act upon the organic matter in the water and purify it. The fact of the purification was known before the manner in which it was done was understood; and in those cities where the authorities have acted upon this knowledge and have purified their water supply, the influence upon the death-rate of typhoid fever is almost as marked as those already quoted for typhus fever, while the scourge of cholera has been almost entirely removed from their borders, as many an instance during the late outbreak in Europe could illustrate. It does not contribute to our self-esteem to know that most of the water supplies so filtered are to be found abroad. There is not enough of “practical politics” in filter beds to charm the traditional alderman of our cities.

It is now clearly proven that a species of bacteria is uniformly present in pulmonary consumption. This bacillus is to be found in the material coughed up by those who are ill with that disease. It has considerable tenacity of life; the expectorated material can be dried, pulverized into dust, and carried about on the wind; should the bacteria so dried and carried find a proper soil, they can grow and reproduce the disease. Fortunately, a combination of circumstances is required for the contraction of this disease, or it would be far more prevalent than it is. Notwithstanding, it already claims more victims than any other single disease. What has sanitary science done for its repression? It is attempting, in a tentative way, to obtain a registration of those who are consumptives, in order to teach them to avoid being possible sources of infection; to disinfect the discharges carrying the bacteria, and at times the rooms occupied by the consumptives. In Rome, for example, the services of the public disinfectors are asked for as eagerly for the room occupied by a consumptive as for one that had been used by a person suffering from diphtheria. In New York city, where the department of health has been exercising an oversight and care over the consumptives, there has been a constantly diminishing death-rate from all tubercular diseases from 1886, when the rate was 4.42, to 1897, when it was 2.85, with the single exception of 1894, which was lower than 1895. It is too soon to predict the result, but the proper care of consumptives promises much to check the ravages of the disease.

SAND FILTER BED.

One of the charms connected with the great results indicated is the simplicity of the methods employed to bring them about. While complex schemes and elaborate machinery may be necessary whenever the amount of service to be rendered requires organization and division of labor to properly accomplish the desired results, the principles are such that they can be executed in the smallest hamlet, and with the very crudest paraphernalia. The two great weapons of the sanitarian in fighting disease are isolation and disinfection. Dr. Henry M. Baker, the efficient secretary of the State Board of Health of Michigan, has for years collected and tabulated the results of the observing and non-observing of these precautions in his State. He has a happy faculty for graphically presenting the results. One of his diagrams is presented here and needs no explanation. In very few of these outbreaks could there have been any municipal disinfecting plant or isolating hospital.

Isolation and disinfection—but the old quarantine and fumigation under new names! Who of us has not sympathized with the traveler of the earlier days in the Levant, when he was condemned to days and weeks of detention in the barren lazaretto? And even at so comparatively recent a date as the pilgrimage recorded by Mark Twain in his “Innocents Abroad,” he states that the Italians found it more to their convenience to fumigate travelers than to wash themselves. How very different is a modern quarantine station, such as may be found near any of our more important ports on the Atlantic coast. If the health officer of the port finds a contagious disease upon board, he immediately removes the sick to the hospital, and keeps the well under supervision long enough to see if the disease has been communicated to any. He may keep them on shipboard; but more likely, if the ship must be disinfected, he removes them to the detention station, safely separated from the hospital. The steerage has been crowded, and there is need of disinfection of their persons and clothing. Under proper supervision, each is required to take a bath, for which abundant facilities are furnished; and while this is doing their clothing has been placed in the steam disinfecting apparatus, a partial vacuum secured, superheated steam introduced, the clothing thoroughly disinfected, a partial vacuum again produced, whereby the contents are rapidly dried, and they are ready to be put on again by the time the bath is completed. The luggage is treated in the same way, while the cargo is probably treated to a sulphur fumigation,—the sulphur being burned in furnaces and the fumes carried to all parts of the cargo through lines of hose. In the course of a very few days, at least, all but the sick can proceed on their journey without any risk of conveying the disease.

Everything that has thus far been chronicled regarding the progress of sanitary science has related to the diminution of the death-rate and the prevention of disease. After all, is this worthy the telling? When one learns “how the other half lives,” or, with more restricted knowledge, realizes to a degree the intensity of the remark of a young Hebrew, replying to a command of a police officer to clean up, as related in “The Workers” by Professor Wykoff: “You tell us we’ve got to keep clean,” he answered in broken English, lifting his voice to a shout above the clatter of machines; “what time have we to keep clean, when it’s all we can do to get bread? Don’t talk to us about disease; it’s bread we’re after, bread!”

Is it worthy of boasting that sanitary science is only increasing the hardships and adding to the number of mouths to be fed, without opening up new ways to earn one’s bread? Even if it be so decided, and all the claims of progress thus far made be declared wanting, there still remains much worthy of praise. Sanitary science strives not only to prevent disease, but also to promote health, and its progress is fully as marked in its efforts at promotion as in those of prevention, although we do not possess the cold figures of even imperfect vital statistics to demonstrate the proposition.

It must be kept in mind that sanitary science is wider than sanitation in its technical sense. One would not care to assert that philanthropic effort and sweet charity are resultants of the development of sanitary science,—very few care to assert an evident untruth. But the influence of this study has been widespread and beneficial. The whole round of social science is also permeated with the truths demonstrated by the sanitarian, and is likewise deeply indebted to its teachings. Our field broadens greatly as we view it, just as one who has been traveling through a vale of surpassing grandeur, because of the mountain barriers on either side, finds himself confronted by a park whose beauty is enhanced by its variety as well as its extent, bounded, it is true, by the same mountains, but merely a hazy definition of the distant horizon.

In the construction of dwellings, for example, the small, low ceiled rooms, whose earthen or stone floors were covered with rushes seldom removed, the absorbers of whatever might fall upon the floor; the unpaved, unswept, and unsewered street; the domestic water supply but a well into which filters the water from the adjoining cesspool,—these and many similar destroyers of health and comfort can no longer be found among nations classed as enlightened in our school geographies. Even the improvements of half a century ago—the tenements improvised out of the deserted mansions of the well-to-do, with the additions built on the rear of the lot to increase the density of the population and the rent of the owner (as well as the death-rate), are disappearing, and in their places we find dwellings capable of furnishing air and light to all of the residents.

A QUARANTINE STATION.

Then, in the matter of streets, how much more attention is now given to small parks! When about the middle of the century interest in public parks was revived, the efforts of the various cities were directed to the securing of large tracts of ground and beautifying them in every way. They were open to every one, it is true, but too often too far removed to be of use to the submerging tenth. Now, while not adorning these with one garland less, the effort is making to break up the congestion of the crowded districts by breathing spaces, to the comfort and vigor of those who must make the surrounding houses their homes. The streets, too, no longer paved with the unsightly cobble-stones, are made noiseless with the asphalt paving and, what is more to the purpose, can be easily cleansed by flushing. When practical business, and not practical politics, prevails in the municipality, there is no opportunity for the household refuse to accumulate, although no longer rushes are available to receive it, for it is regularly and promptly removed.

The exigencies of trade compelled our government to establish its bureau for the inspection of meat. The necessity of an inspection of foodstuffs for export demonstrates the possibility of adulteration for the home market. While, possibly, the ingenuity of the sophisticator has more than kept pace with the keenness of the inspector, the health of the people has been maintained, their comfort promoted, and their resources husbanded by the inspections carried on by the various city and state boards of health.

The welfare of the people at home, in their dwellings and at their tables, does not limit the efforts of the sanitarian. He takes cognizance of the daily toil, the ceaseless grind, to win one’s daily bread. He recognizes that some callings are dangerous or annoying to the people, and devises methods to overcome this, or failing in this, insists that such occupations must be carried on remote from the dwelling-place of man. Others, he finds, bring danger to those who are employed. This may not be an inherent danger, but one acquired by our crowding of operatives, or in other ways not securing to them proper comfort; and factory inspectors are at work to reduce these dangers to a minimum, and to prevent child labor as well—giving to youth, as far as cessation from overmuch toil can give, an opportunity to develop into physical manhood or womanhood. The sanitarian insists upon proper ventilation in mines, and tries to devise the means to remove the danger from those trades that ordinarily are inherently dangerous.

The sanitarian seeks to aid in the amenities and relaxations of life as well. The playgrounds for children, the athletic grounds by the riverside at Boston, recreation piers in New York, are examples of this. And all of these are comparatively recent efforts, adding to the catalogue of achievements during the century. It was the arch-enemy who, in the poem of antiquity, said: “All that a man hath will he give for his life.” But he made the remark after much observation, and to Jehovah, unto whom even he would not dare to lie; and the rolling years since the Hebrew epic was first written have only added testimony to the truth of the assertion. In these later days, when the rule and plummet are everywhere applied, where the scientist delves and classifies to seek the cosmos in the apparent chaos, there was evolved out of self-seeking for life a higher and better quest,—a search for those things which make for the health of all. This search has widened, until many a broad savannah has been trodden, many a mountain scaled and wilderness explored. With its ever extending view, new responsibilities and greater cares have been thrust upon those who are endeavoring to rule in this domain. A community, a nation, is but a unit. Let one part suffer, and all are in pain; let one but decay, and rot is imminent everywhere. There can be no true social progress, no real stability of government, no national prosperity worthy the name, unless the environment of each individual permits the enjoyment of personal health, if he individually observes but the ordinary care of self. And whatever else of progress for sanitary science may be granted or denied as belonging to our century, the crowning claim of all, which cannot be taken from her, is that, along with the ideas embodied in commonweal and commonwealth, she has added the other of equal dignity and worth—Public Health.

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THE CENTURY’S ARMIES AND ARMS
By LIEUTENANT-COLONEL ARTHUR L. WAGNER,
Assistant Adjutant General, U. S. Army.

A true appreciation of the progress made in the arts and sciences in the nineteenth century can be obtained only by contrasting the conditions found at present with those existing a hundred years ago. The difference between the sperm candle and the electric light; between the stage-coach and the rapid-flying express train; between the flail and the threshing machine; between the hand-loom and the machinery of the modern woollen mill; between the cruel medical operations of five score years ago and the skillful surgery, with the use of anæsthetics, of the present day; or between the mail-carrier with letters in his saddle-bags and the electric telegraph flashing news instantaneously from continent to continent; marks the difference between the beginning of the nineteenth and the opening of the twentieth centuries.

But there is scarcely an agency that has been employed during this wonderful century for the improvement of the condition of man that has not been enlisted for his destruction. Steam, electricity, chemical knowledge, engineering skill, and mechanical invention have all been employed in the science of war, and everything pertaining to the organization, arms, equipment, supply, training, and even the size of armies, has been so revolutionized that there is scarcely anything in common between the forces that fought at Marengo and those employed in recent wars, except the characteristic of being armed and organized bodies of soldiers under military leadership.

The nineteenth century was born in the midst of war. All Europe was an armed camp, and the contest between the principles of the French Revolution and the old feudal system had taken the form of actual strife upon the field of battle. A great alteration was taking place in the methods of war; the old pedantic strategy of the Austrian school had already received a rude shock at the hands of the brilliant young Bonaparte, and the old tactical methods bequeathed by Frederick the Great were, also, soon to be shattered by the genius of the newer and greater warrior. To appreciate the changes that were already being made in military methods, a brief glance at the organization of the armed forces in the latter part of the eighteenth century is necessary. The Prussian army, as organized by the great Frederick, was regarded as the finest of the time. In it the most exact and machine-like methods were observed, the most careful accuracy in marching was required, drill was carried to mechanical perfection, volley firing was conducted with the greatest precision, and no skirmishers were employed. In comparison with later methods, the whole system may be characterized as exact, methodical, and slow. Armies were supplied entirely from magazines, by means of long and cumbrous trains, and the art of moving rapidly and subsisting on the country was still to be discovered.

OLD STYLE SHRAPNEL.

The French army produced by the Revolution, and led by such men as Dugommier, Hoche, Moreau, and Bonaparte, was trained to operate in column, to deploy quickly into line, and generally to act with celerity; while the impoverished treasury of the republic compelled its armies to live entirely upon the country in which they were operating, as the only alternative to starvation. This entailed serious hardships to the soldiers, and great distress to the population of the country in which they were acting, but it marked distinctly the beginning of a new system of supply, which contributed greatly to the rapid movement of armies. The French army, at the beginning of the century, contained no regiments, but was organized into demi-brigades, each of which consisted of four battalions, each comprising ten companies, two of which were trained to act as skirmishers. These demi-brigades, with one or more batteries of artillery, constituted a division, to which a small force of cavalry was generally added. In 1805 Napoleon, then the supreme ruler of France, made important changes in the organization of the army. The demi-brigade was replaced by the two battalion regiments, each regiment now consisting of eight companies. Two regiments formed a brigade, and two brigades and a regiment of light infantry constituted a division. On the light regiment devolved the duties of skirmishers; namely, to harass and develop the enemy before the main attack. The divisions were grouped into larger organizations known as corps d’armée, or army corps, each of which consisted of all arms of the service, and was, in fact, a force capable of operating independently as a small army.[2] A corps of reserve cavalry was also formed. In numbers the cavalry was equal to one fourth, and the artillery one eighth of the strength of the infantry. The infantry was armed with a smooth-bore, muzzle-loading, flint-lock musket, which required some thirty-two distinct motions in loading, and which had an effective range of only two hundred yards, though by giving it a high elevation it could do some damage at twice that distance. This weapon bore about the same relation to the magazine rifle of the present day that the old-fashioned sickle bears to the modern mowing-machine. The artillery consisted of muzzle-loading, smooth-bore guns, which had less than one fourth the range of the modern infantry rifle. Cavalry, being able to form with comparative impunity within close proximity of the opposing infantry, could sweep down upon it in a headlong charge; and the use of the sabre on the field of battle, now so rare, was then an almost invariable feature of every conflict. Under Napoleon the armies continued to “live on the country,” but magazines of supplies were carefully prepared to supplement the exhausted resources of the theatre of war.

[2] Brigades and divisions had long existed, but the army corps was a creation of Napoleon.

In besieging a fortified place, the first parallel or line of batteries of the besiegers was habitually established at about six hundred yards from the enemy’s works, a distance then at long artillery range, but which would now be under an annihilating fire from infantry rifles. The cannon used solid shot almost exclusively, though early in the present century a projectile, invented by Lieutenant Shrapnel, of the British army, and which now universally bears his name, was introduced. This consisted of a thin cast-iron shell filled with round musket balls, the interstices between which were filled by pouring in melted sulphur or resin, to solidify the mass and prevent it from cracking the shell when the piece was fired. A hole was bored through the mass of sulphur and bullets to receive the bursting charge, which was just sufficient to rupture the shell and release the bullets, which then moved with the velocity that the projectile had at the moment of bursting. Shrapnel has at all times been a destructive missile, though in its early form it was insignificant in comparison with the “man-killing projectile” which now bears the same designation.

CONGREVE ROCKET.

In the year 1806, the Congreve rocket was added to the weapons of war. It consisted of a case of wrought iron, filled with a composition of nitre, charcoal, and sulphur, in such proportions as to burn more slowly than gunpowder. The head of the rocket consisted of a solid shot, a shell, or a shrapnel. At the base was fastened a stick, which secured steadiness for the projectile in its flight. The range of the rocket was scarcely more than five hundred yards, though a subsequent improvement, which dispensed with the guide-stick and substituted three tangential vents, increased the range very considerably. Congreve rockets were used with effect in Europe in 1814, and against our raw militia at Bladensburg in the same year. They seem, however, to have depended more upon the moral effect of their hissing rush than upon any really destructive properties, and were effective mainly against raw troops and cavalry. The rocket is now an obsolete weapon, having made its last appearance in war in the Austrian army in 1866.

U. S. RIFLE MUSKET, 1855.

U. S. RIFLE MUSKET, 1855.

The infantry of all the armies of Continental Europe, when deployed for battle, was formed in three ranks. On the eve of the battle of Leipsic, Napoleon, finding himself greatly outnumbered by the allies, ordered his infantry to deploy in two ranks, in order that his front might approximate in length to that of the enemy. This formation had, however, been adopted by the British some years before, and had been used with great success against the assaulting French columns, in many of Wellington’s battles in Spain, where the steadfast Anglo-Saxon soldiery was able to maintain the “thin red line,” and throw the fire of every musket against the denser formation of its foes. It was not until the British troops encountered, upon our own soil, an Anglo-Saxon opponent as steadfast as themselves, and better skilled in marksmanship, that they were unable to achieve a victory over their enemies. True, our raw militia was everywhere beaten when it encountered the disciplined soldiers of Great Britain, but our regular troops at Chippewa and Lundy’s Lane gallantly defeated the choice veterans of Wellington’s campaigns; and, at New Orleans, an army composed mainly of hardy backwoodsmen, trained in Indian lighting, and expert in the use of the rifle, hurled back, with frightful carnage, experienced British soldiers who had habitually triumphed over the best veterans of the French empire.

MINIÉ BALL.

The battle of New Orleans marked the introduction of the rifle as a formidable arm for infantry. It was by no means a new weapon, for it had been invented in Germany in 1498; but it had not been used to any extent in military service, mainly because of the slowness of loading. The capabilities of the rifle in the hands of an army of expert marksmen were, however, made so manifest by Jackson’s great victory that the attention of military men was turned towards the weapon which had enabled a crude army to overwhelm the choicest troops of Europe.

Yet it was not until 1850 that a practically efficient military rifle appeared. This was the invention of Captain Minié, of the French army, and was the well-known “Minié rifle,” long familiar to troops on both continents. The weapon was a muzzle-loader, and its projectile, the “Minié ball,” was of a conoidal shape, as shown in the accompanying figure. The ball being slightly smaller in diameter than the bore of the piece, the loading was easily accomplished, and the shock of the explosion against the cavity at the base of the bullet forced the lead into the grooves of the bore and caused the shot to take up a rotary motion on its axis—in other words, “to take the rifling.”

Rifles, mostly constructed on principles similar to those on which Minié’s weapon was based, were soon in use in the armies of all great nations. The rifle musket, “model of 1855,” adopted by the United States, is shown in the accompanying figure.

In 1817 percussion caps were invented in the United States, but some time elapsed before they were introduced into military use; and though the “percussion rifle” was known in 1841, the victorious troops which went with Scott in the brilliant campaign from Vera Cruz to the City of Mexico, six years later, were armed with the flint-lock musket. In 1833, Colonel Colt invented the first practical revolving pistol. This weapon, especially in its present perfected form, is so well known as to need no description. The first pattern of Colt’s revolver used paper cartridges and percussion caps.

In the long period of peace which Europe enjoyed after the battle of Waterloo, but little change was made in the organization of the armies of the great powers; and in the Crimean war (1855–56) the composition of the English, French, and Russian armies did not differ materially from the constitution of the forces of the same nations in the Napoleonic wars. Marked changes had, however, been made in the nature of the weapons; most of the English and a part of the French infantry being armed with the rifle, though the Russian infantry, with the exception of a few selected regiments, were still armed with the smooth-bore musket. Though the extreme range of the rifle at this time did not exceed eight hundred yards, and was inaccurate at half that distance, it was, nevertheless, a formidable weapon in comparison with the infantry musket of Napoleonic times. Rifled siege guns were employed by the British at Sebastopol, but they were not a success, and were soon withdrawn from the batteries. A striking indication of the increased range of artillery was furnished at Sebastopol, when the besiegers established their first parallel at a distance of 1300 yards from the Russian works.

ARMSTRONG FIELD GUN.

In the Italian war of 1859 rifled cannon appeared for the first time upon the field of battle. They were employed by the French, and to their use was largely due the victories of the French and Sardinians over the Austrians. For many years the attention of artillerists had been devoted to the production of serviceable rifled artillery, and as early as 1846 an iron breech-loading rifled cannon had been invented in France by Major Cavalli. This gun fired a shell not dissimilar in shape to the projectile employed in the Minié rifled musket. In 1854, experiments with a Cavalli gun gave very satisfactory results, both in range and accuracy; but the breech mechanism seemed dangerously weak, and the rifled guns, adopted by the French and used with such effect in Italy, were muzzle-loaders.

In 1854 a breech-loading rifled field-piece was invented by Sir William George Armstrong. It was made of wrought-iron bars coiled into spiral tubes, and welded by forging. The breech was closed with a screw which could be quickly withdrawn for loading and sponging the gun. The projectile was made of cast-iron, thinly coated with lead, and was (with its coating) slightly larger in diameter than the bore. The lead coating was crushed into the grooves by the force of the powder, the necessary rotation being thus given to the projectile. This gun gave excellent results in range and in rapidity and accuracy of fire, but it was not until some years after its invention that it was adopted in the British service. Other breech-loading cannon soon appeared; but in the United States army the 3-inch Rodman muzzle-loading rifled gun was preferred to any breech-loader then devised, and was used with great effect throughout the War of Secession. This gun was made by wrapping boiler plate around an iron bar, so as to form a cylindrical mass, the whole being brought to a welding heat in a furnace and then passed through rollers to unite it solidly. The piece was then bored and turned to the proper shape and dimensions. The projectiles for rifled guns were generally coated with soft metal, or furnished with an expanding base or cup of similar metal or papier maché; though in some systems they were furnished with studs or buttons which fitted into the grooves of the bore. In the case of the Whitworth gun, the projectile was made nearly of the exact size and form of the bore, so as to fit accurately into the grooves.

RODMAN GUN.

Breech-loading cannon were not, however, quickly adopted, owing, perhaps, to conservatism on the part of artillerists, and partly because the guns first produced did not seem to give appreciably better results in range, accuracy, or even in rapidity of fire than the muzzle-loaders. Not only were breech-loading cannon adopted with seeming reluctance, but rifled cannon generally were looked upon with disfavor by many artillerists of the old school. Hohenlohe tells of an old Prussian general of artillery who was so prejudiced against the rifled innovation that he requested, on his death-bed, that the salute over his grave should be fired with nothing but smooth-bore guns. It must be confessed, however, that the 12-pound smooth-bore Napoleon gun long held its own against the new rifled field-pieces, as many a bloody battle in our Civil War well attested.

GENERAL WINFIELD SCOTT.

In the manufacture of heavy guns the United States for some time led the world. In 1860, General Rodman, of the Ordnance Department, produced the first 15-inch gun ever made. This gun was made of cast-iron, and was cast on a hollow core, cooled by a stream of water passing through it, by which means the metal nearest the bore was made the hardest and most dense, and the tendency towards bursting was thus reduced to a minimum. General Rodman was also the inventor of the hollow cake powder, which consisted of cakes perforated with numerous small holes for the passage of the flame, thus enabling the powder to be progressively consumed, and causing the amount of gas at the last moments of the discharge to be greater than at the instant of ignition. A large-grain powder, known as “mammoth powder,” was afterwards devised by him to produce the same results. It will be seen later that this invention has rendered possible the powerful ordnance of the present day; and it is perhaps not too much to say, that Rodman is really thus the father of the modern high-power guns.

At the beginning of the War of Secession the heaviest gun in the United States was the 15-inch Rodman, the projectile of which weighed 320 lbs., the charge of powder weighing 35 lbs. Next to this was the 10-inch Columbiad, which fired a 100-lb. shell with a charge of 18 lbs. of powder. The effective range of these guns was a little less than three miles. The heaviest mortar was of 13-inch caliber, fired a 200-lb. shell, with a charge of 20 lbs. of powder, and had a range of 4325 yards. This mortar was, like all others then in use, manipulated by means of handspikes, and not only was much less powerful, but was much more clumsy than the admirable mortar of the present day.

OLD SMOOTH-BORE MORTAR.

The Crimean and Italian wars had foreshadowed the passing away of the old military conditions and the dawning of a new era of warfare. But it was in the gigantic struggle which rocked our own country for four years that the developments of modern warfare really commenced. At the beginning of this great conflict the ranges of 1000 to 1200 yards for field guns, and of 1500 to 2000 yards for heavy guns, were as great as could be secured with any degree of accuracy. The infantry rifle with which the Union and Confederate armies were armed had an extreme range of but 1000 yards, and a really effective range of only half that distance. The rifle was a muzzle-loader, which required nine distinct motions in loading besides those necessary in priming the piece with the percussion cap then used. The tactics employed at first in all arms of the service did not differ materially from the methods employed in the Napoleonic wars; and a line of American infantry deployed for battle in two ranks, shoulder to shoulder, scarcely differed in anything but the color of its uniforms from the “thin red line” of Wellington’s warriors. All this was to be changed; but it was not only in the matter of arms and tactics that a revolution was to be effected, for new forces hitherto untried were to be employed in the art of war.

The War of Secession was not only one of the most gigantic conflicts ever waged on earth, but was one which will always be of interest to the military student because of its remarkable developments in the science of warfare, and one which will ever be a source of pride to Americans because of the grim earnestness and stubborn valor displayed by the contending armies. From first to last, more than two millions of men were enrolled by the United States, and in the final campaign 1,100,000 men were actually bearing arms in the service of the Union. The infantry was organized in companies of one hundred men, ten companies forming a regiment. At first, three or four regiments constituted a brigade, though it was afterwards formed of a greater number when the regiments became depleted by the losses of battle. Three brigades generally composed a division, which also habitually included two batteries of artillery and a small detachment of cavalry for duty as orderlies and messengers. Three or more divisions constituted an army corps. The cavalry was formed into brigades and divisions, which in the later years of the war were combined to form, in each of the large armies, a corps of cavalry. It was in command of such corps of mounted troops that Sheridan, J. E. B. Stuart, Merritt, and Wilson achieved their great fame. The batteries first distributed to divisions, or even brigades, were afterwards assigned to the army corps, and all guns not thus employed were grouped into a corps of reserve artillery.

It is a curious fact that the two factors most important in warfare were found to be two inventions designed primarily for the interests of peace, namely, the railroad and the electric telegraph. Steam and electricity had both been used in the Crimean and Italian wars; but it was in the War of Secession that they received their first great and systematic application. The effect of the use of railroads in war not only enables armies to be more rapidly concentrated than was formerly the case, but renders it possible to supply them to an extent and with a certainty that would otherwise be out of the question. The difference between the supply of an army by wagon and by rail was clearly shown in the siege of Paris, in 1870–71, where six trains a day fed the whole besieging army, while it is estimated that nearly ten thousand wagons would have been required for the same purpose. Moreover, the force of troops necessarily detached to protect a line of railroad communications is not nearly so great as the force that would be necessary to guard the innumerable wagon or pack trains that would otherwise be required. In the opinion of the best military authorities, railroads, had they been in existence, would have enabled Napoleon to conquer Russia, and with it the world; while, without the aid of railroads, the successful invasion of the South by the armies of the Union would have been an impossibility. It is only while it keeps moving that an army can “live on the country.” It is like a swarm of locusts, consuming everything within reach; and if it be compelled to halt, whether for battle or from other cause, it must be supplied from bases in the rear, or it will speedily disintegrate from hunger alone. This fact was fully appreciated by General Sherman, when he left Atlanta in his famous “march to the sea;” for though he expected to, and did, live upon the country, he nevertheless took the precaution to carry with him a wagon train containing twenty days’ rations for his entire army.

In the War of Secession the electric telegraph first appeared on the field of battle. The telegraph train became a prominent feature of all our armies; and the day’s march was hardly ended before the electric wire, rapidly established by an expert corps, connected the headquarters of the army with those of each army corps, division, and brigade. But it was not in its employment on the actual field of battle that the telegraph found its most valuable military use. It enabled generals, separated by hundreds of miles, to be in constant communication with each other, and rendered it possible for Grant to control from his headquarters hut at City Point the movements of the armies of Sherman, Thomas, and Sheridan in combined operations, which enabled each to perform, in harmony with the others, its part in the mighty plan.

SPENCER CARBINE.

It followed as naturally as day follows night that a shrewd and intelligent people, engaged in a desperate struggle for self-preservation, would avail themselves of all means provided by military science for carrying out the contest in which they were engaged. Iron-clad vessels had been devised in both England and France, but they were merely frigates designed on the old lines and partly covered with a sheathing of armor. With characteristic energy and ingenuity the Americans, ignoring old traditions and seeking the shortest road to the fulfillment of a manifest want, produced simultaneously the Merrimac and the Monitor, the former resembling “a gabled house submerged to the eaves,” and the latter looking like “a Yankee cheese-box upon a raft.” These novel vessels met in their memorable combat at Hampton Roads, and the booming of their guns sounded the death knell of the old wooden navies.

As with war vessels, so with firearms. New conditions were met with inventive genius and mechanical skill. Though the great mass of our troops continued throughout the conflict to use the muzzle-loading rifle, breech-loaders were in the hands of many thousands of our soldiers before the close of the great contest. In 1864 the cavalry of Sheridan and Wilson and many regiments of infantry were armed with breech-loading carbines, which gave them a great advantage over their opponents. The effect of the breech-loaders upon the Confederates was unpleasantly surprising to them, and the Southern soldiers are said to have remarked with dismal humor that “the Yankees loaded all night and fired all day.”

The principal breech-loading arms in use in the Union armies were the Sharps and the Spencer. In the Sharps carbine the barrel was closed by a sliding breech-piece which moved at right angles with the axis of the piece, the breech being opened and closed by pulling down and raising up the trigger-guard. The Spencer carbine was a magazine rifle, and was greatly superior to the Sharps. The magazine of the rifle lay in the butt of the stock, and was capable of holding seven cartridges. As the cartridge was fired and ejected another was pushed forward into the breech by a spiral spring in the butt of the piece. The Spencer carbine used metallic cartridges. The introduction of these cartridges was one of the most remarkable advances in the art of war made during the present century. The cartridge in use in 1864–65 is shown in the accompanying figure; it consisted of a thin copper case firmly attached to the bullet containing the powder, and having at its base a small metallic anvil, in a cavity of which was placed the fulminate, which was exploded by means of a firing pin, driven in by a blow of the hammer. The advantages of the metallic cartridge can scarcely be overestimated; it rendered obsolete the percussion cap, and being water-proof it did away with the ever-present bugbear of damp ammunition. The old injunction, “Put your trust in God and keep your powder dry,” has consequently lost much of its force; for while it is to be hoped that the soldier will continue to place his reliance upon Providence, the latter part of the advice can now be safely ignored.

METALLIC CARTRIDGE OF 1864–65.

Among the many advantages possessed by the breech-loader over the muzzle-loader, the principal ones are greater rapidity of fire, ease of loading in any position, diminished danger of accidents in loading, and the impossibility of putting more than one charge in the piece at the same time. This last advantage is by no means slight. Among 27,000 muzzle-loading muskets picked up on the battlefield of Gettysburg, at least 24,000 were loaded. Of these about half contained two charges, one fourth held from three to ten charges, and one musket contained twenty-three cartridges.

The failure of the Americans to produce during the great war a practical breech-loading field-gun is doubtless due to the fact that the field artillery in use at that time answered fully all the requirements then existing. Owing to the nature of the country in which the armies were operating, the range of the 3-inch rifled gun was fully as great as could have been desired; and on the broken and wooded ground which generally formed our field of battle, the smooth-bore Napoleon gun, firing shrapnel and canister, seemed to have reached almost the acme of destructiveness. Moreover, the muzzle-loading cannon, both rifled and smooth-bore, were served with such celerity as to make it a matter of doubt for some years after whether the introduction of breech-loading field-guns would materially increase the rapidity of fire. It was not until infantry fire had greatly increased in range and rapidity that a further improvement in field artillery became necessary. In siege artillery, heavy rifled guns of the Rodman and the Parrott type appeared. The Parrott gun was of cast iron, strengthened by shrinking a coiled band of wrought iron over the portion of the piece surrounding the charge. The famous “Swamp Angel,” used in the siege of Charleston, was a Parrott gun. The sea-coast artillery consisted mainly of smooth-bores of large calibre, which were able to contend successfully with any armor then afloat. It is a curious fact that the war, so to speak, between guns and armor has been incessantly waged since the introduction of the latter, every advance of armor towards the degree of invulnerability being met with the production of a gun capable of piercing it. The sea-coast artillery of the United States in the Civil War met fully every demand to which it was subjected.

The War of Secession produced the first practical machine-gun,—the Gatling,—though such guns were not used to any extent. The machine-gun has, in fact, passed through a long period of gestation, and it is only in recent years that it can be said to have attained its full birth. Our great war was also noted for the introduction of torpedoes. These peculiar weapons had, it is true, been devised may years before; and Robert Fulton had, in the early part of the century, devoted his inventive genius to the production of a submarine torpedo, which, however, was never practically tested in war. It was not until the contest of 1861–65 that torpedoes were of any practical use. The high explosives of the present day being then unknown, these torpedoes depended for their destructive force upon gunpowder alone. Yet crude and insignificant though they were in comparison with the mighty engines of destruction now known by the same name, they accomplished great results in more than one instance. The destruction of the Housatonic off Charleston, the sinking of the Tecumseh in Mobile Bay, and Cushing’s daring destruction of the Albemarle, gave notice to the world that a new and terrible engine of warfare had made its appearance.

But it was not merely by the production of new weapons that the great American war was characterized. It marked the turning-point in tactics as well. The first efforts of our great armies of raw volunteers were as crude as the warfare of untrained troops always is, and it was fortunate that we were opposed to a foe as unpracticed as ourselves; but as the troops gained experience in war, acquired the necessary military instruction,—in brief, learned their trade and became regulars in all but name,—they displayed not only a steadfast prowess, but a military skill that placed the veteran American soldier at the head of the warriors of the world. The art of constructing hasty intrenchments on the field of battle grew out of the quickness of the American soldier to appreciate the necessity of providing defensive means to neutralize, in some degree, the greatly increased destructive effect of improved arms. In this respect he was thirteen years in advance of the European soldier, for hasty intrenchments did not appear in Europe until the Turco-Russian War. True, intrenchment on the field of battle was as old as war itself; but the American armies were the first that developed a system of quickly covering the entire front of an army with earthworks hastily thrown up in the presence of the enemy, and often actually under fire. Skirmishers were no longer used merely to feel and develop the enemy; but in many of our battles, notably in Sherman’s campaign in Georgia, the engagement was begun, and fought to the end, by strong skirmish lines successively reinforced from the main body, which they gradually absorbed in the course of the action. Here, too, the American soldier was fully six years in advance of the European warrior; for it was not until the Germans had been warned by the terrific losses incurred in their earlier battles with the French, in 1870, that they evolved from their own experience a system of tactics, the essential principles of which had already been demonstrated on the Western Continent.

The increased range of artillery again received a practical illustration; for at the siege of Fort Pulaski the Union batteries first opened fire at ranges varying from 1650 to 3400 yards from the Confederate fort. At the siege of Charleston shells were thrown into the city from a battery nearly five miles distant.

In 1866, the brief but bloody war between Austria and Prussia suddenly raised the latter nation from a comparatively subordinate position to the front rank of military powers. The greatness of Prussia was born in the sackcloth and ashes of national humiliation. Forbidden by Napoleon, after her crushing defeat in 1806–7, to maintain an army of more than 40,000 men, her great war minister, Scharnhorst, conceived the plan of discharging the soldiers from military service as soon as they had received the requisite instruction, and filling their places with recruits. In this way, though the standing army never exceeded the stipulated number, many thousands of Prussians received military training; and when Prussia declared war against Napoleon, after his disastrous Russian campaign, the discharged men were called back into the ranks, and there arose as if by magic a formidable Prussian army of trained soldiers. The principle of universal military service, thus called into existence in Prussia in time of war, had been continued through fifty years of peace, and enabled Prussia, with a population scarcely more than half as numerous as that of Austria, to place upon the decisive field of Königgrätz a larger army than that of her opponent.

The Prussian system, which has since been copied by all the great military nations of Europe, is, in its essential features, as follows: Every able-bodied man in the kingdom, upon reaching the age of twenty years, is available for military service; and each year there are chosen by lot sufficient recruits to maintain the army at its authorized strength. The great body of the male population is thus brought into military service. There are a few exceptions, such as the only sons of indigent parents, and a small number of men who are in excess of the force required. Any man who escapes the draft for three successive years, and all able-bodied men exempted for any cause from service in the regular army, are incorporated in the reserve. The term of service in the regular army is two years for the infantry and three for the artillery and cavalry. After being discharged from the regular army the soldier passes into the reserve, where he serves for four years. While in the reserve, he is called out for two field exercises of eight weeks’ duration each, and the rest of his time is available for his civil vocation. At the end of four years in the reserve he passes into the Landwehr, in which he is required to participate in only two field exercises of two weeks’ duration each. After five years in the Landwehr proper, he passes into the second levy of the Landwehr, where he is free from all military duty in time of peace, though still liable to be called to arms in case of war. From the second levy of the Landwehr he passes, at the age of thirty-nine years, into the Landsturm, where he remains until he reaches his forty-fifth year, when he is finally discharged from military duty. The soldier in the Landsturm is practically free from all military duty, for that body is never called out except in case of dire national emergency. By this system Prussia became not only a military power but “a nation in arms,” in the blaze of whose might the military glory of Austria and of France successively melted away in humiliating defeat.

The careful military preparation of Prussia in time of peace was by no means limited to measures for providing an army strong in numbers. Every year her troops were assembled in large bodies for practice in the manœuvres of the battlefield. This mimicry of war, at first lightly regarded by the military leaders of the other European nations, produced such wonderful effects in promoting the efficiency of the army that it has since been copied in all the armies of Europe, and is now regarded as the most important of all instruction for war.

Though breech-loading rifles were, as we have seen, used in the War of Secession, the Prussian army was the first that ever took the field completely armed with such weapons. The Prussian rifle was not new, for it had been invented by a Thuringian gunsmith, named Dreyse, about the time that the Minié rifle appeared. Dreyse’s arm was known as the “zundnadelgewehr,” or needle-gun, and its effect in the Austro-Prussian war was so decisive and startling as to cause muzzle-loading rifles everywhere to be relegated to the limbo of obsolete weapons. Yet the needle-gun was but a sorry weapon in comparison to those now in use, and was distinctly inferior to the Spencer carbine. Its breech mechanism was clumsy, it used a paper cartridge, it was not accurate beyond a range of three hundred yards, and its effective range was scarcely more than twice that distance. The German infantry fought in three ranks, and its tactics was not equal to that employed by the American infantry in the War of Secession. The Prussian field artillery was the most formidable that had yet appeared, and consisted mainly of steel breech-loading rifled guns, which were classed as 6-pounders and 4-pounders, though the larger piece fired a shell weighing fifteen pounds, and the smaller projectile used a shell weighing nine pounds. In the Austrian army the infantry was armed with a muzzle-loading rifle, and the artillery consisted entirely of muzzle-loading rifled guns.

The exalted military prestige gained by Prussia rendered it certain that she must soon enter the lists in a contest with France, whose commanding position in Europe was so seriously menaced by the rise of the new power. Foreseeing the inevitable conflict, Napoleon III. endeavored to prepare for a serious struggle. The French infantry was armed with the Chassepôt rifle, which had an effective range nearly double that of the needle-gun. A machine gun, known as the mitrailleuse, was also introduced into the French army. Much was expected of these new arms; but so superior was the organization, readiness, generalship, and tactical skill of the Prussians that the war was a practically unbroken series of victories for Prussia and the allied German States. Profiting by their experience in the course of the conflict, the Prussians formed their infantry for attack in three lines; the first consisting of skirmishers, the second of supports, either deployed or in small columns, and the third of a reserve, generally held in column until it came under such fire as to render deployment necessary. The skirmishers were constantly reinforced from the supports, and finally from the reserve as the attack progressed, the whole force being united in a heavy line, and opening the hottest possible fire when close enough to the enemy for the final charge. In its essential principles this attack formation is in use at the present day in the armies of all civilized nations. The Prussian artillery was handled with terrible effect both in battle and siege. A new demonstration of the increased power of artillery was given in the siege of Paris, in which shells were thrown from the heights of Clamart to the Panthéon, a distance of five miles.

The next European war was the contest between Russia and Turkey, in 1877. In this conflict the American system of hasty intrenchments was used with success by the Turks, who were also armed with an American rifle, the Peabody, which enabled them to inflict serious losses upon the Russians at a range of a mile and a quarter. Owing to the Turkish intrenchments and the inferiority of their own arms, the Russians won their victories over much smaller armies only with a gruesome loss of life. A further impetus was given to the development of the infantry rifle, and the German tactical experience was confirmed by the Russian General Skobeleff in the declaration that infantry can successfully assault only in a succession of skirmish lines.

The war in Turkey was the last great European conflict. Subsequent campaigns of the Russians in Central Asia, of the English in Egypt, the Soudan, and India, of the Japanese in China, of the Turks in Greece, and the Americans in Cuba, have emphasized the lessons already taught, and demonstrated the increased power of new weapons.

Having taken a retrospective view of the military forces and weapons employed in the wars of the nineteenth century, let us now turn to a consideration of the armies and arms of the present day. The adoption of the system of universal military service has increased the size of the standing armies of the nations of Europe far beyond the proportionate increase of their respective populations. In round numbers, the strength of the armies of the great powers is as follows: Russia, 869,000; Germany, 585,000; France, 618,000; Austria, 306,000; Italy, 231,000; Great Britain, 222,000.[3] Not only are the standing armies greater than in the early days of the century, but, owing to the improved methods of transportation and supply, the forces now brought upon the field of battle are vastly larger than in the days of Napoleon. The French army at Marengo was less than 30,000 strong. At Austerlitz it was only 70,000, which was its strength also at Waterloo. In only two battles, Wagram and Leipsic, was Napoleon able to place 150,000 men on the field; and in the latter battle the armies of all Europe opposed to him numbered only 280,000. In more recent times Prussia alone placed upon the field of Königgrätz 223,000 men with which to oppose the Austrian army of 206,000; and at Gravelotte the great French army of 180,000 men was outnumbered by the German host of 270,000. It is probable that in the next great European war more than a million men will be found contending on a single battlefield. A detailed description of the armies of all the great powers would prove wearisome to the reader, for their points of resemblance are many and their general characteristics are the same. The German army may be taken as the most perfect specimen of a highly organized military force, and a description of its organization would answer with slight modification for the other armies of Continental Europe.

[3] These numbers give the peace strength of the armies. In time of war they can easily be quadrupled.

The infantry of the German army is organized in companies of 250 men each. Four companies constitute a battalion, and three battalions compose a regiment. The brigade consists of two regiments, and the division is composed of two brigades of infantry, four batteries of artillery, and a regiment of cavalry. The army corps consists of two divisions, a body of corps artillery composed of twelve batteries, a battalion of engineers, and a supply train. In round numbers, the fighting strength of the army corps consists of 30,000 men and 120 guns. The cavalry is organized in squadrons of 150 sabres each, five squadrons forming a regiment, only four of which are employed in the field, the fifth remaining at the regimental depot. The cavalry brigade consists of three regiments; and the cavalry division, which is composed of two brigades, aggregates 3600 sabres. Thus a small part of the cavalry force is attached to the infantry divisions, while the bulk of it is organized into divisions composed of mounted troops alone, two batteries of horse artillery being attached to each cavalry division. The entire military force is divided into “armies,” each consisting of from three to six army corps and two or more cavalry divisions. The cavalry has about one sixth and the artillery about one seventh of the numerical strength of the infantry. The German cavalry is armed with sabre, carbine, and lance. The officers carry the sabre and revolver.

In the army of the United States the organization differs in many respects from that of the German army. The infantry companies each consist of 106 men, including officers. Twelve companies form a regiment, and three regiments constitute a brigade. A division is composed of three brigades, and the army corps is made up of three divisions. The number of batteries assigned to the divisions varies, as also the amount of corps artillery. In the army operating in Cuba, the artillery was all in a separate organization, and was distributed to the divisions only on the eve of battle. Experience and theory alike suggest four batteries for each division and eight batteries for the corps artillery. No cavalry is assigned to the divisions, but a regiment is supposed to be assigned to each army corps. The main force of the cavalry is grouped together into cavalry divisions. The cavalry is organized into troops of 100 sabres, four troops forming a squadron, and three squadrons constituting a regiment. Three regiments form a brigade, and three brigades a division. The American cavalry brigade is thus of the same size as a Prussian cavalry division. The cavalry is armed with the sabre, carbine, and revolver. The lance is unknown in the American army.

Having viewed the composition of modern armies, let us now see how they are armed. A consideration of the powder now in use is a necessary preface to a description of the weapons employed in the warfare of the present day. The old fine-grained black powder familiar to every boy who has ever handled a shotgun has passed completely out of military use. The powders now employed usually have guncotton or nitroglycerine and guncotton for a base. They are practically smokeless, the product of their combustion is almost entirely gaseous, they leave no solid residuum, and are of the quality known as “slow-burning,” giving a constantly increasing pressure on the projectile from the moment of ignition to the time when it leaves the muzzle of the piece. These powders are manufactured in thin sheets or small tubes or cords, which, for small arms, are broken up into grains. They vary in color from light yellow to black.

PRISMATIC POWDER.

Before the adoption of smokeless powder, the cake powder invented by General Rodman had been highly developed and improved in the form of “cocoa powder.” This was made in hexagonal prisms, each perforated longitudinally, so as to have a hollow core. These grains were carefully arranged in the cartridges so as to have this core continuous from one grain to another, in order that upon ignition the combustion would begin in the interior and produce a constantly increasing volume of gas as the exterior surface of the grain was reached. Though the time of combustion was too rapid to be appreciated by the ordinary senses, it was, nevertheless, quite different from the practically instantaneous combustion of the old small-grain powder, and was susceptible of accurate measurement. Much difficulty was experienced in overcoming the detonating tendencies of the smokeless powders, but at last the requisite slow-burning properties were obtained. The smokeless powder for large guns is made in cartridges composed of bundles of strips or cords, or in the same prismatic form as the cocoa powder, and the process of combustion is the same.

MORTAR ON REVOLVING HOIST.

The form of the gun is dependent entirely upon the nature of the powder used. As the pressure of the gas constantly increases with the burning of the powder, the maximum force will be reached at the moment the combustion is complete. The length of the bore should, therefore, be just sufficient to enable the powder to be entirely consumed at the exact instant the projectile leaves the muzzle of the piece. A shorter bore would cause much of the powder to be thrown out unconsumed, while a much greater length would retard the projectile by subjecting it to the friction of the bore after the maximum force of the powder had been reached. This accounts for the greatly increased length of the modern cannon. A change in the method of gun construction has accordingly become necessary. Guns are no longer made of cast iron, but are “built up” of steel. The explosion of the powder is, of course, exerted in every direction, against the bore and sides of the piece as well as against the base of the projectile. This produces two strains; a longitudinal strain which is exerted in the direction of the axis of the piece, and a transverse strain which tends to burst the gun. It is necessary, therefore, to have the piece so strong, especially at the points of first explosion, as to counteract these strains, and thus cause the entire force to be exerted upon the projectile in the direction of the “least resistance.” This strength, or “initial tension,” is obtained by shrinking cylinders of steel over the original cylinder of the piece, each outer cylinder or jacket being a few thousandths of an inch smaller in its interior diameter than the outer diameter of the cylinder which it incloses, and being expanded by heating to a sufficient degree to enable it to be slipped over the latter. Upon cooling, the jacket exerts a constant and powerful force of compression, which counteracts the outward pressure of the force of explosion. The longitudinal strain is less dangerous than the other, and is usually counteracted by an interlocking of some of the cylinders or hoops, to which the strain is transmitted from the breech-plug. The art of building up guns has been of slow growth, the first efforts in this direction having been made by Sir W. G. Armstrong nearly half a century ago. The weight of the projectile of the present 16-inch gun in the United States service is 2370 pounds; the charge of powder weighs 1060 pounds, and the extreme range is more than 14 miles. The cost of each shot is $450, and when we consider that this does not include the wear and tear of the gun, it is evident that money has become more than ever before “the sinews of war.”

Not less remarkable than the improvement in cannon is the improvement in mortars. These mortars are very unlike the clumsy weapons of that name manipulated by hand-spikes, which were known in our great war. They are now mounted on a platform which turns on rollers. They are elevated or depressed by a mechanical appliance, are loaded at the breech, are accurately rifled, and can drop their projectiles on the decks of hostile vessels at a range of six miles. They are placed in groups of four, each in a separate pit, some batteries containing as many as four groups, or sixteen mortars. In all important sea-coast batteries both guns and mortars are so arranged as to be fired by electricity, either singly or in volleys.

A dynamite gun has been devised by Captain Zalinsky for the purpose, as the name implies, of throwing a projectile containing dynamite. Attempts to fire dynamite projectiles by means of powder have thus far failed. In the Zalinsky gun the propelling power is compressed air. The projectile contains from fifty to sixty pounds of gelatine dynamite, the explosion of which is terrific. Excellent results have been obtained with Zalinsky’s gun up to a range of 2000 yards, but as this is insignificant in comparison with the enormous range of high-power cannon using powder as a charge, the dynamite gun is still a weapon of limited usefulness. Although the dynamite gun has not as yet fulfilled the desired requirements as to range, promising experiments have been made in firing shells charged with high explosives from mortars using charges of powder, and it is probably a question of only a short time before means will be found for successfully firing dynamite in a similar manner.

The great improvements in field artillery make the cannon of the early battlefields of the century seem, in comparison, almost like harmless toys. The modern field gun is made of steel, is rifled, loads at the breech, and has great rapidity and accuracy of fire. The extreme range of the 3.2-inch field gun in the United States service is about four miles. This, in fact, is beyond the ordinary range of human vision, and it is but rarely that the ground for so great a distance is free from features that obstruct the view. For these reasons the fire of field guns can seldom be utilized beyond a range of two miles. The projectile of the 3.2-inch field gun weighs 13½ pounds, and the charge of powder 3½ pounds. The 3.6-inch gun is a still more powerful weapon, the weight of the projectile and charge being 20 and 4½ pounds respectively. Shells are used against inanimate objects, such as earthworks or buildings; but the great artillery projectile for the battlefield is shrapnel. It is now very different from the crude projectile known by the same name in the early years of the century. The bullets are assembled in circular layers and held in position by “separators,” which are short cast-iron cylinders with hemispherical cavities into which the bullets fit. The bottom separator fits by means of lugs into recesses at the base of the shrapnel, and prevents independent rotation of the charge of bullets. The top separator is smooth on its upper side, and is kept firmly in place by the head of the projectile, which screws against it. The separators prevent movement or deformation of the bullets under shock of discharge, and being weakened by radial cuts, increase the effect by furnishing additional fragments of effective weight. The shrapnel for the 3.2-inch gun contains 162 bullets one half inch in diameter and weighing 41 to the pound. The total number of bullets and individual pieces in the shrapnel is 201.

MODERN SHRAPNEL.

The heavy sea-coast guns are now mounted either in armored turrets, en barbette, or on disappearing gun-carriages. The first system is very costly and is not generally used in the United States. The second system, in which the guns are fired over a parapet and are constantly exposed, is used only in rare cases. The third has been perfected in the United States in the Buffington-Crozier and the Gordon disappearing gun-carriages. These carriages enable the gun to be loaded in safety under cover of the carriage pit, and then to be raised by means of counterweights or compressed air to a position from which it can fire over the parapet. With trained cannoneers, the gun can be raised and fired in twenty seconds, and this brief period of exposure, especially when smokeless powder is used, renders it almost impossible for the enemy to locate the gun with any degree of accuracy. The shock of the recoil, taken up by pneumatic or hydraulic cylinders, brings the piece back, quickly but gently, to the loading position, whence it is again raised for firing.

The siege artillery of the United States army consists of the 5-inch gun, the 7-inch howitzer, and the 7-inch mortar. They all use shell, and their effective range is from three to four miles.

When the enemy is sheltered behind entrenchments it is difficult to reach him with shrapnel fired from field guns. Field mortars have accordingly been devised for this purpose and have given excellent results. The United States 3.6-inch field mortar is rifled, and carries a shrapnel weighing twenty pounds. The weight of the field mortar is only 500 pounds, and it can be easily carried in a cart drawn by a single mule.

KRAG-JORGENSEN RIFLE.

But great as the improvements have been in artillery, they are less important than the changes effected in the infantry rifle; for upon the quality of the infantry depends, more than upon anything else, the efficiency of an army. There are many kinds of rifles now in use in the different armies of the world, but in their essential principles they are very similar. All use smokeless powder, and all are provided with a magazine which admits of firing a number of shots without reloading. The Springfield rifle formerly in use in the United States army has been replaced by the Krag-Jorgensen, which has a magazine holding live cartridges, and is provided with a cut-off which enables the piece to be used as a single-shooter. When an emergency demands rapid fire, the opening of the cut-off enables the cartridges in the magazine to be fired in rapid succession. The range of the Krag-Jorgensen is 4066 yards, being practically equal to that of the Mauser, which, in the hands of the Spaniards, inflicted casualties upon our men when they were more than two miles from the hostile position. The difference in the penetrating power of the Krag-Jorgensen and the Springfield is shown in the accompanying illustration, taken from the report of the chief of ordnance for 1893. The Springfield lead bullet was fired with 69 grains of black powder, and penetrated 3.3 inches of poorly seasoned oak, the bullet being badly deformed. With a bullet covered with a German silver jacket the penetration was 5.3 inches, the bullet being again deformed. The Krag-Jorgensen used a bullet consisting of a lead core and a cupronickeled jacket, which was fired with 37 grains of smokeless powder. The bullet penetrated well-seasoned oak to a distance of 24.2 inches and was taken out in perfect condition. The new rifle, at short ranges, has an almost explosive effect and produces a shocking wound; but at ordinary ranges the wounds inflicted by it may be almost characterized as merciful, for the bullet makes a clean puncture, and unless a vital organ is struck the wound heals easily and quickly. The old expression of “forty rounds,” so familiar to veterans of the Civil War, is now obsolete; for no soldier now thinks of going into action with less than 150 cartridges on his person. Not only is the firing more rapid than was formerly the case, but the lighter weight of the cartridge enables a greater number to be carried.

SPRINGFIELD, CAL. 45 (LEAD BULLET).

SPRINGFIELD, CAL. 45 (GERMAN SILVER JACKET).

KRAG-JORGENSEN, CAL. 30 (NICKEL STEEL BULLET).

From the rifle to the Gatling gun is only a step, for the latter is essentially a collection of rifle barrels fired by machinery. It consists of a number—generally ten—of rifle barrels grouped around, and parallel to, a central shaft, each barrel being provided with a lock. By turning a crank at the breech, the barrels and locks are made to revolve together around the shaft, the locks having also a forward and backward motion, the first of which inserts the cartridge into the barrel and closes the breech at the time of the discharge, while the latter extracts the cartridge after firing. Upon the gun, near the breech, is a hopper which receives the cartridges from the feed case. The cartridge falls from the hopper into the breech-block of the uppermost barrel, and in the course of the first half-revolution of the barrel it is inserted, the hammer is drawn back, and at the lowest point of the revolution the breech is closed and the cartridge is fired. As the barrel comes up in the second half-revolution the cartridge shell is extracted, and when the barrel reaches the top it receives another cartridge. The Gatling gun can be fired at the rate of 1000 to 1500 shots a minute. It generally uses the same cartridge as the infantry rifle; but some patterns of the gun fire a projectile an inch in diameter, and approximate closely in their effect to a field gun. The gun is mounted either on a carriage similar to that of a field-piece or on a tripod. Gatling guns were very successfully used by the British in the Zulu War and in the Soudan, and by our own troops in the battles around Santiago.

GATLING GUN.

The Gardner is a lighter machine gun than the Gatling. It consists of two parallel rifle barrels, and is operated by means of mechanism at the breech, which, as in the case of the Gatling, is worked with a crank. It can fire 500 shots a minute without danger of overheating, as the breeches are enclosed in a metallic water-jacket. Its extreme portability makes it a most valuable weapon, though its firing capacity is not equal to that of the Gatling.

NORDENFELT RAPID FIRE GUN.

There are several other types of machine guns, but the most ingenious, and perhaps the most effective, is the Maxim automatic gun. This has a single barrel, about two thirds of which, from the muzzle towards the breech, is surrounded by a water-jacket into which water is automatically injected at each discharge, thus rendering overheating impossible. The mechanism for operating the gun is at the breech, covering the remaining third of the barrel. All that is necessary is to draw back the trigger to fire the first shot; the recoil of the piece again cocks it, and the gun is then automatically fired, the process being kept up until the cartridges in the feed-belt are all expended. The cartridges are fed to the piece by means of belts holding 333 rounds, two or more of the belts being joined together if desired. The Maxim gun can easily fire ten shots a second, and if every man at the piece were killed the moment the first shot was fired the gun would keep on until it fired at least 332 more shots.

The Gatling, Gardner, Maxim, and similar guns are known as machine guns. Of the same general family, so to speak, are rapid-fire guns, which are, however, distinguished from machine guns by having a larger calibre, loading by hand, having only one barrel, and being provided with artificial means of checking recoil and returning the piece to the firing position. They use metallic ammunition, and have a breech mechanism which cocks the firing pin and extracts the empty case by the same motion which opens the breech for reloading.

Rapid-firing guns were first designed as a means of naval defense against torpedo boats. They deliver a rapid and easily aimed fire, and use projectiles of sufficient power to penetrate the plates of the boats. In the naval service the gun is mounted on a spring return carriage fixed to the vessel, so that the piece, when discharged, is brought back to the firing position without any derangement of aim. On land a rigid carriage is used. This carriage has a spade at the end of the trail, which is forced into the ground by the recoil and holds the gun and carriage in place. The principal rapid-fire guns are the Hotchkiss, Driggs-Schroeder, Nordenfelt, Krupp, Canet, and Armstrong, which fire from five to ten shots a minute, and use either shell or shrapnel. Experiments are now being made in different armies with a view to adopting rapid-fire guns for field artillery.

The principle of rapid fire, or “quick fire,” has been successfully applied to guns having a caliber as great as six inches. The metallic cartridge used in rapid-fire guns is, in appearance, simply a “big brother” of the cartridge used in the infantry rifle.

Closely allied with guns, both in coast defense and in naval warfare, are torpedoes. The crude weapons of this type, used in the War of Secession, have been developed into formidable engines of war, before whose destructive power the strongest vessels are helpless. For their classification and description see “The Century’s Naval Progress,” pages [84], 85.

The destructive power of torpedoes is so well known as to give them a great moral weight as a means of defense. The fact that the German harbors on the Baltic were known to be protected by torpedoes saved them from an attack by the French navy in 1870–71, and Cervera’s fleet in the harbor of Santiago, in 1898, was safe from our squadron so long as the mouth of the channel was closed with Spanish torpedoes.

Though necessarily brief, the foregoing sketch will show that in the course of the nineteenth century armies have increased enormously in size, and in the power of rapid movement and certainty of supply. Infantry has increased in relative numbers and in importance. Extended order fighting, in which the individuality of the soldier comes into play, has taken the place of the old rigid shoulder-to-shoulder line of battle. The private soldier’s vocation has risen, in many branches of the military service, from a trade to a profession, and now, more than ever before, is extensive training and a high order of intellect necessary for the command of armies. Wars have become shorter, sharper, more decisive and more terrible; and increased emphasis has been placed upon the warning, “In time of peace prepare for war.”

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THE CENTURY’S PROGRESS IN AGRICULTURE
By WALDO F. BROWN,
Agricultural Editor “Cincinnati Gazette.”