FINGER PRINTS

FINGER PRINTS

BY

FRANCIS GALTON, F.R.S., ETC.

London
MACMILLAN AND CO.
AND NEW YORK
1892

All rights reserved

CONTENTS

DESCRIPTION OF THE TABLES

DESCRIPTION OF THE PLATES

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

The palms of the hands and the soles of the feet are covered with two totally distinct classes of marks. The most conspicuous are the creases or folds of the skin which interest the followers of palmistry, but which are no more significant to others than the creases in old clothes; they show the lines of most frequent flexure, and nothing more. The least conspicuous marks, but the most numerous by far, are the so-called papillary ridges; they form the subject of the present book. If they had been only twice as large as they are, they would have attracted general attention and been commented on from the earliest times. Had Dean Swift known and thought of them, when writing about the Brobdingnags, whom he constructs on a scale twelve times as great as our own, he would certainly have made Gulliver express horror at the ribbed fingers of the giants who handled him. The ridges on their palms would have been as broad as the thongs of our coach-whips.

Let no one despise the ridges on account of their smallness, for they are in some respects the most important of all anthropological data. We shall see that they form patterns, considerable in size and of a curious variety of shape, whose boundaries can be firmly outlined, and which are little worlds in themselves. They have the unique merit of retaining all their peculiarities unchanged throughout life, and afford in consequence an incomparably surer criterion of identity than any other bodily feature. They may be made to throw welcome light on some of the most interesting biological questions of the day, such as heredity, symmetry, correlation, and the nature of genera and species. A representation of their lineations is easily secured in a self-recorded form, by inking the fingers in the way that will be explained, and pressing them on paper. There is no prejudice to be overcome in procuring these most trustworthy sign-manuals, no vanity to be pacified, no untruths to be guarded against.

My attention was first drawn to the ridges in 1888 when preparing a lecture on Personal Identification for the Royal Institution, which had for its principal object an account of the anthropometric method of Bertillon, then newly introduced into the prison administration of France. Wishing to treat the subject generally, and having a vague knowledge of the value sometimes assigned to finger marks, I made inquiries, and was surprised to find, both how much had been done, and how much there remained to do, before establishing their theoretical value and practical utility.

Enough was then seen to show that the subject was of real importance, and I resolved to investigate it; all the more so, as the modern processes of photographic printing would enable the evidence of such results as might be arrived at, to be presented to the reader on an enlarged and easily legible form, and in a trustworthy shape. Those that are put forward in the following pages, admit of considerable extension and improvement, and it is only the fact that an account of them seems useful, which causes me to delay no further before submitting what has thus far been attained, to the criticism of others.

I have already published the following memoirs upon this subject:

1. “Personal Identification.” Journal Royal Inst. 25th May 1888, and Nature, 28th June 1888.

2. “Patterns in Thumb and Finger Marks.” Phil. Trans. Royal Society, vol. clxxxii. (1891) b. pp. 1-23. [This almost wholly referred to thumb marks.]

3. “Method of Indexing Finger Marks.” Proc. Royal Society, vol. xlix. (1891).

4. “Identification by Finger Tips.” Nineteenth Century, August 1891.

This first and introductory chapter contains a brief and orderly summary of the contents of those that follow.

The second chapter treats of the previous employment of finger prints among various nations, which has been almost wholly confined to making daubs, without paying any regard to the delicate lineations with which this book is alone concerned. Their object was partly superstitious and partly ceremonial; superstitious, so far as a personal contact between the finger and the document was supposed to be of mysterious efficacy: ceremonial, as a formal act whose due performance in the presence of others could be attested. A few scattered instances are mentioned of persons who had made finger prints with enough care to show their lineations, and who had studied them; some few of these had used them as signatures. Attention is especially drawn to Sir William Herschel, who brought the method of finger prints into regular official employment when he was “Collector” or chief administrator of the Hooghly district in Bengal, and my large indebtedness to him is expressed in this chapter and in other places.

In the third chapter various methods of making good prints from the fingers are described at length, and more especially that which I have now adopted on a somewhat large scale, at my anthropometric laboratory, which, through the kindness of the authorities of South Kensington, is at present lodged in the galleries of their Science Collections. There, the ten digits of both hands of all the persons who come to be measured, are impressed with clearness and rapidity, and a very large collection of prints is steadily accumulating, each set being, as we shall see, a sign-manual that differentiates the person who made it, throughout the whole of his life, from all the rest of mankind.

Descriptions are also given of various methods of enlarging a finger print to a convenient size, when it is desired to examine it closely. Photography is the readiest of all; on the other hand the prism (as in a camera lucida) has merits of its own, and so has an enlarging pantagraph, when it is furnished with a small microscope and cross wires to serve as a pointer.

In the fourth chapter the character and purpose of the ridges, whose lineations appear in the finger print, are discussed. They have been the topic of a considerable amount of careful physiological study in late years, by writers who have investigated their development in early periods of unborn life, as well as their evolutionary history. They are perfectly defined in the monkeys, but appear in a much less advanced stage in other mammalia. Their courses run somewhat independently of the lines of flexure. They are studded with pores, which are the open mouths of ducts proceeding from the somewhat deeply-seated glands which secrete perspiration, so one of their functions is to facilitate the riddance of that excretion. The ridges increase in height as the skin is thickened by hard usage, until callosities begin to be formed, which may altogether hide them. But the way in which they assist the touch and may tend to neutralise the dulling effect of a thick protective skin, is still somewhat obscure. They certainly seem to help in the discrimination of the character of surfaces that are variously rubbed between the fingers.

These preliminary topics having been disposed of, we are free in the fifth chapter to enter upon the direct course of our inquiry, beginning with a discussion of the various patterns formed by the lineations. It will be shown how systems of parallel ridges sweep in bold curves across the palmar surface of the hand, and how, whenever the boundaries of two systems diverge, the interspace is filled up by a compact little system of its own, variously curved or whorled, having a fictitious resemblance to an eddy between two currents. An interspace of this kind is found in the bulb of each finger. The ridges run in parallel lines across the finger, up to its last joint, beyond which the insertion of the finger-nail causes a compression of the ridges on either side; their intermediate courses are in consequence so much broadened out that they commonly separate, and form two systems with an interspace between them. The independent patterns that appear in this interspace upon the bulbs of the fingers, are those with which this book is chiefly concerned.

At first sight, the maze formed by the minute lineations is bewildering, but it is shown that every interspace can be surely outlined, and when this is done, the character of the pattern it encloses, starts conspicuously into view. Examples are given to show how the outlining is performed, and others in which the outlines alone are taken into consideration. The cores of the patterns are also characteristic, and are described separately. It is they alone that have attracted the notice of previous inquirers. The outlines fall for the most part into nine distinct genera, defined by the relative directions of the divergent ridges that enclose them. The upper pair (those that run towards the finger-tip) may unite, or one or other of them may surmount the other, thus making three possibilities. There are three similar possibilities in respect to the lower pair; so, as any one of the first group may be combined with any one of the second, there are 3 × 3, or nine possibilities in all. The practice of somewhat rolling the finger when printing from it, is necessary in order to impress enough of its surface to ensure that the points at which the boundaries of the pattern begin to diverge, shall be always included.

Plates are given of the principal varieties of patterns, having regard only to their more fundamental differences, and names are attached for the convenience of description; specimens are also given of the outlines of the patterns in all the ten digits of eight different persons, taken at hazard, to afford a first idea of the character of the material to be dealt with. Another and less minute system of classification under three heads is then described, which is very useful for rough preliminary purposes, and of which frequent use is made further on. It is into Arches, Loops, and Whorls. In the Arches, there is no pattern strictly speaking, for there is no interspace; the need for it being avoided by a successive and regular broadening out of the ridges as they cross the bulb of the finger. In Loops, the interspace is filled with a system of ridges that bends back upon itself, and in which no one ridge turns through a complete circle. Whorls contain all cases in which at least one ridge turns through a complete circle, and they include certain double patterns which have a whorled appearance. The transitional cases are few; they are fully described, pictured, and classified. One great advantage of the rude A. L. W. system is that it can be applied, with little risk of error, to impressions that are smudged or imperfect; it is therefore very useful so far as it goes. Thus it can be easily applied to my own finger prints on the title-page, made as they are from digits that are creased and roughened by seventy years of life, and whose impressions have been closely clipped in order to fit them into a limited space.

A third method of classification is determined by the origin of the ridges which supply the interspace, whether it be from the thumb side or the little-finger side; in other words, from the Inner or the Outer side.

Lastly, a translation from the Latin is given of the famous Thesis or Commentatio of Purkenje, delivered at the University of Breslau in 1823, together with his illustrations. It is a very rare pamphlet, and has the great merit of having first drawn attention to the patterns and attempted to classify them.

In the sixth chapter we reach the question of Persistence: whether or no the patterns are so durable as to afford a sure basis for identification. The answer was different from what had been expected. So far as the proportions of the patterns go, they are not absolutely fixed, even in the adult, inasmuch as they change with the shape of the finger. If the finger is plumped out or emaciated, or variously deformed by usage, gout, or age, the proportions of the pattern will vary also. Two prints of the same finger, one taken before and the other after an interval of many years, cannot be expected to be as closely alike as two prints similarly made from the same woodcut. They are far from satisfying the shrewd test of the stereoscope, which shows if there has been an alteration even of a letter in two otherwise duplicate pages of print. The measurements vary at different periods, even in the adult, just as much if not more than his height, span, and the lengths of his several limbs. On the other hand, the numerous bifurcations, origins, islands, and enclosures in the ridges that compose the pattern, are proved to be almost beyond change. A comparison is made between the pattern on a finger, and one on a piece of lace; the latter may be stretched or shrunk as a whole, but the threads of which it is made retain their respective peculiarities. The evidence on which these conclusions are founded is considerable, and almost wholly derived from the collections made by Sir W. Herschel, who most kindly placed them at my disposal. They refer to one or more fingers, and in a few instances to the whole hand, of fifteen different persons. The intervals before and after which the prints were taken, amount in some cases to thirty years. Some of them reach from babyhood to boyhood, some from childhood to youth, some from youth to advanced middle age, one from middle life to incipient old age. These four stages nearly include the whole of the ordinary life of man. I have compared altogether some 700 points of reference in these couplets of impressions, and only found a single instance of discordance, in which a ridge that was cleft in a child became united in later years. Photographic enlargements are given in illustration, which include between them a total of 157 pairs of points of reference, all bearing distinctive numerals to facilitate comparison and to prove their unchangeableness. Reference is made to another illustrated publication of mine, which raises the total number of points compared to 389, all of which were successful, with the single exception above mentioned. The fact of an almost complete persistence in the peculiarities of the ridges from birth to death, may now be considered as determined. They existed before birth, and they persist after death, until effaced by decomposition.

In the seventh chapter an attempt is made to appraise the evidential value of finger prints by the common laws of Probability, paying great heed not to treat variations that are really correlated, as if they were independent. An artifice is used by which the number of portions is determined, into which a print may be divided, in each of which the purely local conditions introduce so much uncertainty, that a guess derived from a knowledge of the outside conditions is as likely as not to be wrong. A square of six ridge-intervals in the side was shown by three different sets of experiments to be larger than required; one of four ridge-intervals in the side was too small, but one of five ridge-intervals appeared to be closely correct. A six-ridge interval square was, however, at first adopted, in order to gain assurance that the error should be on the safe side. As an ordinary finger print contains about twenty-four of these squares, the uncertainty in respect to the entire contents of the pattern due to this cause alone, is expressed by a fraction of which the numerator is 1, and the denominator is 2 multiplied into itself twenty-four times, which amounts to a number so large that it requires eight figures to express it.

A further attempt was made to roughly appraise the neglected uncertainties relating to the outside conditions, but large as they are, they seem much inferior in their joint effect to the magnitude of that just discussed.

Next it was found possible, by the use of another artifice, to obtain some idea of the evidential value of identity when two prints agree in all but one, two, three, or any other number of particulars. This was done by using the five ridge-interval squares, of which thirty-five may be considered to go into a single finger print, being about the same as the number of the bifurcations, origins, and other points of comparison. The accidental similarity in their numbers enables us to treat them roughly as equivalent. On this basis the well-known method of binomial calculation is easily applied, with the general result that, notwithstanding a failure of evidence in a few points, as to the identity of two sets of prints, each, say, of three fingers, amply enough evidence would be supplied by the remainder to prevent any doubt that the two sets of prints were made by the same person. When a close correspondence exists in respect to all the ten digits, the thoroughness of the differentiation of each man from all the rest of the human species is multiplied to an extent far beyond the capacity of human imagination. There can be no doubt that the evidential value of identity afforded by prints of two or three of the fingers, is so great as to render it superfluous to seek confirmation from other sources.

The eighth chapter deals with the frequency with which the several kinds of patterns appear on the different digits of the same person, severally and in connection. The subject is a curious one, and the inquiry establishes unexpected relationships and distinctions between different fingers and between the two hands, to whose origin there is at present no clue. The relationships are themselves connected in the following way;—calling any two digits on one of the hands by the letters A and B respectively, and the digit on the other hand, that corresponds to B, by the symbol B1, then the kinship between A and B1 is identical, in a statistical sense, with the kinship between A and B.

The chief novelty in this chapter is an attempt to classify nearness of relationship upon a centesimal scale, in which the number of correspondences due to mere chance counts as 0°, and complete identity as 100°. It seems reasonable to adopt the scale with only slight reservation, when the average numbers of the Arches, Loops, and Whorls are respectively the same in the two kinds of digit which are compared together; but when they differ greatly, there are no means free from objection, of determining the 100° division of the scale; so the results, if noted at all, are subject to grave doubt.

Applying this scale, it appears that digits on opposite hands, which bear the same name, are more nearly related together than digits bearing different names, in about the proportion of three to two. It seems also, that of all the digits, none are so nearly related as the middle finger to the two adjacent ones.

In the ninth chapter, various methods of indexing are discussed and proposed, by which a set of finger prints may be so described by a few letters, that it can be easily searched for and found in any large collection, just as the name of a person is found in a directory. The procedure adopted, is to apply the Arch-Loop-Whorl classification to all ten digits, describing each digit in the order in which it is taken, by the letter a, l, or w, as the case may be, and arranging the results in alphabetical sequence. The downward direction of the slopes of loops on the fore-fingers is also taken into account, whether it be towards the Inner or the Outer side, thus replacing L on the fore-finger by either i or o.

Many alternative methods are examined, including both the recognition and the non-recognition of all sloped patterns. Also the gain in differentiation, when all the ten digits are catalogued, instead of only a few of them. There is so much correlation between the different fingers, and so much peculiarity in each, that theoretical notions of the value of different methods of classification are of little worth; it is only by actual trial that the best can be determined. Whatever plan of index be adopted, many patterns must fall under some few headings and few or no patterns under others, the former class resembling in that respect the Smiths, Browns, and other common names that occur in directories. The general value of the index much depends on the facility with which these frequent forms can be broken up by sub-classification, the rarer forms being easily dealt with. This branch of the subject has, however, been but lightly touched, under the belief that experience with larger collections than my own, was necessary before it could be treated thoroughly; means are, however, indicated for breaking up the large battalions, which have answered well thus far, and seem to admit of considerable extension. Thus, the number of ridges in a loop (which is by far the commonest pattern) on any particular finger, at the part of the impression where the ridges are cut by the axis of the loop, is a fairly definite and effective datum as well as a simple one; so also is the character of its inmost lineation, or core.

In the tenth chapter we come to a practical result of the inquiry, namely, its possible use as a means of differentiating a man from his fellows. In civil as well as in criminal cases, the need of some such system is shown to be greatly felt in many of our dependencies; where the features of natives are distinguished with difficulty; where there is but little variety of surnames; where there are strong motives for prevarication, especially connected with land-tenure and pensions, and a proverbial prevalence of unveracity.

It is also shown that the value to honest men of sure means of identifying themselves is not so small among civilised nations even in peace time, as to be disregarded, certainly not in times of war and of strict passports. But the value to honest men is always great of being able to identify offenders, whether they be merely deserters or formerly convicted criminals, and the method of finger prints is shown to be applicable to that purpose. For aid in searching the registers of a criminal intelligence bureau, its proper rank is probably a secondary one; the primary being some form of the already established Bertillon anthropometric method. Whatever power the latter gives of successfully searching registers, that power would be multiplied many hundredfold by the inclusion of finger prints, because their peculiarities are entirely unconnected with other personal characteristics, as we shall see further on. A brief account is given in this chapter of the Bertillon system, and an attempt is made on a small scale to verify its performance, by analysing five hundred sets of measures made at my own laboratory. These, combined with the quoted experiences in attempting to identify deserters in the United States, allow a high value to this method, though not so high as has been claimed for it, and show the importance of supplementary means. But whenever two suspected duplicates of measurements, bodily marks, photographs and finger prints have to be compared, the lineations of the finger prints would give an incomparably more trustworthy answer to the question, whether or no the suspicion of their referring to the same person was justified, than all the rest put together. Besides this, while measurements and photographs are serviceable only for adults, and even then under restrictions, the finger prints are available throughout life. It seems difficult to believe, now that their variety and persistence have been proved, the means of classifying them worked out, and the method of rapidly obtaining clear finger prints largely practised at my laboratory and elsewhere, that our criminal administration can long neglect the use of such a powerful auxiliary. It requires no higher skill and judgment to make, register, and hunt out finger prints, than is to be found in abundance among ordinary clerks. Of course some practice is required before facility can be gained in reading and recognising them, but not a few persons of whom I have knowledge, have interested themselves in doing so, and found no difficulty.

The eleventh chapter treats of Heredity, and affirmatively answers the question whether patterns are transmissible by descent. The inquiry proved more troublesome than was expected, on account of the great variety in patterns and the consequent rarity with which the same pattern, other than the common Loop, can be expected to appear in relatives. The available data having been attacked both by the Arch-Loop-Whorl method, and by a much more elaborate system of classification—described and figured as the C system, the resemblances between children of either sex, of the same parents (or more briefly “fraternal” resemblances, as they are here called, for want of a better term), have been tabulated and discussed. A batch of twins have also been analysed. Then cases have been treated in which both parents had the same pattern on corresponding fingers; this pattern was compared with the pattern on the corresponding finger of the child. In these and other ways, results were obtained, all testifying to the conspicuous effect of heredity, and giving results that can be measured on the centesimal scale already described. But though the qualitative results are clear, the quantitative are as yet not well defined, and that part of the inquiry must lie over until a future time, when I shall have more data and when certain foreseen improvements in the method of work may perhaps be carried out. There is a decided appearance, first observed by Mr. F. Howard Collins, of whom I shall again have to speak, of the influence of the mother being stronger than that of the father, in transmitting these patterns.

In the twelfth chapter we come to a branch of the subject of which I had great expectations, that have been falsified, namely, their use in indicating Race and Temperament. I thought that any hereditary peculiarities would almost of necessity vary in different races, and that so fundamental and enduring a feature as the finger markings must in some way be correlated with temperament.

The races I have chiefly examined are English, most of whom were of the upper and middle classes; the others chiefly from London board schools; Welsh, from the purest Welsh-speaking districts of South Wales; Jews from the large London schools, and Negroes from the territories of the Royal Niger Company. I have also a collection of Basque prints taken at Cambo, some twenty miles inland from Biarritz, which, although small, is large enough to warrant a provisional conclusion. As a first and only an approximately correct description, the English, Welsh, Jews, Negroes, and Basques, may all be spoken of as identical in the character of their finger prints; the same familiar patterns appearing in all of them with much the same degrees of frequency, the differences between groups of different races being not larger than those that occasionally occur between groups of the same race. The Jews have, however, a decidedly larger proportion of Whorled patterns than other races, and I should have been tempted to make an assertion about a peculiarity in the Negroes, had not one of their groups differed greatly from the rest. The task of examination has been laborious thus far, but it would be much more so to arrive with correctness at a second and closer approximation to the truth. It is doubtful at present whether it is worth while to pursue the subject, except in the case of the Hill tribes of India and a few other peculiarly diverse races, for the chance of discovering some characteristic and perhaps a more monkey-like pattern.

Considerable collections of prints of persons belonging to different classes have been analysed, such as students in science, and students in arts; farm labourers; men of much culture; and the lowest idiots in the London district (who are all sent to Darenth Asylum), but I do not, still as a first approximation, find any decided difference between their finger prints. The ridges of artists are certainly not more delicate and close than those of men of quite another stamp.

In Chapter XIII. the question is discussed and answered affirmatively, of the right of the nine fundamentally differing patterns to be considered as different genera; also of their more characteristic varieties to rank as different genera, or species, as the case may be. The chief test applied, respected the frequency with which the various Loops that occurred on the thumbs, were found to differ, in successive degrees of difference, from the central form of all of them; it was found to accord with the requirements of the well-known law of Frequency of Error, proving the existence of a central type, from which the departures were, in common phraseology, accidental. Now all the evidence in the last chapter concurs in showing that no sensible amount of correlation exists between any of the patterns on the one hand, and any of the bodily faculties or characteristics on the other. It would be absurd therefore to assert that in the struggle for existence, a person with, say, a loop on his right middle finger has a better chance of survival, or a better chance of early marriage, than one with an arch. Consequently genera and species are here seen to be formed without the slightest aid from either Natural or Sexual Selection, and these finger patterns are apparently the only peculiarity in which Panmixia, or the effect of promiscuous marriages, admits of being studied on a large scale. The result of Panmixia in finger markings, corroborates the arguments I have used in Natural Inheritance and elsewhere, to show that “organic stability” is the primary factor by which the distinctions between genera are maintained; consequently, the progress of evolution is not a smooth and uniform progression, but one that proceeds by jerks, through successive “sports” (as they are called), some of them implying considerable organic changes, and each in its turn being favoured by Natural Selection.

The same word “variation” has been indiscriminately applied to two very different conceptions, which ought to be clearly distinguished; the one is that of the “sports” just alluded to, which are changes in the position of organic stability, and may, through the aid of Natural Selection, become fresh steps in the onward course of evolution; the other is that of the Variations proper, which are merely strained conditions of a stable form of organisation, and not in any way an overthrow of them. Sports do not blend freely together; variations proper do so. Natural Selection acts upon variations proper, just as it does upon sports, by preserving the best to become parents, and eliminating the worst, but its action upon mere variations can, as I conceive, be of no permanent value to evolution, because there is a constant tendency in the offspring to “regress” towards the parental type. The amount and results of this tendency have been fully established in Natural Inheritance. It is there shown, that after a certain departure from the central typical form has been reached in any race, a further departure becomes impossible without the aid of these sports. In the successive generations of such a population, the average tendency of filial regression towards the racial centre must at length counterbalance the effects of filial dispersion; consequently the best of the produce cannot advance beyond the level already attained by the parents, the rest falling short of it in various degrees.

In concluding these introductory remarks, I have to perform the grateful duty of acknowledging my indebtedness to Mr. F. Howard Collins, who materially helped me during the past year. He undertook the numerous and tedious tabulations upon which the chapters on Heredity, and on Races and Classes, are founded, and he thoroughly revised nearly the whole of my MS., to the great advantage of the reader of this book.

CHAPTER II

PREVIOUS USE OF FINGER PRINTS

The employment of impressions of the hand or fingers to serve as sign-manuals will probably be found in every nation of importance, but the significance attached to them differs. It ranges from a mere superstition that personal contact is important, up to the conviction of which this book will furnish assurance, that when they are properly made, they are incomparably the most sure and unchanging of all forms of signature. The existence of the superstitious basis is easily noted in children and the uneducated; it occupies a prominent place in the witchcrafts of barbarians. The modern witness who swears on the Bible, is made to hold it and afterwards to kiss it; he who signs a document, touches a seal or wafer, and declares that “this is my act and deed.” Students of the primitive customs of mankind find abundant instances of the belief, that personal contact communicates some mysterious essence from the thing touched to the person who touches it, and vice versa; but it is unnecessary here to enter further into these elementary human reasonings, which are fully described and discussed by various well-known writers.

The next grade of significance attached to an impression resembles that which commends itself to the mind of a hunter who is practised in tracking. He notices whether a footprint he happens to light upon, is larger or smaller, broader or narrower, or otherwise differs from the average, in any special peculiarity; he thence draws his inferences as to the individual who made it. So, when a chief presses his hand smeared with blood or grime, upon a clean surface, a mark is left in some degree characteristic of him. It may be that of a broad stumpy hand, or of a long thin one; it may be large or small; it may even show lines corresponding to the principal creases of the palm. Such hand prints have been made and repeated in many semi-civilised nations, and have even been impressed in vermilion on their State documents, as formerly by the sovereign of Japan. Though mere smudges, they serve in a slight degree to individualise the signer, while they are more or less clothed with the superstitious attributes of personal contact. So far as I can learn, no higher form of finger printing than this has ever existed, in regular and well-understood use, in any barbarous or semi-civilised nation. The ridges dealt with in this book could not be seen at all in such rude prints, much less could they be utilised as strictly distinctive features. It is possible that when impressions of the fingers have been made in wax, and used as seals to documents, they may sometimes have been subjected to minute scrutiny; but no account has yet reached me of trials in any of their courts of law, about disputed signatures, in which the identity of the party who was said to have signed with his finger print, had been established or disproved by comparing it with a print made by him then and there. The reader need be troubled with only a few examples, taken out of a considerable collection of extracts from books and letters, in which prints, or rather daubs of the above kind, are mentioned.

A good instance of their small real value may be seen in the Trans. China Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society, Part 1, 1847, published at Hong-Kong, which contains a paper on “Land Tenure in China,” by T. Meadows Taylor, with a deed concerning a sale of land, in facsimile, and its translation: this ends, “The mother and the son, the sellers, have in the presence of all the parties, received the price of the land in full, amounting to sixty-four taels and five mace, in perfect dollars weighed in scales. Impression of the finger of the mother, of the maiden name of Chin.” The impression, as it appears in the woodcut, is roundish in outline, and was therefore made by the tip and not the bulb of the finger. Its surface is somewhat mottled, but there is no trace of any ridges.

The native clerks of Bengal give the name of tipsahi to the mark impressed by illiterate persons who, refusing to make either a X or their caste-mark, dip their finger into the ink-pot and touch the document. The tipsahi is not supposed to individualise the signer, it is merely a personal ceremony performed in the presence of witnesses.

PLATE 1.

Fig. 1.

Chinese Coin, Tang Dynasty, about 618 A.D.,
with nail mark of the Empress Wen-teh, figured in relief.

Fig. 2.

Order on a Camp Sutler, by the officer of a surveying party in New Mexico. 1882.

Many impressions of fingers are found on ancient pottery, as on Roman tiles; indeed the Latin word palmatus is said to mean an impression in soft clay, such as a mark upon a wall, stamped by a blow with the palm. Nail-marks are used ornamentally by potters of various nations. They exist on Assyrian bricks as signatures; for instance, in the Assyrian room of the British Museum, on the west side of the case C 43, one of these bricks contains a notice of sale and is prefaced by words that were translated for me thus: “Nail-mark of Nabu-sum-usur, the seller of the field, (used) like his seal.” A somewhat amusing incident affected the design of the Chinese money during the great Tang dynasty, about 618 A.D. A new and important issue of coinage was to be introduced, and the Secretary of the Censors himself moulded the design in wax, and humbly submitted it to the Empress Wen-teh for approval. She, through maladroitness, dug the end of her enormously long finger-nail into its face, marking it deeply as with a carpenter’s gouge. The poor Secretary of the Censors, Ngeu-yang-siun, who deserves honour from professional courtiers, suppressing such sentiments as he must have felt when his work was mauled, accepted the nail-mark of the Empress as an interesting supplement to the design; he changed it into a crescent in relief, and the new coins were stamped accordingly. (See Coins and Medals, edited by Stanley Lane Poole, 1885, p. 221.) A drawing of one of these is given in [Plate 1], Fig. 1.

The European practitioners of palmistry and cheiromancy do not seem to have paid particular attention to the ridges with which we are concerned. A correspondent of the American Journal Science, viii. 166, states, however, that the Chinese class the striæ at the ends of the fingers into “pots” when arranged in a coil, and into “hooks.” They are also regarded by the cheiromantists in Japan. A curious account has reached me of negroes in the United States who, laying great stress on the possession of finger prints in wax or dough for witchcraft purposes, are also said to examine their striæ.

Leaving Purkenje to be spoken of in a later chapter, because he deals chiefly with classification, the first well-known person who appears to have studied the lineations of the ridges as a means of identification, was Bewick, who made an impression of his own thumb on a block of wood and engraved it, as well as an impression of a finger. They were used as fanciful designs for his illustrated books. Occasional instances of careful study may also be noted, such as that of Mr. Fauld (Nature, xxii. p. 605, Oct. 28, 1880), who seems to have taken much pains, and that of Mr. Tabor, the eminent photographer of San Francisco, who, noticing the lineations of a print that he had accidentally made with his own inked finger upon a blotting-paper, experimented further, and finally proposed the method of finger prints for the registration of Chinese, whose identification has always been a difficulty, and was giving a great deal of trouble at that particular time; but his proposal dropped through. Again Mr. Gilbert Thompson, an American geologist, when on Government duty in 1882 in the wild parts of New Mexico, paid the members of his party by order of the camp sutler. To guard against forgery he signed his name across the impression made by his finger upon the order, after first pressing it on his office pad. He was good enough to send me the duplicate of one of these cheques made out in favour of a man who bore the ominous name of “Lying Bob” ([Plate 1], Fig. 2). The impression took the place of the scroll work on an ordinary cheque; it was in violet aniline ink, and looked decidedly pretty. From time to time sporadic instances like these are met with, but none are comparable in importance to the regular and official employment made of finger prints by Sir William Herschel, during more than a quarter of a century in Bengal. I was exceedingly obliged to him for much valuable information when first commencing this study, and have been almost wholly indebted to his kindness for the materials used in this book for proving the persistence of the lineations throughout life.

Sir William Herschel has presented me with one of the two original “Contracts” in Bengali, dated 1858, which suggested to his mind the idea of using this method of identification. It was so difficult to obtain credence to the signatures of the natives, that he thought he would use the signature of the hand itself, chiefly with the intention of frightening the man who made it from afterwards denying his formal act; however, the impression proved so good that Sir W. Herschel became convinced that the same method might be further utilised. He finally introduced the use of finger prints in several departments at Hooghly in 1877, after seventeen years’ experience of the value of the evidence they afforded. A too brief account of his work was given by him in Nature, xxiii. p. 23 (Nov. 25, 1880). He mentions there that he had been taking finger marks as sign-manuals for more than twenty years, and had introduced them for practical purposes in several ways in India with marked benefit. They rendered attempts to repudiate signatures quite hopeless. Finger prints were taken of Pensioners to prevent their personation by others after their death; they were used in the office for Registration of Deeds, and at a gaol where each prisoner had to sign with his finger. By comparing the prints of persons then living, with their prints taken twenty years previously, he considered he had proved that the lapse of at least that period made no change sufficient to affect the utility of the plan. He informs me that he submitted, in 1877, a report in semi-official form to the Inspector-General of Gaols, asking to be allowed to extend the process; but no result followed. In 1881, at the request of the Governor of the gaol at Greenwich (Sydney), he sent a description of the method, but no further steps appear to have been taken there.

If the use of finger prints ever becomes of general importance, Sir William Herschel must be regarded as the first who devised a feasible method for regular use, and afterwards officially adopted it. His method of printing for those purposes will be found in the next chapter.

CHAPTER III

METHODS OF PRINTING

It will be the aim of this chapter to show how to make really good and permanent impressions of the fingers. It is very easy to do so when the principles of the art are understood and practised, but difficult otherwise.

One example of the ease of making good, but not permanent impressions, is found, and should be tried, by pressing the bulb of a finger against well-polished glass, or against the highly-polished blade of a razor. The finger must be very slightly oiled, as by passing it through the hair; if it be moist, dry it with a handkerchief before the oiling. Then press the bulb of the finger on the glass or razor, as the case may be, and a beautiful impression will be left. The hardness of the glass or steel prevents its surface from rising into the furrows under the pressure of the ridges, while the layer of oil which covers the bottom of the furrows is too thin to reach down to the glass or steel; consequently the ridges alone are printed. There is no capillary or other action to spread the oil, so the impression remains distinct. A merely moist and not oily finger leaves a similar mark, but it soon evaporates.

This simple method is often convenient for quickly noting the character of a finger pattern. The impression may be made on a window-pane, a watch-glass, or even an eye-glass, if nothing better is at hand. The impression is not seen to its fullest advantage except by means of a single small source of bright light. The glass or steel has to be so inclined as just not to reflect the light into the eye. That part of the light which falls on the oily impression is not so sharply reflected from it as from the surface of the glass or steel. Consequently some stray beams of the light which is scattered from the oil, reach the eye, while all of the light reflected from the highly-polished glass or steel passes in another direction and is unseen. The result is a brilliantly luminous impression on a dark background. The impression ceases to be visible when the glass or steel is not well polished, and itself scatters the light, like the oil.

There are two diametrically opposed methods of printing, each being the complement of the other. The method used in ordinary printing, is to ink the projecting surfaces only, leaving the depressed parts clean. The other method, used in printing from engraved plates, is to ink the whole surface, and then to clean the ink from the projecting parts, leaving the depressions only filled with it. Either of these two courses can be adopted in taking finger prints, but not the two together, for when they are combined in equal degrees the result must be a plain black blot.

The following explanations will be almost entirely confined to the first method, namely, that of ordinary printing, as the second method has so far not given equally good results.

The ink used may be either printer’s ink or water colour, but for producing the best work, rapidly and on a large scale, the method of printer’s ink seems in every respect preferable. However, water colour suffices for some purposes, and as there is so much convenience in a pad, drenched with dye, such as is commonly used for hand stamps, and which is always ready for use, many may prefer it. The processes with printer’s ink will be described first.

The relief formed by the ridges is low. In the fingers of very young children, and of some ladies whose hands are rarely submitted to rough usage, the ridges are exceptionally faint; their crests hardly rise above the furrows, yet it is the crests only that are to be inked. Consequently the layer of ink on the slab or pad on which the finger is pressed for the purpose of blackening it, must be very thin. Its thickness must be less than half the elevation of the ridges, for when the finger is pressed down, the crests displace the ink immediately below them, and drives it upwards into the furrows which would otherwise be choked with it.

It is no violent misuse of metaphor to compare the ridges to the crests of mountain ranges, and the depth of the blackening that they ought to receive, to that of the newly-fallen snow upon the mountaintops in the early autumn, when it powders them from above downwards to a sharply-defined level. The most desirable blackening of the fingers corresponds to a snowfall which covers all the higher passes, but descends no lower.

With a finger so inked it is scarcely possible to fail in making a good imprint; the heaviest pressure cannot spoil it. The first desideratum is, then, to cover the slab by means of which the finger is to be blackened, with an extremely thin layer of ink.

This cannot be accomplished with printer’s ink unless the slab is very clean, the ink somewhat fluid, and the roller that is used to spread it, in good condition. When a plate of glass is used for the slab, it is easy, by holding the inked slab between the eye and the light, to judge of the correct amount of inking. It should appear by no means black, but of a somewhat light brown.

The thickness of ink transferred by the finger to the paper is much less than that which lay upon the slab. The ink adheres to the slab as well as to the finger; when they are separated, only a portion of the ink is removed by the finger. Again, when the inked finger is pressed on the paper, only a portion of the ink that was on the finger is transferred to the paper. Owing to this double reduction, it seldom happens that a clear impression is at the same time black. An ideally perfect material for blackening would lie loosely on the slab like dust, it would cling very lightly to the finger, but adhere firmly to the paper.

The last preliminary to be noticed is the slowness with which the printer’s ink hardens on the slab, and the rapidity with which it dries on paper. While serviceable for hours in the former case, in the latter it will be dry in a very few seconds. The drying or hardening of this oily ink has nothing whatever to do with the loss of moisture in the ordinary sense of the word, that is to say, of the loss of the contained water: it is wholly due to oxidisation of the oil. An extremely thin oxidised film soon forms on the surface of the layer on the slab, and this shields the lower-lying portions of the layer from the air, and retards further oxidisation. But paper is very unlike a polished slab; it is a fine felt, full of minute interstices. When a printed period (.) is placed under the microscope it looks like a drop of tar in the middle of a clean bird’s-nest. The ink is minutely divided among the interstices of the paper, and a large surface being thereby exposed to the air, it oxidises at once, while a print from the finger upon glass will not dry for two or three days. One effect of oxidisation is to give a granulated appearance to the ink on rollers which have been allowed to get dirty. This granulation leaves clots on the slab which are fatal to good work: whenever they are seen, the roller must be cleaned at once.

The best ink for finger printing is not the best for ordinary printing. It is important to a commercial printer that his ink should dry rapidly on the paper, and he does not want a particularly thin layer of it; consequently, he prefers ink that contains various drying materials, such as litharge, which easily part with their oxygen. In finger prints this rapid drying is unnecessary, and the drying materials do harm by making the ink too stiff. The most serviceable ink for our purpose is made of any pure “drying” oil (or oil that oxidises rapidly), mixed with lampblack and very little else. I get mine in small collapsible tubes, each holding about a quarter of an ounce, from Messrs. Reeve & Sons, 113 Cheapside, London, W.C. Some thousands of fingers may be printed from the contents of one of these little tubes.

Let us now pass on to descriptions of printing apparatus. First, of that in regular use at my anthropometric laboratory at South Kensington, which has acted perfectly for three years; then of a similar but small apparatus convenient to carry about or send abroad, and of temporary arrangements in case any part of it may fail. Then lithographic printing will be noticed. In all these cases some kind of printer’s ink has to be used. Next, smoke prints will be described, which at times are very serviceable; after this the methods of water colours and aniline dyes; then casts of various kinds; last of all, enlargements.

Laboratory apparatus.—Mine consists of: 1, slab; 2, roller; 3, bottle of benzole (paraffin, turpentine, or solution of washing soda); 4, a funnel, with blotting-paper to act as a filter; 5, printer’s ink; 6, rags and duster; 7, a small glass dish; 8, cards to print on.

The Slab is a sheet of polished copper, 10½ inches by 7, and about ¹⁄16 inch thick, mounted on a solid board ¾ inch thick, with projecting ears for ease of handling. The whole weighs 2½ lbs. Each day it is cleaned with the benzole and left bright. [A slab of more than double the length and less than half the width might, as my assistant thinks, answer better.]

The Roller is an ordinary small-sized printer’s roller, 6 inches long and 3 in diameter, obtained from Messrs. Harrild, 25 Farringdon Street, London. Mine remained in good condition for quite a year and a half. When it is worn the maker exchanges it for a new one at a trifling cost. A good roller is of the highest importance; it affords the only means of spreading ink evenly and thinly, and with quickness and precision, over a large surface. The ingenuity of printers during more than four centuries in all civilised nations, has been directed to invent the most suitable composition for rollers, with the result that particular mixtures of glue, treacle, etc., are now in general use, the proportions between the ingredients differing according to the temperature at which the roller is intended to be used. The roller, like the slab, is cleansed with benzole every day (a very rapid process) and then put out of the reach of dust. Its clean surface is smooth and shining.

The Benzole is kept in a pint bottle. Sometimes paraffin or turpentine has been used instead; washing soda does not smell, but it dissolves the ink more slowly. They are otherwise nearly equally effective in cleansing the rollers and fingers. When dirty, the benzole can be rudely filtered and used again.

The Funnel holds blotting-paper for filtering the benzole. Where much printing is going on, and consequent washing of hands, it is worth while to use a filter, as it saves a little daily expense, though benzole is very cheap, and a few drops of it will clean a large surface.

The Ink has already been spoken of. The more fluid it is the better, so long as it does not “run.” A thick ink cannot be so thinned by adding turpentine, etc., as to make it equal to ink that was originally fluid. The variety of oils used in making ink, and of the added materials, is endless. For our purpose, any oil that dries and does not spread, such as boiled or burnt linseed oil, mixed with lampblack, is almost all that is wanted. The burnt oil is the thicker of the two, and dries the faster. Unfortunately the two terms, burnt and boiled linseed oil, have no definite meaning in the trade, boiling or burning not being the simple processes these words express, but including an admixture of drying materials, which differ with each manufacturer; moreover, there are two, if not three, fundamentally distinct qualities of linseed, in respect to the oil extracted from it. The ink used in the laboratory and described above, answers all requirements. Many other inks have suited less well; less even than that which can be made, in a very homely way, with a little soot off a plate that had been smoked over a candle, mixed with such boiled linseed oil as can be bought at unpretentious oil and colour shops, its only fault being a tendency to run.

Rags, and a comparatively clean duster, are wanted for cleaning the slab and roller, without scratching them.

The small Glass Dish holds the benzole, into which the inked fingers are dipped before wiping them with the duster. Soap and water complete the preliminary cleansing.

Cards, lying flat, and being more easily manipulated than paper, are now used at the laboratory for receiving the impressions. They are of rather large size, 11½ × 5 inches, to enable the prints of the ten digits to be taken on the same card in two rather different ways (see [Plate 2], Fig. 3), and to afford space for writing notes. The cards must have a smooth and yet slightly absorbent surface. If too highly glazed they cease to absorb, and more ink will remain on the fingers and less be transferred from them to the paper. A little trial soon determines the best specimen from among a few likely alternatives. “Correspondence cards” are suitable for taking prints of not more than three fingers, and are occasionally employed in the laboratory. Paper books and pads were tried, but their surfaces are inferior to cards in flatness, and their use is now abandoned.

The cards should be very white, because, if a photographic enlargement should at any time be desired, a slight tint on the card will be an impediment to making a photograph that shall be as sharp in its lines as an engraving, it being recollected that the cleanest prints are brown, and therefore not many shades darker than the tints of ordinary cards.

The method of printing at the laboratory is to squeeze a drop or so of ink on to the slab, and to work it thoroughly with the roller until a thin and even layer is spread, just as is done by printers, from one of whom a beginner might well purchase a lesson. The thickness of the layer of ink is tested from time to time by taking a print of a finger, and comparing its clearness and blackness with that of a standard print, hung up for the purpose close at hand. If too much ink has been put on the slab, some of it must be cleaned off, and the slab rolled afresh with what remains on it and on the roller. But this fault should seldom be committed; little ink should be put on at first, and more added little by little, until the required result is attained.

The right hand of the subject, which should be quite passive, is taken by the operator, and the bulbs of his four fingers laid flat on the inked slab and pressed gently but firmly on it by the flattened hand of the operator. Then the inked fingers are laid flat upon the upper part of the right-hand side of the card ([Plate 2], Fig. 3), and pressed down gently and firmly, just as before, by the flattened hand of the operator. This completes the process for one set of prints of the four fingers of the right hand. Then the bulb of the thumb is slightly rolled on the inked slab, and again on the lower part of the card, which gives a more extended but not quite so sharp an impression. Each of the four fingers of the same hand, in succession, is similarly rolled and impressed. This completes the process for the second set of prints of the digits of the right hand. Then the left hand is treated in the same way.

The result is indicated by the diagram, which shows on what parts of the card the impressions fall. Thus each of the four fingers is impressed twice, once above with a simple dab, and once below with a rolled impression, but each thumb is only impressed once; the thumbs being more troublesome to print from than fingers. Besides, the cards would have to be made even larger than they are, if two impressions of each thumb had to be included. It takes from two and a half to three minutes to obtain the eighteen impressions that are made on each card.

The pocket apparatus is similar to one originally made and used by Sir William J. Herschel (see [Plate 3], Fig. 4, in which the roller and its bearings are drawn of the same size as those I use). A small cylinder of hard wood, or of brass tube, say 1¾ inch long, and ½ or ¾ inch in diameter, has a pin firmly driven into each end to serve as an axle. A piece of tightly-fitting india-rubber tubing is drawn over the cylinder. The cylinder, thus coated with a soft smooth compressible material, turns on its axle in two brackets, each secured by screws, as shown in [Plate 2], Fig. 4, to a board (say 6 × 2½ × ¼ inch) that serves as handle. This makes a very fair and durable roller; it can be used in the heat and damp of the tropics, and is none the worse for a wetting, but it is by no means so good for delicate work as a cylinder covered with roller composition. These are not at all difficult to make; I have cast them for myself. The mould is a piece of brass tube, polished inside. A thick disc, with a central hole for the lower pin of the cylinder, fits smoothly into the lower end of the mould, and a ring with a thin bar across it, fits over the other end, the upper pin of the cylinder entering a hole in the middle of the bar; thus the cylinder is firmly held in the right position. After slightly oiling the inside of the mould, warming it, inserting the disc and cylinder, and fitting on the ring, the melted composition is poured in on either side of the bar. As it contracts on cooling, rather more must be poured in than at first appears necessary. Finally the roller is pushed out of the mould by a wooden ramrod, applied to the bottom of the disc. The composition must be melted like glue, in a vessel surrounded by hot water, which should never be allowed to boil; otherwise it will be spoilt. Harrild’s best composition is more than twice the cost of that ordinarily used, and is expensive for large rollers, but for these miniature ones the cost is unimportant. The mould with which my first roller was made, was an old pewter squirt with the nozzle cut off; its piston served the double purpose of disc and ramrod.

The Slab is a piece of thick plate glass, of the same length and width as the handle to the roller, so they pack up easily together; its edges are ground to save the fingers and roller alike from being cut. (Porcelain takes the ink better than glass, but is not to be commonly found in the shops, of a convenient shape and size; a glazed tile makes a capital slab.) A collapsible tube of printer’s ink, a few rags, and a phial of washing soda, complete the equipment (benzole may spoil india-rubber). When using the apparatus, spread a newspaper on the table to prevent accident, have other pieces of newspaper ready to clean the roller, and to remove any surplus of ink from it by the simple process of rolling it on the paper. Take care that the washing soda is in such a position that it cannot be upset and ruin the polish of the table. With these precautions, the apparatus may be used with cleanliness even in a drawing-room. The roller is of course laid on its back when not in use.

My assistant has taken good prints of the three first fingers of the right hands of more than 300 school children, say 1000 fingers, in a few hours during the same day, by this apparatus. Hawksley, 357 Oxford Street, W., sells a neatly fitted-up box with all the necessary apparatus.

Rougher arrangements.—A small ball made by tying chamois leather round soft rags, may be used in the absence of a roller. The fingers are inked from the ball, over which the ink has been evenly distributed, by dabbing it many times against a slab or plate. This method gives good results, but is slow; it would be intolerably tedious to employ it on a large scale, on all ten digits of many persons.

It is often desirable to obtain finger prints from persons at a distance, who could not be expected to trouble themselves to acquire the art of printing for the purpose of making a single finger print. On these occasions I send folding-cases to them, each consisting of two pieces of thin copper sheeting, fastened side by side to a slip of pasteboard, by bending the edges of the copper over it. The pasteboard is half cut through at the back, along the space between the copper sheets, so that it can be folded like a reply post-card, the copper sheets being thus brought face to face, but prevented from touching by the margin of an interposed card, out of which the middle has been cut away. The two pieces of copper being inked and folded up, may then be sent by post. On arrival the ink is fresh, and the folders can be used as ordinary inked slabs. (See also Smoke Printing, page 47.)

The fluidity of even a very thin layer of ink seems to be retained for an indefinite time if the air is excluded to prevent oxidisation. I made experiments, and found that if pieces of glass (photographic quarter plates) be inked, and placed face to face, separated only by narrow paper margins, and then wrapped up without other precaution, they will remain good for a year and a half.

A slight film of oxidisation on the surface of the ink is a merit, not a harm; it is cleaner to work with and gives a blacker print, because the ink clings less tenaciously to the finger, consequently more of it is transferred to the paper.

If a blackened plate becomes dry, and is re-inked without first being cleaned, the new ink will rob the old of some of its oxygen and it will become dry in a day or even less.

Lithography.—Prints may be made on “transfer-paper,” and thence transferred to stone. It is better not to impress the fingers directly upon the stone, as the print from the stone would be reversed as compared with the original impression, and mistakes are likely to arise in consequence. The print is re-reversed, or put right, by impressing the fingers on transfer-paper. It might sometimes be desirable to obtain rapidly a large number of impressions of the finger prints of a suspected person. In this case lithography would be easier, quicker, and cheaper than photography.

Water Colours and Dyes.—The pads most commonly used with office stamps are made of variously prepared gelatine, covered with fine silk to protect the surface, and saturated with an aniline dye. If the surface be touched, the finger is inked, and if the circumstances are all favourable, a good print may be made, but there is much liability to blot. The pad remains ready for use during many days without any attention, fresh ink being added at long intervals. The advantage of a dye over an ordinary water colour is, that it percolates the silk without any of its colour being kept back; while a solution of lampblack or Indian ink, consisting of particles of soot suspended in water, leaves all its black particles behind when it is carefully filtered; only clear water then passes through.

A serviceable pad may be made out of a few thicknesses of cloth or felt with fine silk or cambric stretched over it. The ink should be of a slowly drying sort, made, possibly, of ordinary ink, with the admixture of brown sugar, honey, glycerine or the like, to bring it to a proper consistence.

Mr. Gilbert Thompson’s results by this process have already been mentioned. A similar process was employed for the Bengal finger prints by Sir W. Herschel, who sent me the following account: “As to the printing of the fingers themselves, no doubt practice makes perfect. But I took no pains with my native officials, some dozen or so of whom learnt to do it quite well enough for all practical purposes from Bengali written instructions, and using nothing but a kind of lampblack ink made by the native orderly for use with the office seal.” A batch of these impressions, which he was so good as to send me, are all clear, and in most cases very good indeed. It would be easier to employ this method in a very damp climate than in England, where a very thin layer of lampblack is apt to dry too quickly on the fingers.

Printing as from Engraved Plates.—Professor Ray Lankester kindly sent me his method of taking prints with water colours. “You take a watery brushful or two of the paint and rub it over the hands, rubbing one hand against the other until they feel sticky. A thin paper (tissue is best) placed on an oval cushion the shape of the hand, should be ready, and the hand pressed not too firmly on to it. I enclose a rough sample, done without a cushion. You require a cushion for the hollow of the hand, and the paint must be rubbed by the two hands until they feel sticky, not watery.” This is the process of printing from engravings, the ink being removed from the ridges, and lying in the furrows. Blood can be used in the same way.

The following is extracted from an article by Dr. Louis Robinson in the Nineteenth Century, May 1892, p. 303:—

“I found that direct prints of the infant’s feet on paper would answer much better [than photography]. After trying various methods I found that the best results could be got by covering the foot by means of a soft stencil brush with a composition of lampblack, soap, syrup, and blue-black ink; wiping it gently from heel to toe with a smoothly-folded silk handkerchief to remove the superfluous pigment, and then applying a moderately flexible paper, supported on a soft pad, direct to the foot.”

A curious method with paper and ordinary writing ink, lately contrived by Dr. Forgeot, is analogous to lithography. He has described in one of the many interesting pamphlets published by the “Laboratoire d’Anthropologie Criminelle” of Lyon (Stenheil, 2 Rue Casimir-Delavigne, Paris), his new process of rendering visible the previously invisible details of such faint finger prints as thieves may have left on anything they have handled, the object being to show how evidence may sometimes be obtained for their identification. It is well known that pressure of the hand on the polished surface of glass or metal leaves a latent image very difficult to destroy, and which may be rendered visible by suitable applications, but few probably have suspected that this may be the case, to a considerable degree, with ordinary paper. Dr. Forgeot has shown that if a slightly greasy hand, such for example as a hand that has just been passed through the hair, be pressed on clean paper, and if common ink be afterwards brushed lightly over the paper, it will refuse to lie thickly on the greasy parts, and that the result will be a very fair picture of the minute markings on the fingers. He has even used these productions as negatives, and printed good photographs from them. He has also sent me a photographic print made from a piece of glass which had been exposed to the vapour of hydrofluoric acid, after having been touched by a greasy hand. I have made many trials of his method with considerable success. It affords a way of obtaining serviceable impressions in the absence of better means. Dr. Forgeot’s pamphlet describes other methods of a generally similar kind, which he has found to be less good than the above.

Smoke Printing.—When other apparatus is not at hand, a method of obtaining very clear impressions is to smoke a plate over a lighted candle, to press the finger on the blackened surface, and then on an adhesive one. The following details must, however, be borne in mind: the plate must not be smoked too much, for the same reason that a slab must not be inked too much; and the adhesive surface must be only slightly damped, not wetted, or the impression will be blurred. A crockery plate is better than glass or metal, as the soot does not adhere to it so tightly, and it is less liable to crack. Professor Bowditch finds mica (which is sold at photographic stores in small sheets) to be the best material. Certainly the smoke comes wholly off the mica on to the parts of the finger that touch it, and a beautiful negative is left behind, which can be utilised in the camera better than glass that has been similarly treated; but it does not serve so well for a plate that is intended to be kept ready for use in a pocket-book, its softness rendering it too liable to be scratched. I prefer to keep a slip of very thin copper sheeting in my pocket-book, with which, and with the gummed back of a postage stamp, or even the gummed fringe to a sheet of stamps, impressions can easily be taken. The thin copper quickly cools, and a wax match supplies enough smoke. The folders spoken of ([p. 42]) may be smoked instead of being inked, and are in some cases preferable to carry in the pocket or to send by post, being so easy to smoke afresh. Luggage labels that are thickly gummed at the back furnish a good adhesive surface. The fault of gummed paper lies in the difficulty of damping it without its curling up. The gummed paper sold by stationers is usually thinner than luggage labels, and still more difficult to keep flat. Paste rubbed in a very thin layer over a card makes a surface that holds soot firmly, and one that will not stick to other surfaces if accidentally moistened. Glue, isinglass, size, and mucilage, are all suitable. It was my fortune as a boy to receive rudimentary lessons in drawing from a humble and rather grotesque master. He confided to me the discovery, which he claimed as his own, that pencil drawings could be fixed by licking them; and as I write these words, the image of his broad swab-like tongue performing the operation, and of his proud eyes gleaming over the drawing he was operating on, come vividly to remembrance. This reminiscence led me to try whether licking a piece of paper would give it a sufficiently adhesive surface. It did so. Nay, it led me a step further, for I took two pieces of paper and licked both. The dry side of the one was held over the candle as an equivalent to a plate for collecting soot, being saved by the moisture at the back from igniting (it had to be licked two or three times during the process), and the impression was made on the other bit of paper. An ingenious person determined to succeed in obtaining the record of a finger impression, can hardly fail altogether under any ordinary circumstances.

Physiologists who are familiar with the revolving cylinder covered with highly-glazed paper, which is smoked, and then used for the purpose of recording the delicate movements of a tracer, will have noticed the beauty of the impression sometimes left by a finger that had accidentally touched it. They are also well versed in the art of varnishing such impressions to preserve them in a durable form.

A cake of blacklead (plumbago), such as is sold for blackening grates, when rubbed on paper leaves a powdery surface that readily blackens the fingers, and shows the ridges distinctly. A small part of the black comes off when the fingers are pressed on sticky paper, but I find it difficult to ensure good prints. The cakes are convenient to carry and cleanly to handle. Whitening, and still more, whitening mixed with size, may be used in the same way, but it gathers in the furrows, not on the ridges.

Casts give undoubtedly the most exact representation of the ridges, but they are difficult and unsatisfactory to examine, puzzling the eye by showing too conspicuously the variation of their heights, whereas we only want to know their courses. Again, as casts must be of a uniform colour, the finer lines are indistinctly seen except in a particular light. Lastly, they are both cumbrous to preserve and easily broken.

A sealing-wax impression is the simplest and best kind of cast, and the finger need not be burnt in making it. The plan is to make a considerable pool of flaming sealing-wax, stirring it well with the still unmelted piece of the stick, while it is burning. Then blow out the flame and wait a little, until the upper layer has cooled. Sealing-wax that has been well aflame takes a long time to harden thoroughly after it has parted with nearly all its heat. By selecting the proper moment after blowing out the flame, the wax will be cool enough for the finger to press it without discomfort, and it will still be sufficiently soft to take a sharp impression. Dentist’s wax, which is far less brittle, is easily worked, and takes impressions that are nearly as sharp as those of sealing-wax; it has to be well heated and kneaded, then plunged for a moment in cold water to chill the surface, and immediately impressed. Gutta-percha can also be used. The most delicate of all impressions is that left upon a thick clot of varnish, which has been exposed to the air long enough for a thin film to have formed over it. The impression is transient, but lingers sufficiently to be easily photographed. It happened, oddly enough, that a few days after I had noticed this effect, and had been experimenting upon it, I heard an interesting memoir “On the Minute Structure of Striped Muscle, with special allusion to a new method of investigation by means of ‘Impressions’ stamped in Collodion,” submitted to the Royal Society by Dr. John Berry Haycraft, in which an analogous method was used to obtain impressions of delicate microscopic structures.

Photographs are valuable in themselves, and the negatives serve for subsequent enlargements. They are unquestionably accurate, and the labour of making them being mechanical, may be delegated. If the print be in printer’s ink on white paper, the process is straightforward, first of obtaining a negative and afterwards photo-prints from it. The importance of the paper or card used to receive the finger print being quite white, has already been pointed out. An imprint on white crockery-ware is beautifully clear. Some of the photographs may be advantageously printed by the ferro-prussiate process. The paper used for it does not curl when dry, its texture is good for writing on, and the blue colour of the print makes handwriting clearly legible, whether it be in ink or in pencil.

Prints on glass have great merits for use as lantern slides, but it must be recollected that they may take some days to dry, and that when dry the ink can be only too easily detached from them by water, which insinuates itself between the dry ink and the glass. Of course they could be varnished, if the trouble and cost were no objection, and so preserved. The negative print left on an inked slab, after the finger has touched it, is sometimes very clear, that on smoked glass better, and on smoked mica the clearest of all. These have merely to be placed in the enlarging camera, where the negative image thrown on argento-bromide paper will yield a positive print. (See [p. 90].)

I have made, by hand, many enlargements with a prism (camera lucida), but it is difficult to enlarge more than five times by means of it. So much shade is cast by the head that the prism can hardly be used at a less distance than 3 inches from the print, or one quarter the distance (12 inches) at which a book is usually read, while the paper on which the drawing is made cannot well be more than 15 inches below the prism; so it makes an enlargement of ^{4 × 15}⁄12 or five-fold. This is a very convenient method of analysing a pattern, since the lines follow only the axes of the ridges, as in [Plate 3], Fig. 5. The prism and attached apparatus may be kept permanently mounted, ready for use at any time, without the trouble of any adjustment.

An enlarging pantagraph has also been of frequent use to me, in which the cross-wires of a low-power microscope took the place of the pointer. It has many merits, but its action was not equally free in all directions; the enlarged traces were consequently jagged, and required subsequent smoothing.

All hand-made enlargements are tedious to produce, as the total length of lineations to be followed is considerable. In a single finger print made by dabbing down the finger, their actual length amounts to about 18 inches; therefore in a five-fold enlargement of the entire print the pencil has to be carefully directed over five times that distance, or more than 7 feet.

Large copies of tracings made on transparent paper, either by the Camera Lucida or by the Pantagraph, are easily printed by the ferro-prussiate photographic process mentioned above, in the same way that plans are copied by engineers.

CHAPTER IV

THE RIDGES AND THEIR USES

The palmar surface of the hands and the soles of the feet, both in men and monkeys, are covered with minute ridges that bear a superficial resemblance to those made on sand by wind or flowing water. They form systems which run in bold sweeps, though the courses of the individual ridges are less regular. Each ridge ([Plate 3], Fig. 5) is characterised by numerous minute peculiarities, called Minutiæ in this book, here dividing into two, and there uniting with another (a, b), or it may divide and almost immediately reunite, enclosing a small circular or elliptical space (c); at other times its beginning or end is markedly independent (d, e); lastly, the ridge may be so short as to form a small island (f).

Whenever an interspace is left between the boundaries of different systems of ridges, it is filled by a small system of its own, which will have some characteristic shape, and be called a pattern in this book.

PLATE 3.

Fig. 5.

Characteristic peculiarities in Ridges
(about 8 times the natural size).

Fig. 6.

Systems of Ridges, and the Creases in the Palm.

There are three particularly well-marked systems of ridges in the palm of the hand marked in [Plate 3], Fig. 6, 1, as Th, AB, and BC. The system Th is that which runs over the ball of the thumb and adjacent parts of the palm. It is bounded by the line a which starts from the middle of the palm close to the wrist, and sweeps thence round the ball of the thumb to the edge of the palm on the side of the thumb, which it reaches about half an inch, more or less, below the base of the fore-finger. The system AB is bounded towards the thumb by the above line a, and towards the little finger by the line b; the latter starts from about the middle of the little-finger side of the palm, and emerges on the opposite side just below the fore-finger. Consequently, every ridge that wholly crosses the palm is found in AB. The system BC is bounded thumbwards by the line b, until that line arrives at a point immediately below the axis of the fore-finger; there the boundary of BC leaves the line b, and skirts the base of the fore-finger until it reaches the interval which separates the fore and middle fingers. The upper boundary of BC is the line c, which leaves the little-finger side of the palm at a small distance below the base of the little finger, and terminates between the fore and middle fingers. Other systems are found between c and the middle, ring, and little fingers; they are somewhat more variable than those just described, as will be seen by comparing the five different palms shown in Fig. 6.

An interesting example of the interpolation of a small and independent system occurs frequently in the middle of one or other of the systems AB or BC, at the place where the space covered by the systems of ridges begins to broaden out very rapidly. There are two ways in which the necessary supply of ridges makes its appearance, the one is by a series of successive embranchments (Fig. 6, 1), the other is by the insertion of an independent system, as shown in 4, 5. Another example of an interpolated system, but of rarer occurrence, is found in the system Th, on the ball of the thumb, as seen in 2.

Far more definite in position, and complex in lineation, are the small independent systems which appear on the bulbs of the thumb and fingers. They are more instructive to study, more easy to classify, and will alone be discussed in this book.

In the diagram of the hand, Fig. 6, 1, the three chief cheiromantic creases are indicated by dots, but are not numbered. They are made (1) by the flexure of the thumb, (2) of the four fingers simultaneously, and (3) of the middle, ring, and little fingers simultaneously, while the fore-finger remains extended. There is no exact accordance between the courses of the creases and those of the adjacent ridges, less still do the former agree with the boundaries of the systems. The accordance is closest between the crease (1) and the ridges in Th; nevertheless that crease does not agree with the line a, but usually lies considerably within it. The crease (2) cuts the ridges on either side, at an angle of about 30 degrees. The crease (3) is usually parallel to the ridges between which it runs, but is often far from accordant with the line c. The creases at the various joints of the thumb and fingers cut the ridges at small angles, say, very roughly, of 15 degrees.

The supposition is therefore untenable that the courses of the ridges are wholly determined by the flexures. It appears, however, that the courses of the ridges and those of the lines of flexure may be in part, but in part only, due to the action of the same causes.

The fact of the creases of the hand being strongly marked in the newly-born child, has been considered by some to testify to the archaic and therefore important character of their origin. The crumpled condition of the hand of the infant, during some months before its birth, seems to me, however, quite sufficient to account for the creases.

I possess a few specimens of hand prints of persons taken when children, and again, after an interval of several years: they show a general accordance in respect to the creases, but not sufficiently close for identification.

The ridges on the feet and toes are less complex than those on the hands and digits, and are less serviceable for present purposes, though equally interesting to physiologists. Having given but little attention to them myself, they will not be again referred to.

The ridges are studded with minute pores which are the open mouths of the ducts of the somewhat deeply-seated glands, whose office is to secrete perspiration: [Plate 10], n, is a good example of them. The distance between adjacent pores on the same ridge is, roughly speaking, about half that which separates the ridges. The lines of a pattern are such as an artist would draw, if dots had been made on a sheet of paper in positions corresponding to the several pores, and he endeavoured to connect them by evenly flowing curves; it would be difficult to draw a pattern under these conditions, and within definite boundaries, that cannot be matched in a living hand.

The embryological development of the ridges has been studied by many, but more especially by Dr. A. Kollmann,[1] whose careful investigations and bibliography should be consulted by physiologists interested in the subject. He conceives the ridges to be formed through lateral pressures between nascent structures.

PLATE 4.

Fig. 7.

SCARS and CUTS, and their Effects on the Ridges.

Fig. 8.

FORMATION OF INTERSPACE and Examples of the Enclosed Patterns.

The ridges are said to be first discernible in the fourth month of fœtal life, and fully formed by the sixth. In babies and children the delicacy of the ridges is proportionate to the smallness of their stature. They grow simultaneously with the general growth of the body, and continue to be sharply defined until old age has set in, when an incipient disintegration of the texture of the skin spoils, and may largely obliterate them, as in the finger prints on the title-page. They develop most in hands that do a moderate amount of work, and they are strongly developed in the foot, which has the hard work of supporting the weight of the body. They are, as already mentioned, but faintly developed in the hands of ladies, rendered delicate by the continual use of gloves and lack of manual labour, and in idiots of the lowest type who are incapable of labouring at all. When the skin becomes thin, the ridges simultaneously subside in height. They are obliterated by the callosities formed on the hands of labourers and artisans in many trades, by the constant pressure of their peculiar tools. The ridges on the side of the left fore-finger of tailors and seamstresses are often temporarily destroyed by the needle; an instance of this is given in [Plate 4], Fig. 7, b. Injuries, when they are sufficiently severe to leave permanent scars, destroy the ridges to that extent. If a piece of flesh is sliced off, or if an ulcer has eaten so deeply as to obliterate the perspiratory glands, a white cicatrix, without pores or ridges, is the result (Fig. 7, a). Lesser injuries are not permanent. My assistant happened to burn his finger rather sharply; the daily prints he took of it, illustrated the progress of healing in an interesting manner; finally the ridges were wholly restored. A deep clean cut leaves a permanent thin mark across the ridges (Fig. 7, c), sometimes without any accompanying puckering; but there is often a displacement of the ridges on both sides of it, exactly like a “fault” in stratified rocks. A cut, or other injury that is not a clean incision, leaves a scar with puckerings on all sides, as in Fig. 7, a, making the ridges at that part undecipherable, even if it does not wholly obliterate them.

The latest and best investigations on the evolution of the ridges have been made by Dr. H. Klaatsch.[2] He shows that the earliest appearance in the Mammalia of structures analogous to ridges is one in which small eminences occur on the ball of the foot, through which the sweat glands issue in no particular order. The arrangement of the papillæ into rows, and the accompanying orderly arrangement of the sweat glands, is a subsequent stage in evolution. The prehensile tail of the Howling Monkey serves as a fifth hand, and the naked concave part of the tail, with which it grasps and holds on to boughs, is furnished with ridges arranged transversely in beautiful order. The numerous drawings of the hands of monkeys by Allix[3] may be referred to with advantage.

The uses of the ridges are primarily, as I suppose, to raise the mouths of the ducts, so that the excretions which they pour out may the more easily be got rid of; and secondarily, in some obscure way, to assist the sense of touch. They are said to be moulded upon the subcutaneous papillæ in such a manner that the ultimate organs of touch, namely, the Pacinian bodies, etc.—into the variety of which it is unnecessary here to enter—are more closely congregated under the bases of the ridges than under the furrows, and it is easy, on those grounds, to make reasonable guesses how the ridges may assist the sense of touch. They must concentrate pressures, that would otherwise be spread over the surface generally, upon the parts which are most richly supplied with the terminations of nerves. By their means it would become possible to neutralise the otherwise dulling effect of a thick protective epidermis. Their existence in transverse ridges on the inner surface of the prehensile tails of monkeys admits of easy justification from this point of view. The ridges so disposed cannot prevent the tail from curling, and they must add materially to its sensitiveness. They seem to produce the latter effect on the hands of man, for, as the epidermis thickens under use within moderate limits, so the prominence of the ridges increases.

Supposing the ultimate organs of the sense of touch to be really congregated more thickly under the ridges than under the furrows—on which there has been some question—the power of tactile discrimination would depend very much on the closeness of the ridges. The well-known experiment with the two points of a pair of compasses, is exactly suited to test the truth of this. It consists in determining the smallest distance apart, of the two points, at which their simultaneous pressure conveys the sensation of a double prick. Those persons in whom the ridge-interval was short might be expected to perceive the double sensation, while others whose ridge-interval was wide would only perceive a single one, the distance apart of the compass points, and the parts touched by them, being the same in both cases. I was very glad to avail myself of the kind offer of Mr. E. B. Titchener to make an adequate course of experiments at Professor Wundt’s psycho-physical laboratory at Leipzig, to decide this question. He had the advantage there of being able to operate on fellow-students who were themselves skilled in such lines of investigation, so while his own experience was a considerable safeguard against errors of method, that safety was reinforced by the fact that his experiments were conducted under the watchful eyes of competent and critical friends. The result of the enquiry was decisive. It was proved to demonstration that the fineness or coarseness of the ridges in different persons had no effect whatever on the delicacy of their tactile discrimination. Moreover, it made no difference in the results, whether one or both points of the compass rested on the ridges or in the furrows.

The width of the ridge-interval is certainly no test of the relative power of discrimination of the different parts of the same hand, because, while the ridge-interval is nearly uniform over the whole of the palmar surface, the least distance between the compass points that gives the sensation of doubleness is more than four times greater when they are applied to some parts of the palm than when they are applied to the bulbs of the fingers.

The ridges may subserve another purpose in the act of touch, namely, that of enabling the character of surfaces to be perceived by the act of rubbing them with the fingers. We all of us perform this, as it were, intuitively. It is interesting to ask a person who is ignorant of the real intention, to shut his eyes and to ascertain as well as he can by the sense of touch alone, the material of which any object is made that is afterwards put into his hands. He will be observed to explore it very carefully by rubbing its surface in many directions, and with many degrees of pressure. The ridges engage themselves with the roughness of the surface, and greatly help in calling forth the required sensation, which is that of a thrill; usually faint, but always to be perceived when the sensation is analysed, and which becomes very distinct when the indentations are at equal distances apart, as in a file or in velvet. A thrill is analogous to a musical note, and the characteristics to the sense of touch, of different surfaces when they are rubbed by the fingers, may be compared to different qualities of sound or noise. There are, however, no pure over-tones in the case of touch, as there are in nearly all sounds.

CHAPTER V

PATTERNS: THEIR OUTLINES AND CORES

The patterns on the thumb and fingers were first discussed at length by Purkenje in 1823, in a University Thesis or Commentatio. I have translated the part that chiefly concerns us, and appended it to this chapter together with his corresponding illustrations. Subsequent writers have adopted his standard types, diminishing or adding to their number as the case may be, and guided as he had been, by the superficial appearance of the lineations.

In my earlier trials some three years ago, an attempt at classification was made upon that same principle, when the experience gained was instructive. It had seemed best to limit them to the prints of a single digit, and the thumb was selected. I collected enough specimens to fill fourteen sheets, containing in the aggregate 504 prints of right thumbs, arranged in six lines and six columns (6 × 6 × 14 = 504), and another set of fourteen sheets containing the corresponding left thumbs. Then, for the greater convenience of study these sheets were photographed, and enlargements upon paper to about two and a half times the natural size made from the negatives. The enlargements of the right thumb prints were reversed, in order to make them comparable on equal terms with those of the left. The sheets were then cut up into rectangles about the size of small playing-cards, each of which contained a single print, and the register number in my catalogue was entered on its back, together with the letters L. for left, or R.R. for reversed right, as the case might be.

On trying to sort them according to Purkenje’s standards, I failed completely, and many analogous plans were attempted without success. Next I endeavoured to sort the patterns into groups so that the central pattern of each group should differ by a unit of “equally discernible difference” from the central patterns of the adjacent groups, proposing to adopt those central patterns as standards of reference. After tedious re-sortings, some sixty standards were provisionally selected, and the whole laid by for a few days. On returning to the work with a fresh mind, it was painful to find how greatly my judgment had changed in the interim, and how faulty a classification that seemed tolerably good a week before, looked then. Moreover, I suffered the shame and humiliation of discovering that the identity of certain duplicates had been overlooked, and that one print had been mistaken for another. Repeated trials of the same kind made it certain that finality would never be reached by the path hitherto pursued.

On considering the causes of these doubts and blunders, different influences were found to produce them, any one of which was sufficient by itself to give rise to serious uncertainty. A complex pattern is capable of suggesting various readings, as the figuring on a wall-paper may suggest a variety of forms and faces to those who have such fancies. The number of illusive renderings of prints taken from the same finger, is greatly increased by such trifles as the relative breadths of their respective lineations and the differences in their depths of tint. The ridges themselves are soft in substance, and of various heights, so that a small difference in the pressure applied, or in the quantity of ink used, may considerably affect the width of the lines and the darkness of portions of the print. Certain ridges may thereby catch the attention at one time, though not at others, and give a bias to some false conception of the pattern. Again, it seldom happens that different impressions of the same digit are printed from exactly the same part of it, consequently the portion of the pattern that supplies the dominant character will often be quite different in the two prints. Hence the eye is apt to be deceived when it is guided merely by the general appearance. A third cause of error is still more serious; it is that patterns, especially those of a spiral form, may be apparently similar, yet fundamentally unlike, the unaided eye being frequently unable to analyse them and to discern real differences. Besides all this, the judgment is distracted by the mere size of the pattern, which catches the attention at once, and by other secondary matters such as the number of turns in the whorled patterns, and the relative dimensions of their different parts. The first need to be satisfied, before it could become possible to base the classification upon a more sure foundation than that of general appearance, was to establish a well-defined point or points of reference in the patterns. This was done by utilising the centres of the one or two triangular plots (see [Plate 4], Fig. 8, 2, 3, 4) which are found in the great majority of patterns, and whose existence was pointed out by Purkenje, but not their more remote cause, which is as follows:

The ridges, as was shown in the diagram ([Plate 3]) of the palm of the hand, run athwart the fingers in rudely parallel lines up to the last joint, and if it were not for the finger-nail, would apparently continue parallel up to the extreme finger-tip. But the presence of the nail disturbs their parallelism and squeezes them downwards on both sides of the finger. (See Fig. 8, 2.) Consequently, the ridges that run close to the tip are greatly arched, those that successively follow are gradually less arched until, in some cases, all signs of the arch disappear at about the level of the first joint (Fig. 8, 1). Usually, however, this gradual transition from an arch to a straight line fails to be carried out, causing a break in the orderly sequence, and a consequent interspace (Fig. 8, 2). The topmost boundary of the interspace is formed by the lowermost arch, and its lowermost boundary by the topmost straight ridge. But an equally large number of ducts exist within the interspace, as are to be found in adjacent areas of equal size, whose mouths require to be supported and connected. This is effected by the interpolation of an independent system of ridges arranged in loops (Fig. 8, 3; also [Plate 5], Fig. 9, a, f), or in scrolls (Fig. 8, 4; also Fig. 9, g, h), and this interpolated system forms the “pattern.” Now the existence of an interspace implies the divergence of two previously adjacent ridges (Fig. 8, 2), in order to embrace it. Just in front of the place where the divergence begins, and before the sweep of the pattern is reached, there are usually one or more very short cross-ridges. Their effect is to complete the enclosure of the minute triangular plot in question. Where there is a plot on both sides of the finger, the line that connects them (Fig. 8, 4) serves as a base line whereby the pattern may be oriented, and the position of any point roughly charted. Where there is a plot on only one side of the finger (Fig. 8, 3), the pattern has almost necessarily an axis, which serves for orientation, and the pattern can still be charted, though on a different principle, by dropping a perpendicular from the plot on to the axis, in the way there shown.

These plots form corner-stones to my system of outlining and subsequent classification; it is therefore extremely important that a sufficient area of the finger should be printed to include them. This can always be done by slightly rolling the finger ([p. 39]), the result being, in the language of map-makers, a cylindrical projection of the finger (see [Plate 5], Fig. 9, a-h). Large as these impressions look, they are of the natural size, taken from ordinary thumbs.

PLATE 5.

Fig. 9.

EXAMPLES OF OUTLINED PATTERNS

(The Specimens are rolled impressions of natural size).

a		e
b		f
c		g
d		h

The outlines.—The next step is to give a clear and definite shape to the pattern by drawing its outline (Fig. 9). Take a fine pen, pencil, or paint brush, and follow in succession each of the two diverging ridges that start from either plot. The course of each ridge must be followed with scrupulous conscientiousness, marking it with a clean line as far as it can be traced. If the ridge bifurcates, always follow the branch that trends towards the middle of the pattern. If it stops short, let the outline stop short also, and recommence on a fresh ridge, choosing that which to the best of the judgment prolongs the course of the one that stopped. These outlines have an extraordinary effect in making finger markings intelligible to an untrained eye. What seemed before to be a vague and bewildering maze of lineations over which the glance wandered distractedly, seeking in vain for a point on which to fix itself, now suddenly assumes the shape of a sharply-defined figure. Whatever difficulties may arise in classifying these figures, they are as nothing compared to those experienced in attempting to classify unoutlined patterns, the outlines giving a precision to their general features which was wanting before.

After a pattern has been treated in this way, there is no further occasion to pore minutely into the finger print, in order to classify it correctly, for the bold firm curves of the outline are even more distinct than the largest capital letters in the title-page of a book.

A fair idea of the way in which the patterns are distributed, is given by [Plate 6]. Eight persons were taken in the order in which they happened to present themselves, and [Plate 6] shows the result. For greater clearness, colour has been employed to distinguish between the ridges that are supplied from the inner and outer sides of the hand respectively. The words right and left must be avoided in speaking of patterns, for the two hands are symmetrically disposed, only in a reversed sense. The right hand does not look like a left hand, but like the reflection of a left hand in a looking-glass, and vice versa. The phrases we shall employ will be the Inner and the Outer; or thumb-side and little-finger side (terms which were unfortunately misplaced in my memoir in the Phil. Trans. 1891).

There need be no difficulty in remembering the meaning of these terms, if we bear in mind that the great toes are undoubtedly innermost; that if we walked on all fours as children do, and as our remote ancestors probably did, the thumbs also would be innermost, as is the case when the two hands are impressed side by side on paper. Inner and outer are better than thumb-side and little-finger side, because the latter cannot be applied to the thumbs and little fingers themselves. The anatomical words radial and ulnar referring to the two bones of the fore-arm, are not in popular use, and they might be similarly inappropriate, for it would sound oddly to speak of the radial side of the radius.

PLATE 6.

Fig. 10.

OUTLINES of the Patterns of the Digits of Eight Persons, taken at random.

Left Hand.						Right Hand.
	Little finger.	Ring finger.	Middle finger.	Fore finger.	Thumb.	Little finger.	Ring finger.	Middle finger.	Fore finger.	Thumb.

The two plots just described will therefore be henceforth designated as the Inner and the Outer plots respectively, and symbolised by the letters I and O.

The system of ridges in Fig. 10 that comes from the inner side “I” are coloured blue; those from the outer “O” are coloured red. The employment of colour instead of variously stippled surfaces is of conspicuous advantage to the great majority of persons, though unhappily nearly useless to about one man in every twenty-five, who is constitutionally colour-blind.

It may be convenient when marking finger prints with letters for reference, to use those that look alike, both in a direct and in a reversed aspect, as they may require to be read either way. The print is a reversed picture of the pattern upon the digit that made it. The pattern on one hand is, as already said, a reversed picture of a similar pattern as it shows on the other. In the various processes by which prints are multiplied, the patterns may be reversed and re-reversed. Thus, if a finger is impressed on a lithographic stone, the impressions from that stone are reversals of the impression made by the same finger upon paper. If made on transfer paper and thence transferred to stone, there is a re-reversal. There are even more varied possibilities when photography is employed. It is worth recollecting that there are twelve capital letters in the English alphabet which, if printed in block type, are unaffected by being reversed. They are A.H.I.M.O.T.U.V.W.X.Y.Z. Some symbols do the same, such as, * + - = :. These and the letters H.O.I.X. have the further peculiarity of appearing unaltered when upside down.

Lenses.—As a rule, only a small magnifying power is needed for drawing outlines, sufficient to allow the eye to be brought within six inches of the paper, for it is only at that short distance that the minutiæ of a full-sized finger print begin to be clearly discerned. Persons with normal sight, during their childhood and boy- or girlhood, are able to read as closely as this without using a lens, the range in adjustment of the focus of the eye being then large. But as age advances the range contracts, and an elderly person with otherwise normal eyesight requires glasses to read a book even at twelve inches from his eye. I now require much optical aid; when reading a book, spectacles of 12-inch focus are necessary; and when studying a finger print, 12-inch eye-glasses in addition, the double power enabling me to see clearly at a distance of only six inches. Perhaps the most convenient focus for a lens in ordinary use is 3 inches. It should be mounted at the end of a long arm that can easily be pushed in any direction, sideways, backwards, forwards, and up or down. It is undesirable to use a higher power than this unless it is necessary, because the field of view becomes narrowed to an inconvenient degree, and the nearer the head is to the paper, the darker is the shadow that it casts; there is also insufficient room for the use of a pencil.

Every now and then a closer inspection is wanted; for which purpose a doublet of ½-inch focus, standing on three slim legs, answers well.

For studying the markings on the fingers themselves, a small folding lens, sold at opticians’ shops under the name of a “linen tester,” is very convenient. It is so called because it was originally constructed for the purpose of counting the number of threads in a given space, in a sample of linen. It is equally well adapted for counting the number of ridges in a given space.

Whoever desires to occupy himself with finger prints, ought to give much time and practice to drawing outlines of different impressions of the same digits. His own ten fingers, and those of a few friends, will furnish the necessary variety of material on which to work. He should not rest satisfied until he has gained an assurance that all patterns possess definite figures, which may be latent but are potentially present, and that the ridges form something more than a nondescript congeries of ramifications and twists. He should continue to practise until he finds that the same ridges have been so nearly followed in duplicate impressions, that even in difficult cases his work will rarely vary more than a single ridge-interval.

When the triangular plot happens not to be visible, owing to the print failing to include it, which is often the case when the finger is not rolled, as is well shown in the prints of my own ten digits on the title-page, the trend of the ridges so far as they are seen, usually enables a practised eye to roughly estimate its true position. By means of this guidance an approximate, but fairly correct, outline can be drawn. When the habit of judging patterns by their outlines has become familiar, the eye will trace them for itself without caring to draw them, and will prefer an unoutlined pattern to work upon, but even then it is essential now and then to follow the outline with a fine point, say that of a penknife or a dry pen.

In selecting standard forms of patterns for the convenience of description, we must be content to disregard a great many of the more obvious characteristics. For instance, the size of generally similar patterns in Fig. 10 will be found to vary greatly, but the words large, medium, or small may be applied to any pattern, so there is no necessity to draw a standard outline for each size. Similarly as regards the inwards or outwards slope of patterns, it is needless to print here a separate standard outline for either slope, and equally unnecessary to print outlines in duplicate, with reversed titles, for the right and left hands respectively. The phrase “a simple spiral” conveys a well-defined general idea, but there are four concrete forms of it (see bottom row of [Plate 11], Fig. 17, oj, jo, ij, ji) which admit of being verbally distinguished. Again the internal proportions of any pattern, say those of simple spirals, may vary greatly without affecting the fact of their being simple spirals. They may be wide or narrow at their mouths, they may be twisted up into a point ([Plate 8], Fig. 14, 52), or they may run in broad curls of uniform width (Fig. 14, 51, 54). Perhaps the best general rule in selecting standard outlines, is to limit them to such as cannot be turned into any other by viewing them in an altered aspect, as upside down or from the back, or by magnifying or deforming them, whether it be through stretching, shrinking, or puckering any part of them. Subject to this general rule and to further and more particular descriptions, the sets ([Plates 7] and [8], Figs. 11, 12, 13) will be found to give considerable help in naming the usual patterns.

PLATE 7.

Fig. 11.
ARCHES.

Fig. 12.
LOOPS.

PLATE 8.

Fig. 13.
WHORLS.

Fig. 14.
CORES to LOOPS.

Rods:—their envelopes are indicated by dots.

31 Single.

32 Eyed.

33 Double.

34 Multiple.

35 Monkey.

Staples:—their envelopes are indicated by dots.

36 Plain.

37 ¼ parted.

38 ½ parted.

39 ¾ parted.

40 Tuning fork.

41 Single eyed.

42 Double eyed.

Envelopes whether to Rods or Staples:—here staples only are dotted.

43 Plain.

44 ¼ parted.

45 ½ parted.

46 ¾ parted.

47 Single eyed.

48 Double eyed.

Fig. 15. CORES to WHORLS.

49 Circles.

50 Ellipses.

51 Spiral.

52 Twist.

53 Plait.

54 Deep Spiral.

It will be observed that they are grouped under the three principal heads of Arches, Loops, and Whorls, and that under each of these heads some analogous patterns as 4, 5, 7, 8, etc., are introduced and underlined with the word “see” so and so, and thus noted as really belonging to one of the other heads. This is done to indicate the character of the transitional cases that unite respectively the Arches with the Loops, the Arches with the Whorls, and the Loops with the Whorls. More will follow in respect to these. The “tented arch” (3) is extremely rare on the thumb; I do not remember ever to have seen it there, consequently it did not appear in the plate of patterns in the Phil. Trans. which referred to thumbs. On the other hand, the “banded duplex spiral” (30) is common in the thumb, but rare elsewhere. There are some compound patterns, especially the “spiral in loop” (21) and the “circlet in loop” (22), which are as much loops as whorls; but are reckoned as whorls. The “twinned loop” (16) is of more frequent occurrence than would be supposed from the examination of dabbed impressions, as the only part of the outer loop then in view resembles outside arches; it is due to a double separation of the ridges ([Plate 4], Fig. 8), and a consequent double interspace. The “crested loop” (13) may sometimes be regarded as an incipient form of a “duplex spiral” (29).

The reader may also refer to [Plate 16], which contains what is there called the C set of standard patterns. They were arranged and used for a special purpose, as described in [Chapter XI.] They refer to impressions of the right hand.

As a variety of Cores, differing in shape and size, may be found within each of the outlines, it is advisable to describe them separately. [Plate 8], Fig. 14 shows a series of the cores of loops, in which the innermost lineations may be either straight or curved back; in the one case they are here called rods (31 to 35); in the other (36 to 42), staples. The first of the ridges that envelops the core, whether the core be a rod, many rods, or a staple, is also shown and named (43 to 48). None of the descriptions are intended to apply to more than the very end of the core, say, from the tip downwards to a distance equal to two average ridge-intervals in length. If more of the core be taken into account, the many varieties in their lower parts begin to make description confusing. In respect to the “parted” staples and envelopes, and those that are single-eyed, the description may further mention the side on which the parting or the eye occurs, whether it be the Inner or the Outer.

At the bottom of Fig. 14, 49-54, is given a series of rings, spirals, and plaits, in which nearly all the clearly distinguishable varieties are included, no regard being paid to the direction of the twist or to the number of turns. 49 is a set of concentric circles, 50 of ellipses: they are rarely so in a strict sense throughout the pattern, usually breaking away into a more or less spiriform arrangement as in 51. A curious optical effect is connected with the circular forms, which becomes almost annoying when many specimens are examined in succession. They seem to be cones standing bodily out from the paper. This singular appearance becomes still more marked when they are viewed with only one eye; no stereoscopic guidance then correcting the illusion of their being contour lines.

Another curious effect is seen in 53, which has the appearance of a plait or overlap; two systems of ridges that roll together, end bluntly, the end of the one system running right into a hollow curve of the other, and there stopping short; it seems, at the first glance, to run beneath it, as if it were a plait. This mode of ending forms a singular contrast to that shown in 51 and 52, where the ridges twist themselves into a point. 54 is a deep spiral, sometimes having a large core filled with upright and nearly parallel lines; occasionally they are bulbous, and resemble the commoner “monkey” type, see 35.

When the direction of twist is described, the language must be unambiguous: the following are the rules I adopt. The course of the ridge is always followed towards the centre of the pattern, and not away from it. Again, the direction of its course when so followed is specified at the place where it attains its highest point, or that nearest to the finger-tip; its course at that point must needs be horizontal, and therefore directed either towards the inner or the outer side.

The amount of twist has a strong tendency to coincide with either one, two, three, four, or more half-turns, and not to stop short in intermediate positions. Here are indications of some unknown fundamental law, analogous apparently to that which causes Loops to be by far the commonest pattern.

The classification into Arches, Loops, and Whorls is based on the degree of curvature of the ridges, and enables almost any pattern to be sorted under one or other of those three heads. There are a few ambiguous patterns, and others which are nondescript, but the former are uncommon and the latter rare; as these exceptions give little real inconvenience, the classification works easily and well.

Arches are formed when the ridges run from one side to the other of the bulb of the digit without making any backward turn or twist. Loops, when there is a single backward turn, but no twist. Whorls, when there is a turn through at least one complete circle; they are also considered to include all duplex spirals.

PLATE 9.

Fig. 15.

TRANSITIONAL PATTERNS—Arches and Loops (enlarged three times).

PLATE 10.

FIG. 16.

TRANSITIONAL PATTERNS—Loops and Whorls (enlarged three times).

The chief theoretical objection to this threefold system of classification lies in the existence of certain compound patterns, by far the most common of which are Whorls enclosed within Loops ([Plates 7], [8], Fig. 12, 15, 18, 19, and Fig. 13, 20-23). They are as much Loops as Whorls, and properly ought to be relegated to a fourth class. I have not done so, but called them Whorls, for a practical reason which is cogent. In an imperfect impression, such as is made by merely dabbing the inked finger upon paper, the enveloping loop is often too incompletely printed to enable its existence to be surely ascertained, especially when the enclosed whorl is so large (Fig. 13, 23) that there are only one or two enveloping ridges to represent the loop. On the other hand, the whorled character of the core can hardly fail to be recognised. The practical difficulties lie almost wholly in rightly classifying a few transitional forms, diagrammatically and roughly expressed in Fig. 11, 4, 5, and Fig. 12, 8, 18, 19, with the words “see” so and so written below, and of which actual examples are given on an enlarged scale in [Plates 9] and [10], Figs. 15 and 16. Here Fig. 15, a is an undoubted arch, and c an undoubted nascent loop; but b is transitional between them, though nearer to a loop than an arch, d may be thought transitional in the same way, but it has an incipient curl which becomes marked in e, while it has grown into a decided whorl in f; d should also be compared with j, which is in some sense a stage towards k. g is a nascent tented-arch, fully developed in i, where the pattern as a whole has a slight slope, but is otherwise fairly symmetrical. In h there is some want of symmetry, and a tendency to the formation of a loop on the right side (refer back to [Plate 7], Fig. 11, 4, and Fig. 12, 12); it is a transitional case between a tented arch and a loop, with most resemblance to the latter. [Plate 10], Fig. 16 illustrates eyed patterns; here l and m are parts of decided loops; p, q, and r are decided whorls, but n is transitional, inclining towards a loop, and o is transitional, inclining towards a whorl. s is a nascent form of an invaded loop, and is nearly related to l; t and u are decidedly invaded loops.

The Arch-Loop-Whorl, or, more briefly, the A. L. W. system of classification, while in some degree artificial, is very serviceable for preliminary statistics, such as are needed to obtain a broad view of the distribution of the various patterns. A minute subdivision under numerous heads would necessitate a proportional and somewhat overwhelming amount of statistical labour. Fifty-four different standard varieties are by no means an extravagant number, but to treat fifty-four as thoroughly as three would require eighteen times as much material and labour. Effort is economised by obtaining broad results from a discussion of the A. L. W. classes, afterwards verifying or extending them by special inquiries into a few of the further subdivisions.

PLATE 11.

Fig. 17.

ORIGIN OF SUPPLY OF RIDGES TO PATTERNS OF PRINTS OF RIGHT HAND.

Of the two letters in the left upper corner of each compartment, the first refers to the source of upper boundary of the pattern,
the second to the lower boundary. For patterns on the prints of left hands, Ii and Oo must be interchanged.

Arches		Rings		Duplex Spirals
from both sides		from neither side		from both sides
I and O both absent		I and O both present		upper supply from
				I side	O side
jj	jj	jj		oi	io
		I O
Spirals		Loops		Spirals
from I side		from I side	from O side	from O side
above	below	I absent	O absent	above	below
oj	jo	oo	ii	ij	ji

Fig. 18.

Ambiguities in prints of the Minutiæ.

The divergent ridges that bound any simple pattern admit of nine, and only nine, distinct variations in the first part of their course. The bounding ridge that has attained the summit of any such pattern must have arrived either from the Inner plot (I), the Outer plot (O), or from both. Similarly as regards the bounding ridge that lies at the lowest point of the pattern. Any one of the three former events may occur in connection with any of the three latter events, so they afford in all 3 × 3, or nine possible combinations. It is convenient to distinguish them by easily intelligible symbols. Thus, let i signify a bounding line which starts from the point I, whether it proceeds to the summit or to the base of the pattern; let o be a line that similarly proceeds from O, and let u be a line that unites the two plots I and O, either by summit or by base. Again, let two symbols be used, of which the first shall always refer to the summit, and the second to the base of the pattern. Then the nine possible cases are—uu, ui, uo; iu, ii, io; ou, oi, oo. The case of the arches is peculiar, but they may be fairly classed under the symbol uu.

This easy method of classification has much power. For example, the four possible kinds of simple spirals (see the 1st, 2nd, and the 5th and 6th diagrams in the lowest row of [Plate 11], Fig. 17) are wholly determined by the letters oj, jo, ij, ji respectively. The two forms of duplex spirals are similarly determined by oi and io (see 4th and 5th diagrams in the upper row of Fig. 17), the two slopes of loops by oo and ii (3rd and 4th in the lower row). It also shows very distinctly the sources whence the streams of ridges proceed that feed the pattern, which itself affords another basis for classification. The resource against uncertainty in respect to ambiguous or difficult patterns is to compile a dictionary of them, with the heads under which it is advisable that they should severally be classed. It would load these pages too heavily to give such a dictionary here. Moreover, it ought to be revised by many experienced eyes, and the time is hardly ripe for this; when it is, it would be no difficult task, out of the large number of prints of separate fingers which for instance I possess (some 15,000), to make an adequate selection, to enlarge them photographically, and finally to print the results in pairs, the one untouched, the other outlined and classified.

It may be asked why ridges are followed and not furrows, the furrow being the real boundary between two systems. The reply is, that the ridges are the easiest to trace; and, as the error through following the ridges cannot exceed one-half of a ridge-interval, I have been content to disregard it. I began by tracing furrows, but preferred the ridges after trial.

Measurements.—It has been already shown that when both plots are present ([Plate 4], Fig. 8, 4), they form the termini of a base line, from which any part of the pattern may be triangulated, as surveyors would say. Also, that when only one plot exists (3), and the pattern has an axis (which it necessarily has in all ordinary ii and oo cases), a perpendicular can be let fall upon that axis, whose intersection with it will serve as a second point of reference. But our methods must not be too refined. The centres of the plots are not determinable with real exactness, and repeated prints from so soft a substance as flesh are often somewhat dissimilar, the one being more or less broadened out than the other, owing to unequal pressure. It is therefore well to use such other more convenient points of reference as the particular pattern may present. In loops, the intersection of the axis with the summit of the innermost bend, whether it be a staple or the envelope to a rod (Fig. 14, second and third rows of diagrams), is a well-defined position. In spirals, the centre of the pattern is fairly well defined; also a perpendicular erected from the middle of the base to the outline above and below (Fig. 8, 4) is precise and convenient.

In prints of adults, measurements may be made in absolute units of length, as in fractions of an inch, or else in millimetres. An average ridge-interval makes, however, a better unit, being independent of growth; it is strictly necessary to adopt it in prints made by children, if present measurements are hereafter to be compared with future ones. The simplest plan of determining and employing this unit is to count the number of ridges to the nearest half-ridge, within the space of one-tenth of an inch, measured along the axis of the finger at and about the point where it cuts the summit of the outline; then, having already prepared scales suitable for the various likely numbers, to make the measurements with the appropriate scale. Thus, if five ridges were crossed by the axis at that part, in the space of one-tenth of an inch, each unit of the scale to be used would be one-fiftieth of an inch; if there were four ridges, each unit of the scale would be one-fortieth of an inch; if six ridges one-sixtieth, and so forth. There is no theoretical or practical difficulty, only rough indications being required.

It is unnecessary to describe in detail how the bearings of any point may be expressed after the fashion of compass bearings, the direction I-O taking the place of East-West, the uppermost direction that of North, and the lowermost of South. Little more is practically wanted than to be able to describe roughly the position of some remarkable feature in the print, as of an island or an enclosure. A ridge that is characterised by these or any other marked peculiarity is easily identified by the above means, and it thereupon serves as an exact basis for the description of other features.

Purkenje’s “Commentatio.”

Reference has already been made to Purkenje, who has the honour of being the person who first described the inner scrolls (as distinguished from the outlines of the patterns) formed by the ridges. He did so in a University Thesis delivered at Breslau in 1823, entitled Commentatio de examine physiologico organi visus et systematis cutanei (a physiological examination of the visual organ and of the cutaneous system). The thesis is an ill-printed small 8vo pamphlet of fifty-eight pages, written in a form of Latin that is difficult to translate accurately into free English. It is, however, of great historical interest and reputation, having been referred to by nearly all subsequent writers, some of whom there is reason to suspect never saw it, but contented themselves with quoting a very small portion at second-hand. No copy of the pamphlet existed in any public medical library in England, nor in any private one so far as I could learn; neither could I get a sight of it at some important continental libraries. One copy was known of it in America. The very zealous Librarian of the Royal College of Surgeons was so good as to take much pains at my instance, to procure one: his zeal was happily and unexpectedly rewarded by success, and the copy is now securely lodged in the library of the College.

The Title

Commentatio de Examine physiologico organi visus et systematis cutanei quam pro loco in gratioso medicorum ordine rite obtinendo die Dec. 22, 1823. H.X.L.C. publice defendit Johannes Evangelista Purkenje, Med. doctor, Phys. et Path. Professor publicus ordinarius des. Assumto socio Guilielmo Kraus Medicinae studioso.

Translation, p. 42.

“Our attention is next engaged by the wonderful arrangement and curving of the minute furrows connected with the organ of touch[4] on the inner surfaces of the hand and foot, especially on the last phalanx of each finger. Some general account of them is always to be found in every manual of physiology and anatomy, but in an organ of such importance as the human hand, used as it is for very varied movements, and especially serviceable to the sense of touch, no research, however minute, can fail in yielding some gratifying addition to our knowledge of that organ. After numberless observations, I have thus far met with nine principal varieties of curvature according to which the tactile furrows are disposed upon the inner surface of the last phalanx of the fingers. I will describe them concisely, and refer to the diagrams for further explanation (see [Plate 12], Fig. 19).

1. Transverse flexures.—The minute furrows starting from the bend of the joint, run from one side of the phalanx to the other; at first transversely in nearly straight lines, then by degrees they become more and more curved towards the middle, until at last they are bent into arches that are almost concentric with the circumference of the finger.

2. Central Longitudinal Stria.—This configuration is nearly the same as in 1, the only difference being that a perpendicular stria is enclosed within the transverse furrows, as if it were a nucleus.

3. Oblique Stria.—A solitary line runs from one or other of the two sides of the finger, passing obliquely between the transverse curves in 1, and ending near the middle.

4. Oblique Sinus.—If this oblique line recurves towards the side from which it started, and is accompanied by several others, all recurved in the same way, the result is an oblique sinus, more or less upright, or horizontal, as the case may be. A junction at its base, of minute lines proceeding from either of its sides, forms a triangle. This distribution of the furrows, in which an oblique sinus is found, is by far the most common, and it may be considered as a special characteristic of man; the furrows that are packed in longitudinal rows are, on the other hand, peculiar to monkeys. The vertex of the oblique sinus is generally inclined towards the radial side of the hand, but it must be observed that the contrary is more frequently the case in the fore-finger, the vertex there tending towards the ulnar side. Scarcely any other configuration is to be found on the toes. The ring finger, too, is often marked with one of the more intricate kinds of pattern, while the remaining fingers have either the oblique sinus or one of the other simpler forms.

PLATE 12.

Fig. 19.

THE STANDARD PATTERNS OF PURKENJE.

The Cores of the above Patterns.

5. Almond.—Here the oblique sinus, as already described, encloses an almond-shaped figure, blunt above, pointed below, and formed of concentric furrows.

6. Spiral.—When the transverse flexures described in 1 do not pass gradually from straight lines into curves, but assume that form suddenly with a more rapid divergence, a semicircular space is necessarily created, which stands upon the straight and horizontal lines below, as it were upon a base. This space is filled by a spiral either of a simple or composite form. The term ‘simple’ spiral is to be understood in the usual geometric sense. I call the spiral ‘composite’ when it is made up of several lines proceeding from the same centre, or of lines branching at intervals and twisted upon themselves. At either side, where the spiral is contiguous to the place at which the straight and curved lines begin to diverge, in order to enclose it, two triangles are formed, just like the single one that is formed at the side of the oblique sinus.

7. Ellipse, or Elliptical Whorl.—The semicircular space described in 6 is here filled with concentric ellipses enclosing a short single line in their middle.

8. Circle, or Circular Whorl.—Here a single point takes the place of the short line mentioned in 7. It is surrounded by a number of concentric circles reaching to the ridges that bound the semicircular space.

9. Double Whorl.—One portion of the transverse lines runs forward with a bend and recurves upon itself with a half turn, and is embraced by another portion which proceeds from the other side in the same way. This produces a doubly twisted figure which is rarely met with except on the thumb, fore, and ring fingers. The ends of the curved portions may be variously inclined; they may be nearly perpendicular, of various degrees of obliquity, or nearly horizontal.

In all of the forms 6, 7, 8, and 9, triangles may be seen at the points where the divergence begins between the transverse and the arched lines, and at both sides. On the remaining phalanges, the transverse lines proceed diagonally, and are straight or only slightly curved.”

(He then proceeds to speak of the palm of the hand in men and in monkeys.)

CHAPTER VI

PERSISTENCE

The evidence that the minutiæ persist throughout life is derived from the scrutiny and comparison of various duplicate impressions, one of each pair having been made many years ago, the other recently. Those which I have studied more or less exhaustively are derived from the digits of fifteen different persons. In some cases repeated impressions of one finger only were available; in most cases of two fingers; in some of an entire hand. Altogether the whole or part of repeated impressions of between twenty and thirty different digits have been studied. I am indebted to Sir W. J. Herschel for almost all these valuable data, without which it would have been impossible to carry on the inquiry. The only other prints are those of Sir W. G——, who, from curiosity, took impressions of his own fingers in sealing-wax in 1874, and fortunately happened to preserve them. He was good enough to make others for me last year, from which photographic prints were made. The following table gives an analysis of the above data. It would be well worth while to hunt up and take the present finger prints of such of the Hindoos as may now be alive, whose impressions were taken in India by Sir W. J. Herschel, and are still preserved. Many years must elapse before my own large collection of finger prints will be available for the purpose of testing persistence during long periods.

The pattern in every distinct finger print, even though it be only a dabbed impression, contains on a rough average thirty-five different points of reference, in addition to its general peculiarities of outline and core. They consist of forkings, beginnings or ends of ridges, islands, and enclosures. These minute details are by no means peculiar to the pattern itself, but are distributed with almost equal abundance throughout the whole palmar surface. In order to make an exhaustive comparison of two impressions they ought to be photographically enlarged to a size not smaller than those shown in [Plate 15]. Two negatives of impressions can thus be taken side by side on an ordinary quarter-plate, and any number of photographic prints made from them; but, for still more comfortable working, a further enlargement is desirable, say by the prism, [p. 52]. Some of the prints may be made on ferro-prussiate paper, as already mentioned [pp. 51], [53]; they are more convenient by far than prints made by the silver or by the platinum process.

Having placed the enlarged prints side by side, two or three conspicuous and convenient points of reference, whether islands, enclosures, or particularly distinct bifurcations, should be identified and marked. By their help, the position of the prints should be readjusted, so that they shall be oriented exactly alike. From each point of reference, in succession, the spines of the ridges are then to be followed with a fine pencil, in the two prints alternately, neatly marking each new point of comparison with a numeral in coloured ink ([Plate 13]). When both of the prints are good and clear, this is rapidly done; wherever the impressions are faulty, there may be many ambiguities requiring patience to unravel. At first I was timid, and proceeded too hesitatingly when one of the impressions was indistinct, making short alternate traces. Afterwards on gaining confidence, I traced boldly, starting from any well-defined point of reference and not stopping until there were reasonable grounds for hesitation, and found it easy in this way to trace the unions between opposite and incompletely printed ends of ridges, and to disentangle many bad impressions.

An exact correspondence between the details of two minutiæ is of secondary importance. Thus, the commonest point of reference is a bifurcation; now the neck or point of divergence of a new ridge is apt to be a little low, and sometimes fails to take the ink; hence a new ridge may appear in one of the prints to have an independent origin, and in the other to be a branch. The apparent origin is therefore of little importance, the main fact to be attended to is that a new ridge comes into existence at a particular point; how it came into existence is a secondary matter. Similarly, an apparently broken ridge may in reality be due to an imperfectly printed enclosure; and an island in one print may appear as part of an enclosure in the other. Moreover, this variation in details may be the effect not only of imperfect inking or printing, but of disintegration due to old age, which renders the impressions of the ridges ragged and broken, as in my own finger prints on the title-page.

[Plate 11], Fig. 18 explains the nature of the apparent discrepancies better than a verbal description. In a a new ridge appears to be suddenly intruded between two adjacent ones, which have separated to make room for it; but a second print, taken from the same finger, may have the appearance of either b or c, showing that the new ridge is in reality a fork of one or other of them, the low connecting neck having failed to leave an impression. The second line of examples shows how an enclosure which is clearly defined in d may give rise to the appearance of broken continuity shown in e, and how a distinct island f in one of the prints may be the remnant of an enclosure which is shown in the other. These remarks are offered as a caution against attaching undue importance to disaccord in the details of the minutiæ that are found in the same place in different prints. Usually, however, the distinction between a fork and the beginning of a new ridge is clear enough; the islands and enclosures are also mostly well marked.

PLATE 13.

Fig. 20.

V. H. H-D æt. 2½ in 1877, and again as a boy in Nov. 1890.