Bound by DEVEREUX THE ATLANTIS Art. I. — The TJieory of the Picturesque. By W. H. Scott, M.A. pS'oTE. — This sketch of an interestnig theory was put into our hands by the accompUshed author, on his leaving England last summer for the visit of a few months to the Continent, from which he never returned. It is here published, not only on the ground of its intrinsic merit, in spite of its not having received his last correc- tions, but also as a memorial of one very dear to his friends, who has been prematurely taken away. — Ed.] THE question is worth asking, and, to the best of our know- ledge, has never has been so sufficiently answered as to make any apology necessary for here pursuing and reconsider- ing it, — What is the correct theory, the true philosophical account, and scientific analysis of that special variety or modification of the Beautiful, which is brought home to the perception of every one under the name of the " Picturesque " ? What is the secret of the fascination residing in that singular combination of apparently heterogeneous materials, of nature with art, of variety with unity, of irregularity with proportion, of imperfection with completeness, of disturbance with repose, which perhaps every one will acknowledge to be comprehended in the idea which the term conveys, and which, notwithstanding, when we come to examine it, seems so difficult to interpret? The inquiry is interesting in itself as a problem, and has the further recommen- dation of having a practical bearing upon other investigations which have been conducted from time to time, and which III. 1 2 The Tlieory of the Picturesque. directly or remotely involve in tliemselves the decision of this primary one. Thus there is the old question: Is the notion of the Picturesque ancient, or only modem ? In other words : Is the term the representative of a principle which must always have been acknowledged, as being based on some ultimate and immutable fact of the human mind ; or, hke the words, which, to use the saying of a philosophical writer,^ *' have their star", is it but the name and S3rmbol of an idea, which runs its course, which has had its ascertainable origin, its gradual evolution, its historical rise and culmination in the intellectual sky ? There is the question, again, of the bearing of the Picturesque on the theory of the fine arts: Does it touch upon poetry? Does it concern architecture? Or, again, is it "classic", or "romantic", or both? And does it tend to maintain or to destroy, when duly examined, the specious but deceptive (as we believe) and indefinite theory thence named? We might go on, it is pos- sible, to suggest other intellectual problems similar to these, with each of which it might conceivably have points of connection ; but we have said enough, as it is, to show the suggestiveness of our subject. We begin then by taking for granted, what in fact we have abeady impHed in our first words, that the Picturesque is com- prehended under the beautiful, and is one form of it. What then is the Beautiful? Here there is no answer forthcoming which can be called authoritative. The professed treatises on the subject can hardly be said, any of them, to be held in high estimation ; and as in general they are neither deep nor accurate, it would be a waste of time to discuss what we cannot acquiesce in. ^ Hence \ve are thrown in some measure, for the determi- nation of this preliminary point, on our own resources ; and in the execution of this task, so far as is necessary for the inquiry before us, we hope not to be shallow whilst we attempt to be comprehensive. We reject then,^ we say, once for all, and without the ceremony of a minute examination, all such theories as that of Alison, who would make the Beautiful simply consist in association ; all such theories as that of Burke, who would be content to identify the beautiful with the merely agreeable (the icaXov with the r]^v), who would call sweetness, for example, beautiful to the taste, in the same sense in which a flower, a picture, or the window of a Gothic cathedral, is beautiful to the sight ; all such theories as that of Dugald Stewart, which goes fai' towards identifying the Guizot, " Civilisation in Europe'', cli. Tlie Theory of the Picturesque. 3 beautiful with the useful or the appropriate, and would explain it on the theory of an adaptation of means to ends ; all such theories as that of Sir Joshua Reynolds, who held the beautiful to consist in a mean between two extremes ; so that the Greek nose, for example, would be beautiful, as being the due medium between that of the Roman and the Negro ; who, in short, inter- preted the beautiful simply on a theory of habit, even to the extent of believing that if that which we now are accustomed to call ugliness had predominated in the world, we should feel in it the same pleasure which we now do in the beautiful; — nor, finally, can we accept as sufficient even the theory which has the singular recommendation of being at once the earliest and the latest propounded on this subject, that of the Greek school of philosophy — of St. Augustine, of Coleridge, and of the Pere Andre, — we mean the doctrine that beauty is unity, or, to ex- press it as is occasionally done, is " plurality in unity", or the combination of the many into one, so as to form a whole. Our objection to this definition is the vagueness of the word unity, which may signify anything or nothing, as we choose to take it. As an instance of what we mean, we may borrow the illustration proposed, if we remember right, by Plotinus, that of the triangle. The triangle, he says, is the first-born of beauty, as being the most elementary combination possible of the " many" to form *' one". Now it is obvious to ask, if the connection of tliree lines into a definite figure is a creation of the beautiful, as being the union into a whole of three parts, what are we to say to the figure resulting from the union of three lines of unequal length ? The scalene triangle, which is the figure in question, is certainly not beautiful, though it realises the definition, or seems to do so ; and consequently the definition itself is either obscure or not true. Setting aside, then, these several accounts of the Beautiful, as inexact or inadequate, and looking round for a more complete definition, if such is to be obtained, let us observe for a moment how much is popularly comprehended in the idea of the beauti- ful. If it be difficult of definition, this might seem certainly to be owing, on taking our first view of it, to the number and va- riety of the manifestations in which it is presented. Thus it is exhibited not in space only, but in time, not in rest only, but in motion; — in space and in rest, as in the forms of the visible creation, both animate and inanimate ; in time and in motion, as in all that is called " graceful". It is realised again, not only in the phenomena of sight, and here in the two several manifes- tations of form and colour, but in the phenomena of soimd also, and here in the two manifestations of melody and harmonv. 1 B 4 The Theory of the Picturesque. Affain, not in the world of sense only, but in tlie world wliich is supersensuous. It is common to speak of moral and intellectual beauty, as well as physical. There is the beauty of prose and of poetry ; there is the beauty of virtue ; there is the beauty of the Divine Attributes. In short, hardly anytliing is there, in heaven or in earth, in mind or in matter, which cannot become, under certain conditions, what, in the ordinary language of men, is called beautiful ; and how, it may be asked, are we to chain into a definition a spirit ever restlessly investing itself in forms so different ? We reply, that a careful consideration of these and the like instances of the beautiful, usually and popularly so called, will authorise us to distinguish between the "Beautiful", in the strict sense of the term, and the "Poetical"; and, proceeding on this distinction, we shall venture to include all that is properly called beautiful under the definition of harmony^ and to refer the beau- tiful, improperly so called, or what we now name the poetical, to the head of association. We are not saying, it will be ob- served, that the Beautiful and Poetical never meet and intermingle in the same subject ; nothing, on the contrary, is more common : but we say that the two are always distinguishable in idea, and may be separate in fact. Harmony, then, is the philosophy of the Beautiful, and association its poetry. Such is our funda- mental position, and the necessary explanation of each shall now follow. 1. In saying that Beauty, in the proper sense of the word, is harmony, we assert, what will certainly be admitted, that the beautiful is made up of parts, and that the essence of the beauti- ful lies in the mode of the combination of those parts. So much, indeed, is implied, and truly, in the definition of the beautiful by the old Greek pliilosophers, before given, — " Multeity in imity". Were it otherwise, — were it possible, that is, for a single and in- dividual object, as such and in strictness of speech, to be called beautiful, there would be no distinction assignable between the beautiful and the merely agreeable, — by the latter term being meant the direct gratification of any one of the five senses ; and the attempt to estabhsh any principle or law of the Beautiful would then be as nugatory as to theorise upon the satisfaction re- Bultm^ from the fragrance of the rose or the colour of crimson.* Will It be objected that colour, simple and elementary as it is, is yet beautiful ^ we reply that, on the contrary, we have in colour, when carefully considered, a proof of our assertion, that beauty is * This is well insisted on and brought out in the Essays on the Beautiful, by tolendge, preserved in Cottle's " Kecoilections" of that writer. The Tlieory of the Picturesque. 5 harmony ; for, though it is common indeed to hear the particular colour crimson, or blue, or purple, and so on, called beautiful, yet that this is an incorrect use of the term, and nothing more, must be inferred from the circumstance, that so soon as any one colour is set in juxta- position with another, as in a picture or church window, it immediately becomes beautiful or not beautiful, ac- cording as it harmonises or not with the accompanying colour. So is it in colours ; so is it, as we shall presently see, in the case of forms ; but, omitting these for the moment, let us next test the definition in the instance of what is called grace. *' In beauty", says Lord Bacon, in his essay on that subject, "favour" (or " form", as we should now say) " is more than colour, and decent and gra- cious motion is more than favour. This is the best part of beauty, which a picture cannot express, nor the first sight of the life". Grace, then, being beauty in motion, and time being the " mea- sure of motion", and time and space being, as to their metaphy- sical character, analogous, we shall be justified in using the word " harmony" in its original and more extended signification (that of apfiovta), in expressing by it, that is, not the mutual rela- tions of objects in space only, or what in music is harmony pro- perly so called, but the relations of sequence or succession in time also, or what in music is called at the present day melody ; and we think it reasonable to assert that, in this wider employment of it, the term harmony can be applied to the beautiful, not only a3 we perceive it in space and in a state of repose, but also as it comes before us under the conditions of time and motion, when we distinguish it as the graceful. Thus the curved or undulating line, to which the name of the " line of beauty and grace" has especially been given, is one which we follow with the eye from end to end. We might define it, — and the same definition would suit the sequence of a musical air, — as " unity in progression". And thus a flower and a tree, of which the outlines mainly con- sist of flowing or curved lines, as the harebell or the willow, are confessedly graceful. Thus the dance also is graceful ; and the verse in Wordsworth, " She seemed as happy as a wave, that dances on the sea", suggests the closeness of its analogy to the flowing or undulating line. So, when Virgil describes birds singing, and Lucretius the motion (" decent and gracious") of the clouds in Heaven, they use language so similar that the one might almost have been suspected of having copied the other. *' JEthera mulcebant cantu" is the expression in Virgil applied to the birds' music. " ^era mulcentes motu" is the singularly beau- tiful and poetical expression applied in Lucretius to the clouds' movement. He is speaking of the drifting of clouds over the face of a clear sky ; and he sets before us in this admirable half 6 The Theory of the Picturesque. line a sort of photograph of their gradual and graceful variations of outline as the j move onwards : — " Nee speciera mutare suam liquentia cessant, Et quoiusqueinodi formaruru vertere in ora".' We might multiply instances in point, were it necessary to do so ; but we may suppose the position we are maintaining to be now granted — namely, that grace, as being of the nature of a musical movement, may be included, like beauty in repose, under the head of harmony. We will, therefore, now proceed, in the last place, to give an illustration of what we mean, when we say that mvisible and supersensuous beauty is also harmony, and may thus be comprehended under the same definition with all other beauty. And it is ascending at once to the highest exemplification of which the subject is capable, when we refer to the Omnipotent Author Himself of all beauty. He who is the Almighty, the All- wise, and the All-holy, is also, in the language of divines, the All-beautiful. And theology completes the crown of His attri- butes with this last, as intending to express by it the confluence in Him, and harmonious connection among themselves, of all the others. " Order and harmony", says Dr. Newman,* in a most apposite passage, " are of His very essence. To be many and distinct in His attributes, yet, after all, to be but one, — to be sanctity, justice, truth, love, power, wisdom, to be at once each of these as fully as if He were nothing but it, and if the rest were not, — this impHes in the Divine Nature an infinitely sove- reign and utterly incomprehensible order, which is an attribute as wonderful as any, and the result of all the others". . . . . . . " Such", he afterwards goes on to say, " is the unity and consequent harmony and beauty of the Divine Nature". The theological doctiine is, in fact, the interpretation of the dim dream of heathen philosophy on the same subject. The past, the present, and the future of the world's history, chanted by the fates, and blending in sublime harmony with the music of the spheres,— such is the Platonic adumbration in the splendid fable* of the fulness of the beatific vision of the All-beautiful. 2. The above, then, are specimen instances out of many which might be given in proof that Beauty in all its manifestations is of the nature of harmony. We have now to say something on the second of the two heads before mentioned, namely, the principle of association, which we have called the poetry of the Beautiful, as distinct from its philosophy. How mtimately, indeed, this » Lucretius, IV., 136. ■• Occasional Sermons, p. 251. ^ RepubUc, suh.Jin. The Theory of the Picturesque. 7 principle is connected in fact, though it is not to be identified in theory, with the effect which a beautiful object produces upon the mind, is sufficiently evident from such treatises as the once popular one of Alison, already alluded to, whose resolution of the Beautiful is simply and merely that it is the awakening in the mind of a train of agreeable associations, and who would never have been elevated into an oracle on a basis so insufficient, were it not that every one must feel that he is right in the obser- vations he makes, so far as this, that they are true but apparently immaterial, his mistake being, that he substitutes an attribute, a phenomenon, a separable accident of the Beautiful, for its real essence. The same is the case with a popular writer of this day — Mr. Ruskin. At bottom he is wholly an associationist as regards his theory of the Beautiful no less than Alison, and in page after page of his many volumes unfolds the poetry of his subject with an exuberant eloquence, while in his attempts at a philosophical analysis of it, he is meagre and inadequate, or rather he is perpetually offering us poetry, which he calls philosophy. Thus we sympathise, for example, with the poetical feeling which makes him associate the form of the arch in pointed Gothic with the shape of the leaves in one-half of the vegetable kingdom, while at the same time we reject the philosophy which would assert the fact of this correspondence to be a satisfactory reply to the question. Why is the pointed arch beautiful in a Gothic cathe- dral? We maintain, on the contrary, in direct opposition to these writers, that association, so far from being identical with the Beautiful, or a part of its essence,, stand in the sort of relation to it that expression, as it is called, in the human face does to regular features. Their beauty consists in their regularity ; it is a matter of symmetry, proportion, and harmony ; it is something objective and external; it is reducible to rule; it is independent of the caprice or particular impression of our own mind. But, on the other hand, we connect the "play" of a countenance with the character, the thoughts, the emotions, the alternations and variations of feeling in the inner man. Momentary and ever- changing, it is like the sparkling of light on the surface of a sea of which the depths have been agitated. Here, then, is a pro- cess of association correctly so called; here is something unsys- tematic, indefinite, irreducible to rule or measvire, incapable of analysis, in a word, here is poetry. And, as it is certainly com- mon on the one hand to hear of features being described as beau- tiful because regular, yet as unpleasing, nevertheless, because vacant ; and, on the other, as pleasing, because full of expression, though not beautiful; and as the perfection of excellence is admitted to be where both qualifications unite in one person, — 8 The Theory of the Picturesque. we have here a perfect illustration both of the manner in which harmony, viewed as the philosophy of the Beautiful, is complete without association, and of the poetical grace independent of, and beyond itself, which it may borrow from association. Thus music, to take another instance, independently of those fixed laws of material harmony or melody by which it is beauti- ful, awakens also in the mind, there is no doubt, certain dreamy and subtle chords of imaginative association and feeling, which make it eminently poetical. Light, on the other hand, according to the same view, would be beautiful, not strictly and philoso- phically — for, of course, there cannot be harmonious relations where there are no parts, — but still poetically in the highest degree, for what have we in light but a pure, immaterial, immu- table, life-like, inconceivably swift, all-encompassing, dazzlmg emanation from a world above — "a^thereum sensum, atque aurai simplicis ignem", — which is fraught with associations of all that is divinest and most perfect ? And, lastly, to test the definition in the instance of literary description or word-painting : — That the Beautiful here also may have the poetical superadded, and may be elevated even to the grandest sublimity by the power of association, can hardly be evidenced more completely than in the following description,* the divine original of which, in St. John's prophecy, will be re- membered by every one : — " And who is he, yon rast and awful form, Girt with the whirlwind, sandal'd with the storm j A western cloud around his limbs is spread ; His crown a rainbow, and a sun his head : To highest heaven he lifts his kingly hand, And treads at once the ocean and the land; And hark his voice amid the thunder's roar, His dreadful voice, that time shall be no more". Here is certainly a picture so complete, so definite, so radiant, so harmonious in form and colour, so simply beautiful, that were it realised on canvas it would command admiration as a master- piece of angehc grace and celestial dignity. But the point to be msisted on is, that in addition to the form and the colour which made it beautiful as a picture, there is a combination of sublime symbols which make it wonderfully poetical. The cloud, the rainbow, and the thunder, stand for the attributes of mercy and judgment characteristic of the Omnipotent King whom the angel personifies ; and since half the efiect of the representation depends • Hebcr's Palestine ; Comp. Apoc. x. p TJie Theory of the Picturesque. on these symbols, that effect is so far to be ascribed, not, we say, to the picture, but to the high associations indirectly awakened by the picture. So much in preparation for the inquiry which is our immediate concern, into the nature of the Picturesque. We have been occupied thus far in distinguishing between the two principles of harmony and association in their relation to the Beautiful; and we have determined the essence of the Beautiful to consist in harmony, and association to be connected with it only as an addition ah extra, and as rendering it poetical. This distinction, then, we shall now employ, to disembarrass our inquiry of the ambiguity which would otherwise beset it, owing to the fact of the Picturesque being accidentally encompassed with so much that is romantic and imaginative. For, as it so happens that it is the not unfrequent concomitant of decay or ruin, the temptation has been great among theorists on this subject, to make associations of decay and ruin, an element in its definition ; in other words, make the principle of it consist in the eccentric, the abnormal, and the distorted ; and thus by a curious inversion, to discover in it, a deflection from the true type of the beautiful rather than a fulfilment of it. Here we are reminded once more of Mr. Ruskin's mode of philosophising on these matters. He also finds the key to the Picturesque, as may be supposed, in a theory of association ; though in fact he advances it in a form somewhat different from that just alluded to. He defines it to be " parasi- tical sublimity", and, in explanation of his meaning, gives the instance of a Swiss chalet, with the large and irregularly shaped stones, set, as usual, upon its roof, to secure it from the violence of the weather. These stones, he says, are the source of its picturesqueness, and are such, not in themselves, and as they stand on the cottage roof, but by virtue of an intellectual process in the mind of the beholder, who first associates them in thought with the adjoining mountain from which they are taken, and then mentally invests them with the sublimity attaching to that mountain. It is enough, however, to have noticed this theory, and those akin to it, in a passing sentence ; and we are exempted by all that has already been said, from further dwelling on it. Association and romance may add poetical interest, no doubt, to the picturesque object; but if they may reasonably be excluded from any part in the theory of the Beautiful, so also may they safely be rejected from that of pic- turesque iDcauty. The Picturesque, then, as its very name indicates, must be re- ferred for its ultimate explanation to the art of the painter. It 10 Tlie Tlieory of the Picturesque. must be realised, that is in one or both of the two elements of form and colour. So much, if the principle of association be set aside, as just said, may be taken for granted. Moreover, it being impossible to have colour in a pictorial composition apart from form, whilst of course it is possible to have form without colour, as in an engraving, a photograph, or at any rate in a mere out- line, we shall be simplifying our subject as well as adhering to the essential and disregarding the non-essential, in setting aside the consideration of colour, and confining our attention entirely to that of form. If the picturesque, then, be reducible to the general head of the beautiful in form, and if the beautiful in form be reducible, like the beautiful in colour and the beauty of motion, to the head of harmony, we can hardly go astray in pro- nouncing the essence of the picturesque to be dependent, directly or indirectly, on what is called symmetry ; inasmuch as harmony in the arrangement of Hues is symmetry. What, then, is the symmetry which distinguishes picturesque beauty from beauty in general? Here it will be convenient to recur to the illustration of the beautiful already alluded to, as having been proposed by the ancient philosophers, — the triangle. There are three forms of the triangle r the scalene, of which the sides are none of them equal to each other; the isosceles, of which two are equal and one is unequal ; the equilateral, of which all three are equal. The scalene, then, is wholly unsymmetrical ; the isosceles, imperfectly symmetrical ; and the equilateral, per- fectly. The scalene also is certainly not beautiful ; whereas the isosceles and the equilateral both satisfy the eye, and by reason of their regularity, and, though dissimilar to each other, can neither of them submit to be set aside as not beautiful. There is a difference, however, between the two, and that an impor- tant one. The equilateral triangle, in consequence of the very perfection of the symmetrical harmony of its component parts, has the cha- racter of formality. So it is with flowers ; they are beautiful, abstractedly from their colours, with a geometrical beauty ; their effect, generally speaking, being produced by the systematic dis- position of their petals, which are the repetition of each other, round a common centre. So it is, in like manner, with the ca- lidoscope ; that instrmnent, by the mere power of a symmetri- cal multiplication, converting a chaos of disorder into magical beauty ; still into beauty of a limited range only, as being, by the necessity of the case, always formal. The isosceles triangle, on the other hand, is saved from being formal at the expense of being less completely symmetrical ; and its third side, which is irregular or unsymmetrical, as compared with the other two, is of The Tlieory of the Picturesque. 11 the nature of a discord in music, as employed by a great master. It tempers a harmony which would otherwise be too perfect to be quite symmetrical. Here, then, we get a glimpse of the true reply to the question above put, viz.. What is the symmetry which distinguishes pic- turesque beauty from ordinary beauty? for the most cursory consideration of all that is generally included under the name picturesque, will lead us to see that its chief characteristic is a certain irregularity ; formal it assuredly is not, whatever else it is. We will accordingly distribute all beauty into formal, on the one hand, and picturesque, on the other. And, speaking broadly and generally, we have the types of these two divisions of the beautiful in the two triangles just mentioned : viz., of the formal in the equilateral, and of the informal, or picturesque, in the isosceles. For the more complete illustration of the distinction here drawn, let us now place ourselves in imagination in the presence of any particular masterpiece we please of classical architecture, only supposing it to be as perfect as on the day when it was ori- ginally set up by Pericles at Athens, or by Augustus at Rome. It may be the front of the Parthenon, or the portico of the Pan- theon, or the Maison Carree of Nismes, or that successful imita- tion of the antique, the Madeleine at Paris. Anyhow we shall have before us a range of columns, Doric, Ionic, or Corinthian, as the case may be ; perfect in their parts, their heights, their proportions, their inter-columniations ; above these the horizon- tal entablature, adorned with its appropriate decorations accord- ing to the style of the architecture ; and above this again, and crowning the whole, the pediment, with its obtuse-angled tri- angle, forming at once the termination of the roof of the temple and the frame of a series of exquisite representations in sculpture arranged within it. Now, such a creation as this is emphatically and by universal consent beautiful ; — as beautiful in its particular department as anything that can be named ; yet assuredly it is no subject for the painter. He might do his best indeed, were he compelled to design it, in the way of adapting it to a picture, whether by taking it at an angle, or by setting it on the summit of some iTigged and commanding rock, as the Parthenon on the Acropolis ; or by relieving it with the undulating hues of trees and clouds ; or by breaking up its uniformity, in casting upon it broad lights and irregular shadows ; but were he to draw the front of the building as we have described it, and apart from such accessories or details as we have just been imagining, he would produce, not a picture, but an architectural elevation. The result, in fact, though perfectly beautiful in its own way, 12 The Theory of the Picturesque. would be irremediably formal ; and where is the spell that shall evoke a manifestation of the picturesque from materials so un- promising ? In the " Bridal of Triermain", we read of a knight, who, weary of continually watching before a pile of rocks, which re- mained nothing but rocks, though a magical castle was said to be concealed within them, at length flung his battle-axe at the chiFs which rose above him, and splintered off a fragment of the mass in so doing, when the charm being thus broken, the enchanted fortress immediately burst upon his view in all its reality. Now we may try a somewhat similar experiment in the present in- stance with equal success. For the castle-rocks of St. John, which the knight struck, let us substitute the faqade of the classic temple just imagined, and let the blow of the battle-axe be repre- sented by some partial disturbance of the severe regularity of the outlines which bound the structure ; let the pediment be some- what broken away ; let one or two of the pillars be displaced or broken off short at different elevations ; let the continuity of their fluting be disturbed, let them be eaten into by the weather, and overhung and tufted in places with creepers or wild flowers ; let the monotony of their marble be diversified with moss and lichen ; and let the ground at their foot be broken and heaped up in hil- locks : and behold a nobler creation of the beautiful than we had before; dum moritur resurgit; from the prison of the formal has come out the beauty of the informal, for in the ruin we have the subject of the pencil, the delight of the artist, the material for the sketch book, in short, the very embodiment of the pictu- resque in all its perfection. We repeat that we have here gi^n what every one must admit to be a specimen of the picturesque, true, adequate, a.nd complete, omnibus numeris, and the principle of the picturesque may now be easily deduced from the consideration of it. It is, in fact, a disturbed symmetry; and where it is realised most completely, will be found to be a pretty accurate equilibrium of the symmetrical and the unsymmetrical, neither absolutely pre- ponderating to the disadvantage of the other. Hence, while the modes in which it admits of being exhibited are very various, the essence of every such exhibition will be always tliis, all that is possible in regularity short of formal arrangement, and all that is possible in freedom short of no arrangement at all or mere dis- order. There must be an interpenetration, so to express it, of the formal by the informal ; there must be at once correspondence and diversity, harmony and contrast. This, and this only, is the picturesque ; and of this the isosceles triangle, as before said, is the simplest manifestation. The Theory of the Picturesque. 13 Should any one yet hesitate to acquiesce in this definition, under the feehng that after all it may be still association which is the charm of the ruin, and not the form of it, let him return again to the supposed temple, and consider what would be the effect of an entire abolition of those proportions which he is so little disposed to identify with its picturesqueness. That in its formal or com- plete state, the piece of architecture in question is unpicturesque, has been made evident already ; now, on the other hand, that an utter absence of form, or simple disorder and confiision, is unpic- turesque also, may be proved to demonstration, by pursuing to its limits that stgne process of demolition by means of which we rendered the temple picturesque in the first instance. Carry on, in fact, the supposed disintegration of the building little by little, and you will find, that at a certain stage of the proceeding you reach a critical turning point, beyond which every step in ad- vance ceases to be a creation of the picturesque, and becomes the corruption of it ; till at length, when column, pediment, and en- tablature fie in shapeless confusion on the ground, corruption has become absolute dissolution, and the picturesque has vanished. It has come, it has been seen in its perfection, it has passed away and has been destroyed by the identical process by which it has been erected ; as if the conditions of its existence were those of the White Lady in the romance, who then first became visible when the fortunes of the " house", with whose destiny her own was interwoven, had fallen into decfine ; whose zone gradually dwindled as the ruin proceeded, and who was fated to perish altogether at the moment of its consummation. The picturesque, then, is, in its essence, a due combination of the formal and the informal, and it is important to observe that this is the definition, the most natural and antecedently pro- bable in a philosophical point of view, of any which could be given ; for the discernment of likeness and unlikeness, which are only other names for that system of symmetry and inten-uption, of correspondence and contrast, which we recognize in the pic- turesque, is an elementary power and necessity in the human mind : hence it is a principle of universal application ; latissime patet. " The perception", it has been said,^ " of similitude in dissimilitude is the great spring of the activity of our minds, and their chief feeder. . . . It is the life of our ordinary conversa- tion ; and upon the accuracy with which similitude in dissimili- tude, and dissimilitude in similitude are perceived, depend our taste and our moral feelings". Thus it is the secret, for example, Wordsworth — Preface to Poems ; and compare Coleridge's Kemains. 14 TJie Tlieory of the Picturesque. as others have pointed out, of the reason why we prefer the mar- ble statue to the more perfect imitation of the human form which may be made in wax-work. Thus in poetry, again, it is the ulti- mate principle of the entire scheme of metre, versification, and rhyme, and of the system of parallelisms, which constitutes the versification of the Hebrews ; of metre, for it is here the simili- tude and dissimilitude of time or measure ; of rhyme, for it is here the similitude and dissimilitude of recurring sound ; of parallelism, for it is here the similitude and dissimilitude of mental concep- tions. It is the main principle, in short, of the charm residing in all imitation of whatever kind. This law, then, of our condition, that we should be incessantly comparing and contrasting, contrasting and comparing, and find- ing pleasure in the recognition of the like in the midst of the un- like, being identical, in fact, with the law which constitutes the picturesque, we may naturally expect a principle so universal to admit, even in the particular province of the picturesque, of ex- tensive apphcation ; and, in truth, it is hardly too much to say that, according to the variety of the employment of it, is the success, the beauty, and the perfection, so far as form is con- cerned, of a pictorial composition. Thus, an object may be picturesque, for example, in jtself, according to the definition of the picturesque above given ; or, on the other hand, it may be picturesque only or mainly when in juxta-position with a second object, partly resembhng the first, and partly differing ; it being just this union of resemblance and diiference which constitutes the picturesque. Or, again, each of the two objects may be pro- perly picturesque in itself, or taken separately ; and the two may also create the picturesque when taken conjointly. An oak, for example, if well grown, is a picturesque tree. Its stem is just a sufficient departure from a straight line to save it from being formal, and its foHage groups into masses corresponding one to another in character, yet not rigorously uniform, — repeating one another with variations, and perpetually suggesting a sym- metry which they stop short of completing. If a tree, then, such as this, be introduced into a picture alongside of a piece af archi- tectural ruin of the kind before mentioned, the one, to use the common expression, will set off the other, in a manner and to a degree in which neither one tree would set ofif another tree, nor one ruin another ruin ; or, in other words, owing to the character of their outlines, there will be at once a certain difference in the opposed masses, and a certain correspondence, and the picturesque will be the result. ^ It would be easy to continue these illustrations almost indefi- nitely. What, for example, is the secret of that picturesqueness The Theory of the Picturesque. 15 of tlie Swiss chalet, which Mr. Ruskin mistakenly attributes to " parasitical sublimity"? It is simply, that the rough masses of irrco-ular stone with which the roof is studded, interrupt what would otherwise be the over-formality and regularity of the lines of the building. Why is it, again, that the painter, who has a picturesque object to copy, avoids giving it a place in the exact centre of his paper ? It is the fear lest, by consequently dividing his paper into equal parts, he should give an air of formality to his drawing, which would destroy its picturesqueness. Or, again, what makes him prefer taking his building, be it castle or cottage, at an angle, in preference to a front view of it ? It is obviously the feeling that the slanting lines thus produced by the necessity of the perspective, tend to mitigate that decided formality which would be the consequence of a front view. Or, again, why is he so fond of balancing the two sides of his picture ? Why will he put a small tree on the left hand over against a large one on the right, a large rock on the right to balance a small one on the left, unless always with the intention of producing a certain cor- respondence without formality ? In the case of a historical pic- ture, as distinct from landscape, the introduction of the same principle of arrangement is more remarkable still, for there, if any where, the dignity or the interest attaching to the exhi- bition of human action or passion, to expression in countenance and feature, and to animation in form, might seem enough in itself for the highest purposes of the artist, without the addi- tion of the particular element we are here treating of Yet it presents itself, in fact, in what are called the " forms of com- position" employed by the great masters. In other words, some regular figure, whether the triangle, the circle, the oval, the figure of eight, the St. Andrew's cross, or any other, is made the basis of the composition or grouping of the different personages which are the subject of the picture ; not, however, in such a manner that the employment of the figure in question becomes prominently conspicuous; but here is again that peculiar inter- mingling of the formal and the informal which constitutes the picturesque. The severe regularity of the figure is just so far discernible as to give harmony and repose to the irregular life and action out of which it is created, and is so far indiscernible as only to regulate a freedom which it would otherwise imprison.^ We have now pursued, we think, the philosophy of the sub- ject pretty nearly to its limits, and if correctly, how false must be the supposition of those who would limit the perception of the * Compare, again, the Lectures on the Beautiful, by Coleridge, in Cottle's "Recollections". 16 The Theory of the Picturesque. Picturesque to modem times, and deny it any place in the minds and the feeHngs of those ancients of Greece and Rome, who have generally been looked up to in matters of intellect and taste as unapproachable models. To trace up the picturesque to an ele- mentary principle of the intellect is virtually- to assert the impos- sibility of its being thus limited. Who in point of fact can imagine, we will not say an Apelles, a Praxiteles, or a Phidias, not the author of the Belvidere Apollo, or the Medicean Venus, not that Homer, who could so vividly paint the scudding of a storm, or the moonUght upon the crags, or the wave gathering in the distance, and coming in, and bursting on the shore, — not any one of the great authors in poetry whose names are famous, but even any ordinary contemporary of theirs, with common taste and refinement, looking at a regular landscape composition of the present day by Claude or Turner, and not appreciating its beauty ; or surveying, we will say, without pleasure the broken arches, the ivy-mantled columns, and the half-shattered tracery of the windows of Tintem Abbey; or wandering "siccis oculis" along the Rhine, with no feeling for the charm of the confoiTnation of those piles of mediaeval masonry on its banks, so regular at once and so irregular ; so symmetrical, yet so relieved from formality in their fantastic accumulation of turret, or battlement, or pinnacle, on side or summit, that they have all the picturesqueness of the ruin without being such ? As reasonably might we raise a doubt whether he had an eye for the regular proportions of the square or circle. Moreover, the evidence of facts confirms the ante- cedent probability; for, whatever stress may be laid (extrava- gantly enough, as we think, yet it is sometimes done) on the particular case of the formality of the gardens of Alicinous, described in Homer, or on the absence, if so be, of any elaborate landscape composition in the ancient poets, nothing is more cer- tain than that passages can be produced, which, even apart from antecedent probabilities, and much more, admitting them, may fairly be considered to show as keen an appreciation of the pic- turesque, in the fullest sense of the word, in those writers, as is to be found in any passage of poetry in modern times. There are two instances out of many, which occur in Virgil, the one poet who, from his passionate admiration of the country and all belonging to it, is naturally the author we first turn to in a ques- tion of this kind. First, his notice of the view unfolding before the eyes of the shepherd, as the road turns : " Janique sepulchrum Incipit apparere Bianoris";— How few are the word**, yet how perfectly picturesque is the Hie Theory of the Picturesque. 1 7 scene wliich they combine to flash upon us. " Incipit apparere" : — It is a landscape, tlie leading feature of wKicli is a sepulchre, hoary with all its associations of the ancient past (like the tomb, we may suppose, of Cecilia Metella in the Appian Way, now exist- ing) ; and it is a sepulchre, moreover, half seen, as it gradually emerges from the trees at the road-side ; hence its regular out- lines are partly hidden, and so relieved of their formality, by the foliage of those trees, whilst enough of them is shown at the same time to form a contrast with the lines of that foliage and of the landscape, and with the bend of the pathway which forms the foreground. The picture, in short, is drawn by the poet precisely as it would be certainly drawn by the professed painter. The second, and if possible more complete picture, of which we are thinking, is that of the reclining shepherd watcliing, from imder the leafy arch of the cavern in which he is resting, his goats hanging from the thicket- tufted sides of the distant rock: — " Non ego vos posthac viridi projectus in antro Dumosa pendere procul de rupe videbo". If any one will seriously maintain that the grouping of the numerous features of the scene here described is other than strictly picturesque, or could have been conceived or described by any one not naturally possessing a keen sense of the pictu- resque, we are at a loss to understand how poetry can be appealed to at all for determining the question ; least of all, the poetry of those ancients, whose singular glory and prerogative, as com- pared with the moderns, is their indirectness ; who utter what is poetical mthout the appearance of the incumbering self-con- sciousness that they are so doing, and whose genius in conse- quence would have been especially disposed to abhor deliberate scene-painting, or any manufacturing of a landscape in such a manner as to betray the manufacture. However, we may suppose our objector to be still unsatisfied, and his difficulty to proceed from a comparison which we may conceive him to institute between the classical temple and its proper correlative in modern times, the Gothic cathedral. He may point to the spires and to the towers, to the innumerable pinnacles, the flying buttresses, the pointed arches, the traceried windows, the quaint carvings, the deep porches, and the cluster- ing columns, of Amiens or Strasburg, of Cologne or Milan, and pronounce the Gothic to be decidedly on the whole, a pictures- que architecture, — picturesque according to the strict definition we have ourselves given, and commending itself in point of fact, to the artist, as something ready made to his hand if he wants a subject, without the absolute need of alterations for that purpose, III. 2 18 Tlie Theory of the Picturesque. sucli as we found to be necessary in the case of the Greek temple. If the Gothic architecture, then, he may argue, is pic- turesque, and the classic unpicturesque, here is manifestly a phenomenon, which, notwithstanding all that we have hitherto said, has still to be accounted for ; nay, which may safely be asserted to betoken some radical diiference after all in the intel- lectual constitution of the originators of the two architectures ; for here he may naturally remind himself of the German distinc- tion between the classic and the romantic, the inventors of which have ever specially appealed to the broad differences character- istic of the two architectures in question, as substantiating the distinction ; and, though we are not sufficiently at home in the literature of the " romantic" controversy to know whether it has been done, we suppose that notliing would be more plausible at first sight than to press the picturesque into the controversy on the romantic side. But a little consideration will show that the difficulty is not so serious that we need be diiven to any unsatis- factory theory of this kind in order to escape it. It may seem a contradiction, then, to say it, but the tratli is that the Greek architecture, which we have been considering as formal, owes the whole of its beauty nevertheless to the pictu- resque principle. But our meaning will be understood, if the conclusion be remembered which was di'awn when discussing the ruin ; we then saw that the perfectly picturesque was as nearly as possible the equilibriun of the formal and the informal. For, this being the case, it will of course follow that every variety of gradation is possible from the formal onwards to the informal, till we reaUze that equiHbrium. Thus, if the ruin, to return to our illustration, be but partially carried out, the result will be something formal in the main, but with a tendency to the pic- turesque ; if carried further, yet not sufficiently far, it Avill then be picturesque in the main, but with a tendency to the formal. Just in the same way, then, as the Greek temple, when decay first begins to operate upon it, is a degree more picturesque than it was, when quite perfect, so, we say, is the perfect temple itself a degree more picturesque than it would be, were it quite formal ; or, in other words, in so far as it is not the perfection of for- mahty, so far is it picturesque. Now it is certainly not the perfection of formahty, for, were it such, then the pediment, being a triangle, should be equilateral, which it is not (for, the base of it being larger in every case than the two sides, it IS an obtuse-angled isosceles) ; and the rest of the fa9ade, that IS, the parallelogram on which the pedunent rests, should in like manner be a square, which it is not, the leading fines of the Greek aichitecture being horizontal, or, in other words, the Tlie Theory of the Picturesque. 19 width of the parallelogram being, as a general rule, greater than the height of it. In like manner, a more perfect formality would be obtained by the substitution of four-sided for round cohunns, or again of columns absolutely round like a ruler, instead of tapering upwards, as they do in the best architecture towards the capitals. Now as to the pediment, the isosceles tri- angle of which it consists was adopted by us above, as the very symbol of picturesque beauty, on the ground of its being the simplest possible exliibition in Hnes of a disturbed symmetry; and as to the parallelogram supporting tliis pediment, it will b^ easy to point out that it is precisely the same sort of ex- hibition of the picturesque in four lines which the isosceles is in three. What is it that we admire in a fine specimen of this part of the fa9ade — for example, in the portico (to take the first instance presenting itself) of the Pantheon at Rome, which is an oblong parallelogram of the kind here referred to ? We say of it that its proportions are admirable. Let us ask, then, exactly what is meant by this word proportion. Now we have seen it stated, that it is a common thing for an architect who would have a room in a house which he is plan- ning, well proportioned, to secure his object by the following empirical rule: — He draws any square ABCD, as in the diagram annexed; produces the two sides AB and CD indefinitely to E and F; draws the di- agonal BC ; from CF cuts off CG equal to this diagonal; through G draws GH parallel to AC, and in the parallelo- gram ACGH has produced a figure, the proportions of which satisfy the eye and answer his purpose; whereas any per- ceptible departure from this form, whe- ther by protracting or reducing the length of the parallelogram here drawn, will, so far as the effect is concerned, distinctly injure it. What, then, is the explanation of what we call in this particular case a good proportion? The word proportion might tempt us at first sight to imagine that there is some discernible harmony or correspondence, properly so called, between the longer and the shorter of the four sides of the parallelogram, as there manifestly is between the two pairs of sides opposite to each other. Yet not only is there no such correspondence at all, but even the charm of the effect is actually due to there being none, as a mathe- matician will at once see on considering the figure ; for it being a 2 B 20 Tlie Tlieory of the Picturesque. raatliematical truth that the diagonal of a square is incommen- suiate with the side of it, it follows that the longer side of the parallelogram (CG) being equal by construction to the diagonal CB of the square of AC, is also incommensurate with the shorter side, which is AC. Now the above is the analysis of the entire front of the Pan- theon below the pediment, and there remains a parallelogram of the kind just described, which itself is divided by pillars into a series of intercolumniations, consisting of minor parallello- grams of the same character, at right-angles to the main one. The comment, then, suggesting itself on the observation of these facts is the following : — Here is exactly, it would seem, the same sort of effect produced by the four lines forming the sides of the parallelogram, which is produced by the three sides forming the sides of the isosceles triangle, which is the pediment above the parallelogram. Both the one and the other is an example of " disturbed symmetry". The parallelogram, that is, exhibits, as does the triangle, the combination of a certain correspondence with a certain discordance ; the correspondence being displayed in the accurate equahty of the sides parallel to each other, and the discordance in the disparity of the two sides touching each other, which in fact are mathematically incommensurate, as just said. On the other hand, had the parallelogi'am of the facade been so lengthened that the two longer of its sides should have been exactly the double of the two shorter, a harmony or common measure would have been then created between the two, but at the same time the " proportions", so admirable at present, would have been destroyed by the process. Remaining true, therefore, as it does, that the Greek architec- ture, speaking broadly and generally, is decidedly of the formal kind, and non-picturesque in consequence of so being, still it would not be what it is, were it not for the picturesque principle. It is formal because the preponderating effect is on the side of formality. Thus the parallelogram just considered is absolutely formal so far as this, that it is composed wholly of straight lines, is divided into its component parallelograms by straight Hues, that these lines are all of them arranged on a system of paralleHsm, that all which are parallel are also equal, and that the angles con- tained in the figure are all right angles. In all this, we say, the symmetry is so complete, and the effect thereof so formal, that the disturbance of this sjrmmetry in the particular instance of the disproportion between the two sides touching each other in every parallelogram, is insufficient to establish the balance on the pic- turesque side. The Greeks and Romans, then, undoubtedlv understood and TJie TJieory of the Picturesque. 21 appreciated the picturesque principle, since tliey used it to give tlie crowning perfection to a formal architecture ; and tlie Gothic architect, in point of fact, did nothing more than develope this particular element, already germinant in the classic, in like man- ner as he developed the simple colonnade and area of the Roman basilica into the multiplicity of pillars and redundance of aisle and cloister of his own cathedral. This will be perceived, how- ever, more distinctly, if we consider for a moment the leading facts of the history of the formation of this architecture. "Domus Jacob de populo barbaro"; the " Gospel palaces" came originally, there is no doubt, from Egypt : for from Egypt it was that their beginnings, the colonnade and the columnar temple, such as are to be seen amid the ruins of Thebes at the present day, were introduced into Greece ; from Greece, where they underwent great modifications, they were transplanted to Rome, and there further modified j and the final alterations which they received afterwards from the architects of the north pro- duced Gothic. It is also notorious that the main element in that vitality by which the hall of Ozjniiandyas developed in the progress of centuries into Cologne Cathedral, was the Roman addition of the semicircular arch to the Greek column. Now, this addition was one especially calculated to assist the development of the new architecture in the picturesque direc- tion. First, the place of the arch was above the intercolumnar parallelogram, which became, in consequence, to a certain amount less formal — that is, more picturesque, than it was pre- viously. And further, as it so happened that this addition gave it an extension of form upwards, there followed, in due course, both the general substitution of the upward or vertical line for the horizontal, as the dominant one in the new architecture, whence the after-development of tower, pinnacle, and spire ; and there followed, in particular, that sharpening of the arch itself, hitherto semicircular, which was the culminating and crowning efiect of Gothic development. If we ask ourselves, then, the question, Why is the pointed arch so superior, as all acknowledge it to be, in this particular architecture, to any other variety of it ; why is it the most espe- cially Gothic of Gothic features ; why is it so perfectly in keep- ing with the rest of the building ? we shall find that what we have called the principle of the Picturesque will supply the an- swer. The excellence of the pointed arch lies in its ministering to the expression of those two elements of sameness and diflTer- ence which are the essence of the picturesque, and this, alike if we consider it in relation to the rest of the architecture, or as taken by itself. In relation to the rest of architecture, it is pic- 22 TJie Theory of the Picturesque. turesque, because, wliile in its sharpness and verticalness it is in harmony with the points, the pinnacles, the spires, and, in a word, the upward convergence of the whole building, it tempers at the same time, with a softening operation like that of the sun on winter frost-work, the angular rigidity of these masses, by the beautiful contrast of the flow of its own curves. Again, of itself, and independently of its position, it is picturesque also ; for while there is symmetry in the two curves composing it, — abso- lute sjnnmetry, in so far as they are the counterparts of each other, — there is also disturbance of symmetry in the fact that, proceeding as they do, either of them, from a different centre, they are each broken by the other at the point of collision. It is the semicircle with its centre cut out, and the two sides ap- proximated ; and accordingly, while in the semicircle we per- ceive absolute uniformity and undisturbed harmony, the eye fol- lowing its curve uninterruptedly from end to end, in the pointed arch, on the contrary, the sweep of the compass leads us inevit- ably away from the arch when we have followed half of it ; whence we perceive it to be composed, not of one curve but of two, and these both of them incomplete because antagonistic. The pointed arch, then, being confessedly the special and re- presentative feature in Gothic architecture, and being also as we have now shown, the very smn and embodiment in itself of the picturesque principle, we may securely, we think, assume that the true key to the general analysis of the effect of that architec- tural system in all its parts, is the principle in question ; the same principle, as we have said, being the basis also of the combina- nation of forms in the Greek system, but developed, owmg to the invention of the arch, in a more abundant material, with more variety, and to a certain extent, in greater perfection, in the instance of the Gothic. To pursue it through all its ramifi- cations as regards Gothic, would be a needless labour ; but we have in mind more particularly at this moment those singular and most characteristic creations of good Gothic which are known as the "grotesques", those fantastic combinations' of animal and human form, such as they are presented on the outer wall of Durham Cathedral, or more conspiculously still in the cloisters of Magdalen College, Oxford; and with the applica- tion of the picturesque principle to the solution of these pheno- mena, great perplexities as they confessedly are to all theorists, and too important, as they may certainly be considered, to be passed over in silence, we will draw to a conclusion. The Grotesque, considered in its essence, may be laid down to be the expression of the conflict of opposite or contradictory principles m one subject, that subject being a living creature. TJie Theory of the Picturesque 23 A grotesque face, for example, is one distorted in such a manner from that composed symmetry, which is the ordmary expres- sion of intellect and self-control, as to appear to be given over to the domination of an inferior principle ; and it is under the form of what is virtually a grotesque figure, that is, under the form of a combination of man and animal into one, that Plato in the Republic symbolises the union of the two antagonist principles of reason and passion in human nature. If the theory, then, of the Picturesque, which it is the object of this paper to establish, be true, the Grotesque in this particular point of view is akin to the Picturesque ; our very definition of the latter being, if we may repeat again, " disturbed symmetry", or the balance of the two principles of sameness and variation, regularity and irre- gularity, proportion and disproportion, in the creation of form and figure by the combination of lines. The explanation, then, of the Grotesque, will be parallel to that which has abeady been given of the pointing of the arch. That is, whatever may have been, as a matter of history, the origin of the introduction of the grotesque into Gothic architec- ture, whether that potent auxiliary of all art, mere accident, as probably was the case (the proverb tvxk] Tixvr]v ecrrcp^e jcat Tv\r]v T^x^V being one of the truest), or whether the design, as some say, of representing moral evil, or whether simply, as Mr. Ruskin would have it, diseased imagination, — however this may be, its assthetical justification, at any rate, or, in other words, the ground of the prominence so especially given it in good Gothic, was, that the architect who employed it felt it "to be in harmony, for whatever reason, with the style of the architecture ; the truth being, whether he understood it or not, that, much in the same way as the finished elegance and repose of the sculpture enclosed within the frame of the pediment of the Greek temple, expresses the harmony and repose predominating in that architecture, so does the abnormal and irregular life of the grotesque sculptures in a Gothic cathedral, symbolise that wayward and restless departure from rule and symmetry which belongs to the Gothic by reason of its picturesque character. [In connection with the subject of the preceding paper, the reader is referred to one by Mr. Cope in the Camhridye Essays for 1856, who views, however, the sub- ject differently. He quotes a passage from a beautiful chapter in the Cosmos, vol. ii. p. 372 (Bohn's translation). Humboldt takes an intermediate view, quoting Schiller, and referring in a note to an excellent paper of Edward Miiller, " Uber sophokleischeNaturanschaiiung, und die tiefe Naturempfindunq derGrieclien'\ which supports Mr. Scott. The latter had seen Mr. Cope's article, and from his knowledge of German Literature, must no doubt have been acquainted with the writers referred to : he does not allude to them, possibly because the question about the ancients only came incidentally into his discussion. — Ed. J 24 Art. II. — Views preliminary to the study of Political Economy — By John O'Hagan, A.B. THE object of political economy is wealth, meaning in a gene- ral way all objects of human desire which are produced by industry. The sources and the channels of national wealth ; the causes which make a nation rich or poor ; the influences which determine in one way or another the distribution of wealth in society — all come within the province of Political Economy. And when we remember how various these causes and influences are, existing partly in the laws of external things, but depending in great measure upon the constitution of man himself, upon his natural wants and capacities, and not only so, but upon morals, rchgion, customary and positive law — we must conclude that the circle of studies within which Political Economy ranges is far from narrow. There is, however, a limitation of the subject, which writers upon Political Economy are desirous to impress upon their readers. Not only have causes residing in the moral and intel- lectual condition of men an effect upon tlieir state of social wealth, and as such, come legitimately within the scrutiny of the economist, but, on the other hand, the condition of a people or an era in regard to wealth, may have a retroactive effect upon their thoughts and tendencies, and so upon their morals and happiness. Into this latter class of inquiries. Political Eco- nomists, as such, decline to enter. With the uses of wealth in relation to the higher faculties and destinies of men, they say their subject has simply nothing to do. Now as no one is bold enough to assert that wealth constitutes the supreme good of men or nations, and as few even maintain (though some do) that it invariably conduces to that good ; as few deny that wealth may exist in excess or under circumstances leading to evil. Political Economists are naturally asked, why they exclude that class of considerations, wliich, if their studies are to have any value at all, must form their goal and test. To this they answer: We do so for the sake of method. Every science has a right to circumscribe itself Every writer is entitled to make his theme as limited as he pleases, so as he takes care that his conclusions are made no wider than his premises. We do not undervalue, they say, the importance of investigat- ing the relation between wealth and morality or happiness ; all Vieics preliminary to the study of Political Economy. '2b we insist on is, that such is not our subject. As a treatise on sKip- buildincr oniits the topic of maritime-power; as a legal text- book treats of what the law is, not what it ought to be, leaving the latter tp the department of jurisprudence; as a writer on agriculture is excused from discussing the corn -laws ; so, they say, we claim to be permitted to follow our own class of researches, without being involved in inquiries which, however important, are to us irrelevant; we draw our conclusions within our own precincts as carefully as we can: to apply them belongs to a wider science — to that which, embracing the whole nature and circumstances of man, his wants, passions, and capaci- ties, determines what social arrangements are on the whole good for him or evil. All this sounds extremely fair, and is in indeed in point of theoretical reasoning unanswerable. What is commonly said in reply is, that PoHtical Economists are inconsistent with their own professions ; that so far from being neutral on the question of the intrinsic good of wealth, they are in general zealous advo- cates on the one side ; that they manifest a desire for the increase of wealth to an extent perfectly unlimited, and penetrate their readers with like opinions. If Political Economists have sinned in this way, and we are far from acquitting them, it is, we say, the fault of the men, not of the subject, except in so far as it is common to Political Economy with all other studies to create a prepossession in its own favour, and to exalt insensibly in the mind of the student the value of the things with which it deals. It is natural to ex- aggerate the importance of that to which we devote time and effort. — It has been said indeed with truth and point, that it would be absurd to infer that a writer on tactics means to recommend perpetual war ; yet, no doubt, a person much given to military studies, is likely to acquire a taste and desire for military opera- tions for their own sake, which would unduly bias him in decid- ing between war and peace. The same observation is prover- bial with respect to professional influences. And in the case of wealth especially, which represents almost all natm-al objects of desire, we can very well understand that it may require no small degree of reflection and vigilance to guard against this tendency. But, apart from all this. Political Economy has been made to answer for much more than its own sins. In itself it has nothing to say to hmnan actions in their moral aspect ; yet, as its reason- ings are mostly based upon that attention of each party to his own interest, which, in fact, takes place in all matters of barter and exchange, it has been, to a large extent, looked upon as of 26 Views preliminary to the study of Political Economy. kindred with the school of moral philosophy which makes self- interest the legitimate mainspring of all human actions. Again, the period since Political Economy began to claim public attention, has been an era, on the one hand, of a develop- ment of wealth, and a devotion of human energies to its acqui- sition, without precedent in history, and on the other, of the gi-owth of large and grievous social evils. How far these facts stand in the relation of cause and consequence, it would be prema- ture in this place to inquire ; but many who beheve that they do, and who feel keenly the extent of the evils, are apt to turn round upon Political Economy, as if it were a code professing to justify and let loose an unbounded cupidity — as if it were, in fact, as it has been termed, the " Gospel of Selfishness". This, we repeat, is unjust. We are not interested in defending individual writers, some of whom have gone out of their way to enunciate doctrines highly false and mischievous; but in the science itself, in its axioms or principles, so far as they have been wrought out, there is nothing whatever to prevent him who holds them from being at the same time a zealous foe of the selfish school in ethics, or the utilitarian school in politics ; nothing to interfere with any conviction which he may otherwise form as to the evils of exces- sive wealth, or of the reign of a material and mercantile spirit in society. It is not, under these circumstances, surprising that we should seek to preface what we may have hereafter to say upon the spe- cific subjects of Political Economy with some inquiries of a more fundamental character — inquiries as to the bearing of man's con- dition, in respect to the production and distribution of wealth, upon his true good ; how far the actual arrangements of society in respect to wealth are susceptible of reconstruction ; and again, what is to be hoped from progress. We feel convinced that our notions in general upon this class of subjects are very floating and indeterminate, and that we are, with respect to them, greatly under the dominion of imagination. Let a pictm*e be drawn of the pastoral and patriarchal life, or of a pri- mitive people whose robust and simple manners riches have not yet come to transform, and we feel ourselves naturally attracted towards a state of society which the instinct and tradition of mankind have made typical of the golden age. But again, if we turn and contemplate the enterprise, acquisitions, and achieve- ments of some highly prosperous and opulent nation, we yield the homage of an involuntary respect. We condemn now the pros- perity which entails corruption, now the penury which forbids refinement. In one mood we appeal to history, that wealth gives birth to luxury, which is followed by vice, effeminacy, and Views prelimwary to the study of Political Economy. 27 national decay; and again, we remember that industry is the parent of wealth, and ask ourselves, is evil the inevitable off- spring of good ? Is the world so strangely framed — is human existence bound by such a fatal chain of paradox, that our very virtues do little else than accumulate the seeds and materials of vice? No doubt the questions thus opened are difficult and momen- tous to a degree impossible to overstate. If we enter upon them at all, and ask our readers to accompany us, we must sohcit from them much indulgence. We may, on the one hand, be found insisting upon principles so plain that they might appear to admit of being simply assumed and passed over; and, on the other, discussing topics of a nature seemingly too exalted for the poH- tical economist. But we would ask, in the former case, our readers to believe that, if we dwell upon what may seem truisms, it is because we conceive their denial to be involved in some more specious error ; and, in the latter, to remember that, without refe- rence to the nature and destiny of man, no philosophy of his social existence is possible. In the first place, then, and as the basis of all, let us recall the simple axiom, that society, whatever be its attributes of wealth or power, exists solely for the sake of men, the individuals. This fundamental idea — the only one which common sense can under- stand or accept, the basis of all disquisitions upon politics or natural law — is yet one likely to be overlooked or implicitly rejected in epochs in which society, in the aggregate, has ob- tained a high degree of outward aggrandizement, and is certainly discordant with much that meets us in the present day. A fashion of thought has gro^vn up which loves rather to contem- plate and rest in the collective action of mankind. An old and natural metaphor, by which we speak of the life that resides in a state or an institution, has been almost transformed into a literal fact ; and society, meaning sometimes a nation or cluster of na- tions, and sometimes the whole human race, is spoken of as if it were a living being, in such a sense that its greatness and per- fection could form an end quite apart from the welfare of indivi- dual men. This conception may be illustrated, and is indeed often sup- ported, by analogies drawn from those special and Hmited orga- nizations, whose end is to be looked for in the work which they have collectively to accomplish. Take, for example, an army. No one would say that the comfort or virtue of the individual soldier is, however desirable, the end for which an army is con- stituted. Everything else must be subordinate to its excellence and efficiency as an army. It lives for what it has to do, and is 28 Views preliminary to the study of Political Economy. successful when tlie town is taken or the campaign is won, with- out making account of the perishable units of the rank and file. In some such light do the thinkers to whom we refer regard states and communities. The end of their existence is the greatness to which they attain, their victory over difficulties, their subjugation of the powers of nature, the sciences, arts, polities, which they develope. Men themselves are weak and transient. Society has its own vital principle, which endures for ages. Is it not then, they say, something incomparably higher and grander to look for the end of human efforts in this con- tinuous existence, rather than in the fleeting emotions of indi- viduals ? But they call on us not to bound our conceptions by the limits of one state, but to extend them to the family of nations, and beyond present forms and existences, to those which shall here- after arise. True, they admit, that the principle of life, which gives individuality to a nation or an era, ceases at length, but only ceases, that new forms, new organizations, may arise, rich in all that has been acquired before them, and adding fresh acquisi- tions to the store. All that the ancient world has given of letters and art, of philosophy, statesmanship, and law, — all that modern ages have added of science and humanizing influences, — remains the indestructible possession of mankind. Thus, to the ever-increasing knowledge, power, and greatness of the human race, there seems absolutely no limit. Do not conceptions like these, they ask, annihilate all consideration of individuals ? Who would bestow a thought upon the slaves who wrought at the Pyramids or the Temples of Carnac? They and their Httle hour of comparative happiness or misery, are covered by the night of three thousand years, while the Pyramids and the Temples remain, an attestation of the greatness of old Egypt — a contribution to the greatness of collective man. Ideas such as these, which confer upon abstract existences the attributes of real being, have, no doubt, considerable power in captivating the imagination. One cause of their attraction lies undoubtedly in this, that they seemingly appeal to a true and noble instinct of man s nature — the instinct of sacrifice, of forget- fulness of self — the call to merge petty personal ends in the great circle which surrounds him. To see this conception, which sinks and absorbs the indivi- dual, and all individuals, in the idea of the collective existence of the race itself, asserted vehemently and without reserve, we would refer to the lectures of the celebrated German philoso- pher, Fichte, on the characteiistics of the age. This distin- guished writer not only maintains that the limnan race col- Views preliminary to the study of Political Economy. 29 lectively possesses an existence, but that it alone possesses real existence. " The individual life", he says, " has no real exist- ence, since it has no value of itself, but must and should sink to nothing ; while, on the contrary, the race alone exists, since it alone ought to be looked upon as really living". And while he enforces the necessity of the spirit of sacrifice and forgetfulness of self, he warns us clearly that he means us to forget oneself, not in others regarded in a personal character, but in others regarded as the race. And this life, in the race or in the idea, he does not shrink from designating as the attainment by man of eternal life^ when he comes to live, not in himself or in other individuals like him, but in the one, mighty, progressive, self-sustaining, perpetual, and infinite life of human kind.' This extreme and daring development of the idea to which we have alluded, serves to show us what it radically is, and to what it tends. For it is inanifest, that in the thought of Fichte, the idea of collective humanity was exalted into actual Divinity — that men are called upon to devote themselves to, and annihilate themselves in, an essence upon which he confers the attribute of sole real existence — that the idea of humanity is thus, for him and his school, the object and the outlet for the instincts of reli- gion and the feeling of the infinite, ineffaceable from the heart of man, and is actually substituted, in their system, for the Creator and Governor of the world. But, apart from mystic conceptions such as these, the idea that it is possible for man to have a social end, independent of his in- dividual one, has become largely infused into the spirit of the age. In M. Guizot's lectures on European Civilization, he refers, we may remember, to its twofold effect: first, in the deve- lopment and improvement of the individual; and next, in the development and improvement of society. He says, and with justice, that these two effects have a mutual influence, one upon the other ; that, in general, good institutions have a favourable action upon the character of the citizens ; and again, that the character of men is certain to be reflected in their institutions. But still the great question remains behind, which of these two objects is principal, and which is subordinate? Let us hear his own words. " Of these two developments of which we have spoken, and which constitute the fact of civilization, of the development of society on the one hand, and of humanity on the other, which is the end, which the means ? Is it for the perfecting of his social condition, for the amelioration of his existence on the Earth, that ' Fichte's Popular Works, vol. 2, Smith's Translation. 30 Views preliminary to the study of Political Economy. man develops himself altogether — his faculties, his sentiments, his ideas, his whole being ? Or, on the other hand, is the ame- lioration of the social condition the progress of society, society itself no more than the theatre, the occasion, the instrument of the development of the individual? On the answer to this question depends inevitably that of knowing if the destiny of man is purely social, if society exhausts and absorbs the whole man, or if he bears within him something foreign and superior to his existence upon Earth. Gentlemen, a man of whom I am honoured in being the friend — a man who has passed through meetings such as ours, to ascend to the first place in assemblies less peaceful and more powerful — a man, all whose words remain engraven where they fall, M. Royer CoUard, has resolved this question ; he has resolved it, according to his conviction at least, in his speech upon the proposed law relating to sacrilege. I find in this discourse these two phrases : ' Human societies are bom, live, and die upon the Earth — there are all their destinies ful- filled ; but they do not comprise the whole of man. After his engagements to society, there remains to him the noblest part of himself, those high faculties by which he raises himself to God, to a future fife, to unknown good in an invisible world. We, individual and identical persons, true beings gifted with immor- tahty, we have a different destiny from states'. I will add nothing", M. Guizot goes on to say ; " I will not even undertake to treat the question ; I am content with stating it. It meets us at the end of the history of civilization: when the history of civilization is exhausted, when there is nothing more to say of actual fife, man invincibly demands of himself if all is exhausted, if he is at the end of all. This is, then, the last problem, and the highest of all those to which the history of civilization can lead. It is sufficient for me to have indicated its place and its greatness".^ From the tone of the above passage, as well as from the general character of M. Guizot's mind and writings, we think it clear that his own solution, if he had given it, would have co- incided with his friend's ; but it is singular that he should have considered the question as doubtful — most singular tliat he should have treated it as one which he was not called upon by his subject to determine. He says it is the last problem : is it not the first and fundaniental one ? He says it meets us at the end of the history of civilization : does it not confront us on the thre- shold? If the two objects of civilization of which he speaks stand in the relation of means to end, if one be principal and the ' Civilization in Europe, Lecture I. Vieios preliminary to the study of Political Economy. 31 other subordinate, surely to expound, insist upon, and enforce this relation, is absolutely necessary to tlie comprehension of his subject. Both positions cannot be true, and according as we take up one or the other of them, we necessarily alter our whole perspective of things. We cannot help thinking that, notwith- standing the incontestible ability of M. Guizot's book, this original error taints it throughout with an unfixed and somewhat sophistical character, and renders it, however interesting in many respects as history, extremely unsatisfying as philosophy. Our object is not civilization, which, as M. Guizot truly says, it is much easier to understand in a loose popular sense, than to define strictly ; but is the influence of wealth. To treat of wealth as an agent in civilization vv^ould be a comparatively easy task, for its topics lie abundantly at hand, but rather too vague for our purpose ; we have to consider it as civilization itself must ulti- mately be considered — namely, as an agent in human good. The question, whether there can, in the nature of things, be a social end superior to, or independent of the individual one, lies, there- fore, at the threshold of our subject too, but surely it will not cost us much difficulty to resolve it. Let imagination, let the power of abstraction, be carried to the uttermost, an obvious analysis brings us to the simple truth. When we speak of the immense blessings and benefits which the social bond confers upon man — how it educates, controls, developes him, brings out liis highest qualities, guarantees his possessions, helps to save him from himself, — we say what is all just and true, but all in conformity with the proposition, — that which makes man the end, society the means. And when we speak of the life with which society is instinct, we use metaphoric language to express an undoubted fact. Un- questionably there exists in every community of men which is better than a heap of uncementing sand, a spirit aptly hkened to the vital principle in living beings, which pervades and informs the whole body, gives it miity and coherence, is the source as well as the guide of its energy, and, deprived of which, it decays Hke organic matter after death. All this is true, but it is true that in all this the life of which we speak is nothing more than the common ideas, feelings, and beliefs diffused among the mem- bers, and transmitted from generation to generation. Again, we are referred to the high claims of society upon its members, the emotions which it awakens, and the sacrifices which it exacts. Certainly the advantages which man derives from society are so great that, for its existence or its well-being, he feels himself called to the higliest degree of labour and devo- tion. And it is the representative and symbol of such a host of 32 Views preliminary to the study of Political Economy. memories and affections tliat man, wliose mental vision is too limited to embrace tilings as they exist in detail, concentrates tliem upon the abstract existence, upon liis country, or tribe, or house, or order, for which he seems to make the sacrifices really bestowed for his brethren present and to come. But when all is said, it is in them^ in the individual, sentient, conscious human beings, in their good or evil, happiness or misery, or nowhere, that the end of the constitution of things is to be sought. Let us take the world at any moment of time, place it as many ages off as we please, and what will be found to have existed till then upon the Earth but individuals? It is surely puerile to have to insist that railways are but stone and iron — a code of laws or an epic poem so much stained paper — the noblest statue no more than the block in which it was im- prisoned, apart from the human beings wliose minds they soothed and elevated, or to whose comfort they ministered. Why have we insisted at such length upon a principle which may seem so plain? Because, in the very outset of our inquiries, it is of the utmost importance to apprehend clearly and hold resolutely the principle, that the good of which we are in search must, in the last result, be traced to its home in the individual heart ; because the opposite mode of viewing things, at all times a temptation, is peculiarly so in our day. The conquests of ma- terial civilization during the last century have been so immense, so dazzling, and so splendid, that to accept them as the greatest end to which man can attain, to rest in them, to bow down before them, has become the dominant superstition of the hour. We are not disparaging or prejudging these things, which have, no doubt, their proper and appointed use; but we ask that men should learn to look through them, to know that there is a bar at which they must be tried, and, above all, to guard ourselves against the fatal tendency of mind which an undue admiration of them produces — a tendency to disregard and trample on in- dividual rights and happiness in the view of some great collective result. Yet, having gone so far, does not a further question beset us : What is the individual good of which we are in search ? This topic, which occupied and divided the greatest tliinkers of anti- quity, meets us here, and neither its scholastic form, nor the ex- tent to which it has employed the human intellect, can exempt us from referring at least to the primary truths upon the subject. It is, moreover, in some degree forced upon us by the view of human good which political economy takes, and properly takes, within its own limits, — possessing, within those limits, a certain relative tmth — absolutely and mischievously false outside them. Views preliminary to the study of Political Economy. 33 Everything, we know, wliich man naturally seeks, whatsoever gratifies any appetite, either of sense or spirit, whatsoever con- fers pleasure or removes pain, or tends to do either, is in itself and considered in the abstract, undoubtedly a good : we have no naturally tendency whose object is evil. To say otherwise would be to assert for evil that absolute and substantive existence which we abjure — would be to imply maleficence in our creation, and thus to fall into the very darkest of speculative errors. All things that are natural objects of human desire are in themselves good, and if to increase human good in that wide and indis- criminate sense be all that is claimed for increasing wealth, our task is ended before it is well begun, for it enters into the very definition of wealth, that it should consist of those things which are directly or indirectly productive of pleasure or preventive of pain. If we refuse to recognize any order or subordination among the desires of man ; if we are to place body and spirit in equal honour, to discard all thought of the harmony or even of the unity of the human person, and see in man nothing but an assemblage of powers and propensities, each having its own scope and its proper gratification ; if we could enrol ourselves as disciples of a philosophy so grovelling, we should have no more to say but to bid mankind amass without stint where and how they could, the means of enjoyment, material or mental, as inclination prompts. Now, it is to be observed, that it is precisely in such indiscrimi- nate sense alone that the political economist does or can regard human good. His science speculates upon the desires and appe- tites of men so far as they require the results of labour for their gratification, and upon wealth in all its forms as the instrument of such gratification ; but of those desires it has no measure, ex- cept their number and intensity. As to their comparative worth, it is absolutely bhnd and unintelligent. It would be as reason- able to seek from geometry the results of chemical analysis, or from arithmetic that it should weigh as well as count its units, as to look in the laws of supply and demand for any guage of the intrinsic worth of what is demanded and supplied. But outside of the narrow field of the economist, the philosophy which would place all our inchnations on a par would be an epicureanism too gross to need to be confuted. What is said by those who place the good of man and his highest good in the fulfilment of his desires, is commonly this — that man has indeed various powers and tendencies, but that they are of various degrees of worth, the mental above the bodily, the emotional and aBsthetical above the mental ; and that the progress of man to- wards perfection consists precisely in his subjugating and subor- dinating more and more the lower faculties to the higher. What- ni. 3 34 Views 'preliminary to the study of Political Economy. ever truth tliere may be in tliis, it is, as we conceive, very wide of the whole truth. Even among the animals we mark the existence of various capacities, higher and lower. Who would not say, for example, that the yearning of the brute-mother over her young, the delight in the master's caress, the ecstacy with which the bird pours forth his heart in the season of song, are gratifications higher in their kind, constitute a finer joy, than the sensual pleasure with which they take their food. And con- ceding for man an organization incomparably richer, grander, and more composite than that of any of the animals ; yet, if we look no further than the gratification of particular faculties, however high, we cannot arrive at more than a diiFerence in degree between man and the inferior creatures, a difference not greater, perhaps, than exists between members of the inferior creation themselves. The specific and peculiar distinction of man must be looked for in something very different. It consists in this, in the stamp of infinity, which marks the two master faculties of his nature, his intelligence and his will, that he is endowed with an intellect whose scope ^d end is infinite truth, and a will whose scope and end is infinite good. When we say that the object of the intelligence is infinite truth, we do not mean of course that it is given to the under- standing of any creatm-e to embrace at once all truth, but we mean this — that man has been constituted the intelligent spectator of the infinitely wise order which the Creator has established in the universe, with capacity, ever more and more to enter into and apprehend it, and to follow His own words in pronouncing it to be good. The intelHgence of the lower animals, so far as we can pro- nounce upon such a subject, begins and ends in the apprehension of the individual objects present to the sense. Of the relation of things to one another, and of the part and office which each ful- fils in the great scheme, it would be absurd to affirm that they have any conception. That is proper to man. The faculty of knowing each particular star not in the sensation of light alone, nor even in the feehng of beauty alone, but in the perception of its function as the minister of such light and beauty, and as portion of a universe of Hke ministers, is his. Thus the specific characteristic of the human intelHgence is the knowledge of order ; of all knowledge the highest, for it rises to embrace the design of the Maker in the formation of all that has been made. But, to be the inteUigent spectator of the order around him and within him, is but the smaller portion of the dignity conferred upon man. He has been called to an eminence incomparably higher — to that of being the voluntary cooperator, the fellow- Views preliminary to the study of Political Economy. 35 workman of his Maker in the sustainment of the order so estab- lished. This is the great gift of freedom of the will — the power bestowed upon man of being in his measure an original principle of action, and of acquiring the merit of using that power in con* formitj with the knowledge of good imparted to the intelligence. And as every creature finds its felicity only in following the law of its nature, so is it with man. In one sense, happiness is his being s end and aim, in the sense in which it is coincident with and consequent upon virtuous action, and it is, at all events, a vain philosophy which forbids him to crave after it. He can- not help forming to himself an ideal of satisfaction and enjoyment in which his whole nature may find repose. Surrounded, then, and solicited as he is by a multitude of objects having power to gratify his varying desires, it would be no wonder that he should seek in them, one after the other, the means of appeasing this great hunger, if it were not that his intelligence led him to the comprehension of infinite good, and pointed out to him that his will, liis action, and endeavour are to be directed to all things whatsoever in proportion as they lead to that. And it is in this direction of the will, this subordination of the faculties, this free cooperation with infinite wisdom, and in this alone, that the sense of complete satisfaction, the repose of the whole nature, the hap- piness, our being's end and aim, is to be looked for. The Earthly perfection of the human being consists then in this — that with the utmost possible light of the intelligence to indicate to him his duties, he should follow that light with the utmost devotion of the will. In their apprehension and enforcement of this great truth — the truth that man's highest good is at all times an internal one, at all times strictly within his own power, and consisting in the right direction of the will, lies the claim of the great Stoic sect to the admiration of mankind. It was this which they meant to express by such phrases as " living according to nature", " coope- rating with the universe", and similar sentences common in their writings. These sayings yield indeed an easy handle to ridi- cule — a still easier one is afforded by their inconsistency in prac- tice, their failure to realise what they professed. Such failure we can now see to have been inevitable, for whatever their in- sight as to ends, they were, in respect to means and possibilities, entirely blind. Even the great truth that man's highest good is at all times strictly within his own power, was, as they held and taught it, an error, for it is true only in this sense, that we have at all times the power to ask for that strength in well- doing which is not in ourselves. That man must stoop to con- quer, was the grand secret hidden from the Stoic. They held up 3 B 36 Views preliminary to the study of Political Economy, an ideal of transcendant virtue to wliicli they bid men aspire, while to do so was but to point out tlie inaccessible mountain height as the resting-place for the feeble heart and broken wing. In the lecture-room, indeed, or the closet, the disciple of the Stoic might, through that delusion which pursues man to his grave, persuade himself that it was easy to achieve what he had learned to admire ; but when, in the world of action and tempta- tion, all this splendid theory broke down, it was too tempting a theme for the scoffer, who would see nothing in this Stoic ideal but a phantom and a cheat. Still we cannot refuse its just honour to that noble school, which, in the old world, raised the banner of labour and sacrifice against eifeminacy and sensuality ; nor will we be found to subscribe to the mean judgment which could dehberately exalt the champions and providers of material comfort above the noble, even if ineffectual, aspirations after wis- dom and virtue. There are, however, two great distinctions between the Stoic view and ours, which we advert to here, because they serve to bring out what we have finally to say upon this subject. Man, we know, possesses not only the liigh faculties of which we spoke, but he has also the inferior sensitive nature, which he shares in common with the animals, but in him more subtle, deUcate, and complex. And he grows up with an inner world of sympathies and affections, all capable of a gratification or a wound- Now, that this physical sensitive nature could be in any way the seat of good or evil, is what the Stoic absolutely denied. The wise man possessed liis soul self-centred, complete, immovable; and outside of wisdom there was no good. Ex- ternal things were matters of no regard whatever. Pleasure or pain, wealth or poverty, sickness or health, were simply tilings indifferent. We judge far otherwise. We concede, indeed, and assert for moral good, not merely the supremacy over all other good, but a supremacy of such a kind as to render the one abso- lutely incommensurable with the other. The right exertion of the will of any human being, in however shglit a degree, pos- sesses a value against which the sum of all actual and possible enjoyment is not to be weighed. But, to go further and deny that external good or evil exists at all, must be to use these terms very differently from their natural human meaning. To say that ease of body and mind, or the gratification of the legitimate affections, is not good for man, — that anguish and bereavement are not evil, — is to do violence to our deepest instincts. Out- ward evils may be, indeed, and should be, the occasion and subject matter of the highest good; it is for that end they have been ordained. The mind may become '* sovereign o'er trans- Views preliminary/ to the study of Political Economy. 37 muted ill" ; but surely in that very saying tlie point is conceded, — that must have been evil beforehand which is thus susceptible of being transformed to good. And, in a world like ours, made up of infinite contrivance, all directed to the well-being of sen- tient creatures, it is surely a needless task to attempt to prove that the happiness of the beings whom He has made is portion of the design of the Creator. To us. Christians, at least, this ques- tion admits of no controversy : it is proved by the very precept of charity, which bids us minister, not merely to the internal, but to the outward and bodily good of our fellow-creatures. But there is a second question of more importance still. Not only did the Stoic deny that external things could form of themselves an end, — as means or influences they were equally worthless. His ideal would have been at once destroyed by the supposition that it could be dependent on or affected by anything outside the mind itself. That heroic temper to which they aspired was not to be the creature or slave of circumstances, but lord of itself and them. Now, here also there is a certain con- formity with Christian teaching. We also are taught that, to the rightly-directed heart and will, the actual state of out- ward circumstances, in which man may for the time be placed, is infalKbly the best : that is, supposing the will to be entirely right, — an enormous postulate. But we are speculating, not for the perfect, but for men as they exist — the pliant servants of desire and fear. We treat of beings, who are moulded and fashioned by outward influences to a degree hard to estimate, in whom the will, though it never wholly loses its essential free- dom and regal attributes, is yet so broken and enfeebled that it is perhaps true, upon the whole, to say of all the generations of men, that they are least evil where they have least temptation. Therefore it is that the outward circumstances which surround men, so far from being to us, as to the Stoic, things of no im- portance, are of the deepest interest. Social condition, laws, customs, prejudices, even feelings which are susceptible of ridi- cule, such as family or national pride, if they can be engaged on the side of good ; whatsoever, in its degree helps to form a bul- wark between the unprotected will of man and the coarse allm^e- ments which appeal to his passions, are to be accepted and rejoiced in. And amongst the external facts thus tending to influence and control mankind, surely their condition in regard to wealth is none of the least important. Upon this subject we can 'give at present no more than a rapid glance at the conclusions to which our inquiries may lead us. We may, perhaps, conclude, that as the progress of nations in wealth is clearly a natural law, it was intended to contribute to 38 Views preliminary to the study of Political Economy. tlieir good; but we will guard ourselves against the fatalism which proclaims that it has such tendency certainly and of necessity. On the contrary, our judgment will be likely to be, that it is impossible to separate the question, how far riches are a real benefit to a nation, from the consideration of how they are acquired, and to what uses destined. In the infancy and ado- lescence of society, growth in wealth is, generally speaking, an almost unmixed benefit. It is the offspring and symbol of many virtues — of patient labour, of providence and seff-denial, of all that is opposed to that torpor and recklessness which Virgil designates as the characteristics of barbarism. " Nee eomponere opes norant, nee parcere parto". And the same quahties which thus enabled men to grow in wealth, also fitted them to use it. At such a period, the moral elements which bind society together, and without which it could not grow at all, are, generally speaking, in vigorous Hfe. At such a time the gradual accretion of wealth is one of the appointed means of the development of human intelligence, and of its re- demption from that slavery to the present hour which the extreme of penury enforces. It is then a beneficent influence in the growth of the arts which adorn Kfe, and which, in their proper use and sphere, are designed to act, to some degree, as a charm against the coarser fascinations of sense. And now, if we are asked at what period in a nation's life the increase of riches ceases to be a good, and becomes an evil, we answer, it does not necessarily do so at any period. If we consider how far the great masses of men in any country, at any era, have been from having even their material, not to speak of their intellectual and moral wants, fully supphed, we will infer that no time has been seen on Earth in which, for wealth justly and honourably won, there may not be a laudable and beneficent use. But a period does come in the Ufe of nations, when wealth becomes, certainly not a necessary evil, but an enormous temptation to evil. "^Tien the austere habits of an earlier time are forgotten — when wealth becomes, not the natm-al result of labour springing from duty, but an object passionately pursued as the means of personal enjoyment — then, in its acquisition and its use, it is the representative of cor- ruption and the harbinger of decay. And why? Because its ofiice has been perverted, and instead of being, as it was appointed to be, an agent in the emancipation of the human intelhgence from the hard necessities of the body, it tends to make the soul the body's sbve. So was it in old Persia, so in the empire of Rome. To the latter, indeed, the world has seen nothing comparable, either in the prodigious extent of its opu- Views preliminary to the study of Political Economy. 39 lence, or the scandalous oppression and rapacity witli which it was amassed, or the purposes of nameless and transcending luxury to which it was devoted ; the evil acquisition and the evil use being but the counterparts of one another. It was considerations such as these which inspired many thinkers with the belief that human society is formed to run for ever in a fatal circle, and that so surely as it is born and grows by means of sacrifice and virtue, so surely it is fated to perish at last by luxury and selfishness. This is the thought expressed in these despairing fines — " There is the moral of all human tales, 'T is the same sad rehearsal of the past : First freedom, and then glory. When that fails, Wealth, vice, corruption — barbarism at last ; And history with all her volumes vast Hath but one page — " And yet we profess ourselves entire disbelievers in this fatal theory, as much as in the opposite theory of fatalism, which holds that society is advancing certainly and necessarily upon a career of unbounded progress. Our modern society has lasted too short a time, — scarcely a thousand years, — to enable us to presage its career or end ; but we believe that the great moral antiseptic power which Chris- tianity brought into the world will preserve the new civilization from perishing ignominiously like the old. These ideas, which it may be interesting to consider hereafter in detail, we now only glance at, and we close with the theme which we have endeavoured to pursue throughout, namely, that if society is thus to be preserved, it will be through no great collective achievement, but tlu-ough an agency acting on that from which all good must spring, and to which all good should tend — the individual heart. II. There are many to whom inquiries such as we are pursuing, inquiries as to the final causes of the world and society, seem to belong to the class of idle because unfathomable questions. They accept life and its phenomena as materials for science indeed to analyze, and for art to use and fashion according to its lights, as the working field of man, where his hand is to labour earnestly in whatsoever it finds to do, but of which the beginning and the end, the scheme and scope, are impenetrably dark. And yet surely the research after final causes is the most irrepressible instinct of our rational nature, which seeks not alone the know- ledge of sequences or operative causes, but of a purpose and design, controlling all things, and consonant with our idea of in- 40 Views preliminary to the study of Political Economy. finite wisdom, justice, and benevolence. It is the province of philosophy to answer us when we ask not "how?" but " why?" and to ascend ever from minor ajid subordinate solutions to that from which all others are derived, to that "s^u6 jinem sive extremum sive ultimum definimus^ id quo omnia referrentur neque id ipsum usquam referretur"". It is easy to sneer at the word " Theodicea", but it is the goal of all true philosophy. Setting out from the consideration of the relation of wealth to the good of society, we found ourselves obliged to consider the end for which society was ordained. We saw that end to be the noblest and highest conceivable, nothing less in its perfection than this, that it might in the best and truest way aid man — the indi- vidual — in attaining his perfection : the complete cooperation of his free will with the whole scheme and law of the universe, a cooperation based upon the widest possible knowledge of that law. This is the ideal, the possibility latent in every human creature, the " hen delV intellettd'^ — the good of the rational soul, for the better attaining of which men were made social beings, and to assist him to that end has been ordained all the visible social fabric which we see around us — empires and laws, kings and pontiff's. But now we have to descend from the contemplation of this magnificent ideal, and simply opening our eyes, to look upon mankind as they exist in reality and fact, and then endeavour, if we can, to point to some principle that will resolve an enigma so tremendous. We suppose there are few of us who, when our early thoughts were first turned to consider social topics, were not filled with a strange despair in contemplating the phenomenon which the world presents in the mere matter of the external condition of mankind. Apart from minute statistics, out of place here, where our view is necessarily broad and general, it is a computation perhaps rather under than over the truth, to say that five- sixths of the population of the world belong to what are termed the labouring classes — to that class whose occupation is an almost unremitting bodily labour — whose subsistence is what we call the necessaries of life — whose intelligence is practically limited to the little sphere of their hamlet or township. Such, with ex- ceptions comparatively few, are mankind ; such is the average naan. How different from the being upon whose mighty capa- bihties and glorious earthly destinies the worshippers of huma- nity dehght to dwell ! They form their ideal of man, the hero and the sage ; but again we say, let us not shrink from the facts. Observe the city populations when some great occasion has called them abroad, or see the peasants in the fields, and behold B Vieios preliminary to the study of Political Economy. 41 in the heavy features, where monotony of labour has produced a monotony of dull expression, pervading and transcending all varieties of race and climate, the representatives of the immense majority of our kind. Gradations exist, of course, between country and country, between era and era; but we speak of things in the mass — we speak of a phenomenon, true upon the whole, now as it was three thousand years ago — true of ancient Greece or Assyria as of modern England or China. To a thinker of the ancient world this phenomenon would, we can well imagine, have presented little difficulty ; he would have simply answered : This earth is made for the few ; mundus nas- citur paucis; it is the patrimony of the rich, the learned, and the wise. The poor, the slaves, the great mass of the community, are but the means to that end — the unsightly, if essential, foun- dation of the great edifice — the coarse and earthborn roots, whose office and end it is to produce and sustain the bright consummate flower of heroism and wisdom. Nay, further, we will say that this idea and persuasion is one which never altogether dies in the hearts of the rich — the idea and persuasion, namely, that there is some intrinsic and essential dif- ference between them and the poor — that their pursuits and plea- sures, by reason of being theirs, form an end and object in the constitution of things, to which the poor were designed to minister. This feeling, we say, is never altogether eradicated ; it is the eternal temptation of the rich, as envy and discontent are the eternal temptation of the poor. And further we must confess we do not know of any answer which mere reasoning can give to it. The inequalities in the conditions of men, in all outward relations, in all the forms of power and enjoyment, are so much tJie striking phenomenon of this world, that we do not know how it could be shown that it is not an essential and intrinsic superiority given to one set of beings above another. To combat that idea, we must, it is plain, go into another sphere, and draw from other sources. So immense is the change which Christian ideas have wrought in us, that that which would appear outside the circle of Christianity to be the expres- sion of a simple fact, seems to us, and justly, an intolerable pre- sumption, namely, to assert that any one human being was created merely for the sake of another, or that the honour or enjoyment of the highest upon Earth entered as an end into the design of the Creator, more than that of the poorest slave. In seeking, then, to explain and justify the physical condition of the masses of mankind, we do not feel called upon to discuss the hypothesis that they are the appointed and predestined servants of a favoured few. 42 Vieivs preliminary to the study of Political Economy, It may indeed be said, tliat there is in all sucli investigations an essential absurdity, and that we can do nothing more than accept the ordinances of nature as tliey are. It is capable of almost physical demonstration, that, so far as the -world's products have hitherto existed in proportion to its population, the vast majority of men, in order to live at all, must be condemned to a life of labour and privation. Why not rest in the necessities of things? In some average condition or other men must exist. What right have we to say that that average shall be higher or lower, or that one condition is unsuitable rather than another? As the dm^ation of men's lives is measured by decades, not centuries — as their average stature is under six feet, not over sixty, and we can see that all these things are in harmony with nature and with one another, but cannot see any reason why things should be made upon one scale rather than another ; so it may be . said, bodily labour and a restriction of the materials of enjoyment to the necessaries of life, is the condition in which man is placed. If we can see no reason why it should be so rather than otherwise, we can also see no reason why it should be otherwise rather than so. It is simply to be accepted and acted upon. Such is in substance the argument that nms through Pope's Essay on Man. " Presumptuous man ! the reason wouldst thou find Why formed so weak, so httle, and so blind ; First, if thou canst, the harder reason guess, Why formed no weaker, blinder, and no less". Such reasoning is, no doubt, carried throughout the poem to lengths wholly unjustifiable ; yet, if restricted merely to the ques- tion of man's situation in relation to external things, it would perhaps admit of no answer, if it were not that man has within him a deep instinct that his position is somehow out of harmony with his original nature. It is the irrepressible sense which he has of his intrinsic greatness and dignity which makes him conscious of a touch or note of discord in the actual ordinances of things. That to activity of some kind man was created is manifest, for it is the function of the will, in which the very crown of human nature resides ; but that, gifted as he is with higher and lower organs, with those which ally him with the spirits, and those which he possesses in common with the brutes, he should be so placed that his intellectual faculties should, in the necessities of things, be all his life cramped and imdeveloped, and that his lower functions should almost solely be exercised — th^ is the problem which weighs upon us. We are not unaware that it has become rather a fashion of Views preliminary to the study of Political Economy. 43 late years to celebrate the greatness and intrinsic dignity of labour. Now, let us dwell as much as we please upon the results of laboiu* — its necessity, its salutary uses ; but, to speak of a life spent in tlae weary exertion of the muscles, as forming of itself a glorious and exalted destiny, is poetry, and modern poetry, not fact. Ask the working man himself after his day of toil — ask all true poets and thinkers, who have described the actual facts of life, and they paint to you labour as it is — wearisome — not pleasant, but grievous; endured, '•'• spe Jinis'\ in the hope of the repose to come. What then are we to say? — that it is an expiation. Un- doubtedly it is ; but it is more — it has a value evidenced to us, not alone by faith, but by our own consciousness, by all our observation of the world and all our knowledge of its history. Labour is a discipline — the harsh medicine for a deep disease. Moral evil, as we have seen, is not anything existing in the nature of things, but is merely the determination of the free will of responsible beings to the lower good of sense rather than to the higher good of the intelligence. How it has come to pass that the will of man, whose object is the supreme good, should, in its actual condition, tend to rest in subordinate creatures as the supreme end of its being, faith alone explains ; but the fact is as plain and undeniable as the existence of the globe itself. Now, we say, this being so, — discarding all idle flattery of ourselves or our race — taking men as all experience, as the voice of our own hearts tells us that they are, — let us conceive for a moment what they would be if they were in the mass sup- plied, without effort and without stint, with the means of in- dulging each propensity as it arose. The original greatness of man is the measure of his capacity for evil. What spectacle can we candidly conceive the world would present, if men, with a will bent to evil, had unlimited leisure to conceive and means to execute it? Milton, speaking of the corruption of the world before the flood, says that the Earth bore " more than enough, that temperance might be tried". And such has been the invariable experience of mankind ever since, that scarcely an example can be found of any body of men having the un- constrained command of the passive drugs of this world, that they did not abuse them. In mercy, therefore, and as a benefit still more than as a chas- tisement, was that command denied to mankind in the mass. Next to freely doing right, the best thing is to do right by com- pulsion ; and the ordinance which made man a serf of the glebe, and forced him, in order to live at all, to live by the labour of his body and the sweat of his face, not only rendered duty a 44 Views preliminary to the study of Political Economy. necessity, but rendered tlie free acceptance of that duty the means of the only happiness possible for him. It is the first condition of his upward progress. It remained for long centu- ries almost the only countervailing force to the disorders which overspread the world. We remember the description in Virgil of the Roman matron lising by night to her labours, kindhng the expiring embers, and calling her handmaids to their labours, that she might preserve an honourable name, and bring up her dear children : -quum femina primum, Cui tolerare colo vitam tenuique Minerva Impositum, cinerem et sopitos suscitat ignes, Noctem addens open ; famulasque ad lumina longo Exercet penso, castum ut servare cubile Conjugis, et possit parvos educere natos". How many virtues are here pourtrayed ! — ^what patience and self-denial in the act ! what excellence in the motive ! — virtues in some shape sure of their reward. Thus, then, the life of toil to which man has been condemned, is not indeed his original or his best state, but it is his best relatively to his actual moral con- dition ; and when we say that this condition of the human race is an unhappy one, we say so with great truth indeed in the sight of man's origin and capabilities, but we must add that it contains the germ of the only happiness possible for him. If considerations such as these serve to explain and justify to us the condition of the great mass of mankind, we must not forget that there is a minority very differently circumstanced. Harsh as the terms may be which the Earth exacts as the condi- tions of her supply, she is not so niggard as merely to return to the labours of tillage the bare food of those who till. Over and above what is sufficient for the food of the husbandman, she yields, in the first place, sufficient to sustain another class of bodily labourers, — those, namely, who work with their hands in providing clothing and the means of habitation for the agricultu- rists and themselves. But, besides all this, she yields, in the majority of her soils, a large surplus, which, in the actual arrangements of society, becomes at the disposal of a minority rising in " columnar diminution" above the common level, and, as^ they rise, possessing ampler means of gratification, together with more abundant leisiu-e and larger scope for the development of all their faculties. What then shall we say as to these, the select classes, and the end of their existence ? Are we with the vulgar to rank them as the objects of peculiar favour; or, again, are we bound, in accordance with our own principles, to say, on the contrary, that they are the especial objects of disfavour, set Views preliminary to the study of Political Economy. 45 in the occasions, and endowed with the means of evil, from which necessity has restrained their fellows ? In a measure we must say both these things. The more elevated classes are called to a post of greater danger, of greater responsibility and self-command. Their office is to be the mental workmen of the world. There is an observation made long ago by an Italian writer, and often repeated since, which is worthy of our notice here. It is this — that the visible and external labours of man, wonderful as they seem and are — all that we dignify with the name of human creations — consist in this only, the separating or uniting of particles of matter. We can, by the action of our muscles, pro- duce motion, and we can do literally nothing else. Whether we drop a seed into the earth, or fling a shuttle across the tlueads of the woof, or lay colours upon canvas, or hew marble from the quarry, or collect it in the palace, the actual thing we do is no more than the carrying certain particles of matter from one place and depositing them in another. The result is wholly independent of us ; it flows directly from the powers of nature — that is to say, from the hand of God working through the laws which He has bestowed upon His creatures. And if these works of man were performed in obedience to mere instinct, they could assert for him no higher dignity than that of the ant or beaver. But beneath all man's visible operations lies his invisible work, the action of the intelligence, which originates, guides, deter- mines all liis outward labours. This is the spirit diflused through the globe, of which all that is done by man is but the imperfect expression. Thus, then, the primary division of labour is into bodily and mental, and it brings with it the division of bodily and mental labourers. It is true that there is scarcely any bodily labour which does not involve some exertion of the intelligence, as, on the other hand (pure contemplation apart), the intellectual workman is rarely without some bodily exertion, however slight. But, on the whole, the functions are distinct ; and, on the large scale, their union in the same persons would be simply impossible. For, in addition to the prolonged education and ample leisure required for the cultivation and use of the intellect, it is true that con- tinued and monotonous bodily exertion creates of itself both a distaste and an unfitness for mental labour. It is a common experience that mind and body cannot be both worked in a high degree at the same time.^ ^This is very well expressed in a late work of fiction of Mr, Hawthorne's, which takes for its basis one of the attempts which have been made in America 46 Views preliminary to the study of Political Economy All that is done in the world is wrought by the hands of men, but the active hand obeys the thinking head. In planning and directing labour, and in superintending the distribution of its produce, and in doing this in all senses, lies the function of the minority. That those who think must govern those who toil, is a constitutional law deeper than all codes, and defying all revolutions to alter. Every society must be governed by this " natural aristocracy".'' to realize some of the socialist theories. The conception was, that all the mem- bers taking part in the Utopia should be bodily as well as intellectual labourers. Thought and poetry, and the refining influences of Uterature, were to go hand in hand with field-work or handicraft. The result, however, was far from answering their anticipations. * * * " The clods of earth", says the writer, " which we turned over and over, were never ethereahzed into thought. Our thoughts, on the contrary, were fast becoming cloddish ; our labour symbolized nothing, and left us mentally sluggish in the dusk of the evening. Intellectual activity is incompatible with any large amount of bodily exercise. The yeoman and scholar — the yeoman and man of finest moral cultivation — though not the man of sturdiest sense and integrity, are two distinct individuals, and can never be welded into one substance". ^ " A true natiu-al aristocracy is not a separate interest in the state, or separa- ble from it. It is an essential integrant part of any large body rightly con- stituted. It is formed out of a class of legitimate presumptions, wliich, taken as generalities, must be admitted for actual truths. To be bred in a place of estimation; to see nothing low and sordid from one's infancy; to be taught to resi)ect one's self; to be habituated to the censorial inspection of the pubhc eye; to look early to public opinion ; to stand upon such elevated ground as to be en- abled to take a large view of the wide-spread and infinitely diversified com- binations of men and affairs in a large society ; to have leisure to read, to reflect, to converse ; to be enabled to draw the court and attention of the wise and learned wherever they are to be found;— to be habituated in armies to com- mand and to obey ; to be taught to despise danger in the pursuit of honour and duty ; to be formed to the greatest degree of vigilance, foresight, and cir- cumspection, in a state of things in which no fault is committed with impunity, and the slightest mistakes draw on the most ruinous consequences— to be led to a guarded and regulated conduct, from a sense that you are considered as an in- structor of your fellow-citizens in their highest concerns, and that you act as a reconciler between God and man — to be employed as an administrator of law and justice, and to be thereby amongst the first benefactors to mankind — to be a professor of high science, or of liberal and ingenious art — to be amongst rich traders, who from their success are presumed to have sharp and vigorous understandings, and to possess the virtues of dihgence, order, constancy, and regularity, and to have cultivated an habitual regard to commutative justice —these are the circumstances of men, that form what I should call a natural aristocracy, without which there is no nation. " The state of civil society, which necessarily generates this aristocracy, is a state of nature ; and much more truly so than a savage and mcohereut mode of life. For man is by nature reasonable ; and he is never perfectly in his natural state, but when he is placed where reason may be best cultivated, and most pre- dominates. Art is mail's nature. We are as much, at least, in a state of nature in formed manhood, as in immature and helpless infancy. Men, qualified in the manner I have just described, form in nature, as she operates in the common modification of society, the leading, guiding, and governing part. It is the soul to the body, without which the man does not exist. To give therefore no more importance, in the social order, to such descriptions of men, than that of so many units, is a horrible usurpation".— jBmtAc. Views preliminary to the study of Political Economy. 47 This being so, we perceive at once the necessity for the exist- iice of a class in the community exempt from the ordinary lot of physical toil. To discuss the nature and origin of property in relation to justice and natural law, does not enter into our present purpose, which deals with ends and utilities ; but it is clear that it is by means of the institution of property that the continuance of such a class is secured. But here it may be objected — and this is one of the points most earnestly urged by M. Proudhon — it is not so much with the hif^her work as with the inordinate wages of the superior class that we quarrel. Granting that you are to have persons devoted to mental occupations, are these teachers and com- manders of mankind therefore entitled to richer fare and costlier raiment than their fellows ? If their occupation be of a higher grade, why not let it be its own reward ? Why should the fact of being set apart for an immaterial work be the reason for larger material enjoyment? Upon this subject we may make two observations : — First, — If the minority be, as they are, the appointed governors and rulers of the masses, then, physically and numerically weak as they are, the preservation of their position absolutely depends upon the respect paid to them by those whom they rule. Now, of course it would be an absurd as well as low estimate of human nature to say that the respect paid by the majority to the minority depends entirely upon the outward show made by the latter. No one overlooks the influences of loyalty, of religion, of deference for personal character; but still it must be insisted that external advantages form an element, and a considerable one, in such submission. How long could the governing classes hope to pre- serve control over the multitude, if, in all matters of appearance, no difference existed between them ? No doubt in the rare cases, where personal qualifications are of an eminently high and striking kind, this observation may have little weight. A saint may be all the more honoured in his rags. A consummate general, known by his soldiers to be such, may even gain increased respect by sharing their rations and drilling them in his shirt sleeves. But in the mediocrity, both of virtue and talent, which men in the average present, all government, all subordination, would be practically impossible, and the thinking or governing class trampled down with contempt, if they had no means of inspiring respect but an appeal to their intrinsic supe- riority. Secondly, — These governing classes are not, or at least ought not to be, and cannot long continue to be, in the nature of a caste. On the contrary, their ranks must be, and in fact are, 48 Views preliminary to the study of Political Economy. perpetually filled up and recruited from the great body of the community. Now, to gain recruits, you must allure them. If, therefore, "it be essential that there should be motives sufficient to induce certain individuals amongst the labouring class to make that amount of exertion which would enable them or enable their children to step from the ranks of the bodily into the ranks of the mental labourers, it is equally essential, that these motives should be of that plain, strong, and effective character which would act upon man in his actual constitution. And such an incentive is found in the superior physical condition which is thus to be attained. No one, we trust, will imagine, that these observations are in the nature of arguments in favour of retaining any particular social arrangement ; on the contrary, our position is, that these social laws are fundamental and unalterable, fixed not by men, but by a power above them ; and the considerations we have been developing are to the end, that we may not only accept them as inevitable, but acquiesce in them as just. Upon this ground then do we stand. To clear away from before our eyes those sha- dowy, but in their tendency very mischievous speculations, which tempt us to make of man's social organization something greater than man himself, is the first requisite to the formation of a right judgment upon what does or does not contribute to human good And next to that, is the clear apprehension of what that good is, namely, in the highest sense the perception of truth by the intelligence, and the pursuit of it by the will. And further, that the actual constitution of human society, of whatever im- provements in detail it may be susceptible, or whatever gradual amelioration may be hoped for, is upon the whole wisely and justly framed to secure that end. There is a considerable body of speculators, to whom all these views of ours seem utterly false and hateful. These thinkers regard human society, in all its parts, as being the work of man alone, as made by him, and therefore to be re-made by him. And further, they assail the actual constitution of society, as fundamentally unjust and oppressive, and demand that it should be taken to pieces and constructed anew upon a fairer basis. This is the school of the socialists, to some of whose writings we shall next direct our attention. Celtic Studies. 49 Art. hi. — Celtic Studies. By Hermann Ebel. Translated from the German ; icith an Introduction on the JVature, For- mation, and Classification of Stems, with examples from the Greek, Latin, and Gothic. By William K. Sullivan. [Comparative Philology, although but a creation of the present century, has had, like all branches of human knowledge, its period of conjecture and em- piricism. The collection of facts is a work of time and labour ; until there is an abundance of facts, there can be no hypotheses founded on strict inductive reasoning to account for phenomena, and loose conjectures and fanciful specu- lations occupy their place. But no hypothesis, however correctly established, can be wholly true ; the proportion of error in it will, among other things, depend on the state of development of the science, and on the greater or lesser generality of the hypotliesis itself— that is, on the greater or lesser number of phenomena embraced by it. To object, then, to a science because its hypotheses are rapidly changed, or because in its infancy an illegitimate use may have been made of its methods, is to mistake the scaffolding by means of which an edifice is erected for the permanent structure itself. If a little more attention were bestowed upon the historical development of different branches of science, this mistake would not be so frequently made. We should then learn what a large amount of scaffolding and useless materials are cast aside in the course of a single cen- tury's growth — scaffolding and materials which may perhaps have formed the sole subject of that century's intellectual strife. Now the instrument of research, so to say, in scientific philology is the system of letter-changes, the true laws of which are only very gradually being established upon a correct basis. As in every other science, this in- strument has not always been employed properly, nay, its use has led occa- sionally to results quite as ludicrous as any ever obtained by the old method of guessing at the relations of languages from the accidental resemblance which w(3rds may offer when placed at random in parallel columns. Surely it would be more than unreasonable to condemn an instrument because it had occasionally been unskilfully used. In the hands of Bopp, and of his school, this instrument, judiciously used, has raised Comparative Philology to the rank of a true inductive science. One of its greatest triumphs has un- doubtedly been the Grammatica Celtica of Zeuss, of which an interesting account has been published by the distinguished Irish scholar. Dr. O'Donovan, from whom we may soon expect a translation of the whole work. Before the publication of this great work, a monument at once of its author's genius and labour, several of tlie most distinguished Continental scholars, among whom may be specially mentioned, Pictet, Bopp, and Diefenbach, had written valuable works on Celtic Philology. But with the appearance of Zeuss' work, a new era may be said to have commenced for Celtic Philology. The Classic lan- guages, Sanskrit, and Gothic, with the derivatives of the latter, the large family of Germanic languages, upon the analysis of which the laws of the science were built, were so gleaned by bands of ardent scholars, that a fresh field in Indo- European Philology was to them what a new gold field would be to gold diggers. Of the many who have begun to cultivate this Celtic field, there is one who bids fair to rival Zeuss himself In the remarkable •' Celtic studies " of Hermann Ebel, published in the Beitr'dge zur vergleichenden Sprachforschung auj dem Gebiete der Arischen, Celtischen und Slaivischen Sprachen, hrsg. von A. Kuhn und A. Schleicher, we have one of the best examples of strict inductive Philology which has ever emanated from the Boppian School. Irish scholars, with very few exceptions, have not hitherto done anything in Comparative Philo- logy. This is by no means to be regretted in the case of those who have heretofore devoted themselves to the study of the ancient language, literature, and historical monuments of Ireland, because, had the object of their labours been the mere abstract study of the Irish language, we should perhaps not have obtained the III. 4 50 Celtic Studies. great results in a national point of view which those labours have yielded. There is, perhaps, no country in Europe, in which, in the same space of time and under a similar amount of difficulty, so much has been done, in about twenty-five or thirty years, for the collection, preservation, and publication of the records of its ancient history, than in Ireland, So also it would be difficult to rival, in patient and conscientious work and solid learning, such men as Petrie, Curry, O'Donovan, Todd, Graves, and Keeves, — to speak only of those who have occu- pied themselves with the earlier periods of Irish History and Archaeology. I believe that the period has now, however, arrived, when the cultivation of Com- parative Philology would confer important advantages upon Irish Literature, and very greatly faciUtate the study of the ancient MSS. With the double object of placing the investigations of Ebel within the reach of such Irish scholars as may not be acquainted with the German original, and of holding out an inducement to some of our own young scholars to enter, and earn for themselves a name, in a field of study which is so peculiarly their own, and for the cultivation of which they possess so many advantages, I have ventured to make a translation of the cliief paper, namely, that " On Declension in Irish", and of three of the shorter ones, which are necessary supplements to that paper. On completing the translation, I found, however, that without some explana- tion of the peculiar method of grammatical analysis followed by German phi-^ lologists, it would be wholly unintelligible except to a very few persons. I thus ran the risk of missing my main object, namely, of stimulating some young Irish scholars, who may chance to meet with these pages, to study the method of the Boppian School. Under these circumstances I had no alternative but to prepare an explanatory introduction, — to venture in fact upon the hazardous imdertaking of becoming, without any special qualifications, the interpreter of the German School of Philology. For any shortcomings in this introduction, I can only then plead its object and the circumstances under which it was written. At first I proposed to explain the difference between Boots and Stems, — the Formation of the Stems and their Classification, — the difference between Stem- formation and Derivation, — and lastly, the primitive forms of the Case End- ings in the several Indo-European languages. The length to which the first part ran, that which I deemed the part most requiring explanation, prevented me from adding anything upon the case endings. As the Classic languages, the Sanskrit, and the Gothic, were the languages which served as the foundation of the science, I determined to take my examples from such of those languages as were available to me, namely, Greek, Latin, and Gothic. It feeras almost imnecessary to add that such an Introduction, from its nature and object, could only be a mere compilation from the works of those scholars who are considered to be masters in the science. I have been especially careful to avoid introducing any examples of my own, except where I could not find a suitable one in any available work of authority. Beyond the mere form, there- fore, but very httle belongs to me. The chief works trom which I have derived my materials were : Bopp's Vergleichende Grammaiik ; Grimm's Geschichte der deutschen Sprache ; Curtius, Die Bildung der Tempora und Modi ; Heyse's System der Sprachwissenschaft ; but espacially from the two latter. I have also occasionally derived assistance from Buttman's Greek Grammar, Kriiger's Latin Grammar, and the works of Ahrens, Diintzer, etc. Ebel's papers may be looked upon as emendations and extensions of Zeuss' Grammar, and liis materials are almost altogether those which that work fur- nishes. To understand his papers at all, the reader must be acquainted with what Zeuss has done on the subject. As liis book is one likely to be found only in the hands of very few persons, I have given, as an appendix, a trans- lation of the portion of the chapter in the first volume of Zeuss to which the papers of Ebel here translated refer; the shorter passages referred toby Dr. Ebel have likewise been translated, and put among the foot-notes. In the translations the author's notes may be distinguished from the editorial notes by the latter being enclosed in brackets. The whole may be considered to form a more or less complete treatise on Irish declension, from the point of view of comparative pliilology. Introduction. 51 The following is the order of arrangement of the several parts : I. Introduction — On the Nature, Formation, and Classification of Stems, with examples from the Greek, Latin, and Gothic, p. 51. II. Celtic Studies (translated from the German of H. Ebel) : 1. On Declension in Irish, p. 79. 2. On the Article in modern Irish, p. 1 07. 3. On the so-called Prosthetic N, p. 108. 4. Additions to the article on Declension, p. 111. III. Appendix. — Translation of the second chapter of Zeuss' Grammatica Celtica, concerning the Inflexions of the Noun in Irish, p. 1 13.] I. Introduction. ON THE NATURE, FORMATION, AND CLASSIFICATION OP STEMS, WITH EXAMPLES FROM THE GREEK, LATIN, AND GOTHIC. §.1- THE metliod of investigation employed in the modern science of Comparative Etymology may be described as an analytic process, to wHch tlie words of cognate languages are subjected; consisting in successively stripping from them certain letters or syllables wliicb have the symbolical power of expressing the quali- ties, proportions, or relations in space and time, under wliicb the subject contemplates the object — tliat is, so much of tlie phonetic whole constituting the word, as fixes or limits the idea intended to be expressed by it, and makes it the symbol of a definite concep- tion. By this stripping process we obtain a residual syllable or nucleus to which the term Root is given. A large number of different words, not only in the same language, but in several languages, subjected to this kind of analysis, may leave the same syllable or root ; hence we may consider the Root of a series of words as a phonetic symbol of an individual but logically indefi- nite idea, the limitation or logical definition of the idea being given by the sounds or syllables stripped off. The assumption of such nuclei in words pre-supposes that the formative process or growth of languages was a synthesis, the reverse of our analysis ; or, in other terms, that the first symbols of ideas in a language were Roots, out of which were elaborated the more developed languages. Roots form the common element of the languages comprised in a family. Their number in any one family is comparatively small; and all of them are not found in any one language, or in an equal state of purity. The latter is especially the case in modem languages, which have all become more or less disturbed and mutilated by rubbing off the grammatical endings ; hence, in most cases, we rarely get the true Root, we only get root-forms, — and from these the primitive form and signification of the root must be inductively established, not, however, by the study of one language, but by that of a whole family, the different lan- 4 B 52 Celtic Studies. guages of wliicli complement each other. The object of this kind of analysis is not merely the discovery of the primitive forms of the roots ; it also includes that of the grammatical ele- ments themselves which are stripped off the roots. Comparative Etymology may, consequently, be considered as a species of Palaeography which has for its object the determination, from their mutilated relics, of the primitive organic forms of a lan- guage, — of that of the parent language of a family of languages, — and, ultimately, of the parent language of all; exactly as the object of Palaeontology is to reconstruct from the bones, shells, etc., the forms which extinct animals had when living. It is obvious from what has been said that it is erroneous to speak of EngHsh Roots or Latin Roots ; we can only speak of Indo- European Roots, etc. It will also be obvious that languages which can be analyzed in this way cannot contain uncombined roots. In process of time, however, and especially if great per- turbations and mixtures of different peoples take place, the grammatical elements affixed to the roots get shortened, muti- lated, or drop off wholly, so that the root is laid bare. In modern languages, as, for example, the English, we find several naked roots, which, however, have the value of the words from which they have been obtained by the gradual wearing off of the clothing ; thus the word hand is in reality a root-form, having now the full signification of a primitive noun, which in Gothic had the form handus. §.2. ^ Leaving out of consideration interjections, we may classify the different kinds of words of which rational speech is composed according to the following scheme, which is that usually followed by grammarians : — Corporal Words, Formational Words. I. SUBSTANTIVES. Noun-substantives Pronominal substantives (pro- (nouns), nouns, /, thou, he, she, it, who, etc.) II. ATTRIBUTIVES. A. Words defining the subject — Predicate words. a. Adjectives. a. QuaUtative atUectives. b. 1 Quantitative adjectives or numerals. 2 Pronominal adjectives (mine, thine, this, etc.) 3 Articles. /8. Verbs. a. Concrete verbs {to love). b. Abstract verbs (pog,fagus, etc. The vocative shortens o, u, to ^, has orga- nically no nominative s, and in the neuter is the same as in the nominative. To this category belong the Greek adjectives in og, a (ri), ov, and the Latin ones in us, a, um. From this it will be seen that the vowel is shortened in the feminine in the Latin, but not in the Greek ; but, on the other hand, some Greek adjectives of this category do not distinguish the feminine at all. Gothic. To the Gothic a-stems belong the masculine, fe- minine, and neuter forms corresponding to the Greek forms in Introduction. 67 oc, a, ov, and tlie Latin ones in us, a, ?u)gi gen. (jxjjr-og, etc., either the r has become g, or the nomina- tive s has inorganically affixed itself, in which case the t dropped out. In either case these foi-ms belong primitively to dental te- nuis-stems, and not to the s-stems. Mus, flos, mas, without the nominative sign. Except in vds, vdsisy s becomes r in the oblique cases, as it stands between vowels. It sometimes appears dupli- cated, as in 05, ossis, but here it stands for st (compare oareov). Stems with Sonant Auslauts. (Semi-vowels, m, /, w, r, ng.) Greek and Latin. — Semi-voweh: 7i{xhxnigv-s,hos £oibov-Sj Introduction. 73 etc.; l-sfems' a\-g, sal; n-stems : pig for piv-g, the liquid having dropped out, (ppijv, without the nominative sign ; Pan, without the nominative suffix ; r-stems : x^''P' ^W> ^^^- ' f^^'^^ without the nominative signs. Stems with Medial Auslauts. Greek and Latin. — B-stems : (p\^\p for <^X£j3-c, the -g being the nominative suffix: urh-s, scob-s; d-steins\ irovg for Tro^-g:, pes for ped-s; vas for vad-s, the dental having dropped out; (^-sterns : ^Ao£ for (pXoy-g ; lex for leg-s^ rex for reg-s. Stems with Tenuis Auslauts. Greek and Latin. — P-stems: yv-^p for yvir-g; op-s, etc.; f-slems: (pwg for (jtwr-g] dens for dents, pons for pont-s, etc.; k'Slems: Xvy^i for XvyK-g, Gfii^ for o-e^TjK-g; pax £ov pac-s. Stems with Aspirated Mute Auslaut. Greek. — dol'i for TQ[\-g, (di)^ for /Bj? vt*- Gothic. — It has been shown in a previous section, that pure consommlal slems, pioperly so called, do not exist in the Gothic, and that the forms which at first sight might come in here, belong rather to the vocalic middle forms, under which they have accord- ingly been treated. I. shall mei'ely give here a few examples of forms which might olhei'wise have come under the respective categoiies above given for the Greek and Latin: saic-s, froiv; bagm-s, Ju/m; 8tol-s,mel; sliui\figgr-s; stab-s, lamb; sand-s, land; hugs, gagg; hups, sL'p; shifis, heist; striks, leik; munths, etc. §. Consonantal Middle Forms. The nominative of some of the forms which come under this head exhibit the complete stem, which in the oblique case may be unrecog^nizable, owing to letter-changes or the dropping of letters. In most cases, however, the stem can be better deter- mined from the oblique cases, in consequence of the nominative s, or the change of the vowel of the affixed syllable so altering the appearance of the stem in the nominative as to render it lui- recognizable. The form of the stem to which the case-endings in the oblique cases are affixed is usually called the theme, to distinguish it from the true stem-form, with which it sometimes coincides, but generally not. The neuter form of adjectives is best adapted for determining their stems. Sstems. In studying the stems of this class, we should be careful to distinguish the s stems proper from words with the auslaut s, in 74 Celtic Studies. some of wKicli the s is secondary, being formed by the softening of a ty etc., and in others it is the nominative s, before which the liquid n and the mutes a and t have dropped out. Greek. — Neuters of the third declension in oc ( = Sanskrit as) which show the pure stem in the nominative ; in the oblique cases the o becomes e, and the c drops out, e.g.: yiv-og, gen. yiv'h-oQ for ytv-ecr-og, and contracted to jev-ovg. Adjectival substantives in tjc, foc=ouc, e.g.: i) rpiriprig; — forms of this kind may be considered as true derivatives. Adjectives in rjg, sg, e.g.: Ga(^r]gy aaig, gen. (ra7r>YS, g^^-t ciXu)7reKog, the neater halec, or, fused with the nominalive s, masc, ho/e.c; tK, ic and ic: ^o7i/t|, salLu, gen., sahcU, radiv, gen., radicis; oc: CappoAox; oc, ferox; VK, uc: Jc/^oDs, gen., uiioTjicog, PollfiiV. There are also in the Gieek stems in vr, vO but not in vS; in the Gothic there are al^ro stems in n, t, and nd, but as my object is rather to show what stems are, ihim to give a de- tailed account of all their forms, I will not dwell fui'ther upon this part of the subject, §.11. DERIVATION. Having so often spoken of derivation as distinguished from middle forms, and ?/c'-stems, I think it mil not be out of place if I say a few addilional words upon the subject here. The words formed by derivation are: one kind of verbal forms from another, as, for example, diminutives, inchoatives, etc., verbs from nouns ; nouns from verbs ; one kind of noun from another, such as diminutives, feminine names, patronymics, abstracts from concretes; adjectives from substantives; substantives from adjectives; adieclives fiom verbs; adverbs from adjectives, etc. The dei-ivational affixes are of two kinds: 1. Of affixes con- sisting of siugle lettejs or syllables, which in their present state are not only not seK^standiug words, but {*annot even be traced up wilh certainty to selfstanding words, though having a definite symbolical signilicaiion which modides the meaning of the stem. 2. Syllabic affixes which aflx)i'd evidence of their having been once selfstanding words, but which in process of time have been modified and have lost that character. It is often very difficult to distinguish between derivatives by means of the first kind of affix and the middle forms about which so much has been said in the preceding pages, especially when the affix consists only of a vowel. The origin of the first kind of derivational affixes is a problem of great interest and im- portance, but obviously one which would be quite foreign to my present object, even could I devote space to it, and feel compe- tent to treat of it ; I will therefore confine myself to giving a few Introduction. 77 examples by which their character may be judged of. Verbal ufixes: Greek tu, a^, ci, v5, w^ atvy etc., e.g.: KoXaK-ev-to from KoXa^, \evK-aiv-(i) from Xeukoc ; the sign of the inchoative verb (TK = Latin so; the Latin diminishing syllables il, ul, e.g.: ventilo. JVoun-Suf'des : /^oc, evg, Tr}g, etc., e.g. : (^aOfiog, etc. ; the Latin ^/o (properly ti-on), e.g.: medita-tio; the English er^ tion, etc., e.g.: carpent-er, imagwa-tion; in the German y«^-(i we have an example of a derivational suffix consisting of a single letter. Adjectival Affixes: poc, ^•^•.* ^^oi^c-pog; the Latin alis, etc., ^.^.: leg-alls. The derivational affixes of the second class, being of greater phonetic dimensions than those of the first, have been less intimately fused with the stem, and consequently their historical development from selfstanding words can be more clearly traced. This kind of derivation was originally without doubt simple composition of the same kind as that by which compound words are still formed in living languages. It is the first stage of amalgamation from the mere agglutination which takes place in the formation of such words, as, peiihnfe, moonshine^ etc. Its transitional character is made still more evident by the cir- cumstance that the affixes of this class are prefixes as well as suffixes, and that the fojiner diffi^rs from particle composition in this only, that in the latter, two selfstanding words still existing in the language, combine together, while in the former, a selS standing stem combines with a letter or stem not now selfstand- ing. In the Greek and Latin the deiivatives of the second class are neither so well marked or so numerous as in the Germanic languages. The suffixes -ftSrjc? -(popoo, fe,c, dicus, etc., are really stems, and consequently we may considei* words ending in them to be compound words, rather than derivatives, e.g. : OsoeiErtQ, Kavr}(l>6pog^ arfife.v, meudicus^ He In the Euglish we have a number of well marked derivational suffixes of this class; e.g.: /^oo6Z = German, heit, Gothic, haidus, way, condition, as for instance, girlhood; ship = Gei'mixn, schaft, Old High German, sc«/, shape, property, etc., as partnership; c?om = German, thum, Gothic, c/om, primitively, tribunal, dignity or condition of a person in genejal, as, for instance, didrdom; so?7ie = Gothic, sam, a stem which signifies similarity, and, hence, Gothic, soma, English, same, e.g.: handsome; /// = German, lich, Gothic, lelfc, Old High German subsiantive lih, English like, body, shape, etc. The following are examples of prefixes: Latin — in, dis, com (con, co), re, all of which have been borrowed into the English, which has also the prefixes un, be, etc., belonging to it as a Ger- manic language. 78 Celtic Studies. §.12. COMPOSITION. This is tlie last stage of word-formation, and consists merely ot the union of two stems, or even words with grammatical endings, so as to form one word. In the older language-periods a copu- lative vowel was frequently introduced between the constituent words — a phenomenon which offers a remarkable analogy to the stem copulative vowel. In the Greek, this vowel was generally o, seldomer t, or £ ; in the Latin z, and exceptionally o, or u; in the Old High German it was generally z, afterwards e; and in the Modern German, as in the English, it has dropped out, or an s, and in the former language an en, which are flexional endings, have taken its place, e. g., -n/zfp(o)Spo/ioc, carn(i)fex, nacht(i)gall, IIulf(s)huch, Tasch(en)luch, doom{s)day. It is worthy of remark that the English word nigM{in)gale presents a kind of transition between the simple copulative i and the more usual Modern Ger- man en. The copulative vowel belonged, in the older languages, only to noun forms, and not to those obtained by the union of verbs and particles. Combination is sometimes accompanied by phonetic changes in one or both of the constituents; such, for example, as that which takes place in the stem-vowel in the Latin verbs: legere, coUigere, etc.; or the grammatical sign of the first constituent word is dropped. The first mem- ber of a compound word, whether noun or verb, usually oc- curs in its stem form, and where necessary with the copu- lative vowel; the second member alone takes the gender or nominative sign. Occasionally, however, the first member enters into combination with its grammatical endings affixed, so that the latter get thus intercalated between the two constituent members. One of the constituents of a compoimd word represents the fundamental idea or basis of the conception ; the second, the secondary idea by which the former is determined, modified, or limited. The former may be compared to the root of a word, and the latter to the grammatical affixes ; with this difference, however, that the latter are chiefly suffixes, while in compound words the fundamental word is usually the last member ; the qua- lifying word is consequently prefixed, e.g., hride-groom, glass-icin- dow, and window-glass. In some Greek verbal nouns the revei-se position of the constituent members is apparent, e.g., (piXo^oyog, etc. It was probably the oldest form of composition, but has almost wholly disappeared from written language, even from the Sanskrit. Curiously enough, it exists both in the spoken English, French, and German, e.g., breakfast, tire-botte, taugenichts. This circumstance offers some interest in connection with the origin of affixes. On Declension in Irish. 79 II. Celtic Studies. By H. Ebel. 1. on declension in irish. BOPFS sagacity has never been, perhaps, so brilliantly proved, as in the discovery that the whole of the aspirations and eclip- ses, by which the Modern Irish declension is apparently disfigured, are nothing else than the relics and results of the after-action of the old case-endings.^^ Zeuss' determination of the old forms of the article has confirmed this supposition in the most complete manner, as regards the n and the consonant aspirations ; the t and h before vowels are, however, to be somewhat differently under- stood. After what Zeuss remarks (pp. 59 and 63),^^ we cannot help regarding the 7i as, in the beginning, a useless and arbitrary addition before vowel anlauts, which, at a later period, permanently fixed itself after vowel auslauts ; the passage of s into h appears to be foreign to the Gaedhelic branch of the Celtic; in the dative plural, where h likewise appeai-s before vowels, it is not s, but b, which has dropped off; for from donahis^^ the Modern Irish ^' Die Celtischen Sprachen, etc. S. 22, et seq. ^' («) [The passages in Zeuss are as follows : — P. 69 : "H is not found as a radical in the Irish ; and if in ancient MSS., besides the combinations ph, th, ch, the h is also seen alone, which only happens at the commencement of words, it is nothing more than a breathing prefixed to the initial vowel, as in the ancient Gaulish names : Hercynia, Helvii. This h, neither a radical nor a necessary letter, occurs, without any fixed rule, in one place, and is not found in another, ; as : uile, huile (all), Wb. fq. ; eula (wise), Wb., heulas (wisdom), Sg. 209* ; aui, hdui (descendants), Sg. 28^ 30'' ; and so on. The ancient language knows nothing of that regular usage accord- ing to which the modern dialects, Irish and Gaelic, prefix the A in a hiatus to the initial vowel of a substantive following the forms of the article na (gen. sing. fem., and nom. and dat. plur.) or preposition ending in a vowel. We find, indeed, for example, inna hlrise (of the faith), Sg. 209^ but also inna idbairte (of the offering), inna indocbale (of the glory), inna amne (of the soul), na cecilse (of the Church), Wb. 22*^ 22^ 25*= 27*; na accobra (the desires), Wb. 20<=; la Atacu (with the men of Attica), Sg. 147* ; a oentu (from unity), Wb. 26'' ; aalbain (from Scotland), Marian. Scot. ap. Fertz. 7, 481". P. 63, " The s drops out by ' infection' in the ancient language.* The more recent language, indeed, which expresses the aspirate in its primary state as a strong s, almost as ss, pronounces the same letter when mortified or ' infected' as h ; but I think this h is of still more recent origin than the A in a hiatus between the article or a preposition and the initial vowel of a substantive following, of which supra. For the ancient Irish MSS. either mark the mortified s, like the/, by a dot [the />?<«c^ip = episcopus,yiaZ= velum, idol m,=idolum, ifurnn='m£eTimm., saZm =psalmus, teinpulzzitem- plum, together with the genitive digaimzr-ddgammi, metir = metri; the a-stems: (aZmsm?^^ rreleemosyna, epistil fzneipistola) persan =-peisonsi, riagol riagul=Yegula, pianz=-pcena, fedb=z vidua (no doubt borrowed ?) liter =z]itera, sillab=: sjllahsi ; those in ia and id: the masculine notaire^ rectaire, tablaire, the feminine fellsube=i^hilosoiphisL; those in i: the masculine faith =zY2ites; in u: the masculine /er's= versus, sens = sensus, spirut (gen. spirito, spiruto) = s^intus. Proper names follow the same rule, such as rom, fem.=:Roma, romdn, mas. = Romanus, tit= titus, -{a)n . . . -«, -a Gen. -i . . . ^an Dat. -u . . . -abis^^ Examples: ball (membrum) hall, baill, baull or hull, haill hallaih or ballib; fer (vir), fer, fir, fiur, fir, firu, fer, feraih; Bretan=Brito (Book of Armagh) ; lenomnaib (lituris), Zeuss, 739, compare Lat. lino ; lebor from liber (Zeuss, 744) ; senod (Cormac), from st/nodus (y=i) cenel=ceneth(o)1^01d Welsh centtol. And for the breaking oil into e by u: — treb?m from tn'btmus (Zeuss, 198), screpwl (Cormac) from scr«pMlum, cercol (Zeuss, 594) from c/rcwlus. But the last instance is perhaps an example of the power of o; and as to screpul {scripul in Zeuss), we have unfortunately no MS. of Cormac in which the spelhng can be relied on.] ^*^ [xii. E seems changed into i by a succeeding i in the following instances ; — Aristotd (gen. sing.), Zeuss, 887, magisttr, nom. pi. of magister, Zeuss, 1057, heritic (=haeretici) Zeuss, 1055.] ^' [xiii. Eegarding the remarks in notes 13 and 29, the hypothetical endings for the masc. and neut. may be set down as follows: Sing. nom. . . . os, on Plur. i, a ace. . . . on us, a dat. . . . u dbo (aho ?) gen. . . . i (in and these agree with the Gaulish endings of the a-declension, so far as they have been established.] 88 Celtic Studies. neuter, imned (tribulatio), pi. imnetha imneda. We recognize here distinctly tlie a-stem halla^ fera instead oi fira^ imnetha instead of imnitha ; fira harmonizes in a remarkably beautiful manner witb the Gothic and Latin stem vira (for vair indicates a previous short ^) in opposition to the Sanskrit vira. The feminine a-stems lead back to : — Sing. Nom. -a . Plur. -ds Ace. -an . -ds Gen. -e{s) or -{a)s . -an Dat. -i or e /I - _\ .. • . -abis Examples : nem (heaven), nem, nime, nim (stem nimd, hence the nom. nim is still found singly) ; delb (effigies), delbj delbe^ deilb, plur. delbce (instead of delba), gen. delb, dat. delbaib, with primitive e, therefore it is in the dative not dilb, but deilb. The masculine stems, according to III., exhibit, in the immediately preceding stage approximately the following forms : — Sing. Nom. (-is or -us) Ace. {-in or -wi) Gen. d(s) or d(^s) Dat. u?OT-i? Plur. -d{s), -e(s), t(s) -a -i -e(n) -ibis Q-abis ?) Examples: nom. denmid (doer) instead of denmadis, gen. denmada; nom. bith (world), dat. biuth instead of bithu ; gnim (action) ace. plur. gnimu; aitribthid (possessor), gen. aitrebtliado, nom. ace. plur. aitribtliidi. It is easily seen that the forms which may be most readily- linked, do not admit, in any way, of a direct comparison with the primitive forms, as the Gothic, to a certain extent, do, but still require an intermediate stage to connect them. A balli ballu, or ballui, must necessarily have preceded balli, balluy assumed from baill, baull, a nimd the nima, deduced from neniy a fir us (oT firun?) the^m changed into firu, afirdn, the hypo- thetical ;?ra?i in the gen. pi. In short, the oldest historical forms of the Irish, in regard to the conservation of the auslaut, stand, at most, and even scarcely, upon a level with the New High German,-^ as the simple comparison of the Irish and the German ball may show : — c;«^ (Irish, Si°&- -^German, Nom. ball, Ace. ball, Gen. baill, Dat. baull. „ ball, „ ball. „ ball(e)s, „ ball(e> „ baill, „ bauilu, „ ball, „ ballaib. „ balle, „ bUlle, „ bUUe, „ bkllen. (German, We find that long vowels have disappeared in the auslaut often even with succeeding consonants ; equally so, short vowels, with succeeding s; only long vowels before s have presei-ved 32 [xiv. Ebel would not now gay this. See hia paper infra " On the so-called prosthetic n", p. 108.] On Declension in Irish. 89 themselves in the shortening: [forms such as cele (socius), conse- quently presuppose either a celias, celeas, with a fallen off end- syllable, or a celes with a shortening of the vowel before the fallen off s; we shall more correctly explain firu from Jirus than from jflrim, as we everywhere [except in the article and teo7'a ri] see that the long vowel in the genitive plural has dis- appeared along with the w]. We could not, in the midst of such mutilation of the original endings, venture to think of any- thing like a satisfactory development of the casee-ndings, were it not that fortunately the above-mentioned law for the vocalism, and the changing of the consonants between the article and sub- stantive, puts into our hands a means of discovery. The end-consonants, except m and r, have evidently all dis- appeared ; m is changed, according to rule, into w, only traces of which have, nevertheless, been preserved f^ s no longer occurs at the end ; ^,which appears in its place in the Old Irish as int, and in the Modern Irish an t, shows us that it has only disappeared in the immediately preceding period, only after the dropping out of the short vowel. 27ie Gaedlielic has, consequently, become harder than the Gothic, in so far that, besides s and r, it also suffered an n in its auslaut, probably derived, however, from m, a7id not from a primitive n.^* Of these three consonants, s was the first which dropped off, for it does not appear in any declension or conjuga- tion-ending ; not even in the article, where, however, its former existence is betrayed by the t in the nom. int ant, and by the conservation of the original anlaut after the form inna na; the second that dropped off was the n derived from m, which is still visible at least in the article in the ace. inn, and in gen. plur. INNAN nan (besides here and there also, e.g. in teora ngutte, Zeuss. 310) ; r has preserved itself to the present day in the no minative athir athair (pater). The mutilations bf the auslaut appear to have taken place in this wise ; in the first place the short vowels in the auslaut and before consonants were dropped, the long ones in the auslaut shortened, then (or also contemporaneously, a supposition to which the Lat. -um, instead of -wm, would lead us) the long vowel before n shortened, hereupon s dropped, finally the long vowel was again shortened, and the short vowel together with n dropped. From the primitive Gaedhelic to the Gaedhelic of the oldest monuments, we would have, consequently, to presuppose three or four periods, which may be represented by an example, somewhat in the following manner : — '^ [xiv. See the last mentioned paper.] ^' [See on this passage the author's paper on "The so-called prosthetic n, 90 Celtic Studies. Primitive period. Pre-historic period. Historic period. Sing. Nom. . . . ballas, balls, ball. Ace ballan, balln, ball. Gen balll, balli, bailL Dat ballui, ballu, baull. (baUii ?) Plur. Nona. . . . balli, balli, baill. Ace ballus, ballu, baullu. Gen ballan, ballan, ball. Dat ballabis, ball(a)bis, ball(a)ib. Still later weakenings of the auslaut sometimes occur, as the Old Gaedhelic shows in neut. aill from aile (similar to the Old Latin alid) ; the Old Kymric especially distinguishes itself from the Gaedhelic by greater weakenings, e. g. as all (ahus) and oil (omnis), instead of theGaedheUc aile andzwYe. The adjective in the Welsh exhibits an interesting difference, inasmuch as here the change of i and u into e and o first takes place in the feminine, hence a fem. gwen, cron is opposed to the mas. gwyn (albus) crwn (rotundus). We may consequently presume that in the Welsh the fracture was only introduced when the shoit end-vowels were thrown off, consequently crunnas crunnd were already become crunn(s) crunna, whilst, in the GaedheUc, the falhng off only fol- lowed the introduction of the fracture. Now only are we in a position to attempt an explanation of the endings ; but, in consequence of the extremely difficult i- and w-stems, we shall begin with the declension of the consonantal stems. We find in Zeuss five classes (not exactly in the most convenient order), of which I. and II. contain w-stems. III. and V. r-stems, IV. (i-stems f^ of these d appears to have arisen out of ^ The inflexion is most regular in the masculine-feminine w-stems (II.), and in the masculine c/-stems (IV.). Both subdivide them- selves according to the vowel of the genitive into two divisions, in which we recognize, according to the phonetic laws of the Irish, stems with a and with i; those" in -man may be compared with the Sanskrit -man, -iman, -van, and with the Greek -^uov (compare hritliem judge and i)yefiu)v) ; those in -tin or -sin are, in a similar way, as in the Umbrian and Oscan, shortened from -tian, which again appears in the nom. -tiu, and consequently express the Lat. -tio, -tionis, with, which they also agree in gender ; the infinitive use of these abstracts (comp. Zeuss, 4G2) explains the infinitives in -tinn, -sinn of the present language, which consequently do not at all directly agree with those in -t and -dli; probably a similar 3^ [xv. Zeuss' series V. contains c-stems (or rather t-stems, which, in the oblique cases, go over to the c-declension), and under his fourth series he has put (/-stems, < stems, and anf-stems. Among his irregular nouns he gives n, gen. rig^ the sole example of an Irish ^-stem. Mi: (a month) gen. mis, is a ns-stem. So were the comparatives in iu, Sanskrit iydiis, though undeclined in the oldest Irish.] On Declension in Irish. 91 contraction of the stem lies at the basis of those in -^W, because in the nominative along with ogi (hospes), fill (poeta), tene (ignis), the fuller form coimdiu (dominus) shows itself. Analysis yields the common endings : — Sing. Nom. (long vowel) . . . Plur. -is Ac. -in (_-en) . . . -as Gen. -as . . . . -an iran) Dat. -i . . . . -abis Which explain themselves without difficulty. The length in the accusative plural is remarkable ; it is proved by anmana (ani- m3is), Jileda (poetas). As a change into the vowel-declension (like in the Latin -Ss,-eis, -is) in consequence of the a, in opposition to the -u or -^, which alone occurs in masc. vocalic stems, is not to be thought of, this -a must be either an inorganic lengthening, or -as has been produced from -ans, which has been already surmised to be the original ending of the accusative plural (Zeitschrift f V. Sprachforschung I. 291, V. 60); the latter is no doubt the true explanation. Among the other endings, -as exhibits the pe- culiar tones of the Gaedhelic vocalismus, whilst, for, instance, the Greek, Latin, and Gothic agree in the weakening of the a in the genitive -og, -us, -is, -is, and in the Gothic even the nom. plur. -as remains pure, the Gaedhelic, on the other hand, in direct anti- thesis to the Gothic, has retained the genitive pure, — hence men- man, noiden, druad, coimded, instead of menmanas, noidinas, druadas, coimdidas, and has weakened the nom. plur. to -is (or -es like Greek -e^ ?) consequently forming anmin, aisndisin, druid, flid. The accusative singular with its -in or (^-en) may be compared with the Lat. -em, — in the Zend, even with a-stems, em, — hence menmain (for which also menmuin and menmin), airitin, torhataid or -tid, coimdid. The genitive plural has naturally, in the first instance, shortened its -an to an, and then dropped it ; the dative singular may, no doubt, be refeiTed as in the Greek and Gothic to the original locative. By the dropping off of the endings and the influence of the end-vowels, the gen. sing, and plur. on the one side, and the ace. and dat. sing, and nom. plur. on the other, must have become alike in sound. The dat. plur. took up a copu- lative vowel, as in the Latin and Gothic, an a, which by the influ- ence of the dropped i has become ai or i; before this -aib, -ih syn- cope frequently occurred as before the -a of the accusative plural, e.g. in traigthib (pedibus) always as it appears in the feminines in -tiu, the i of which, however, had acted upon the succeeding vowel ; hence dat. -tnib, ace. -tnea or tne. Zeuss' supposition of an accu- sative plural *druida, for which we might expect ^druada, appears, however, to be erroneous.^^ We meet with various forms '^ [xvi. Druide is the acc. pi. in tlie Liber Hyninoruin. This may perhaps 92 Celtic Studies. in the nom. sing, of a?i stems e.g.: masc. menme (mens), masc. brithem (judex) fern, amm (anima), fem. talam (terra); of the feminine m-stems passing into m, sometimes weakened into -u; of tlie masc. ad-stems as a rule weakened to -u, and in tenge (lingua) to e; of -id generally -^, also, however, -iu in coimdiu (Dominus), -u in dinu (agna), and the adjective hihdu (guilty), -e in tene (ignis), gen. tened^ stem tenid (instead of tanid as the Kymric tan shows) ; no ending in traig (pes). The form druiiJi (druida),^' from the stem druad, appears to depend upon the same transition into the i- declension as Lat. canis, juvenis, from the stem caw, juven; for druith refers back to *druadis. According to the analogy of the Sanskrit, the aw-stems ought to form the nom. -a, which, in the first instance weakened to a, then fell off; brithem^ anim., are, consequently, forms perfectly in accordance with rule. The preservation of the vowel in menme^ weakened, however, to e, appears to have been caused by the double con- sonants (as, perhaps, also in the gen. pi. athre, from athir, see further on). The -iu of the m-stems has arisen from the primi- tive -id (by -ia or through iu; the Lat. -io, Umbrian -iu speaks in favour of the latter), the u having been retained probably by means of the preceding vowel as in the dative celiu, as opposed to baull. The d- or ^ stems took originally, as in the Lat. and Greek an s, lengthened the vowel before it as com- pensation for the t, and retained the shortened vowel after the dropping off of the s; e. g. *domnats (domnds) *domnus, *dom7iu, domnu (profunditas). Or -ad was originally long, as contractions are often found in the Gaedhelic, for example, in the adjectives in -ach = Kymric auc, awe (i. e. dc)? In coimdid, together with coimdiu, a contraction of the stem may be assumed as the Welsh masc. in -iat (-iad, pi. -ieid), given by Zeuss (p. 806) comes very near. Guiliat (qui videt) appears nearly to correspond to the Gaedhelic y^Zt'c?,^^ the nom.y^2^ would, conse- quently, be contracted £vom. jfiliu, for which the dative duini toge- ther with duiniu affords an analogy.^ Traig shows itself to be a ^stem by Welsh troet, pi. tract; Cornish troys, pi. troyes, treys; Armoric troad, pi. treid; but the nom. sing, traig and have arisen, by progressive umlaut, from *druadi, if drui (like hrdthair) have passed over to the z-declension. The ace. pi. brdithre occurs in the epilogue to the Felire (609).] 37 [xvii. Ebel has here been misled by Zeuss : druith is the nom. dual^ not the nom. singular, which must have been drui {^=*drua(d)-s.'] 3* [See "Additions to the Article on Declension", p. 110]. 3^ Zeuss, 755, considers the rfas primitive, and compares the Kymric -ed, -id, p. 803 ; but, in my opinion, the masculine in -id ought rather to be compared with the Gaedhelic in -id, -aid, gen. -ada, and the Kymric -d (now -dd) ; although ancient, it is not primitive (^compare Lat. Inpid, Greek tXirid, koovO, Zeitschr. f. V. Sp. iv., 325, 332). r On Declension in Irish 93 cus. plur. traigid are difficult to explain : tlie best way is, no doubt, by the assumption of a neuter (Zeuss, 274), by wbicli the want of the ending would be justified; but the i in traigid is re- markable : we should have expected *traigidd, *traigeda, traiged. Deviations of a different kind will be treated of hereafter ; as re- gards cu (canis), whereof only the comp. banchu (bitch), and the derivative conde (caninus), occur in Zeuss, we may ascribe to the Old Irish the forms: ace. cuin, gen. con, dat. cuin ; plur. nom. cuin, ac. cona, gen. con, dat. conaih.^'^ The neutral w-stems (I.) all de- rived with the suffix -man deviate from the anticipated scheme : — Sing. Nom. and Ace. -m . . Plur. -7nan (from -mand, mana) Gen. *-man . . -man Dat. *-main . . -manaib Independent of shght fluctuations between a and e (e.g. nom. plur. ingramman, gen. ingremmen) in the gen. and dat. sing., the dative exhibits an exceptional m instead of n: anmim, anmairn (nomini), which appears to have arisen from assimilation ; the gen. anma, anmae, anme, has dropped the n. The remaining forms are formed in a perfectly normal manner, but the nom. sing, appears to have weakened the a of the original end -ma to i, be- fore it fell off, in consequence of the continuous occurrence of umlauts =:ai?2?n (nomen), beini (plaga), ingreim (persecutio), ieidm (pestis), togairm (vocatio), senim (sonitiis). The nouns of relationship in -thar (III.) contain the original a of the nom. sing, weakened to i, either by the influence of the liquids (Bopp, p. 7), or, as it appears to me more probable, be- cause the a weakened to a should have dropped out in the third period (as in balldu, ballan, ball); but this could not take place, in consequence of the unpronounceable double consonant thence re- sulting, and so at least the lightest vowel was chosen. The same reason caused, no doubt, the retention of the vowel in the gen, and dat. sing., the syncope of which was to be expected accord- ing to the analogy of other languages and of the plural cases (although a formation atharas, atliars, athar, athari, athir, would not be impossible), and in the gen. plur. the i*etention of the end- ing-vowel in its weakened form e;*^ at least, there is no reason to assume for the Old Irish a transition into the i-declension which to be sure would easily explain the form atJire, but which even the Latin patrum rejected. In the dative plural, a, and not i, is also used as a copulative vowel, as athraib shows,^^ and if braithrib *" [xviii. Rather thus : aec. coin n, gen. con, dat. coin ; plur. nom. coin, ace. cona, gen. con h, dat. conaib.] *' [xix. This gen. plur. in e only occurs in athre, brdithre, and is certainly due to a passage over to the i-deelension. Mdthair forms its gen. plur. regularly — thus: mdthar n.] *'* [xx. In Gaulish S was used as a copulative vowel, as is shown by mdtrSbo (matribus), cited supra. Note 12, p. 79 ] 94 Celtic Studies. occurs side by side with it, we must either view it as an inva- sion of the secondary ^, or an indication of the early introduc- tion into Irish of orthographical confusion. The nom. plur. is not supported by evidence ; we cannot put it down otherwise than as athir^ as Zeuss does. On the other hand, there is no evidence to entitle us to assume with Zeuss an ending -u for the masc, as we have no where detected, except in the nom. druith, a transi- tion into the vocalic declension. We accordingly assume the following genetic development: — Primitive period Pre-historic period. Historic period. Sing. Nom. . . athar athar athir Ace. . . atharin athirn athir Gen. . . athras athars athar Dat. . . athri athir athir Plur. Nom. . . atharis athirs * athir Ace. . . athras athra * athra Gen. . . athran athran athre Dat. . . athrabis athraibs athraib The addition of a determinative suffix already shows itself in the Old Irish in some r-stems (V.) ; in the Modern Irish its action has been felt over a much wider circuit, and has even penetrated the nouns of relationship.*^ Unfortunately, too few forms of this class have been preserved to us to give a complete idea of the declen- sion, nevertheless we see from the existing ones of catliir (oppi- dum) : — Sing. . . . cathir, cathraig, cathrach, cathir. Plnr. . . . cathraig. — at least so much clearly, that these words, to which nathir (na- trix) likewise belongs, with this suffix also followed a consonantal declension. Bopp's conj ecture, adopted by Kuhn also, in his review (observation 15), that this ch (g) represents an original k, is now completely justified by the Irish phonetic law, according to wliich the tenuis between vowels changes into the aspirata (fluctuating into media) ; but to his comparison of the Gothic hrothrahans and the Sanskrit -aka may be added the still more apt one of the Greek -k in yuvjj yvvaiKOQ, like the opposite employment of the s, > ). No certain distinctions can be at all recognized in the case-endings, and nothing can be based upon the secondary forms. The genitive singular shows, for instance, along with the dominant -e, also -a and -o; but if we would assign the -a to the «-stems, and the -e to the e-stcms, we find our proposition con- tradicted by the circumstance that -e is the commonest ending, and appeal's just in those words the vowels of which point to -a, as in nime, itisse, ingine, and that -a occurs frequently in charac- teristic i-stcms, as in eperta; if, on the other hand, we would assign -a to the z-stems, from the analogy of the masculine, and -e to the a-stcms from the analogy of the Latin -o^, the feminine of the adjectives like cacha, nacha. (and even oena, along with aine)^ will remain unconsidered ; consequently -a is clearly the oldest form in both classes, it weakened itself into -o and -e, even in the same words ; e. g..^ dude and dulo, from dul (mundus, res, crea- tura), and the umlaut before e, in spite of its universaUty, is in- organic; the fundamental forms -as and -ajas must also follow the same course : -as, -a, -a, or if we prefer starting from -ais in- stead o£ -ajas, we have -ais, -ai, -a. The i -stems could form the dat. sing, in -?, -i (or -aji, z, -i, which is less probable), the a- stems either in (-dl), -e, e, or (-ai), -i, i-, as in the nominative plural of the masculine ; both of them consequently agree, as may be expected, in the umlaut. An -is, -z, -i might have been ex- pected in the nominative plural, as in the masculine, from the fundamental form -ajis; but an ais, -ai, -a, was equally possible; and if the examples give -a, -e, and^-i, an -ai, -i, -i is not impossible, even in the case of a-stems (compare Greek -at, Latin -ae) : con- sequently a separation of both classes, according to the ending, is neither a priori necessary, nor in the actual state possible (see the examples in Zeuss, 262, 263); although, nor doubt, the as- simiption of a primitive difference between -a (from -as) and -i 102 Celtic Studies. (from -ajis) has much in its favour. What is most striking is, that no ending whatever is found, not only in persin from persan (persona), which is treated in Modem Irish altogether as an n-stem (nom. pear so), but also in aimsir; and only in the vowel is there an indication of -i. Zeuss considers the e and i as secondary forms, which have resulted from assimilation: litre, epistli, appear to speak in favour of this view, but not hliadni; for an a has been here dropped. The following hypothesis appears to me to offer most advantages: the feminines in -i formed like the mascuHnes, the nominative plural in -i (see above), those in -a, contracted -di (as in the Greek and Latin), into e or i, which, in consequence of its genesis from -di, yielded somewhat more resistance to re- trenchment than the -i of the masculine resulting from -a^, and which therefore maintained itself, in part, in the weakening -e, -i, and in part actually dropped off; but the form -a rests (as in Slav, -y, -e), on an interchange with the accusative, which fre- quently took place in the old language, but which has deformed the whole declension in the modern. This hypothesis is supported by the nominative plural of the m-stems, which never contain -e, but everywhere 4, a circimistance which points to an earher -i generated from -ie or -ii. The class -distinctions are completely obHterated in the gen. plur. (without ending), dat. (^-aih and -ib without distinction), and ace. plur.,^* which also often terminates in -a in undoubted ^-stems, e. g., idharta (oblationes), seldom in -I, as duli (res), epistli (epistolas). If almost everywhere here, an invasion occurred of the most numerous a-stems, the reverse appears to have taken place in the accusative sing., which exhibits, almost without exception, umlaut or a primitive i; only delb (imaginem) and nem (caelum) point to an ending -an (an). Even if we were to assume that -a« was changed, as in the Zend, into -en (in the consonantal declen- sion we were led to an accusative -in or -en), the cause why this degeneration did not befall the primitive -an of the feminine rather than the -an of the masculine, would still remain unex- plained. The m-stems partake of the above mentioned deformities in the accusative singular, which terminates in -i instead of -e, and in the accusative plural, which likewise ends in -i, on the other hand the gen. sing, -e leads us back to the primitive -a of this case ; the nominative plural -i appears to be formed according to rule, except that all the end syllables are shortened. Accordingly, instead of the forms to be expected, — which are somewhat as follows : ^* [See Note 52, p. 100.] On Declension in Irish. 103 Sing. Nom. -a -a — Ace. •an •^n — Gen. -as -a -a Dat. -i -i > Plur. Nora. -i -I fC?) Ace. -as -a -a Gen. -an -an — Dat. -dbis -aibs -aib -is >s > -in )» > -as -d -a -i -i > -is -i -i -is "i -i -ajan -an -a -ibis -ibs -lb . -a (-0 -aib i-ib) — we find the following actually occurring : Singular . . — , ^ Plural >_ (-)^ >.e (-a, o) in whicli 2 represents the after-action of the retrenched i. The same degeneration of the original forms occurs again, as may be ex- pected, in the Modern Irish, where an cliolam (columba) fluctuates in the gen. sing, and nom. plur. between na colaime and colama, and even in the dat. sing, between do'n cholam and cJiolahne; it is still further increased by the circumstance that the genitive has also frequently thrown off the inflexion vowel, e. g. na hoigh from an oigh (virgo). In general, however, the a-stems appear to have assumed the ending -e; the i-stems on the other hand -a, e.g.: slat (rod), gen. sing, and nom. plur. slaite; sgiath (wings), gen. sgeithe; neamh (heaven), gen. neimhe; \)M%feoil (flesh), has however, gen. sing, and nom. plur. /^oZa; and oigh, although in the gen. sing., it has hoigh, in the plural it is na hogha. The fluctuation has even passed over to the masculine, for ^as^ (fish) forms gen. ^wc, plur. £?zsc or iasca; and sruth (scholar), in both cases smith or srotha. In the Old Irish, the vocative has been already suppressed throughout in the plural by the accusative ; in the singular there are only some forms of the a- and a-stems preserved, e.g. fir from fire, as in other languages ; duini from duinie; and among consonantal stems the single one ath{a)ir in the Lord's prayer. We have already found arguments in the Old Irish for a permutation of the accusative and nominative. The consonantal n- and ^-stems sufifer likewise a peculiar mutilation in the Old Irish. The secondary forms related to anim (anima) ; gen. anrne, dat. and ace. anim, admit of being explained from a vocahc fundamental form : not so the anomaly, wliich not unfrequently occurs, that the nominative directly sup- plants the dative and accusative. Examples: do foditiu (ad tolerationem), do aurlatu (ad obedientiam), ace. aurlatu (obedi- entla); compare also Pictet's observations (Beitrage zur verglei- chenden Sprachforschung, I. 82 fll), where the reverse is like- wise proved. The circumstance that, in the Modern Irish, there is mostly (except in the anlaut) no difierence to be found between the nominative and dative singular, agrees with the foregoing ; it consequently appears that the accusative first coalesced with the nominative, and then the dative. The language is, therefore, 104 Celtic Studies. in a fair way to lose all its inflexions like the Kymric dialects, and first of all the genitive plural, whicli now is most like the nom. sing. ; — properly speaking, only the gen. sing, and plur. and dat. plur. are yet retained : indeed the latter has been already de- prived of its ending in the article, in the same way as the adjec- tives have lost all their inflexions. The decision as to the origin of the modern forms of the consonantal stems is rendered more diffi- cult by this phenomenon. Only few still correspond to the old form, thus hreitheamh (judex), gen. breitheamhan, nom. plur. hreitheamhuin^ with brititem, gen. britheman, nom. plur. BRiTHEMAix. DoHeamh (butler), for example, deviates already in the gen. daileamhuin, from dalem (caupo), gen. ddleman. The majority have aflixed -e or -a either in the nom. plur. or in both cases, and it is diflicult to decide wlietlier we arc to look upon this as a simple trans^ition into the vocalic declension (as in New High German hrunnen^ instead of hrumi), or whether the nom. in -a is not really an accusative; probably the accusative form first passed into that of the nominative, and that then the genitive singular followed the analogy of the nominative plural now appearing vocalic. A striking example oi' this mixture of forms is aflbrded by cu (canis) ; gen. con (perfectly normal), or cuin {a- stem) ; dat. com (normal); nom. plur. co??>a (accusative foiin), or con (spurious formation), or coin (normal) ; gen. cu (mutilated), or con (normal) ; dat. conaibli. The nominative plural oAliara from athair (father), has assumed the accusative form, and thereby got the ex- ternal appearance of a vocalic stem, which has succeeded the gen. sing, athara (together with the primitive atltar); side by !?ide with them foims with -ach have been introduced ; e. g.: aithreach (as in Old Irish cathtr).^^ The application of the suflix -adh (compare denmid, denmada, or tenga, iengad), as an inflexion-copulative, is new; e. g.: in the plural bogadha (for bogJia, how), coui^idered also by Pictet {Op. cit. 128) to be anew formation ; but, perhaps, it may help us to an explanation of the Kymvic pliu-al forms. The Kymric, on which we must in conclusion cast a glance, has preserved nothing more of its whole inflexions, even in the oldest documents, than the sign of the plural, but this it employs very arbitrarily: compare ti'inteib (tres lilli) with meibion, melbon, and tyreu (turres) with i//roed. Obviously, as in the New High German, this is of three kinds: either the old plural form re- mains, consequently true inflexions, as bruder, giUle, fische, from the Gothic brothrjus, gaslels, jUlws; or the dropped oft" ending of the stem in the singular has disappeared behind the gramma- ^^ [xxx. Aiihi-each is simply due to a passage over to the c-declension. So in Early Middle Irish we have mainisiir (from monaster ium\ making its gen. sing. manestrech. Zeuss, xxviii."j On Declension in Irish. 105 tical ending, as in mannen^ where the -an of the Gothic manna (stem mannan), which has vanished in the singular, has been preserved, while the proper ending, the s of mannans, has been dropped ; or a suffix (determinative), wholly foreign to the stock, like the German -er in eier, to which true inflexion-endings were, at an earlier period (Anglo-Saxon dgru), attached, but which, after their loss (as in the Old High German nom. eigir)^ exactly occupies the place of the ending, like German lander instead of lande^ except in the dative plural. To the first kind belong : 1, the Kymric plurals without end- ings, and with umlaut, such as Welsh llygeit — Corm^ legeit (oculi) ; Welsh s^{??^= Armoric sent (sancti) ; Welsh cliivaer (soro- res), from chwior; ^rae^ = Cornish treys, Armoric treid (pedes), from troet, Cornish troys^ Armoric troad, — or without umlaut, as tridyn (tres homines), telr morwyn (tres puellae). All these forms have lost an -e, probably a primitive -i or -is (-wf), and consequently may be compared to the Gaedhelic forms such as maicc (fllii), to which the Welsh meib, or traigid, the Kymric traet, treys, treid correspond; for instance, the mascu- line verbals in -iat, -lad, pi. -ieid, such as guiliat, are parallel to the Gaedhelic in -i, pi. -id (fdid) (see above). 2. The plurals in i, such as meini (lapides), from maen, Corn, esely (mem- bra) = Armoric ysily, from esel, appear to correspond to the Gaedhelic -i (in ia- and feminine stems) ; but interchanges occur, however, such as Cornish meyn, Armoric mein, alongside of Welsh meini, and this even in the same dialect, e. g. : Cornish tell, and also tylly (foramina), from tol, which do not allow a strict separation to be effected. As further instances may also be ad- duced llestri, Cornish, and Armoric, llstri, which represent Gaedhelic *lestir, while on the other hand dyn is the Gaedhelic dolni. 3. Finally, the plurals in -au and -iau with their different formations (Zeuss, 290, 122), also belong oiiginally to this category; e. g. tyreu (turres), Cornish defhyow = AYmov[G dizlou (dies) ; -au appears to have belonged originally to the w-stems, the verbals in -at {-iat), -ad, pi. -adau also correspond to the Gaedhelic abstracts (Infinitive) in -ad, -ud, which take -a in plural, so that -au admits of being very well explained from the Sanskrit -avas. Pictet's (op. cit, p. 135) comparison with the Sanskrit -as, which changes into -6 before sonants, although adopted by Bopp and Kulin also, is certainly erroneous. But afterwards confusion came in here likewise, so that we see -au exactly like the Slavonian -ov and the Greek -ev and other detenninatives applied to other stems also, and hence even to -iau. Besides, all three suffixes occur in both genders, so that perhaps the -i of the feminine may confirm the above assumed Gaedhelic fundamental form of the nominative plural. 106 Celtic Studies. The second kind embraces w-stems, such as the apparently ano- malous ki (canis), the plural of which is in Welsh, gun, cwn^ Cornish ken, and which corresponds exactly with the GaedheHc CM, plur. cuin (the Gaedhelic u is the Kymric ^); and ?/cA = ox,plur. y chain (ancient, ychen) =.oxen — further, Welsh brawt, which has lost its final r, plur. hrodyr (Cornish brand and broder^ while in the Armoric sing, breur, breer^ the d has yielded, plur. breuder). Kuhn (p. 595) wished also to include under the third category the -an of gen. cluasan (the ears), but in tliis word it belongs undoubtedly to the third, as cluas is evidently the old stem, which, in the beginning, was treated in the declension like dis. To the third kind belong the following: 1. Many plurals in -au, 'iau, in which the ending is foreign to the word-stem proper, such as penneu (capita), stem pinna (or pz?2^a) =r Gaedhelic cinna, from which nom. cenn, dat. ciunn, or breicheu (brachia), stem breich, instead of brechi ; 2, most words in -ion (or -on), e.g.: deneon, dynyon (homines), from the stem dini (instead of dinia, as the Gaedhelic duine shows), or meibion (fihi), along with which appear likewise after numerals the forms meib, dyn, and all Welsh plural adjectives, e.g. meirwon, along with meirw, from marw (mortuus) = Gaedhelic marb, plural mairb (moirb). The -n consequently takes exactly the same place here as in the German adjectives and many feminines. 3. The endings -et, -ot, -ieit, -eit^ and -ed, yd, oed, which otherwise occur as derivatives, and in this respect have been already compared above with the Gaedhelic -ad, -id, likewise join many stems as determinatives, in which respect they are parallel with the -ad, in Irish bogadha, already compared, if I do not err, by Kuhn. (Both forms are related to one another, as Xfip'^T is to iXiriS in the Greek.) Compare the following words in -t: merchet (filiae), from merch (is this identical with Li- thuanian, merga ?), Cornish denys (homines), Armoric bretonet (Britanni) with those in -ed : Welsh, bydoed (mundi) from byt = Irish bith, Cornish e/e^/i = Armoric aelez (angeli). On the other hand, the favourite suffix of the Gaedhelic -adh is not employed as a determinative in Kymric. In the representation of my results, I have altogether followed the same analytical method ^hich I had struck out in the inves- tigation itself, in order to render the verification easier to the reader. Many things will require completion and correction. On the whole, I hope that the results obtained will show themselves to be correct. 2. ON THE ARTICLE IN MODERN IRISH. IN the modern Irish article an, about the relation of which to the old int, ind, I could not hitherto come to a satisfactory- conclusion, I now recognize, with certainty, an intinision of the tas f On the Article in Modern Irish. 107 neutral form, as tlie most colourless and weakest, precisely as the Middle Higli German had formed to its neuter daz a masculine and feminine der, diu, and the Lithuanian and Slavonian (to to) its tas, ta, tUy ta. The English use of that (pronoun) and the (article) " r all genders is especially important in this respect.^ It is a fact worthy of attention, but one hitherto scarcely ticed, that, besides the coarser, I may say the material, action languages upon one another, which shows itself in the evident borrowing of words and forms, a finer, a more spiritual influence is exerted. Again, that certain words, without being borrowed, are preserved hving and active, by the neighbourhood of other lan- guages, and that many forms of thought and sound, words, ex- pressions, conversational phrases, attach themselves, so to say, to the soil. A comparative syntax would bring many examples of tliis kind to light, especially in the languages which have grown up on Celtic ground, and determine how much may be ascribed to accident, and how much to intellectual influences. In the Phonology, for example, the Kymric ui, oi, representing the Gaedhelic ^ (even in loan-words like cera, W. 2. kuyr, 3. kwyr, Cornish V. coir, Armoric coar) is parallel with the French o^, representing the Latin e (avoir —habere) ; again, the Celtic action of the final sound on the following word is parallel to the for- ward attraction in les amis, etc. Among the words and word- forms which have been preserved on Celtic ground, we may mention: English, witness =z Gaedhehc fiadnisse (testimonium), and the English names in -ton, along with the Gaulish in -dunum. Of importance in the Syntax are: the French intercalation of the pronoun in je faime, je ne faime pas, as in both branches of the Celtic; the French c'est moi and the English it is me= Gaedhelic isme; the English leaving out of the relative in, the man (whom) 1 saw, as in the Gaedhelic. Now, in this respect the English that, the, for all genders, are not without importance for the Celtic also, and permit us to conclude, that in the Modern Irish an fear for the Old Irish in fer, an analogous process has taken place. The relative an (a, no, n) appears to belong to the same stem ; we may compare the fluctuation between the relative and the demonstrative in the Homeric language, the peculiar use of the Old Persian A?/a, which Bopp also,^^ as I myself did,^^ now looks upon as an article, and our antiquated relative so. ^^ [xxxi. This is an ingenious error. The neut. article is quite lost in Middle Irish, and the Modern Irish article an {an t before a vocalic anlaut), bears the same relation to the Old Irish in (int) that the Modern Irish preposition an (written a n-) does to the Old Irish in ; or the Modern Irish interrogative par- ticle an does to the same particle in the Old Irish, viz., in. But here, as elsewhere, more is to be gained from Ebel's mistakes than from many another man's truths. The relative an, a, is doubtless identical in form with the neut. article =*sa-n.'] *' Vergl. Gram. I. 473. 2nd Ed. ^^ Zeitschrift f. Vergl. Sp. v. 305. 108 Celtic Studies. 3. ON THE SO-CALLED PROSTHETIC 71. Mr. Stokes, in liis valuable observations on the Irish declen- sion, has agreed with my remark, that the n of the inflexion has been preserved in teora nguttae, and here and there also besides the article, and has communicated several examples. Zeuss, curiously enough, has altogether misunderstood this w,^^ and everywhere looked upon it either as a superfluous addition or as a shorter form of the article, e. g., before atle, although there it appears only in the nom. neut. and ace. sing, and gen. plur. of all of the three genders, — often in combinaiions where no article is possible. As a relic of the article I have met with this n, only in very few places, and then as the remains of the shortest forms: ax (a-x-) in tresngne, Z. 611, where the e of TRES still indicates an a di'opped out, and Ni epur nisin (non dico hoc, instead of anisin) 352; in (ace. dual) in etarxdi- RAiNN 278, 614, probably as gen. dual in cechtarnai, nkch- NARXAi i)Q'd (compare the plur. innan ai). The n in lasin NGUTAT (instead of lasinx gutai) 619, 1017. The most of the other examples are clear enough. I shall give here some proofs, which may easily be increased. Nom. and ace. neut. folad /iAiLL, OLCC nAILL, J)ES.(i.e., DESIMRECHT) WAILL, TROXOMEN 71AILL 363, IMBELRE 7iAILL 580, MOR WAMRI 596, 889, GRAD ^EPSCUIP 1048, AM. XACH AxxsE nBuiB (ut nou diflicile vobis) 703, huare ISDILMAIX TiDOCHECHTAR 369, AXD:^DE mSIU 319, 704, AXUA- THATH 7dsiV 353, AXDLlGED JllsiU 353, MOOR 72IMXITH 21, MoR nuiLE 609, 889, dligeth wimmogxama 984, cach ?;iBELRE 489, FRI OACHrtAE 319, MIXD ^ABSTALACTE 229, RAD TtBt 55, ATA DECHOR 71AIMSTRE 1037, ATA DECHOR r/ETARRU 374, ISSAIX CACH- 72AE (previously: ilsexmax) 367, dered wbetho 985, is-fuath yiEPERTA 985, SAIXRETH 72AXMMAE 1025, ARACUMACTTE ^^AXGID xi ARMISOM ARCHUMACTTE ([nam] potestatem ncquam non nume- rat ipse pro potestate) 247, nifail xach waiccidjt (non est ullum accidens) 1016, xicumscaichthi cumacht^ ?iAiRi (non mutanda potcstas propterea) 1015, xi fitir imorro olc ?ietir (nescit autcm malum omnino) 1003, laa jV/bratha 479, allaithe nDEDENACHDlUD [no doubt ALLAITHEX DEDEXACH DIDDirdie extreme (ace. temp.) in line] 316, isnoichtkch re ;?iuil (est undetricenale spatium Julii) 1075, isgxath gag et fir ha'sd 359. So also : arindi atreba toxal 7iAXD 359 ? Ace. masc. co rig h ILAINGLECH Colmaus hymn — Lib. Hymn. 10 (to the many angel'd king), according to a friendly communication of J\lr. Stokes, COFER nAiLE Z. 884, marudbaitsius xach«aile 434, ^^ [xxxii. Not so. See Zeuss G. C, page 263, where he conjectures that the very form cited here by Ebel, teora n, may stand for teoran.'] On the So-called Prosthetic n. 109 ^■tbith 7?uile 366, tresinnoedecde wuile 1074, fochosmuiliu3 iiADAiLCJE 481, INFOGUR nisiN 1014, Without the article besta- TiDwisiN 611, AES wESCi 1074 (three thnes), nifail chumscdgud JiHUIRDD AND 369, TAR RECHT ?/AICNID 613 RECUT 7ZIMBIDI 229, LETH 7iG0TH0 1013 (consefjuently leth is also masc. like recht), CONROIGSKT DIA 7/AIRICI13SI 1076, AIRTHECH. CACHGUT.E AGUTH 7aNDI 966, TODDIUSGAT GUTH WIXTTU 1017, CEN RIAN ?iETROM 616. So albo no doubt: nach uail^ 368, toiniud ^uressach 229, NERT ?iAixMNEDO 975, ATTLUGUD mBUiDE 1048 (the acc. instead of the dat.?), cach?/oen crann 999? I am not quite certain of the gender in: fri cdmtach nECOLSO 260, cumtach wirisse 1045, ECOSC 71ABSTAL 585, TAIBRTTH ATEICHTE UDOIB (nO doubt neuter) 56. Acc. fern, fricach ??aimsir 367, cech ??aidche (instead of aidchi) 888, isarnach 7?indocbail moir 2i52^ hi cach ?iDEiLB 7 HI CACH TARMORCENN 367 (translated by Zeuss as the dat.), I TERSIN 71AILL 363, FRIRAINN UAUA 608, CEN GUTAI W.E- TARRU 1017; also doubtless: roscarsam frib denus mBEicc 310, HIRES WABARCHE 229, SERC TJDEE 55 (just aS NE3I, DELB occur in the acc), gen alpai wetarru 616,^" frialpai jidesiu 595. Gen. plur. masc. innamball ?iaile 229, fern, na liter 71AILE 1012, liter waile 1012, neut. anman nADiECHT 433. Some spurious propositions, it would appear, may be recognized as accusative forms 1 )j the n, most distinctly taresi in : u. tar- HESi ni (u for i) 1012, olcc taresi ?iUiLCC 617, but indegaid also: indegaid nm: 619, indegaid ?zgutt^ 1013, and dochum: DOCHUM iiDtE 620, DOCHUM «iRissE 461 (bis). The n of ainm-n belongs to the stem in: ainm wapstil 229, AIN3I WHETHA 255, AINM JlGNt^SO 975, AINM WDILES 1025, DOBERR AINM iiDOiB 457.*^^ According to this my observation (p. 89), " probably derived, however, fronii m^ and not formed from a primitive «", must consequently be cancelled, and the single example with an aspiration ainm thriuin Z. 249, con- sidered as an irregularity.^^ As yet I have failed in finding for the masculine and feminine 7?-stems an example of the aspiration, or of a mortified s,/; I have also, however, nowhere found an n; it consequently appears as if the neuter only preserved the n as in the Latin and Slavic, *anmen like nomen and ime, while the masculine and feminine dropped it ; *britiiema like homo and KAMY. ^•^ According to Stokes (Beitriige zur vergleichenden Sprachforschung I. 468) the n of ALPAi-N and inrindlde-n belongs to the stem. ^' See last note. ®^ [xxxiii. The n in ainm napstil does not belong to the stem, but (as in pronomen naill cited by Ebel himself, supra) is simply an example of the natural tendency to prefix after all neuters in the nom. and acc. sing, an n {m before 6) to the following adjective, if this begin with a vowel or a medial.] 110 Celtic Studies. The n is much less clear in cechtarnai, nechtarnai Z. 369 (which I consider to be a relic of the gen. dual of the article in, on account of dochechtar nhai, evidently the dative, and of the genitive plural innan ai), sliab nossa 888 (perhaps ace. ?), sirid iNRiNDiDE NUiLE (scc note 60) 366, 586, arbertar as noen TARMOIRCIUNN 592, far NOENDEILB 670, AM. INLOCHAIRNN NAFFRACDAi 676, whcrc it appears to be in part actually er- roneous; coTiR NEREND 74, appears to indicate a change of gender (comp. recht, leth, nert) ; even there, however, Zeuss also gives fir nerend (viri Hiberniae) with a problematical n. There is probably a threefold preposition do-air-in contained in TAIRNGIRE, DURAIRNGERT, DORAINGRED Z. 56, 868; in the same way that con became mutilated in frecndirc £cndirc. But, very remarkably, the n appears very often after verbal forms; mostly, perhaps exclusively, in dependent sentences, frequently after the so-called relative : aswoindae inspirut 360, ASWED 675, AM. ASnt ASSPLENDOR 333, ASniRESS 456, ASWOIPRED 476, AM. As?iiNDEDUR 580, ORE AsnDiUL 703, c:^iN bas??ib:6o infer 230, 675, hore as?lamairessach 705, lasse bas nuain (nuair?) do 229, as?idirruidig[the] anainmsin 266, ammi weulig 252, consechat tlulgu 457, ata tianman sidi 894, ni cumcat camaiph ille 7 iste beta waithfoilsigthecha dondi as ipse 667, intain bes winun accobor lenn 603.^^ Notwithstanding that several examples still remain unex- plained, the preponderating majority show quite clearly, never- theless, that the n is prosthetic, if at all, only in exceedingly few cases; for instance, the forms assumed by Zeuss, naill, NAILE, NAiLi, NisiN, nIsiu, and NAND for AND decidedly fall out. 4. ADDITIONS TO THE ARTICLE ON DECLENSION. According to a communication of Mr. Stokes, that has reached me through Professor Kuhn,^* the a-stems show in the Old Ogam inscriptions not only the gen. in i — MAQVP^ (a form which ex- plains by its qv not only the Kymric map, but also the Gaed- helic masc. without aspiration), but also the nominative in -as (CORPIMAQVAS— Cormac). This highly interesting form may accordingly be placed by the side of /xapfcav, Pausanias, x. 19, 11, in which we are now justified in recognizing the true Gaulish accusative of marcas* ( = gen. marc, w. 3, maj^cJi, plur. meirch). The Ogam secondary forms in -os, show us at what a remote period the obscuration of the a to o was already common. I ^3 May it be, that as in Greek, an v ^eKkvotikov existed ? Stokes also compares am/tti-/i with iafikv. ^* [Published in the Beitriige z. t. Sp. i. 448.] ^^ [Given in Mr. Stokes' paper, " Bemerkungen uber die irischen declinationen" — Beitr. z. v. Sp. i. 333.] Additions to the Article on Declension. Ill would not, with Stokes ,^^ deduce the length of the dat. plur. from the single form sceldib, as even feminine a-stems fluctuate between p-a6, -ib, aib, which indicates a short vowel; and the ia-stems [variably show -ib, instead of the -ib to be expected. That the neutral aill rests on a vocaHc fundamental form, the or (i being di'opped (like Greek aXXo), as was already suspected fp. 90), is confirmed by the mortification of the s in alaill sain, According to an observation kindly communicated to me, [r. Stokes now recognizes in Zeuss' Ordo posterior Ser. iv., iree kinds of stems, in -d, -t, and -nf. The latter, to which dinu, idu, cava, ndma (ndmae), belong, correspond accurately to the )articiples in -ant,^'' as, for instance, cara (from cairim, amo), Jiadu) = vSdant — Stokes) ; dinu appears to be connected with the Sanskrit root dhe (" suckling") ; cara and ndina likewise occur in the nom. in Zeuss, who has mistaken the true relation, and led me astray: imcara fd aescare (sive amicus, sive inimicus), 674, 831, and ba7inamae (inimica), together with the ace. bannamit (hostem), 820, the ace. carit, 1055, 1062, escarit, 1056. These stems appear to be of the common gender like the Latin participles. On the other hand, the -it in nebcongabthetit stands no doubt er- roneously for -ith (as generally in all abstracts). That traig is a neuter appears to be confirmed by traig cethargarait, 1018 (Gl. proceleusmaticum, consequently an ace.) ; it looks Hke a participle (^ = Tpixov), but inflects the dat. plur. traigthib, ace. plur. traigid; traigtliech (pedes, pedester), and traichtechdae, instead of triag- thecJidae {Tp^destev), are derivational; the neuters have, therefore, probably thrown out the n, and taken a weak form (traigthib = tragitdbis). The Kymric troet, plur. tract appears to rest on stem ' extension, — compare Welsh, 2. cilid, 3. cilyd, with Gaedhelic cele; at least, a Kymric car, tan, stands parallel with the Gaedhelic cara, tene, so that we have to look in the Kymric forms rather for the nominative, than, as in the Roman lan- guages, for the accusative (see further on). The comparison made m the article on declension (p. 92) between the Kymric guiliat and the Gaedhelic filed agrees with the explanation of Zeuss ; see the emendations to pages 149 and 806, at the end of the Grammatica Celtica. I cannot as yet make up my mind to give up my former view respecting the feminines in the Ordo Prior, Ser. 5 of Zeuss, namely, that an almost complete fusion of the i- and a-steras took place, and that only few relics of a purer separation of foims have been preserved. Along with the ace. plur. in -i, to «« [Idem, 336.] «7 ^Iso, Stokes' view, Beitr. i. 457. 112 Celtic Studies. wMcli suli Z. 339, likewise belongs, there occur, however, forms with -a from undoubted z-stems, as gahdla ; along with the dative in -aih, forms occur in ib from a-stems, as airmib from dram, sUbib from sliab; so that nmiib also does not prove a stem *nami (the nom. nim along with nem, ace. nem, the adjective 7iemde= *'nimaiya and the Kymric nef appear to speak for *nimd, which perfectly corresponds to the feminine of the adjective in the Welsh, while i, u, fall out without umlaut in the Kymric ; further, that nem- never occurs before the endings with e, i, but always nim-; the gen. plur. nime is however remarkable). But I cannot adopt Mr. Stokes' view about the gen. sing, in -e, -a ; for, in the first place we should not start from Sanskrit -^s, but from the fundamental form -ais (or ajas?), out of which -a (o), and -e could be developed in the masculine stems ; but -7/ds is a special pure Sanskrit form, which does not again occur in any European language (for that ttoXewc is not to be explained from it, but from *7roA£yo<,', is proved by the Homeric TroXriog, the unjustly attacked masc. fiavrriog, and the neuter aarEwc, which, although questioned, is a permanent form with the Tragic Poets) ; secondly, because umlaut is as little known before a (o) among z-stems as a-stems: compare JlatJia, Jlatho, or even focheda, fochodo; a occurs even before -e in ergabale; we could not consequently lay down as a basis any such form as -jas, and must, as I believe, assume that the umlaut in both classes has only been introduced inorganically with the change of the a into e.^^ The analogy of the gen. plur., especially the invaluable nandula,^^ appears even to speak in favour of our starting, both here and in the masculine of Ser. III., from -ajas (not from -ais). As regards the ^-stems, it appears to me more and more pro- bable, that they have almost throughout passed, as in the Greek, into the m-class (worvta) =patm, etc. I have found the umlaut in the dative of the w-jstems, in immognom, Z. 984. III. Appendix. TRANSLATION OF THE PART OF THE SECOND CHAPTER OF ZEUSS' GRAMMATICA CELTICA CONCERNING THE INFLEXIONS OF THE NOUN IN IRISH, REFERRED TO IN THE ESSAY OF DR. EBEL. [One of the most remarkable featiires of Zeuss' work is the large number of examples taken from MSS. which he has brought forward as the basis upon which his grammatical canons are founded. Thus the examples given in the part of the chapter here translated fill considerably more than thirty pages. All these examples not being necessary for the purposes for which this transla- tion was made, only a small selection of them has accordingly been given. Th 68 [See notes 51, 52.] 6^ [xxxiv. Dula is, unfortunately, only found in a Middle Irish MS. : in Old Irish MSS. it is always either duh or duile.^ Appendix^ On the Inflexions of the Noun. 113 following are the abbreviations which Zeuss uses to distinguish the MSS. from which each example has been borrowed : — 1— Sg.=Codex Pris(!iani SanctI Galli, No. 904 ; 2— Wb.=C. Paulinus Bib- liothecae AVirziburgensis M. th. f. 12 ; 3— M1.=:C. Mediolanensis Bibliothecae Ambrosianae C. 301; 4— Cr.=C. Bibl. Carlisruhensis, 83; 5— Pr. Cr.=C. Prisciani Bibl. Carlisruh. 223 ; 6— Incant. Sg.=C. Sancti Galli, 1395 ; 7— Co- dex Camaracensis, 619. Gl. signifies Gloss.] (A) Declension. In the old Irisli language, the nouns of which have preserved a great variety of forms — in this respect far surpassing the Welsh even of the same period — we find two orders of declension, of which the first, on account of the prevalence of vowels in the inflections, may be called the " vocalic", and the second, for a similar reason, the " con- sonantal order". To the former belong the adjectives, which do not, as in other languages such as the German and Sclavonic, possess pe- culiar forms of their own ; substantives alone are found in the latter, though in less number than in the first. In both orders the flexional vowels are either exterior, apphed to the end of the word, or inte- rior, placed immediately before the final consonant, whether it be a radical or derived. There are, moreover, some anomalous nouns differing from the usual forms of declension, and developing others peculiar to themselves. FIRST ORDER, Substantives and adjectives of the masculine and neuter genders agree in their declensions. Those of the feminine gender follow their own forms. I shall give first a scheme of all the forms of declension, which I call series, with examples of each ; and then substantives and adjectives from the codices confirming the forms of all the series here exhibited, or even such as present any of their varieties, DECLENSION OF NOUNS MoscuUne and Neuter, Paradigms : I. — Cele (a companion). It has not appeared so neces- sary to give derivative examples of this first series, such as echire (a horseman, a muleteer?), tectire (an envoy), as of the follomng, on account of the internal vowels inflected : II. hall (a member), pri- mitive, tuisel (a case), derivative example. III. bith (the world), pri- mitive, dilgud (forgiveness), derivative. The neuter dififers so far from the masculine, that the accusa- tive and vocative are formed like the nominative ; and, in the plural number, the same three cases take their own flexions, dif- ferent from the masculine, as will be rendered evident by the examples v^hicli follow : — I. Series. II. Series. III. Series. Nom. cele baU tuisel bith dilgud Gen. cell baill tuisil betho dilgotho Dat. c^iu bauU tuisiul biuth dilgud III. 8 4 Celtic Studies. I . Series. II. Series. III. Series. Sing. Ace. Voe. cele ceU ball'^ baill tuisel tuisil bith bith dllgud dilgud Plur. Nom. Gen. Dat. Ace. Voc. celi eele celib celiu celiu baill ball ballib baullu baullu tuisil tuisel tuislib tuislin tuislui betha bithe bithib bithu bithu di'lgotha dilguthe dilguthib dilguthu dilguthu DECLENSION OF NOUNS — Feminine. Paradigms : TV. — ^ware (food). Y. rann (a part), primitive, hriathar (a word), derivative. rv. Series. V. Series. Nom. tuare rann briathar Gen. tuare rainne brethre Dat. tuari rainn brethir Ace. tuari rainn brethir Voc. tuare rann briathar Nom. tuari ranna briathra Gen. tuare rann briathar Dat. tuarib rannib briathrib Ace. tuari ranna briathra Voc. tuari ranna briathra Sing. Plur. I. Series. — Of nouns externally inflected, and ending in -e, wliich in the different cases becomes -e, -m, -ib. Neuter nouns in the nom. ace. and voc. plural vary from -e to -i. SINGULAR. Nominative. — Substantive Masculine — cele (a companion, husband), Wb. Sg., duine (a man), Wb. dalte (a disciple), etc. Subs. Neut. (I give examples only of such as are met with the article), anesseirge (the resurrection), Wb. 30^. atrede (trinitas), acetharde (four), Wb. cumachtae (power), Sg. 6*. Adjectives. Masculine, ceetnefer (first man), Wb. 7^ intathir nemde (the Hea- venly Father), Wb. 4^; derivative adj. in de, te, the, are of frequent occurrence. Adjectives. Neut. anuile (all), anuilese (all this), Wb. 16^, ni nnae hdo anatrabsiu (this possession is not new to him). Ml. 17^. Genitive. — Subst. Masc. corp induini (the man's body), Wb. 12*. Subst. Neut. claar cridi (table of the heart), Wb. 15% comalnad sosceli (fulfil- ment of the Gospel). Adj. Mas. comalnad indhuili recto (fulfilment of all the law), Wb. 20*. Adj. Neut. dinsid cetni diil (a^cvLsaXive of the first declension), Sg. 91^. Dative. u occurs frequently instead of -iu. Subst. Masc. do duiniu (to the man), Ml. 20^^, donduini Cto the man), Wb. 4^ Subst. Neut. dondediusin (to these two), Wb. 9*", hi farcridiu (in your heart ), Wb. In esseirgu, in heseirgiu (in resurrection), Wb. 4^ 13^ iarnesseirgiu (after resurrection), Wb. 3*. Adj. Masc. donchoimdid nemdu(to the heavenly lord), Wlb. 27*^. Adj. Neut yar cetnu diidl (in the first declensionj, Sg. 90^. AccusATn^E. — Subst. Masc. imfolngi induine firian^ imfolngi induine sZan (facit hominem justum, salvum), Wb. 4*. Subst. Neut., ni dilgaid anancride (you forgive not the spite), Wb. 9 pred- chimnii soscele (we preach the Gospel), Wb. 14. Adj. Masc. lasinnathir nemde (with the Heavenly Father), Wb. 19*. Appendix^ On the Inflexions of the Noun. 115 Adj. Neut. cen imdibe stdrtde (without bodily circumcision"), Wb. 2**. Vocative. — Subst. and Adj. Mas. a iudidi (O Jew !), Wb. l*^. a mar ihormachtai (gl. macte, magis aucte) Sg. 76*. PLURAL. Nominative. — Subst. Masc. comaiyi (co-heirs), Wb. 19". Subst. Neut. e in Nom. and Ace, ataat ilchenele (there are many kinds), Wb. 12d. Adj. Masc. d€mmdni (heavenly gods), Sg. 39*. Adj. neut., na accobra colnidi (the carnal desires), Wb. 20*'. Genitive. — budid innammiled talmande (victory of the worldly soldiers), Wb. 11*. Dative. — donab huilib doinib (to all men), Sg. 189^. Accusative. — Subs. Masc. friarceiliu (against our companions ; i. e. against others), Wb. 33'' ; eter doini (amongst men), Wb. 28^. Subst. Neut. same as Nom. ; ruchualatar ilbelre (they heard many tongues), Wb. 12^. Adj. Masc. farnuili baullu (all your limbs), Wb. 3^. Adj. Neut. na hidi dorigniussa (all that I have done), Wb. 24^. Vocative. — No instances occur for this series in the MSS. Elsewhere, how- ever the Voc. plural agrees with the Ace. ; and here it may be fixed for the masc. -iu, and for the neut. -e, -i. II. Series. — Internal inflection, wherein several cases, especiaUy the Gen. Dat. sing, and Nom. plural, the signs of the cases — i and u either accompany or suppress the final radical or derivative vowel. The vowels which are most frequently so affected are a and e. A in those cases either becomes ai (oi, ui) and au, or disappearing leaves the i and u. But e with i and u becomes i and lu. The vowels o, o', a, of more rare occurrence, and sometimes a in position, never admit of u by their side, but with i they become oi (ui) 6i, di ; . Sing. Nom. ainm beim menme ditiu athir Gen. anma heme menman diten athar Dat. anmim bemim menmin ditin athir Ace. ainm beim menmin ditin athir Plur. Nom. anman bemen menmin ditin athir Gen. anmau bemen menman diten athre Dat. anmanib bemnib menmanib ditnil ) athrib Ace. anman bemen menmana ditne athm IV. Series. V. Series. f ^ — \ < — ^> Sing. Nom. druid fiU cathir Gen. druad filed cathrach Dat. druid filid cathir Ace. druid filid cathrich Plur. Nom. druid filid cathrich Gen. druad filed cathrach Dat. druidib filidib cathrichib Ace. druida fileda cathracha Appendix^ On the Inflexions of the Noun. 119 I. Series consists of some substantives in /m, wi, taking in the gen. sing, -a or -e; in the dat. -im^ with duplicated m ; and in the plural either an or e/z, these two endings forming two distinct classes. In the first (a), the noun nuim, of constant occurrence, is proved to be of the neut. gender, from the passage (Sg. o^) : ashclirruidig. anainmsinJ^ (this noun is derived). Of the same gender, no doubt, are all other nouns of this form. Of the second class (b) but few examples occur, and these not uniform. There is no instance of a vocative in this or any of the other series. SINGULAR. NoM. — (a) ainm, ainmm (a name), Wb. Sg. passim. (b) beim (a blow), ingrehn (persecution), Wb. IS*^. Gen — (a) indanma dilis (of the proper name), Sg. 26*', (b) no example found in codices. Dat. (a) isinanmim inchoimded ihu. cr. (in the name of the Lord J. Ch.), Wb. 9«. (b) ocmingraimmaimse (at my persecution), Ml. 33*. Ace (a) cen ainm (without a name), Sg. 211*. (b) ni agathar dingreim (his persecution is not acted), Wb. 1*. PLURAL. NoM. — (a) asbertar ananmon (their names are mentioned), Wb. 28*. (b) bemen digle (the strokes of revenge), Wb. 17^. GEN.=^(a) diall nanmann (declension of nouns), Sg. 27*. (\))foditiu nan ingremmen (endurance of the persecutions), Wb. 23". Dat. — (a), inanmanaib lait. (in Latin names), Sg. 6* ; (b) no example known ; b€mnU> in the table is, therefore, hypothetical. Ace. — (a) tre anman (by nouns), Sg. 29*. II. Series. — Consists of nouns taking in the oblique cases an, in, and in en, whence two divisions. To the first belong derivatives in -mm, -man, -mn (which is reduced, however, in the nominative to -me, or -m only), and nouns of later derivation in -la which also in the nom. be- comes -m, -w. In the oblique cases singular, likewise, especially the dative, other curtailed forms are found by the side of the fuller. These fuller forms of derivatives appear in the case of secondary derivatives: menmml/l (gl. dissensiones, from the sing, menmniche; menme), Wb. IS*", hritheninacht, hrithemnact (judgeship), Wb. &*. hrithemandu (gl. judiciali, from the nom. brithemande ; brithem), Ml. 26^ anmanda (pertaining to the soul ; anini), Wb. 13^. talmande (pertaining to the earth ; talam), Wb. S'^. noidenacht (infancy ; noidiu, an infant), Wb. 24^^. caintoimtenach (Avell-thinking ; toimtiu), Ml. 31^ ermituech (gl. reverens; erraitiu), Ml. 32\ For the vowels a. e, I add brdtharde, brotherly, from brdtldr. To the second division (b) of this series belong numerous nouns in tu, derived from verbs (tu for tiu, not to be confounded with mas- culines in -tu, gen. -tad, of the fourth series, and derived from adjec- tives). There are other feminines of the second class in -tiu, and in siu, derived also from verbs. In the first division are met both mascu- lines, as, brithem, and feminines, as, talam, anim. '* [Uncontracted form ashdirruidigthe anainmsin.'\ 120 Celtic Studies. SINGULAR. NoM. — (a) isheo indanim (the soul is liying) Wb. 4*. (b) toimtiu (supposition), Wb. 23*. Gen. — (a) roscfornanme (eye of your soul), "Wb. 21*. (b) dUged remcaissen, dliged remdeicsen, (law of Providence), Ml. 19**. I) AT. — (a) inim et ialam, inim et il.alam (in Heaven and Earth), Wb. 21*. (b) oc tuiste duile (at the creation of the elements, i.e., of the world), Wb. 5". Ace. — (a) accobor lammenmuin (desire in the mind), Wb. Z^. (b) nerild ar/rescsinni (he strengthens our hope), Wb. 5^. The final iu, u of the nom. seems to have disappeared from some nouns in t^ as, fortacht (help), bendacht (benediction), Sg. PLURAL. NoM. — ^a) matuhe ata horpamin (if these be heirs), Wb. 2^ (6) derbaishdisin (the very pronunciations), Sg. S"*. Gen. — (a) do ice anman sochuide (for the salvation of many souls), Wb. 24'*. (Z>) dedliguth innan iltoimddensin (in right of these several opinions), Sg. 26^. I) AT. — (a) diarnanraanaib (for our souls), Wb. 24^*. (h) huajoisiinib (from confessions), Sg. 33'\ Ace. — (a) aforciial iccas corpu et arjiiana (the doctrine which heals bodies and souls), Wb. 30^. (6) for genitne (gl. by genitives), Sg. 45a. III. Series. — Of nouns of relationship, mas. and fern, in -i'r, there is but one class, as e never occurs for a in the interior. SINGULAR. NoM. — Athir (father), mathlr (mother), hrdthir (brother), Wb. Sg. passim. Gen. — BrdtJiir alhar (gl. father's brother), Sg. 56*. Bat.— Donda/Jiir (to the father), Wb. 13''. Ace. — Lasinnaildr nemde (with the Heavenly Father), Wb. 19*. PLURAL. NoM. — No instances in the codices, aihir by analogy. Gen. — 3faic indegoid anaihre (sons after their fathers), Wb. 30^ Dat. — Uambraiihrib (from their brothers), Wb. 33^^. Ace. — Does not occur. I supply mas. aihru, brdthru — fem. mdthra. IV. Series. — Of derivatives in -/c?, forming in the oblique cases with the mutable internal vowels two divisions (a) ad, id; (h) ed, id. To the first belong very frequent nouns in -«, shortened fi'om -id, as -w, -iu, from -in as above. The ending id, has been preserved only in the word druid, in the others becoming -e, as : ienge (a tongue), ume (brass). The terminations of the second class have also become in the nom. -iu, -i, or -e. The full form of the derivatives here also, as in the second series, appears in nouns and adj. of secondary derivation: filedacht (poetry; fill, g^n. filed), Sg. 213'*; oigedaclit (hospitality), ogiWh. 26'' ; to which I add, Temdon (tene, tened), a GauHsh topographical name. Further traigiliecli (gl. pedester ; traigid, Wb.) Sg. 38'', 50''. The nouns of both divisions are masculine. SINGULAR. NoM. — (a). Abstract Nouns in u from adjectives are very frequent. The end- ing is either -ii simple, or the fuller -atu^ -etit. Adj. of different form taking -u: ar^M (height) ; = arddit, ardu (from art^ ardd, ard), domnu (depth, from domun) Incant. Sg. So also -atu, -etu: ddnatu daring) Sg. 90*. Adj. in -ide, -de, -te, taking -« ; oeniu (unity ; adj. Sente, oencfe, Wb. 7**.), corpdu Appendix^ On the Inflexions of the Noun, 121 (corporality, adj., corpde), Wh. So also, -atu, -etu: fliuchaidatu (humidity, adj., fl'mcJiaide), Cr. iS^.foirbthetu (firmness), Wb. passim. (6) colmdiu (Lord), Wb., tene (fire), Sg., 69^ Gen. — (a) tech nebmarbtath (house of immortality"), Wb. 1 5*. (6) bandea tened (goddess of fire, Vesta), Sg. h'd^. Dat. — («) ondnephpiandatu (from the impunity), Ml. 28*. (6) dofilid (to a poet), Sg., 14^ Ace— <«) cen torbatid (without utility), Wb., 12*. (b) lassincoimdid (with the Lord), Wb., 25'^. NoM. — (a) dorigensat druid (druids made), Wb. 26*. (h) intan labraiar indjlid (when the poets speak), Sg., 162*.^ Gen. — (o) from the Irish Annals : Muiredac na iengad (Muiredach [professor] of the languages) Tlgern. ap. O'Con. 2, 275. {b) dolbudjiled (poetic fiction), Sg. 71^. Dat. — sechdapthib (to the agents), W. 19"*. Ace. — (a) lamafiledasin (with these poets), Sg. 63^. V. Series. — Of certain feminine nouns in -r, to which are added the suffixes -ach, -ich^ -ig. The cases, though not all, of the noun Cathir (a to-\vn), are met with in the codices, and are foUoAved by nathir (a serpent) with the article in Sg. : indnathlrsin (gl. natrix, i. e. serpens hie) 69*. doubtlessly, with others in ir. Vestiges of this formation appear to have been preserved in the modern Irish : caora (a sheep, old fomi : cdir^ cder ?) Gen. caorach, pi. nom. caoirigh, gen. caorachj dat. caorchaibh, voc. (ace.) caorcha. It is certainly preserved in some others in -«>, as : lair (Old Irish ldv\ a mare, Sg. 49b=la-ir), lasair (a flame), gen. Idrach, lasrach, pi. Idracha, lasracha. Here, also, the derivative cA, appears in the adj. cdirchuide, Sg. 37 (ovine) ; compare the Gaulish name Caeracates in Tacitus, and also Car- acella the name of a Gaulish robe, (for caeracaUa?), but it is want- ing, however, in trechatharde (gl. tripolites), Sg. 38^ SINGULAR. NoM. — Cr. dim [din] issi inchathir (therefore Christ himself is the city):. Wb. 21«. Gen. — aitribtheid inna cathrach asb. tibur (gl. Tiburs : an inhabitant of the town which is called Tibur), Sg. 124''. Dat.— One would expect -ich, -ig, by analogy, but the contracted form of the nom. obtains in Wb. 13^. : robot issinchaithir (he was in the city). Ace. — Romuil doforsat [folsat] inca^^rai^' (Romulus founded the city), Sg. 31**. PLURAL. NoM. — ilchathraig (many cities), Sg. 13*. The other cases must be suppUed : Gen. cathrach. Dat. catkrichib (or cathrib?} Ace. and Voc. cathracha. Dual Number. After the twofold formation of the Irish declension, we may here add a few words concerning this number, on account of its rare occur- rence in the codices used for all the series given above. It does not, of itself, denote two persons or things, as for instance in Greek, but constructed with the numerals dd, di, dihy it presents in the language 122 Celtic Studies. of our codices mixed sing, and pi. forms, relics no doubt of more ancient forms peculiar to this number. The only form of the article in any case or gender, is, in before d, the initial letter of the numeral, which in one of the following examples is written dd, hard. We shall give, first, paradigms of the series of the first order, and then such examples as occur in the codices. The forms enclosed in brackets are hypothetical, or formed by analogy. i&ASC. and neut. 1. Seriea. II. Series. III. Series. Nora. cele (i?) bull bith Gen. cell (baill)^^ betho Dat. celib (ballib) bithib Ace. cele ball bith FEMININE. IV. Series. V. Series. Nora. tuari rainn Gen. tuare rann Dat. tuaiib rannib Ace. tuari rainn I. SERIES. NoM. — The Nom. Masc. appears to occur in the adj. dadiuith cegeptacdi (two Egyptian Druids) Wb. 30^ Neut. indagne (the two forms), Sg. 1 68*. Gex. and Dat. — Gen. and diit. are not met. Ace Mase. or Neut. : dobir dasale. dahir imduda are (llnal, Xtyonepa) Incant. Sg.^^ II. SERIES. No3i — Masc. : da mod, (two moods) Sg., IBS'*. Neut. : comescatar da renH iudib (gl. two genders are mixed up in them), Sg. 6I*. Gen.— Of the gen. no instances. Dat. — Neut. : frisgoir hneallininse dolidib dfigedib remepertJdb (this testa- ment answers to the tvro previous laws), Sg. 193''. Ace. — imbir indamer (ply the two fingers), Incant. Sg. III. SERIES. Nom. — Met da atarcud and (there will be 2 relations there), Sg. 198^ Gen Cechtar da lino (either of the two parts), Sg. 1G2'\ Dat. — Coins. 6 dib nogaib (eonipased of two part.-^), Sg. 98». Ace. — Andiall foadanog (the declension in both its parts), 98''. Sg. Neut. : indd err end (gl. stigmata, porto), Wb. 20^*. IV. SERIES. Nom. — It digutai bite indeog (there are two vowels in a diphthong), Sg. 18«. Gen — Fogor dagutoe indeog (the pronunciation of two vowels in a diphthong), Sg. 18^ 72 [xxxv. Recte hall, which aspirates,* must, therefore, have had a vocalic auslaut (-«3 -«m?) and so cannot possibly be (as Ebel supposes, Beitr. IL, p. 71) identical with the gen. plur.] ■• We say (e.gf.), athair an da vmcfhionn (father of the two fair sons), caUleach an da adharc fhionn (hag of the two Avhite hoi nf). 73 [xxxvi. Da sole is salivain tiiain (da for du, do) ; im du da are, '* around thy two temples" ; are (tempus capitis) gen. arach, is a c-stem. These examples are, therefore, improper.} Appendix^ On the Inflexions of the Noun. 123 Dat. — Evidently do dlh guttibJ* Ace— Adj. in Sg. T^i', indl rainn ingraidi (into two intelligible parts). V. SERIES. NoM Di huair (two hours), Cr. 3R Gen —Cechtar indarann (either of the two parts), Sg. 7i\ Pat.— iVi' chen dliged anephdiall 6 dib rannaih (gl. alteruter, alterutrius non absque ratione non declinatur ; i. e. non declinatur e duabus partibus), Sg. 75^. Ace— Coitchenaso etir di drim (common to two numbers^, Sg. 72**. Duals of tlie second order are very rare. The following are in- stances : — Tuicsom inda nainmso (he understands these two names), Wb. 21"^ ; da druith ageptacdi (two -Egyptian Druids), Wb. 30c. A nomalous. Which do not follow a fixed rule and form like all those above enumerated, but have peculiar and shifting forms of their own. Of this kind are : dia (God), dla (a day), diune (a man), ben (a woman), rig (a king). Id (a day). I. Dia (God), sing. gen. etargne ndee (knovrledge of God), Wb. 21*; dat. dia (from God); ace. fri dia (Avith God), Wb. 20*^; voc. a due (oh God). Wb 5^ plur. uom. de iiemdai sou (Heavenly Gods), Sg. i>9'^; dat. do deih (to the Gods), Sg. 39^; ace. tarma deo (by the Gods), Sg. 217^; Fcm. sing. c?ea,— in composition bandea (goddess), Sg. 60-' ; plur. bondve (goddesses), Sg. 53^^. II. Dia (day), each dia (daily), AVb. 13'. ; indlii, hindiu (to day), Wb. ; fride^ fridei (hj day), dia bnUha (in the day of judgment), Wb. 23°. III. Duineimim) — the radical ui becomes o7in tlie phir.; sing. gen. rorp duini (a man's body), Wb. 12-^ ; dat. dondnini (to the man), Wb. 4"'; ace. imfohuji indnine sldn (he saves man), Wb. 4"^ ; voc. a duini (O man), AVb. I'' ; plur. nom. indoini bi (the living men), Sg. 39** ; gQW. ice iucheueli doine (the salvalion of the race of men), 20'; AVb. ace. corcefii dia et duini (peace towards God and men), Wb. 20'^ IV. Ben (woman) — interchanges with the forms ban., mnd: iccje inumdi (thou wilt heal the woman), Wb. 10". V. Rig (king), sing. gen. ilaig rig (in the king's house), Wb. 23^^; dat. ainm diarig (gl. Lar rex Vejentorum, i. e.', the name of their king), Sg. 64^1; plur. gen. hi lebraibrig (in the books of kings), Ml. 30'^; a^'' AS, frequently represented on the monuments. Todt. Chap. 17, lines 46, 47, 48. In the vignette, a cat is seen seated under a Persea tree, and in the act of putting its paw upon the head of a serpent. III. 9 130 Hieroglyphic Studies. The simple proposition " ^ is ?/", may be expressed in Egyp- tian by the form AK os y. An equally common form is AR X y PU, to which may be added the pronoun T'eSeF ipse, referring to the subject of the proposition, and the whole AR x y PU T'eSeF may be translated " ^, the same is y'\ Such is the form of the sentence now to be analysed. (1) The use of the particle AR, which corresponds to the Coptic epe, was to some extent illustrated in the last number of this journal. It represents the *' substantive" verb, stands at the beginning of a proposition, and remains invariable, whatever be the gender or number of the subject. According to Cham- pollion, it accompanies the third person only. This rule appears to be true, with respect to purely categorical propositions, but in hypothetical, optative, imperative, and interrogative phrases, the particle in question discharges a very remarkable function, of which the rubrics of the Ritual aiFord numerous examples. Such phrases as " Is any man called being uncircumcised ? let him not procure uncircumcision". " Art thou bound to a wife? seek not to be loosed", are equivalent to '* ^/any man is called", etc., " if thou art bound", etc. In all such sentences in Egyptian, the word AR, which begins them, appears to be really changed into the conjunction if. Thus, in the rubric of the 86th Chapter (1. 8) : — ARKeCh SchA TeN AU-F PiR-F eM HRu eM NeTcR-KeR Is known hook this ? i j- ^i ^ ^7 j • tt j i.e., If this hook be known. \ ^^ goes forth from the day m Hades, AK-F eM-CheT PiR-F AR CheM Ra PeN AN AK-F Ac enters after .oin, cut,'' { ,e.,'?/-ML&Slf4 *^ '"''" »''' eM-CheT PiR-F after going out. ^ Again (Chap. 101, 6):— AR TaTa-TU-NeF NeN UT'-U" eR CheChU-F UN-NeF AM eM If there be placed to him these talismans at his neck he becomes there like "^ This was one of the great privileges of the beatified. The Chapter (No. 13, Cf. c. 121) " of entering after going out", begins AK-NA eM BAK PiR-NA eM BeNNU I entered as the Hawk, Iwentforth as the Phanix, that is, in the forms of the divine Hawk and Phoenix. (Cf. the vignette to Chap. 46). In the 77th Chapter, the deceased makes his transformations in the form of " the beautiful Hawk of gold with the head of a Phoenix", to hear whose voice the sun pauses on his course. A transformation less flattering, to modern ideas at least, is that into a golden monkey. It is said of the deceased (Chap. 42, 22) - eNTeF KeFTeN NuB eN NeTeR^U AN A(?)UI-F AN RaT-(TI)-F Hie (est) simius aureus deorum, non (sunt) brachia illi, non pedes illi. See the group KeFTeN, Sharpe Eg. Inscr., pi. 57, 1. 36, 2nd series. * ' Coptic CCX^Ij sanare, salvare. Hieroglyphic Studies. 131 Fu-T NuTeR-U SAM eM ScheS-U HoR AU SMeN-NeF the gods, he is gathered to the ministers ofHorus, and there is set up for him ChaBeS-eFi2 AN HeSe^a eM PeT eR-Ma NeTeR SoPT Sche SeF his Lamp through Isis in Heaven where the divine Dog-Star is, he serves HoR AM NeTeR SoPT Horus in the divine Dog-Star. In another Chapter we are told (130, 27) : — AR ARi-TU-NeF NeN UN-N Ba-F ANCh eR HeH AN MuT-eF eM If there be done to him thus, becometh his soul living for ever, he dieth not for NeM a second time.^* In the following example, which is not the only one of its kind,^^ the subject (ChlJ, the departed) of the apodosis is thrust into the protasis. (Chap. 136, 12) : — AR ChU ARi-TU-NeF NeN AU-F eM MA ANCh-U AN The departed, if there be done to him thus, he will be in the place of the living, he SeK-eF T'eTa suffereth not for ever. In the examples just quoted, it might seem that the use of AR in no wise differed from that of the auxiliary verb in other languages, or from that of its synonyms AU or UN in Egyptian. We have a parallel passage in which UN seems to play the same part (Chap. 140,12):— '2 Or Star. See Brugsch, Zeitschrift der deutschen morgenliindischen Gesell- schaft, ix. p. 514 on the CheBaS-U, or Decans. '^ Since the pubHcation of the last number of the Atlantis, I have received an important communication with reference to the reading of the hieroglyphic name of Isis, from a scholar, whose lightest word in a matter of this kind is of the greatest weight. I have also seen M. Deveria's " Notice de quelques Antiquites relatives au basilicogrammate Thouth ou Teti", containing a note on the hiero- glyphic name of Osiris. I am myself in possession of other evidence wliich I have as yet been unable to verify. I retain, therefore, provisionally, the readings HeS and HeSARi, until I can discuss the whole evidence on the question. ** The 44th Chapter of the Ritual is entitled " The Chapter of not dying for a second time, in Hades". The promise of not dying a second time, or for ever, but of renewing one's life like the sun daily, is extremely frequent in all texts referring to the condition of the dead. The deceased says (Chap. 38, 2) — PeTHU-A Re-A AM-A eM ANCh ANCh-A eM TaTaU NeM-A ANCh-A I open my mouth, I feed upon life, I live in Tattu (i) Irenew my life eMCheT MuT RA Scha Ra NeB after death like the Sun, every day. The fine sarcophagus in the British Museum, which was supposed by Dr. Clarke to have been that of Alexander, contains the following assurance : — ANCh ReN-K AP To AN SeK-eK AN HTuM-K eN T'eT T'eTa Vivit nomen tuum in terrd, non noceris, non peribis in corpore in ceternum And in another line — AN MuT-eK T'eTa non morieris in ceternum. See the engraving— Description de I'Egypte Antiquites, v , pi. 40, 5. 6. ^^ '^ Compare (Chap. 148, 4) AR ChU NeB ARi-TU-NeF SchA TeN "Every dead man, if there be made for him this writing", his soul goes forth, etc. D B 132 ' Hieroglyphic Studies. UN T'aT Re PeN eM UA eN RA AU STa-TU-F HeNA NeN Being said^^ this chapter in the bark of the Sun he is towed along with these NeTeR-U UN-NeF SchA UA AM-SeN gods he becomes like one of them. Many instances, however, occur, in wliich AR seems altogether to lose its character of auxiliary verb, and Champollion's rule about the third person ceases to hold good. Some examples may be seen in M. de Rouge's " Essai sur im Stele Egyptienne", p. 108. AR ABeK SeCheR eM KoRaH HaP-To AU-F ChePeR Si velis excogitare in nocte diem ipsejiet. AR T'aT-eK eN MU If thou saidst to the water. AR T'aT-eK T'eSeK eN TeF-eK HaPI-MU ATF-NuTeR-U'^ If thou saidst thyself to thy father, the Nile, the father of the gods. AR Ta-K HRa-K eR CheNSu. Si converteris os tuum ad Chons. Or, as Mr. Birch translates it, " Would you lift up thy face to Chons ?" M. de Rouge calls it a " formule de priere polie". Some few clear traces of the optative use of AR are still to be found in the Coptic: Sitir} >. 43, 1. 138 Hieroglyphic Studies. It is needless to quote other examples in which the verb NeHeM (35) occurs. Passages in tne Ritual, parallel to those abeadj quoted, will be found under the following references, 17, 56. 75. 29, tit. 125, 13. 36. 42. 146, 9. 148, 20. 163, tit. The verb Te, (36) one of the synonyms of NeHeM, takes MA after it as in the title of the 28th chapter — Re eN TeM eRTA Te-TU HaT eN SA MA-F eM NeTeR-KeR Chapter of not being taken the heart of a person from him in Hades. One of the very next chapters, the 30th, is entitled — Re eN TeM eRTA CheSeF(37)-TU HaT eN SA MA-F eM Chapter of not being repulsed the heart of a person from him in NeTeR-KeR. Hades. Let us now now look at passages in which other verbs occur The verb NeT' (38) is interpreted in the Rosetta Inscription by the verbs atoZ^iv and afivvuv. We find Horus saying, in the 128th ch. (1. 5) of the Ritual— HuI-A-NeK ChaFT-U-K NeT'-NA-TU Jkf4-SeN. / have smitten for thee thine enemies^ I have been avenged upon them. In the same way Horus speaks of himself, on a sepulchre now in the British Museum, as — NeT'-eK MA ChaFT-U-K^i Avenging thee upon thine enemies. The verb ChU, (39) to cover ^ to protect^ is found in the phrase ChU Si RA RaMeSSU HiK AN MA CheT Guarding the Son of the Sun, Ramses III., ruler of An, from all NeB TUS2 things evil. The deceased says in the Hall of Truths — AU-A UBe ChU-K-UA MA T'eNTI-U^' lam pure, guard me from revilers. The ordinary preposition in the phrase " justified against the enemy", is eR. In the 124th chapter, however, of the Ritual we have (fine 10) — AU MACheRU (N) MA NeTeR NeB NeTeR-T NeB eNTI Is justified the departed against every god (and) every goddess who is AMeN eM NeTER-KeR'* hidden in Hades. 31 Sharpe, Egyptian Inscriptions, pi. 75, 1. 4. Cf. Todt. 17, 90. 69, 1. At 78, 9. I am doubtful whether the first MA should be translated from or by, € manu, or simply manu. 32 ChampoUion, Monumens, pi. 214. 33 Todt. 125, 63. 34 On the other hand eR is found where we might expect MA, as in the com- mon phrase, "pure from iniquity", UBe eR TU. The fact is, from is one of the significations of eR, as in the following passages — Hleroglypldc Studies. 139 ^In the 15tli chapter (1. 9) we have the words — r AMeN(40>TU-F MA-SeN ' Abdkus ilh ab illis. The 94th chapter is entitled — Ke eN TeBHU MeSeT PeS MA TuT Chapter oj praying Jor a slab (and) inkstand from Thoth. (M. Deverla translates this : adresser une priere a Thout . . . avec une palette et un godet a la main.) In every one of the passages quoted the Coptic language would employ the preposition efi.oX^en eom, I also am overcome by them. Carthage that was built, fi^am ehfann, etc., by that woman Elisa. '° Lepsius, Denkmaler, II., Bl. 121. Compare Mr. Birch's translation, 140 Hieroglyphic Studies. Dr. Brugsch, in Kis recent History of Egypt, translates the last words *' par mon bras", wliich is, of course, perfectly unobjection- able if it be not meant (as it miglit easily be understood) as a literal translation of the group MA-A, or as implying a different group eM (A ?)A,^^ in wliich the arm is taken in its ideographic value. There are passages in which this latter interpretation is impossible. In the Hall of the Truths, for instance, the Floor refuses to let the departed pass over it — HeR-eNTI AN ReCh-eK ReN eN RaT-(Ti)-K CheNT eK Because thou tellest not the name of thy two feet <- ^71 h h th HeR-A MA-Se-N^^ upon me with them, wouldst tread upon me. In the 49th chapter (1. 2) it is said — AN eRTA-NA CheR MA-K ChaFT-U-A PU iVon[-ne?] datur mihi prqfligari a me ininricos meos. In another reading of this passage (11, 3) the verb used is TeR, to destroy. I conclude these notes on the signification of MA with the following passage from the 42nd chapter (1. 13) of the Ritual — eRTA- NeF ANCh-eF 3/^-SeN KI-T'aT MA-Te^. Datur ei vita ejus ab illis [aliter a vobis.^ (10) eM in. — Champ. Gram. p. 450. (11) AN. The hieroglyphic name of Heliopolis, which is found on the most ancient obelisk that is known, that of Seser- tesen I., was first read with certainty by Dr. Brugsch,^^ although it had been rightly guessed at before the proofs were forth- coming. The Biblical name of the city is 1^, and this name is proved to have been the same as the Egyptian by the comparison of such variants as (41) and (42) of the name ReAN"(TI). Two cities bore the same name : Hermonthis was called AN ReS, " An of the South" ; HehopoHs, AN MeHiT, " An of the North". The Greek name of the latter town (like the sacred names Pa-Ra, Aa-Ra, " house of the Sun, city of the Sun"),^" is derived from the worship of the Sun-god Ra, under the names of HoR-eM AChU " Horus of both horizons", as the rising Sun, and TUM, or ATUM, as the setting sun.*^ The " Spirits of An", by whom Sesertesen is said upon the obelisk to be beloved, are, according " All the work of the king's house was done by me". (On a remarkable Inscrip- tion of the 12th Dynasty, p. 19). ^'^ As in the passage (Rosellini, Mon. Stor., p. xlir), " His bow is in his hand'\ eM A (?)-F. The plm-al of this group is by far more common than the singular 38 Todt 125, 59. 39 Geographische Inchr. I. p. 170. *o lb. p. 254, sqq. *' See a representation of Ra-Hor-m-achu-Tum .Belmore Papyrus, pL III. Hieroglyphic Studies. 141 to the Ritual/^ Ra, Scliu, and Tefnet, tlie two latter divinities being, as we know from other texts, the son and daughter of Ra. (12) RA. The sundisk ideographic of the god Ra (Coptic pH) followed by the hatchet as the determinative of Gods. (13) PU. The use of this particle, as a copula, was illustrated in the last number of the Atlantis as far as was possible by the mere quotation of examples. It is, however, found attached to verbs as well as substantives, and to substantives which are neither subjects nor predicates of prepositions. In the latter case, at least, its use is analogous to that of the pleonastic ooi of the Syriac Grammar."*^ And on comparing variants of the same text, PU will be found in one, whilst it is left out of another. (14) T'eSeF. The particle T'eS has the signification ipse, and takes the suffixes of the personal pronouns,** thus — UTeN-NA NeCheB-eK eM AK-UI-A TeS-A« Describo titulum tuum digitis meis ipsa ego. Se-UT'A-K-UA SchA Se-UT'A-K-TU TeS-eK« ,-■ , r J {as thou hast been made } .j i_c Make me whole < i i > thyself. The third person masculine T'eSeF will be found in innumer- able places ; the feminine T'eSeS, and the plural forms occur less frequently. The second part of our text will be better understood with an English than with a Latin translation — (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) T'aT-TU SchAU eR-F eM T'aT SAu SchA SU (It is) said Cat to him ) /. /i- n • o tj v • o i i. e., he is called Cat (Schau)\ /^^^ ^^''^ ^«^^"^ '^^^ ^^^^ *^' ''^- ^'^''^' Sau is the name of a god which Ra pronounced like the Egyptian word meaning Cat, and in consequence of this he was himself called by the name of that animal. Our text does not explain the circumstances which led the Sun-god to indulge in a vicious pronunciation similar to that which at the present day characterises the Jewish mode of speaking EngHsh and German, and the reverse of that which proved so fatal to the men of Ephraim on a memorable occasion.*' We have here, however, The 15th chapter of the Eitual (the most poetical in the book), which consists of a hymn to the Sun, shows that the names of that deity were not rigidly con- fined to the occasions mentioned in the text. — See, e. g. line S6. " Chap. 115, 7. *^ See examples of this in the Lexicon (p. 126) of the Syriac N. Test., edited by Leusden and Schaaf, and the obstrvations of Michaelis, Gramm. byr. §. 133. ** See Birch, Introduction, p. 254. *^ Ve Rouge, stele Egyptienne, p. 51. *^ Todt. 71, 1. *' Judges, xii, 6. It is a very cutious fact that the Hebrew S almost invari- ably corresponds to the Arabic Sch, and the Hebrew Sch to an Arabic S in the words common to both languages. 142 Hieroglyijhic Studies. a specimen of those etymological myths for which the Egyptians seem to have had a predilection. Myths of this kind, which are not the spontaneous growth of popular imagination, but the result of rationaHzing reflection, seem to have been much more common among the ancient Romans than among the Greeks. Although the sounds S and Sch are naturally allied in the Egyptian as in other languages, the affinity cannot be said to have been very great. Nor does the preference for one of these sounds rather than the other characterize any of the different ages or dialects of the language. (15) The word T'aT wliich occurs twice in this sentence is the most frequent of all hieroglyphic groups, and corresponds to the Coptic forms X^-^., Xe, XCJO.— Champ. Diet. p. 174. The final syllable TU, which, in some inscriptions, that of Kosetta for instance, is written UT, is the participial termination, and corresponds to the Coptic OTT. — Champ. Gr. p. 429. I have elsewhere spoken of the Egyptian habit of writing vowel letters after consonants before which they were probably pronounced. According, however, to the system of transcription adopted in these articles, each sign is transcribed exactly in the order in which it comes in the hieroglyphic text, without pre- judicing the question which may arise as to the real order in which these signs are read. (17) ell-F to him. The phrase, " Simon who is called Peter", is translated into Coptic neciJULCOIt ^HeT" OTJULOTi" epo-q Xe nCTpOC that is, " Simon who it is called to him Peter". In the same way we find OtK^KI GTJULOT'f epo-C Xe n "it is said to him Abraham",*' i.e., "he is called Abraham". This idiom, however, is not peculiar to the Eastern languages, though I am not aware of its being classical in any other. There are parts of France and Switzerland in which the peasants say, " On lui dit Jean", for '* he is called John". A text quoted on account of the paronomasia contained in it, in the last number of this JournaP" from Brugsch's Geography, ought, I think, to be read as follows — *» Isai. V, 20. ■*» Koran, xxi, 61. ^" Atlantis, IV., p. 366, n. 70. Brugsch Geograph. Inschr. I. p .165. Hieroglyphic Studies. 143 KA-TU eR ReN HeSPTeN TeB eM TeB HoR TeBH. It is called to the name of this nome Teh Jrom wounding Horus Typhon. i. e., The name of this nome is called Teh because here Horus wounded Typhon. In otiier passages the particle eN^^ is used instead of eR, as — Pe MU eNTI AlJ-T'aT-NeF TA-KeT-eN-TA-TeBT-U.»2 The water which i. ^/ '^ «?'^ ^« *^ I the 'Tool-of-the- Fishes". ( 1. e., IS called > "^ The " Spirits of tlie West", according to tlie lOStli chapter of the Ritual, are Turn, Sebek the Lord of Becha^ and HaT-HoR eM MaSclieR T'aT eR HeSe. Hathor (goddess) of evening {iJ'''a name by thkh Isis is called. (20) SAu. The sitting figure at the end of the group is the determinative placed after the name of a god. The first sign of the name^^ is found with the value S in the names and titles of Roman emperors. It is also found^* in the variants (43) of the name To-SeN, Esne. These authori- ties are, indeed, of late periods, and ought not to have much weight if earlier evidence were available in support of another reading. But I am not aware that convincing proof has ever been brought forward in favour of an other value. Words in which the sign occurs may be explained by Coptic equiva- lents, beginning with S as well as with any other letter. Nothing short of a well-established variant of a respectable date can decide the question. The god SAu is mentioned several times in the Ritual, and his name is written with and without the final U. It is said in the 17th Chapter (1. 24):— HU SAU .... UN-NU eM-CheT TeF-U Turn Hu (and) Sau they are with their father Turn. Sau is one of the three gods or " spirits" of HermopoHs,^^ and ^' Compare ChampoUion's Diet. p. 173. 52 Brugsch, ubi supra, p. 166 (697). 5^ Calligraphic varieties of this sign are found. Compare Todt. 80, 1 , with the corresponding passage of the Cadet papyrus (Description de I'Egypte — Antiq. ii., pi. 74, 1. 20). Salvolini, after Chanipollion, assigns to it the value S. Mr. Birch distinguishes between the different periods, and gives it the value Ka in the earlier periods, S in the later. I do not know what arguments there are in favour of the value Ka, though I think ^I can guess at one or two of them. Brugsch keeps to the value S or Sa. The sign itself seems to represent a tissue —(See Rosellini Mon. Civili, pi. xlii., and the corresponding text vol. 2, p. 27. Compare Todt. 110, a. 4), which points tothe Coptic COJ^e (or CCO^I) and to ^e. These words are so extremely like each other, that I am almost tempted to look upon the former as a compound word implying the root CCO, to weave (?). 5* Brugsch's Geogr. Inschr. i., p. 168. Cf. 145, 81. 83. " TodMU, 4; 116,3. 144 Hieroglyphic Studiea. he is found on monuments both alone and in company with liis brother Hu.^^ (21) SchA like, is the Coptic ajU*J\ (Cf. Gesenius, Lehrgebiiude der hebr. Sprache, p. 863; Dillmann, Gramm. d. iithiopischen Sprache, pp. 88, 110.) If we look beyond the Semitic languages, we find the Persian name ^JsicJ gandhunij a form intermediate between the corresponding Arabic and Sanskrit words. It is found in the Turkish, Hindustani, and Malay languages, and, with slight modifications, in the Kurd, Afghan, and other dialects. The English wheat, the German weizen, the Scandinavian hveiti, the Massogothic hwaitCj the Lithuanian kweti, have generally been held cognate to the Hebrew ntah. If this relationship were once securely established, it would appear that the many different names of wheat are reducible to a single type. As I am unable at present to state the earliest date of the word KeT-TI, I am not pre- pared to assert that the type had its origin in Egypt ; though, as that country was aheady the granary of the world in the patriarchal times, and as the use of wheat was known there in the very earliest ages of its history, and for centuries prior to the remains of any other language, it is hardly supposable that the Egyptians should have dropped an indigenous for the foreign name of so impor- tant an article of food. ^^ Tombeau d' Ahmes, p. 170. ^^ Revue Archeologique, vol. 5. De Eouge Tombeau d' Ahmes, p. 51, sqq. ^* By M. Poitevin (Rev. Arch., vol. XI., p. 596), who says, that the Beelet stands in ancient rituals for the T in Atum. 10* 150 Hieroglyphic Studies. meanings of tlie word, the Coptic form of wliicli is Ctjeil, ttjcwni = yiveaOai. We have already seen the affinity between the articulations Ch and OJ. Another remarkable phenomenon in the history of the language is the loss in many words of the final R, a change similar to that from the Latin frater, mulier, to the Italian /raie, moglie. ChampoUion had already noticed this phenomenon, and more recent inquiries have only confirmed his views. The Coptic has preserved traces^^ of this change, princi- pally in the double forms (with or without the final R) often found of the same word. ^2>op, fi.epB.ep, JUiepe, Ta5JULep, ^OKep, ^T"(JOp are found concurrently with the more recent forms ^.^o, Kefie, JULe, TCJOJULe, £,ko, ^xo.^^ j^^^ ^^ ^^^ other hand, hieroglyphic and demotic texts are not wanting to prove that this change began with reference to some words at an earlier period of the language than the Coptic. Mr. Birch has quoted a variant ChePI as an equivalent to the group made up of the Beetle and the two Reeds. At Edfu, the common expres- sion ChePeR T'eSeF, self created, is written CheP T'eSeF.^'^ It is impossible in an article like this to quote examples in sufficient number to illustrate the various uses of the word ChePeR. We must be content with noting, that its primitive sense is " becoming", and that it is employed both transitively and intransitively. As an example of the intransitive use of the word we have — ChePeR CheEI-U eM NuTeRU eM CheRI-U-F^s Fiunt boves deorum boves ejus The transformations which the departed is represented through- out the Ritual as constantly undergoing after death, are called ChePeR-U, a word which M. de Rousfe has shown^^ to have been '* It is interesting to observe, that Peyron, in his Coptic Grammar, is some- times obUged to have recourse to a paragogic p, to explain the identity between forms which really represent the more ancient and the more modern ages of the language. His classification of some of the forms in R as irregular plurals, is untenable in fact ; and, at all events, the fact would still remain to be explained. The simplest explanation of the form ^TUOp is surely found in the hieroglyphic HTR, written over a horse, on a large number of monuments. ^^ Compare, also, such forms as the Sahidic^P^pO, whi/, with the Memphitic A.^O^ or the Sahidic ^pA., a face, with the Bashmuric ^^, and Memphitic ^O. ^'^ See Brugsch, Geogr. Inschr., i. Taf, xxxiv (700) c. 78 Todt, 112, 6. '9 Tombeau d'Ahmes, p. 110. Another synonym of ChePeR-U is AR-U (Todt., 17, 51), Avhich, perhaps, points to ARifacere, as a synonym of ChePeR. That ARi is = MeS, was explained in a former article. Hieroglyphic Studies. 151 used synonymously with MeS-TU, hirth^ coming into being. To the examples quoted by M. de Rouge, it may be added, that the phrase MeS T'eSeF, " giving birth to himself", is used synony- mously with ChePeR T'eSeF.*^" Hence, the sense produce^ create^ as in the following passage — ChePeR-NeF SeM-U RuT-NeF UeT'-UeT' NeB^i He made to grow the grass, he made to flourish all things green. If we add that, in the phrase " he made his enemies not to he'\ eM TeM ChePeR is found as the synonym of eM TeM UN, it will appear that^er^, facere, and esse^ are three different signifi- cations of the word ChePeR. From these three principal signi- fications all the others are easily derived. (27) ReN-eF, his name. This word is the Coptic p^.n with the pronominal sufl&x of the third person masculine. The group is followed by the pleonastic PU, and the final group (eN SchAU, of Cat) requires no farther explanation. A phrase precisely similar to that just explained, is found in the 112th chapter (1. 7) ChePeR ReN-eF eN HoR . . . His name became that of Horus. It is not likely that this paper will be read by any one who believes that the secret of the hieroglyphic writing is lost for ever, and that the latest as well as the earliest attempts at de- cipherment and interpretation have been made in vaim The paper is more likely to fall into the hands of readers who, with- out any decided disbelief in the success of ChampolHon and his successors, are yet in a state of absolute uncertamty as to the degree of confidence which may be placed in such transla- tions as have been given in these pages from hieroglyphic texts. To such persons I can only offer the test which they would probably themselves adopt, were they obliged to form an opinion as to the fidelity of a translation from a language unknown to them ; and that is the testimony of independent witnesses. A person ignorant of Greek, and therefore unable to judge whether his son correctly reads and translates a given passage, ought surely to feel satisfied when the passage is read and translated m precisely the same manner by the first six or seven persons consulted by him, if it be impossible to suspect any collusion be- tween them, although he is as incapable of judging their powers even of reading the language as in the case of his own son. The certainty arrived at in this instance is not derived from the facts that Greek is a language supposed to be known by many educated «" See a text in Lepsius Denkm. III. 229. «' Todt., 149, 59. 152 Hieroglyphic Studies. men, and that tKe persons consulted have the reputation of being educated men, but from the no less certain fact that any person, professing to read and translate a passage of a language really unknown to him must necessarily fall into a multitude of errors, and from the extreme improbability, not to say impossibiHty, that six or seven different persons should independently err into exactly the same combination of errors. In applying this test to hieroglyphics, it must be observed that the greater parts of the texts quoted in this paper have, up to the present moment, remained untranslated. Yet I have no hesitation in saying that, were these texts put before any of the scholars whose names are held in estimation among Egyptologists, such as Dr. Hincks in this country, Mr. Birch in England, M. de Rouge and M. Chabas in France, Dr. Lepsius and Dr. Brugsch in Ger- many, not to mention others, 1. These gentlemen would, one and all, divide the texts into exactly the same groups as mine. 2. They would (saving certain restrictions, presently to be noticed), read and translate these groups as I have done. 3. If the translation of any of the passages quoted from the Book of the Dead were put before the scholars I have named, they would easily point out the chapter and line from which it. was taken. 4. I do not profess to be able to translate every passage in the Book of the Dead ; but if any passsage in it be translated by any one of the above-mentioned scholars, I mil undertake to point out the original text, determine the beginning and the end of it, divide it accurately into groups, and assign to each the same meaning as that given to it by its translator. And I humbly submit that all this would be impossible if the science of Egyptology were an illusion. One of the first steps in the process of reading, namely, the division into groups, is by no means an easy one.^^ The most 8^ It is worth while comparing Dr. SeyfFarth's division into groups with that followed by the school of Champollion. The last two groups, for instance, of Todt. 88, which Champollion and all who follow him would read eM SeCheM, of or in Sechem, are divided by Dr. S. into four groups, which he reads and translates as follows ; crocodiloruin in hypogei cedijicio urbis In the first plate attached to this article I have given at C the last line of the Book of tlie Dead. The Coptic transcription is that of Dr. Seyffarth, that in Roman letters is my own. The correct translation is as follows — SAU-F MU eM HeBBe eNT AUR PeST-eF SchA TIAU-U eM He drinks water from the depth of the River, he shines like the stars in HeR-T heaveru Hieroglyphic Studies. 153 perfect knowledge of the Greek alphabet will not enable a person totally ignorant of the Greek language to divide the lines in the Codex Alexandrinus or the Codex Vaticanus into the right words, nor could two such persons independently divide a page of these manuscripts so as to produce an identical result. They might, it is true, proceed upon one and the same false system, but if this enabled them to identify a certain number of imaginary grammatical forms, it would render them no assistance whatever in arranging those portions from which these forms were absent. The vocabulary suited to one page would have but little in common with that of another, and the portions of a word wrongly divided would enter into new combinations, which, in company with all the other " disjecta membra", would tend to increase the vocabulary of the language to an indefinite extent. I have alluded to certain restrictions which somewhat modify my assertion that all Egyptologists would read and translate the hieroglyphic groups exactly as I have done. With regard to the reading, it must be borne in mind that Egyptologists are not agreed as to the best means of transcribing hieroglyphs into Roman characters. But this is not peculiar to hieroglyphs. Although the Arabic is a language tolerably well known at the present day, there are not two Orientalists who transcribe it in the same way. One reason, indeed, for this is, that Arabic is a living language spoken in very different localities. Still, the fact remains the same, and it is quite certain that in general the differences in transcription between Egyptologists, however im- portant in themselves, are not greater in kind that that which exists between the respective pronunciations of two Arabic pro- vinces, or even of two German towns. There are, it is true, cases in which scholars have assigned values to certain hieroglyphs without having succeeded in getting their views generally recog- nized. But this merely proves that the science is as yet incom- plete, as every one allows, not that it is baseless or but little ad- vanced. As to the translation, I have here and there intimated that I was not quite sure of having caught the sense of a word or a phrase ; I gave the sense which appeared most probable ; but in all the cases referred to, I should not be surprised if a different interpretation were given by higher authorities. Besides these Br. Seyffarth's translation is : Potum dantis potoribus Jiuminis fulgentis gloriosi Zodiaci, qui flammas dejicit similes stellis Ononis caelestis. The words of the two translations which agree do not necessarily refer to the same groups. What I translate from the depth, corresponds to the *^ Jiuminis fnlcjentif of Dr. S., and the word PeST-eF, " he shines", is broken by Dr. S. into three distinct words signifying "qui flammas dejicit". Other coincidences in the translations are due to Champollion's Dictionary. 154 Hieroglyphic Studies. instances of possible errors, of whicli I am perfectly conscious, it is not improbable that I have unsuspectingly made otber blunders, just as I might in translating Latin or Greek. I am certain, however, that these are comparatively few, and that, all reserves being taken into account, I may confidently appeal on behalf of the translations in question to those eminent scholars who are daily extending the boundaries of the science.*^ PLATE II. This plate contains most of the hieroglyphic texts quoted in the foregoing article. Such as are wanting were not introduced into the article until the plate was already engraved. The following table may serve as a concordance between the plate and the article. Transcribed and translated. Tex t. Whence taken. 1. Todtenbuch, 86, 8, . . 2. 3. 6. 101, 6. . . . 130,27, . . . 136,12, . . . 140,12, . . . 6. Prisse, Monumens, PI. 21, line 13, 7. „ „ ^1, ), -I'j 8. „ „ 21, „ 21, 9. De Rouge, Stele Egyptienne, PI. 108, 10. Todtenbuch, 7, 3, . 11. „ 125, 10, . 12. „ 22, 2, . 13. „ 149, 55, . 14. „ 149,56, . 15. Rosetta Inscription, line 10, 16. Todtenbuch, 17, 64, . 17. t) 17, 51, 18. >» 17, 73, 20. )t 72, 2, 21. >j 136, 6, 22. }) 148, 16, 23. t> 11, 3, 24. t) 32, 2, 25. » 43, 1, 26. >» 28, tit., 27. n 30, tit.. 28. i» 128, 5, 29. Sharpe, Egypt. Inscr., PI. 75, line 4, 30. ChampoUion, Monumens, PL 214, 31. Todtenbuch, 125, 63, . 32. „ 124, 10, . 33. „ 15, 9, . 34. Lepsius, Denkmaler II., PL, 121, 35. Todtenbuch, 125, 59, . 36. „ 49, 2, . ( Atlantis, Vol. III., ( page 130, line 24. >» , 31. 131, , 8. 5, , 15. 132, , 1. » , 10. M , 12. n 1 , 14. )t 1 , 16. M 1 , 33. 134, , 11. , 14. j» > , 21. J» 3 , 24. 136, , 14. 5) J , 28. M > , 37. 137, , 2. i> ) , 7. M 1 , 10, J> > , 13. » > , 18. >1 T , 20. >» ■> , 22. 138, , , 8. H J , 11. , 19. M > , 23. )) ) , 26. » 1 , 31. >, » , 36. 139, , 2. " , 22. 140, , , 9. J> s , 15. 83 It -was not till this article was ready for the press that I had the advantage of seeing the fifteenth volume of the Revue Archeologique, containing several valuable articles by M. Chabas. I have altered nothing m consequence of those articles. Hieroglyphic Studies. 155 37. Todtenbuch, 42,13, . . . . page 140. line 21. 38. De Kouge, Stele Egyptienne, p. 61, . }> 141, JJ 15. 39. Todtenbuch 71, 1, . , . . )) 1) J, 17. 40. Bmgsch, Geogr. Inschr. Bd. 1, Taf. 34, No. 6 84, }> 143, J, 1. 41. „ No. 697, . , . . )> n ,1 5. 42. Todtenbuch, 108, 10, . i» » ,, 9. 43. j» 17, 24, . »• » JJ 27. 44. Bmgsch, Geogr. Inschr. Bd. 1, Taf. 9, 1 sTo. 3^ >4, J, 144, JJ 22. 45. Todtenbuch 134, 6, . . , }> 145, JJ 8. 46. }> 22, 2, . . . >, 5> JJ 35. 47. )» 17, 35, . M 146, JJ 3. 48. )> 101, 8, . . . JJ »» JJ 8. 49. j> 99,33, . J) J, JJ 17. 60. )» 154, 3, . . . )) »> JJ 21. 61. )> 17,33, . . . »> '» JJ 25. 62. j> 100, 3, . . . 1> 147, JJ 8. 63. )} 112, 6, . . . » 150, JJ 25. 64. 1) 149, 59, . » 151, JJ 6. 65. »> 112, 7, . . . >> j> JJ 18. 56. j» 17,11, . . . ;> 128, note 6, JJ 2. 57. »> 13, 1, . . . J, 130, j> 10, JJ 3. 58. 91 42,22, . . . ») »j ,» 10, JJ 11. 69.«* 38, 2, . . . j> 131, J) 14j JJ 6. 60. Description de I'Egypte, Antiquites, V. P1.4 0, >> J? >> 14, JJ 12. 61. „ Ibid, . »> »> 14, JJ 15. 62. Todtenbuch 148, 4, . . . » » ,j 15, JJ 1. 63. 5» 18,39, . »> 132, j> 16, JJ 2. 64. )) 19,14, . . . ,> 5» »> 16, JJ 5. 65. >> 149,36, . ;t 134, ?i 20, JJ 8. 66. Sharpe Eg. Inscr. PI. 57,41, M 138, »» 27, JJ 2. 67. Todtenbuch , 1, 18, . . . 5» 139, J) 34, JJ 1. 68. >> 89, 7, . . . 5> ., •J 34, JJ 3. 69. ]) 154, 4, . . . 5> 146, M 69, JJ 2. 70. » 101, 1, . . . » 147, »> 71, JJ 24. 71. j» 100, 7, . . . J) ,) J) 71, JJ 27. 72. 11 130,21, . » » }> 71, JJ 35. 73. 3> 17, 4, . . . J> 148, JJ 71, JJ 5. 74. >J 17,74, . 1» »» J> 71, J, 15. 75. Champolhon Diet. p. 222, . Ji )> 5> 71, JJ 35. 76. lb. p. 31, Cf. Rosellini Mon. d. Culto PI. 22, J> » JJ 71, JJ 43. ^* In the first group PeTHU-A of this text, the sign of the first person sin- gular, a seated figure (=A), has been omitted in the engTaving. [As the Revue Archeologique of the present year is publishing a series of valuable papers, by M. le Vicomte de Rouge, on the Ritual of the Ancient Egyptians, it is important, for obvious reasons, to state, that the preceding article was written in the course of last summer. It was already in print early in December, and, but for the unavoidable delay in the publication of this number of the Atlantis, would have appeared on tlie first of January. — Ed.] MATHEMATICAI., PHYSICAL, AND NATDKAL SCIENCES. Art. V. — On the general solution of Cubic Equations, and the reduction of what is called the Irreducible Case of CardarHs Rule. By W. G. Penny, M.A. The solution of a cubic equation may in all cases be effected ; but, inasmuch as different metbods are employed for tliis purpose according as all tbe roots are positive or not, no solution which is considered a general one, that is, one which is applicable to all cases, has, I believe, been given. It would appear, however, that by a shght variation of the methods already in use, we may obtain such a solution; one, that is, which will include both cases, viz., where the roots are all possible, and where two of them are impossible. To make what follows more clear, it may be well if I give briefly the methods above spoken of. There are two of them, and the first is of Cardan. Let the equation, when deprived of its second term, be x^—qx—r-zz^. Now let ^=:a + &, therefore a'+6'+3a6(a+6)-^(a+5)-?'=0 We have as yet only supposed that x is divided into two parts, a and 6, we may now make the further supposition that it is divided into two parts in such a way that K>ab—q shall equal 0, or b=-^ substituting this value of b in the last equation, we shall have «^+2b-^=« Solution of Cubic Equations. 157 whicli will give <^'=i-N/i-| 3 27 We shall obtain a similar value for 6', except that when the positive sign is taken in one, the negative is taken in the other, so that we shall have Now when the quantity under the sign of the square root is negative, that is, when the roots are all positive, the quantity W ~A~iy7 hecomes impossible, and Cardan's solution is said to fail ; and the following method is had recourse to. Let the equation be as before oc^—qx—rzzzO. Let now ^=m cos . • . m'cos^0— gmcos 0— r=0 now cos ^0 = 1 cos 0-i-:| cos 30 . • . by substituting this value of cos '0 fm^cos Q—qmco^Q-\-\m^co^2>d—r=.0 Let us now, as before, make a further supposition as to the relation between m and cos 0, and suppose that fw*— ^'=0 or 7n = 2\/ I then also we shall have COS 30 = — 3=^ \/ 27 m^~2^ q" 158 Rev. W. G. Penny on the • . o\)— cos ^ttV -t = icos ^^^V ^ cos 0=cosrjcos-^|V -j^ ^=m cos 0=2 a/ I^cos (J cos ~^^\/ —A (B) This solution requires that « V — ^ should be less than unity, since a cosine is always less than unity, and applies, therefore, to the case in which Cardan's rule is said to fail, viz., to the case where all the roots are possible, and is called " the irreducible case of Cardan's Rule". We have, therefore, obtained two distinct solutions for the two cases which may occur. Now, if a general solution can be found, it is manifest that it must be such that the values of x given in (A) and (B) shall be particular cases of it, according as-j is greater or less than^ or, in other words, such a value of x must be obtained, as may be put into either of the forms given above, as may be most convenient. Now the one is in the form of a binomial, obtained by the substitution of a binomial for ,27, and the other is in the form of a cosine, obtained by the substitution of a cosine ; also the sum of two exponential quantities will be of both forms, namely, of a binomial and a cosine. Let us therefore suppose let now 3c— 2^=0 or c=~ then e^^ + 97^"-^ — r = 0, which will give e»=^+x/^+|7, or Solution of Cubic Equations. 159 i/=i%f U+ V f —Ij) ^^^ therefore x-^e^ + ce" ^ilog,(^^W^i\)^q-Vo9.C,^V'-^¥7) (C) o Now tliis is a quantity wliicli may be put under either of the forms given above, as may be found most convenient, for we must first put it under the form ^=e^°^^5+^?-|7+ q_ 3/"^^5+^^M; W 2+^4-27 and if we multiply the numerator and denominator of the latter fraction h V 2" V J-I7 ^* becomes v|-V ^-|7»sothat which is the same as Cardan's solution. We may also reduce it to the form given in equation B, for equation (C) may be put under the form "^ijd)'"'''' '"'''+(i)<*"''''""'"''* I v|{.'°''(*>/'°^'(5+^^MT)+,H(D/H(i-^^-i;j 160 Rev. W. G. Penny on the Let now %,^| ^ -^+ ^ _ _,^ _ij =^,^1^l r 727 . /r'27 , also = ■ zze~'*V- r /27^ /r'27 . multiply numerator and denominator of tliis latter fraction by r 727 /'^^7 2V ^-V 4^-1 and it becomes r 727 /r'27-l=e-W-' . by adding and dividing by 2 |y|=i(«v-+.w-) = COS u, by trigonometry ^ 7 27 wV — 1 = V — 1 cos -^^ V -J also equations (a) becomes p Solution of Cubic Equations. 161 which is also the value of x obtained by the second process. The solution (C), therefore, above given, will include both cases, and may be put under either form, as may be most con- venient. Also it is evident that Cardan's solution may be re- duced to the form (B), for by the inverse process to what has been given, it may easily be reduced to the form (C), and thence, as has been done above, to the form (B). Also, since the expressions (A) and (B) are each equal to the expression (C), they are equal to each other; so that in the case when J is less than ^ 27 = 2V |cos ^icos-^|v ^j These latter, therefore, are nothing more than equivalent forms of the same expression. The equation just given may also be proved as follows : vi+\/J-|J+\/i-\/J-^ i,r /27~ n n 1^ /^ let-v — T= cos V or t/= cos'^tcV — r 2 ^ ^3 2^ q^ then the expression becomes = V K^cos »-i->v/^ sin o) + V |(cos 0- v^^^sin Bj III. 11 162 Rev. W. G. Penny on the = V |(cos ^e + V-i sin ^e) + V |(cos e-V-^l sin iO) (by Demoivre's theorem) = 2y I cos i = 2 y| cos (icos -|v/|J). Cor. By exactly the same process we may prove the more general equation (x + V^^^^'Y + (x--Vx^- ay = 2a'' cos Cti cos "^-V This, of course, supposes aj to be less than a, otherwise the assumption = could not be a legitimate one. It would appear, therefore, that the solution given by Cardan is always true; and therefore if it can be said to fail, it is not because it is untrue, but merely because it is an inconvenient form in which to put the value of x, and one which without reduction would give us but little idea of the actual numerical value. This reduction, moreover, may always be easily eiFected by the process just given. It might, indeed, at first sight, seem as if Cardan's expression would give an impossible value for a', when the quantity under the radical sign is impossible, but it does not do so in reality, for though each of the parts of the binomial, taken separately, is an impossible quantity, yet their sum is not ; for, on expand- ing each of them by the binomial theorem, and then taking their sum, it is easily seen that the impossible quantities will disappear; just as in Trigonometry, where an expression for cos is cose = 4(^-'«+e-^~'*) which is not an impossible quantity, although the two parts of it are each of them separately impossible, for on expanding e etc., and taking the sum, the impossible parts cancel each other. And this suggests another method, in addition to that given above, of reducing the expression given by Carden, reducing it, that is, to decimals, which is what is generally re- quired in practice. I am still supposing the case where all the roots are possible. Solution of Cubic Equations. 163 Let us then for shortness put = ^5 ^^^ V 'T~^7~^* then the expression will become =-'('+3'+-*(>-I)' + "" \ Sa 9^ 81a^ 243a^ ) o , ^ Iv^ 10 V ^"^ ^^~9^~243^ The odd powers of - therefore, that is the impossible quan- tities, disappear; and if v is a proper fraction, we shall have a converging series, of which a very few terms will give us the value of the root in decimals to great exactness. Suppose, for example, that we have the equation a?3-4^-3=0 here we shall have r-^iS, 5'=:4 r^ 13 , . , . . . J — = — i-o7v> also m the series just given, __r_3 'o^J^ir' q^\__ 13 ^"2~2' a^~T\^~2V'^ 243 hence the series becomes ^^ 5Jr + 9 243 243I243J + which, when resumed, will give for the value of x^ 2.3027. This being found, the equation may be depressed to a:^+2.3027^ + 1.3027=0 11 B 164 Rev. W. G. Penny on the whose roots are —1 and —1.3027, hence the required roots are 2.3027, —1.3027, and —1. Here, then, is an example of a cubic equation having all its roots possible, and found by v^ . Garden's rule. In the above case, however the quantity — is a small fraction. It might, however, have happened that it was a large quantity, in which case the above expansion would not have been available, inasmuch as the series formed would not have been convergent. When this is the case, therefore, we shall have to vary the method of expansion, as follows : — x='^a-\'V-{'^a—v a\^ =,*(i+«)*-.*(i-g iA , la la\ 5 a' 2>v W ' 81^;' 24:2>v 10 a\ 22 a* \ la la? 5 a' 10 a^ 22 g^ 729tr* ) , i/la , 5 a» 22 a" \ _„/'la , 5 a' 22 a' . \ „ i(l V"^' , 5 ^faf , 22 7"^'* , \ let - =k, then the above will be reduced to ^ia*(l+^^+£^+ etc.) all of which quantities are manifestly possible ; and when — is a proper fraction, as it is here supposed, the series will be always a convergent one. As an example, take the equation ^'~5a;+l=0 Solution of Cubic Equations. 165 The root of it, which is found by the summations of the above series, is .2016, and the others may be found from the reduced quadratic, they are 2.1284 and -2.3300. In both the above examples, it will be seen that — or - is a small fraction, and so two terms at most of the series will amply suffice. It might, however, have happened that -^ was nearly equal to unity. The method, however, would still be appli- cable, only we should have to take a greater number of terms. But in practice this may be avoided ; and it will always suffice even in the most unfavourable cases to take two terms at most, and then apply a correction, as will presently be explained. For even if we were to omit all the terms in the latter series after the unit, the error in the value of the root would never exceed a fifth or sixth of its entire value, and the error would be much further lessened if we were to take one or two of the terms which follow the unit. Suppose, then, that by doing so, we find a value c for a root of the equation, but which, on substituting it for .^•, does not satisfy the equation so nearly as we could wish. Suppose also, that c + 7i is the true value of the root; then we should have {c-\'hy-q{c-Jrli)-r=0 As h is supposed to be small, we may neglect its square; and this will give us for its value , &—qc-~T , ~^"3?" ^^^ ^^^^^' and so we might proceed to a still nearer reduction. Take as an example , a» 243 , . , . nere — = — ^^, which is very near umty, but by taking two terms of the second series, and applying the correction, one of the roots will be found to be .6566. The others are both possible, and may be found in the usual way. 166 Mr. Hennessy on the It appears, then, that the formula of Cardan is equally capable of reduction whether the roots be all possible or not, and with precisely the same degree of exactness; the only difference being that when they are all possible, the operation is somewhat more troublesome than when two of them are impossible. Moreover, the formula is capable of being reduced algebrai- cally^ and without the use of tables of cosines. Nor is there much difference between the two methods as regards simplicity; perhaps the algebraical method will have the advantage when it is only required to calculate the root to four or five places of figures ; but beyond this we might, per- haps, have to refer to the tables oftener than we should in re- ducing the trigonometrical formula, but not otherwise ; and at all events, it will have the advantage of treating in a purely al- gebraical manner, and without the introduction of other branches of mathematics, what is a purely algebraical problem. Art. VI. — On the Vertical Currents of the Atmosphere. By Henry Hennessy, F.R.S. §■1. IT has been long recognized that, although currents of wind in a direction nearly parallel to the horizon are those which usually prevail, the atmosphere is frequently subjected to verti- cal and oblique motions among its particles. Under favourable conditions these motions may acquire such a development as to force themselves upon the attention of observers, and thus become objects for meteorological inquiry. The interesting researches of M. Fournet upon the vertical cur- rents of mountains, appear to have arisen from the opportunities enjoyed by that physicist of studying such phenomena among the Alps. Among the deep ravines and valleys, as well as along the elevated slopes and escarpments of the Alps, a regular periodicity in the action of vertical winds has been frequently observed during the course of twenty-four hours, which has led to the conclusion that their development depends upon changes of temperature resulting from the presence and absence of the sun. As it is now well established that the distribution and changes of temperature in these islands are dependent upon other influential causes besides the direct action of the sun,^ we cannot, in general, expect to find * See Atlantis, vol. I. p. 396, also a letter from the author to Major- General Sabine, on the influence of the Gulf-stream on the winters of the British Islands. Proceedings of the Koyal Society, vol. IX. p. 324. Vertical Currents of the Atmosphere. 167 in our climate, a similar diurnal periodicity so distinctly defined as that observed in the centre and south of Europe. Here, as well as on the continent, mountains are favourable to the produc- tion of inequalities of temperature, moisture, and density among the aerial strata, which thus become liable to a multitude of dis- turbances, and especially to the action of vertical currents. It seems to follow that in mountainous countries vertical currents have well marked relations with the changes of the weather. If, as usually happens, lakes exist among the mountains, the mysterious occurrence called the " bore" is also thus explained. The circumstance that the suddenly-formed wave thus de- signated always proceeds from a side of the lake bordered by steep mountains, immediately suggests such an explanation. Although a similar idea has occurred to other inquirers, I may be permitted to refer to an instance where a demonstration was presented by me^ of the efficiency of vertical currents in pro- ducing the " bore" on the surface of one of our Irish lakes. The fact that such a sudden wave usually preceded a change of the weather in the district surrounding the lake, led me to think that the study of the effective cause of the bore itself might be- come of importance in meteorology. But to do this, we should possess means for observing the actual direction, and, if possible, the force of the atmospheric currents. §•2. Hitherto, all instruments which had been employed for ob- serving the wind were devised exclusively v^dth reference to its horizontal direction and intensity, from the simple wind-vane to the most finished anemometer.^ I have attempted to modify the ordinary vane so as to make it an indicator of the actual direc- tion of the current, both in altitude and azimuth. Instead of the fixed surface against which the wind impinges in ordinary vanes, I had a disk suspended at the tail of the vane, capable of rotating on an axis perpendicular to the line of direction of the instru- ment. A pair of flanges were attached to this disk in such a manner that, when the whole was at rest and the air free from motion, the flanges would be horizontal. With perfectly hori- zontal currents, the flanges would still continue in the same posi- tion, although the head of the vane would as usual move about ^ In a letter to the Eev. T. K. Kobinson, D.D., of Armagh. See Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy, vol. vi. p, 279. ' Some time after the anemoscope had been devised, my attention was called by my friend, the Rev. Dr. Robinson, to a passage among the notes to Dr. Dar- win's poem of tlie " Botanic Garden", wherein the writer indicates such an instru- ment ; but he seems never to have realized this idea, and the apparatus which he proposed was essentially different from mine. 168 Mr. Hennessy on the in azimuth. But if a current happened to be inclined to the horizon, the flanges would be pressed upwards or downwards, showing the direction and amount of the incHnation, precisely as the position of the head or tail of the ordinary vane shows the direction and inclination of a current with reference to the meri- dian. When we know the inclination of a given current to the horizon, we can readily estimate its absolute force from its hori- zontal force, as can be easily shown. §•3. Let the origin of co-ordinates be at the centre of the axis of the vertical disk \ y d x will represent an element of the area of the flange. Let represent the angle of inclination of the flange, H the pressure exercised by the wind in a horizontal direction upon a square unit of surface, and V the vertical pressure exer- cised upon a similar unit. The entire moment of the horizontal forces acting on the entire flange will be H 1 smBxi/dx, and the moment of the vertical forces will be V 1 cosdxydx. Both of these moments tend to cause a rotation of the disk, but in contrary directions : hence when the disk is in equihbrium they must be equal, and therefore, because is independent of x and y, we shall have Hsin0=Vcos0, V=Htang0 (1) and if we write F for the absolute force of the wind, we shall have F = Hsec0 (2). Hence it follows, that if we can observe the absolute direction of the wind, we can estimate its vertical force as well as its absolute intensity without any special instrument, using the results ob- tained by the existing anemometers which give the horizontal intensity. §.4. A wind-vane or anemoscope, capable of showing the absolute direction of an atmospherical current, having been constructed in accordance with my directions, I proceeded to make some observations during the months of June, July, and August, 1857. It was placed on the top of a strong mast, about twenty- six feet in height. The mast was fixed near the end of a large garden, far from buildings. As my first series of observations were intended to be merely provisional, I did not make them at Vertical Currents of the Atmosphere. 169 specific fixed hours, but at such times as presented disturbances in the atmosphere, or which afforded sufficient leisure for con- tinued attention. A journal was kept, from which I make the following extracts. Before doing so, it is proper to remark that by the term " vertical currents" in these extracts, as well as in the title of this paper, 1 do not mean currents actually perpen- dicular to the horizon, but rather oblique currents with an upward or downward tendency. June 28, 7h. a.m. — ^Air perfectly still, flanges horizontal, head of vane towards the east. 7h. SOm. a.m. — Breeze with slight vertical currents until after 8. The currents were upward from the ground. The flanges were often perfectly horizontal, and their mean angle of inclination was small. About 10 a.m., a few fine scattered clouds (cirro-cumuli) were observed to move in a direction contrary to the wind as observed near the earth. From 3h. p.m. to 3h. 45m. — Wind extremely gentle from E.S.E., upward current, angle of inclination estimated at about 5°. The upward currents often continued for several minutes together. The angle was sometimes almost imperceptible. The sky became gradually overcast towards evening. June 30, 10 a.m. — Sky completely overcast, strong wind from E.S.E., rapid oscillations of the disk during the greater part of the day. About 6 p.m., the wind blew in violent gusts from the east, and the disk showed alternations of upward and downward currents with occasional short intervals. These observations led me to conclude that rapid currents of air cannot generally advance with the same steadiness as currents of water, the greater mobihty and elasticity of the former fluid probably allow its movements to easily acquire a species of undulation. Thus we may account for the motions of the branches of trees, which generally swing backwards and forwards, showing rapid vari- ations in the intensity of the wind. During breezes composed of a succession of strong sudden gusts, it was difficult to esti- mate the inclination of the flanges, as each fresh impulse drove the flange beyond the angle due to the pressure, and before it had been sufficiently long oscillating about its true position to allow a correct observation, a fresh gust would perhaps drive it in a different direction. July 1, 9 A.M. — ^Wind N.E., strong breeze with vertical cur- rents. The position of the flanges was sometimes steady for many minutes, with a very small inclination, upward currents appeared to predominate in duration. July 2, before 9 a.m. — Air still and warm, head of vane di- rected to S.E. After 9 a gentle breeze from E. and E.S.E., with an upward tendency. The disk remained steady at a small 170 Mr. Hennessy on the angle, sometimes for two minutes together. Towards noon the disk was more steadily upward, while the breeze still continued. The clouds were observed to move from W.N.W. At 6h. 30m. P.M., a gentle breeze from W.S.W., sky covered with light clouds, steady upward tendency of the current, very little waving of trees. The flanges sometimes retained the same inclination for a quarter of an hour. 8h. 30m. p.m., wind more brisk from the west, but the disk still steady ; sky beginning to become overcast. July 3, 8 A.M. — Wind S.W. and S. ; air filled with heavy clouds, floating at comparatively short distances from the earth. Strong breeze with alternate up and down currents, the down- ward currents lasting but for very short periods. 9h. 15m., a.m., wind S.S.E. with light rain. Just before the rain the down- ward currents became more prominent, the clouds moved from S.W., lOh. 30 A.M., wind S.S.W. with alternate upward and downward currents. July 5. — Fine morning, clear sky, with a few scattered cu- muli ; gentle breeze from S.W., alternating currents, upward pre- dominant. 2 P.M. — Cloudy sky, with the air almost still ; sHght vertical currents. Rain from four to seven o'clock. 9 p.m. — Wind N.N.W., clearing the sky; temperature rapidly falhng, with downward currents. Towards midnight, the sky was almost perfectly clear, and the wind more westerly. July 6, 9 A.M. — Very strong breeze from N.W., with vertical currents and rain. The alternations were sometimes rapid, and the apparent angle of inclination very great. The disk rarely continued steady in an inclined position, although it sometimes remained for long intervals in a perfectly horizontal position, with a strong wind. Rain appeared to produce no remarkable effect on the flanges, for it seemed to be shaken or blown off. About 3 P.M., the wind was strong and steady from N.N.W., the movements of the flange were as follows during the course of a few minutes: — Downward, I2 min. ; upward, 2 min. ; level, i min. ; oscillating, f min. ; down, i min. ; up, i min. , oscillating, k min. ; level, i min. ; up, i min. ; oscillating, i min. ; level, i min. ; up, 1 min. ; down, i min. The air was gradually filHng with broken masses of cumulo-stratus clouds. As they appeared to approach the earth, downward oscillations of the flange be- came more manifest. Approaching four o'clock the wind blew irregularly, with violent and sudden gusts of short duration. At ^i P.M., a strong breeze, with currents ha^dng a downward ten- dency ; towards seven the sky became a little more clear, and the currents appeared to be alternately upward and downward, with short intervals of 10 or 12 seconds. At 7h. 15m. p.m., the wind was from N.W., with alternate currents, the upward predorai- Vertical Currents of the Atmosphere. 171 nating, while the sky was becoming perceptibly more clear. The upward currents were decidedly longer in duration than at 6 p.m. Di P.M. — Wind still from N.W. ; upward currents, with alter- nating currents at intervals of about one minute. July 11. — Wind W. A beautiful day, with a few light clouds scattered on the sky. During the afternoon, up to 5 p.m., a strong breeze, with very decided upward currents. At short intervals, the disk oscillated, showing a downward tendency. July 14. — Before 9 a.m., the wind was E.S.E. ; a moderate breeze, with downward tendency. Light clouds were observed to move in a direction opposed to the wind at the earth's sm-face. lOh. 30m. A.M., wind S.E. ; an increase of clouds (cumuli) ; both vane and disk were oscillating ; downward tendency of currents was marked. At 1 o'clock in the afternoon, a fog was seen out at sea, which, as it approached the shore, ascended in clouds over Howth. August 6, 10 A.M. — Wind N.E. ; alternate currents downward predominating. The sky was covered with light clouds, and the temperature comparatively low, August 20. — An extremely fine and warm day, with a clear sky. The air was nearly still, and the disk continued to indicate faint and steady upward currents, for the flange continued at an upward inclination of a few degrees for long intervals, sometimes exceeding one hour. The movements of smoke that could be observed at the same time showed a similar tendency. August 21, 7 A.M. — Wind E.S.E., with no vertical currents; after 8, the disk commenced to move, and the flange was some- times inclined upwards at a very small angle. It frequently re- mained perfectly level, although a very perceptible breeze was blowing. After 10 a.m., the upward tendency became more manifest, and it generally remained for long intervals inclined at an angle of from about 5° to 8°. August 24, 5 P.M Before and during a heavy shower the disk exhibited the presence of downward currents. September 3, 8 a.m. — Wind blowing in sudden gusts from N.E., the disk showed vertical currents, chiefly with a downward tendency ; rain followed at about half-past nine. §. 5. The few results which were thus recorded seem to show that the study of the non-horizontal motions of our atmosphere is desirable, not only among mountainous districts, but that it may form a portion of our general inquiries under all local circum- stances whatever. It appears that the wind rarely blows parallel to the surface of the earth, and that the air, while in rapid motion. 172 Mr. Hennessy on the is always undergoing a process of undulation, whereby the direc- tion of the axis of a current at any point above the earth is changed alternately, so as to be more or less incUned upwards or downwards just as the direction of the wind in azimuth is fre- quently observed to slightly oscillate about its mean position. We may conclude, therefore, from §. 3, that the absolute force of the wind is always a little greater than its horizontal intensity, as exhibited by the anemometers. While such an undulatory motion of the atmospherical currents may be generally due to the elasticity of the air and the mechani- cal influence of terrestrial irregularities, many of my observations were such as to clearly show the existence of true upward and downward currents. In no other way can we account for the steady inclination of the flanges of the anemoscope at times when scarcely any horizontal wind was perceptible. When true upward currents were prevalent, the temperature of the air was usually increasing and the weather fine. Downward cur- rents seemed to be usually preceded or accompanied by a sudden decrease of temperature, and these currents themselves usually preceded rain or unfavourable weather. Regular alternations of both classes of currents were usual about noon or the forenoon of clear days. The explanation of the last circumstance is ex- tremely simple. It depends upon the manner in which the at- mosphere acquires the greatest part of its heat during the day. A small portion of the solar heat is immediately absorbed in passing through the air, but the greater part reaches the ground, whence it is imparted to the atmosphere immediately touching it. The air so heated expands, and consequently, from its re- duced density, it tends to penetrate upwards in currents through the overlying strata, which at the same time fall downwards to fill up the vacancies. A species of convection, analogous to that seen in a boiling or heated mass of liquid, is thus developed in the air. The trembling of the air, often noticed over steam- boilers, close to the chimneys of steam-vessels, and even on walls and gravelled walks heated by the mid-day sun, is undoubtedly due to the same minute and rapid currents which take part in this process of aerial convection. §.6. That there are more important vertical currents engaged in promoting exchanges between the upper and lower strata of the atmosphere, within a short distance from the earth, appears ma- nifest from experiments made by me in May, 1858.* Thermo- * Report of the British Association for 1858. Transactions of Sections, p. 36. Vertical Currents of the Atmosphere. 173 meters were suspended at different heights, and under different circumstances of exposure to the supposed currents. On days when the sky was clear, and when, consequently, the direct in- fluence of the sun in heating the ground was most decided, ob- servations were made every minute, and sometimes every half minute, dm-ing short intervals. More or less rapid oscillations of the mercury were observed. In thermometers freely exposed to the air, the mercury sometimes rose or fell three degrees Fahren- heit in three minutes. The longest fluctuations did not occupy more than six minutes. The fluctuations diminislied, the more the thermometers were protected from the influence of the cur- rents of air. A further confirmation of these results is found in the Report of the Director of the Radcliffe Observatory at Oxford, relative to the meteorological observations during the year 1857. The thermometrical curves exhibited a remarkable serration during the day-time of the most brilliant months of the year. This serration entirely ceased during the winter, and on gloomy days at every season : its intensity seemed to increase with sun- shine. It is readily explained by the action of small atmosphe- rical currents alternately ascending and descending, the former producing a sudden and brief elevation of the mercury, and the latter a sudden and short depression. The curves referred to were obtained at the Radchfie Observatory, by a very beautiful apphcation of the waxed-paper photographic process ; and the results here noticed would probably never have been exhibited by the ordinary observations at stated hours. I cannot refrain from remarking that the success which has attended this portion of the application of photographical registration to meteorology, has much increased my confidence in its trustworthiness, while it has inspired a feeling of deep regret at the loss which science has sustained by the death of Mr. Johnson, to whose able ma- nagement and indefatigable labours these and many other results are mainly due. §•7. To such small currents we may attribute whirlwinds of more or less magnitude, from those which we often observe on dusty roads, to the grand and frequently dangerous phenomena of the desert. Mr. Belt, who writes in the Philosophical Magazine for January, 1859, presents some very instructive observations on this subject. The ascending currents over dry ground in the interior of Australia, were frequently observed by him to carry leaves and dust to the upper regions of the atmosphere. Often, when travelling over parched plains, this observer saw the air 174 Mr. Hennessy on the quivering over tKe hot ground as if close to the wall of a furnace ; suddenly a miniature storm arises, and after a few minutes violence, it as suddenly ceases, while the quivering of the air is no longer seen and the atmosphere does not feel oppressive. All these phenomena are obviously the results of more or less en- ergetic interchanges between masses of air possessing different temperatures. The process of convection in this case is not of a gentle and gradual nature, but takes place with fitful violence. The phenomena here referred to, seem to present on a small scale the principal features of cyclonic storms and hurricanes. These are always preceded by inequalities of temperature in the regions where they occur, and it is extremely probable that such inequalities take place in a vertical as well as in a horizontal direction. The distribution of watery vapour must at the same time be affected, and this would again react upon the equi- librium of the atmosphere, so as to favour the existence of ascending and descending currents. The rapid oscillations of the barometric column which usually precede hurricanes, are thus doubtlessly connected, not only with variations in the statical pressure, but also with the irregular influence of vertical and oblique currents, which at such times disturb the equilibrium of the atmospherical column over the barometer. §.8. The duration and energy of many of the vertical currents which came under my observation, were such as to show that currents of a greater order than those which take place by the influence of the heated ground immediately beneath, are some- times developed among the overlying atmospheric masses. Such currents being of much greater magnitude than those which would account for the rapid fluctuations of the thermometer already noticed, we may refer to them not only great interchanges of temperature in different strata of the atmosphere, but also a very efficient part in the production of ordinary winds. If an exten- sive portion of the earth's surface becomes more heated than other surrounding portions, the air will ascend and overflow above the cooler air resting upon the unheated surfaces. The cold air at bottom will at the same time tend to rush inwards, so as to fill up the vacuum which the ascending currents would have left above the surface of the heated ground. As the air that over- flows above does not rush into a vacuum, but penetrates and mingles with masses of cooler air possessing nearly the same density, its progress is considerably retarded, wliile at the same time some of the vapour which it may contain is condensed so as to assume a vesicular cloudy form. A corresponding retar- Vertical Currents of the Atmosphere. 175 dation in the motions of the air rushing in from the colder to the warmer surface below is also produced from the resistance of the air lying over the latter. The production of sea and land breezes furnishes a complete and instructive illustration of these remarks. Many of the upward currents, which I observed with the anemo- scope during the summer mornings, were undoubtedly the pre- cursors of the sea breeze. Such currents continue to accompany the production of the land and sea winds in a manner that I have been able sometimes to observe by the smoke of steam vessels near the coast. Thus, on a warm day in June, 1857, I observed the simultaneous existence of the sea breeze at Kingstown and a slight motion of a few light clouds from the interior towards the coast. A steam-ship far out at sea was proceeding towards Eng- land, and the smoke was drawn by the gentle breeze into a streamer extending for miles behind the boat. The streamer of smoke appeared straight and perfectly horizontal over the surface of the water, until it arrived at a point about a quarter of a mile from the Hill of Howth, w^hen it rose upwards with a gracefully- curved outline, and it appeared to be gradually diffused in the air situated vertically over the hill. The influence of vertical and oblique currents in the atmos- phere is not only thus manifest in the comparatively limited and local phenomena of sea and land breezes, mountain winds and whirlwinds, but it has been also appealed to in order to explain the circulation of the great winds of the Earth. Thus Maury, in his attempt to exhibit the general laws of the great winds, pre- sents a diagram in which ascending and descending currents are distinctly indicated over different regions of the globe. Their agency is also appealed to by other inquirers, and their principal seats of action seem to be indicated as the calm regions, that is to say, the regions where horizontal winds blow with least in- tensity. Observations with the aid of the anemoscope in the regions of equatorial and tropical calms, would thus probably serve to test the accuracy of the general views here alluded to. The systematic study of the non-horizontal movements of the atmosphere has scarcely been commenced, but what little know- ledge we possess of such movements shows that they are so closely connected with some of the most important phenomena of the weather, that their further investigation is certain to be attended with interesting and valuable results. 176 Art. VII — Note on some Prismatic Forms of Calcite from Luganure, county of Wicklow. By William K. Sullivan. IN tlie first edition of his Traite de Mineralogie (Paris, 1801) Haiiy distinguished three kinds of prismatic carbonate of lime: 1. Chaux carbonatee prismee, abeady described by Rome de Lisle, and wliich Haiiy supposes to be derived, in his mole- cular theory of decrements by the law d}. According to this, it would be the prism produced by modifpng planes placed upon the lateral edges of the primitive rhombohedron. The second he calls chaux carbonatee imitative^ and considers to be the prism obtained according to the law e^ by planes on the lateral angles of the primitive. The tliird, which had also been before de- scribed by De Lisle, he named cliaux carbonatee prismatique, and considered to be also derived according to the law e^. He mentions four varieties of this form: a, alternating — having three alternate wide faces and three intermediate narrow ones ; b, compressed — with two opposite faces larger than the other four; c, widened — with four faces wider than the remaining two ; and cZ, lamelliform — in very short (i.e. in tabular) prisms. Of the crystals of this form he says : " In certain crystals the extremities are of a dull white, while the intermediate part is transparent. In others the opaque part is situated towards the axis and surrounded by a transparent envelope. The bases of a few exhibited concentric hexagons, and one could even ob- serve the extremity of a small internal prism, rising above the whole prism". The forms he calls imitative and prismatic being obtained by the law e^, contain the same prism ; the prismatic faces which have been observed among the varieties of calcite belong, therefore, to one or other of those prisms. Dufrenoy, who uses the nomenclature of Haiiy, as modified by Levy and him- self, represents the faces of the first prism, or that on the edges of the rhombohedron, by the symbol d^ {u of Haiiy), and the prismatic, or that on the angles, by e^ (c of Haiiy). Of course each of these prisms is completed by the modification a^ on the summit angle, which produces the horizontal plane forming the base. According to the German crystallographic methods, prisms are looked upon as mere limiting forms. Mohs and Haidinger con- sider d' to be the limiting form of the pyramids, the former expressing it by the symbol P-}-oo and the latter by oo P, which is the one adopted by Zippe in his summary of all the observed On some Prismatic Forms of Calcite. 177 forms of carbonate of lime.* The second prism e"^ is considered to be the limiting form of the rhombohedron, and is represented by Mohs by the symbol R-f oo, and by Haidinger by ooR. Zippe also adopts the latter. According to Haliy d' or ooP is rare, and Dufrenoy states that only some examples are known. According to Zippe, it is frequent enough in combination as a secondary form, but seldomer as the dominant form. Surmounted by the primitive rhombohedron (R or P), it is noticed by Dufrenoy as " a very rare example of the prism on the edges, associated with the primitive rhombo- hedron"^ from Cumberland. He also mentions another in which h' or 2 R' (the equicuve of Haiiy) replaces P or R, but does not give the locality. Further on he notices a third exajmple from the Samson mine in the Hartz, in which the horizontal edges of the prism are truncated by rudimentary planes of the pyramid. The prism ocR or g^, although comparatively rare as a simple form, is very frequent in combination ; according to Dufrenoy indeed, it is the only one found complete. A little before, he says that it is of a milky whiteness, and almost always opaque. The base sometimes bears striae parallel to the edges, which are indications of cleavage. Examples of ocR surmounted by JR' or h' from the Hartz, Cumberland, and the department of 1' Isere, have been described. The position of the rhombohedrons surmounting the prisms is different in each kind. In goP the surmounting rhombohedral faces lie so that the edges of combination with th^ prismatic faces coincide with the lateral edges of the rhombohedron. In CO R the edges of combination in three alternate faces are horizontal; the truneatures at either end of the prism alter- nating, so that each face of truncature is parallel to one at the opposite end. The directions of the cleavages correspond per- fectly with the dispositions of the modifying planes, so that every alternate basal edge of the prism gcR or e^ may be removed by cleavage with the greatest facility, by which a prism sur- mounted by the faces of the rhombohedron may be obtained. Although the prismatic faces ooR are sometimes dull, they always, at least in all the crystals which I recollect to have seen, possess more lustre than the faces ocP associated with them. The former are, indeed, usually very bright in transparent crystals. This circumstance is noticed by Dufrenoy, who, in speaking of the example of ocP or (d}) with pyramidal trun- Uebersicht der Krystallgestallten des rhomboedrischen Kalk-Haloids von !•• X. RI. Zippe. — iJenkscbrifteu der Kaiser. Akademie der Wissenschaften. Wathematisch-natiirwissensehaftliche Classe iii. Bd. 1st Lief. p. 109. Traite de Mineralogie par A. Dufrenoy. 2me Ed. Tome 2me, p. 297. III. 12 178 Mr. Sullivan on some Prismatic Form^ of catures of tlie lateral edges, from Samson mine in the Hartz, says that the faces are dull and somewhat rough, as is frequently the case with those prisms (" les faces en sont mates et un peu raboteuses, circonstance frequent pour le second prism (i. e., d^) k six faces"). The difference in lustre between the faces of the two kinds of prisms is characteristically seen in the dodecagonal prisms (chaux carbonatee periododecaedre of Haiiy), which is the combination goP, goR, oP {d} e^ a}) ; the faces gcR {f) are always very much more brilliant than goP (d}). This difference of lustre is one of the distinctions relied upon to distinguish the faces of the two kinds of hexagonal prisms from one another. Dufrenoy also notices this difference between the two kinds of prismatic faces in the twelve-sided prisms. Several forms of the rhombohedral prism occur at the Lu- ganure mines, county of Wicklow, which are worked for galena in a veinstone consisting chiefly of quartz, in a granite country. Among these may be mentioned goP, oR {d^^ a^), consisting of small hexagonal prisms, with very bright prismatic faces. One half of the prism is hyaline, and the other opalescent ; the base, oR is dull. Another variety of the same form also occurs, consist- ing of crystals one centimetre high, and with basal edges one cen- timetre long. Each crystal has a sort of rude triang-ular pris- matic milky nucleus, surrounded by a perfectly hyaline enve- lope, reminding one of the description of Haiiy given above. Owing to the number of cleavage planes, some crystals are not transparent. The face oR is, in most instances, pecuHarly striated, in others it is, as it were, coated with a thin porcela- neous layer. These crystals may be easily cleaved parallel to the alternate basal edges, which are sharp, and without any trace of modifying planes. The form oR, ooR (a*, e^) also occurs in beautiful hexagonal plates, with very bright prismatic faces, and composed of exceedingly tliin alternating layers of white opaque, and hyaline matter, the base oR being always opaque, dull, but beautifully white. Haiiy 's description of the prismatic kind embraces this variety Hkewise — in fact, the specimens from Luganure here described illustrate perfectly Haiiy's de- scription. I have lately, however, met with another form, consisting of hexagonal plates, of from one millimetre to one and a half thick, with basal edges of from five to twenty millimetres. The base has a bright nacreous lustre, much brighter than what I have ever seen in any other specimen ; striated and uneven, in conse- quence of the lapping of smaller plates. The most of the tabular prisms are, in fact, compound twins to the base oR {a}). Some twins also occur to the faces of the prism, and finally, to a Calcite from Luganure. 179 rhomboliedron. It is owing to this twin structure that the crystals are not generally transparent, for in thin plates they are perfectly hyaline. Except for the difference of form, a mass of these crystals, resting on crystalHne quartz, resembles, in a strik- ing manner, a mass of large crystals of chlorate of potash. Layers ofgrowth in the direction of the secondary axes can be observed in some of the prisms ; in many of these the outer shell, about one millimetre thick, is frequently free from indications of cleavage, and perfectly transparent. The prismatic faces are dull, exactly like the appearance of white wax, when sufficiently thin to be translucent; they are also uneven. These faces exactly resemble those of the prism ooP (R, ooP {a\ e\ e\ d}) figured by Levy.^ 2. oR, ^R', GcR (aS i\ e^) white tabular crystals from Wear- dale in Durham. 3. oR, 00 R, QoP {a\ e^, d}) from Andreasberg. 4. oR, 2R' ooR, ooP {a\ e\ e\ d}) from Andreasberg, 5. oR, IR', ^3_ j^^ Qcp fpoj3^ Ajidreasberg. 6. oR, GoR from Andreasberg, Marienberg, Schneeberg, Joachimsthal, and Schemnitz. The last mentioned form from Luganure, which is oR, ooR, 'Description d'une collection de mineraux forraee par H. Heuland, etc, Londres, 1837, fig. 87. 12b 180 Mr. Sullivan on some Prismatic Forms of Calcite. ^R' (a*, e^, 6'), approaches nearest to No. 6, from wliich it differs, so far as can be expressed by a formula, only by tbe rudimentary rbomboliedral facets. If the faces ^R' became so developed as to render the faces ooR subordinate to them, it would pass into the form No. 2 from Weardale. I have, indeed, found a few imper- fect crystals from Luganure, in which the prismatic faces are only rudimentary, the outhne of the tabular crystal being rhombo- hedral. Although, as I have above observed, the prismatic faces ooR are sometimes dull, the combination of brilliant nacreous oR faces with wax-like prismatic faces exactly like those character- istic of the faces goP is, so far as I am aware, extremely rare. In the mineralogical collection of the Museum of Irish Industry there is a specimen from Andreasberg, in tabular crystals somewhat thicker than those from Luganure, which I have described. The same kind of rudimentary facets occur in the alternate basal edges. I have not had an opportunity of determining whether they belong to -^R' (6'). The prismatic faces have the wax-like dullness of the Luganure specimens, but the crystals are opaque, and the faces oR are dull, and, in other respects, very different in appearance from those just mentioned. In the same collection characteristic specimens of the other forms from Luganure, which I have mentioned, are to be found, as well as of several others, of which I have not yet been able to procure specimens."* * It is to be regretted that the description, both crystallographic and miner- alogical, of the minerals from Irish localities, which are to be found in Irish collections, have not been more generally published. It is only by the careful study of the conditions under which certain forms of minerals are found, the first element of which is a faithful record of the circumscribed locaUties in which they occur, that we can hope to arrive at a solution of the important problem in molecular physics — the causes which produce modifications of form in bodies. The " Manual of the Mineralogy of Great Britain and Ireland, by Robert Philips Greg. F.G.S.. and William G. Letsom", forming, I believe, one of the admirable series of Van Voorst, is a most praiseworthy step in this direction. It is with regret, however, that I have to state that this otherwise excellent and useful work is full of the gravest errors regarding Irish localities ; errors, too, of the strangest kind, not mineralogical. but geographical, and which one would scarcely expect to find made respecting the divisions of an Asiatic country. I do not speak of such errors as Rovenagh and Borenagh for Bovevagh (pp. 54 and 88), Bum Beg for Bun Beg (p. 101), or Glen Maceness for Glenmac- nass, which are however, too numerous to be pardonable, but of such errors as County of Cavenogh for County of Cavan (p. 20) ; " Ballygahfm mine, at Glan- dore, County of Wicklow' (p 279), Glandore being in the County of Cork ; " Knockmahon and Tigroney in Waterford" (p. 305), Tigroney being in Wick- low ; " In Wicklow, at Audley mine" (p. 311), Audley mine being in the County of Cork. I hope a second edition will enable the authors, not only to correct these errors, but to greatly extend the list of localities. 181 Art. VIII. — Observations on the Geological Formation and Chemical Composition of the Surface Deposits from which Vegetable Soils are Formed. By William K. Sullivan. IN almost every country in tlie world, and in all latitudes, superficial accumulations of clay, sand, and gravel occur, sometimes forming a mere coating of the rocks beneatli, but often of very considerable tliickness, and covering large areas, as in Central Asia, Russia, Nortli and South America. These accumulations may, no doubt, belong to different geological epochs, and be due to different causes, but the immediate phy- sical conditions under which they were deposited where we find them, appear to have been very similar. These accumulations consist of the detritus of rocks, of various sizes, sometimes con- fusedly mixed up, but often also consisting of more or less perfectly stratified beds of clay, sand, and pebbles. The latter are invari- ably rounded like the pebbles of sea beaches, and are, therefore, direct evidence that they were subjected to the action of moving water long enough to round them by their mutual attrition. These superficial accumulations have not received that atten- tion from geologists which their extent as a portion of the earth's crust entitles them to, and which their importance in connection with animal and vegetable life imperatively demands. The causes to which they are due have, however, been often specu- lated upon, but while all have admitted the agency of water in some way, various theories have been proposed to account for its mode of action. Geological opinion has undergone a notable change since the period, not long since, when the phenomena observed in studying the physical constitution of the globe were explained by violent cataclasms succeeded by periods of repose. There is now a disposition to consider that the continued action of existing causes is sufficient to satisfactorily explain all the phenomena which the study of the earth's crust makes us ac- quamted with. The hypothesis which attributed the formation of these superficial accumulations to sudden and violent waves sweeping over the country, bearing along masses of rock detritus, has accordingly fallen into oblivion. It could only have been proposed in ignorance, or, at all events, in utter forgetfulness, of the phenomena which it proposed to account for, inasmuch as it left not only unexplained, but was even wholly at variance with, some of the most important of them ; it did not, for instance, show what originally produced and rounded the gravel, and ground into sand and clay such enormous masses of rock as must have 182 Mr. Sullivan on the Geological been necessary to form such extensive deposits. A series of great waves sweeping along may have transported the detritus, but it could scarcely have produced it ; it could only remove matter from one place and deposit it on another : and, secondly, how could a few violent waves possessing force enough to carry along detritus sufficient to cover immense districts to the depth, often, of more than one hundred feet, produce the ripple marks indicative of ordinary tides, which may be so frequently observed on the layers of sand, or, indeed, produce the regular stratifica- tion which occurs frequently in such deposits, the clay of which is often finely laminated, and yet covered with alternating layers of gravel, sand, etc.? The isolated islands of one kind of rock, which are found in many places resting upon other rocks, such as the outher of car- boniferous limestone at Taghmon, in the county of Wexford, described by Mr. Jukes (to take an example from a district not very far from that which will hereafter furnish us with the chief data regarding the formation of soils), show us that at one period these isolated masses formed part of a continuous sheet of the same rock, which covered the whole of the intervening country between the outlier and the main mass. Many valleys also prove that they have been formed by erosion, the opposite sides show- mg the corresponding sections of the eroded rocks- This partial or complete removal of the rocks of a district is termed denudation, and is obviously an important process for modifying the physical features of a country. The detritus of the rocks removed must have formed the materials of new formations. This process was, no doubt in full activity at all geological periods, and may be set down as the source of the superficial accumulations which I have been discussing. Any hypothesis which pretends to explain the formation of such deposits must be two-fold : it must not merely explain the circumstances under which they were deposited, but must also in- clude an explanation of the origin of the materials of which they are composed, that is, explain the cause and manner of the de- nudation which produced the clay, sand, and gravel. The wave-theory, or other violent causes, having been found unte- nable, it has been proposed to account for both the deposition of these deposits, and the denudation which gave the materials, by the action, sometimes singly, and sometmies conjointly, of currents, glaciers, and floating ice. The existence, at one period, of a great glacial sea in Western Europe has been received with considerable favour by, perhaps, the majority of geologists. The recognition of ice as an agent in abrading rocks, and transport- ing the detritus, if it did not actually originate with the inves- Formation and Chemical Composition of Soils. 183 tigations of Agassiz on the glaciers of the Swiss Alps, certainly received from them a more extended geological application. The moraines which those frozen rivers bear on their surface explain very satisfactorly the occurrence of the detritus of the higher mountains far down in the valleys, in positions which, it would be difficult to suppose, they reached through the agency of liquid water alone. Their onward motion accounts for the grooved surface of rocks, and for the erosion, at least in part, of some valleys. The floating about of icebergs, formed of detached masses of glaciers, which run into lakes or seas, and leaving upon them part of the detritus, which constitutes the moraines, affords, no doubt, a very satisfactory explanation, though, certainly, not the only possible one, of the distribution of erratic blocks, which are found scattered over many parts of Europe. The discussion of the glacial theory does not, however, enter into the subject of the present paper, and has only been incidentally mentioned in order that, in discussing hereafter the nature of the materials of which soils are composed, we may be enabled to keep in mind the geological bearings of the subject. §•2. The vegetable soil rests upon the accumulations of sand, clay, etc., wherever they occur. Sometimes it is simply a portion of the upper layer intermixed with vegetable matter, and more or less acted upon by the oxygen of the air. Sometimes it appears to be a different deposit from the mass upon which it rests. In either case the soil must have likewise been formed by matter transported by water. Some of the richest soils in the world have, undoubtedly, been formed by alluvial mud, that is, by matter carried down by rivers, and which is deposited in lakes or estuaries. Some soils have also been slowly formed by the action of water and air, aided by plants, upon the surface of rocks. Such soils are usually very thin, even where the rock decomposes rapidly, and except where land-slips have taken place, or where they have been formed upon the steep sides of hills, and gradually fallen down, they rest directly upon the rock from which they are formed. I have seen a calcareous ash con- glomerate, which decomposed so rapidly and perfectly, that a block which still exhibited the planes of jointing was permeated to the depth of several inches by the roots of plants, and pierced by numerous worm-holes, and crumbled between the fingers into a yellowish brown loam, while in the interior it was gray and as hard as Hmestone. But even those soils which have been formed by decomposition of the subjacent rock are subjected to the action of running water, which, without being able to carry 184 Mr. Sullivan on the Geological the whole mass away, nevertheless continually washes out the finest part, which it bears away as mud and deposits upon the lower groimds. The few observations which I have made are sufficient to show that very great differences may exist between soils, which may be entirely due to the manner in which they are fcjrmed. In any inquiry concerning the properties of soils, our first business should obviously be to endeavour to as- certain the manner in which the particular ones to be ex- amined were formed. From this point of view we may classify soils into: 1. those which have been formed by the slow decay of the subjacent rocks, and which have not con- sequently been subjected to the action of water, beyond that which falls upon them as rain ; 2. alluvial soils, or those formed by the detritus and mud of rivers; and 3. soils which rest upon the detritus of ancient sea-beaches or sea-bottoms. The general character of the first kind of soils is indicated by that of the rock upon which they rest. If it be homoge- neous, that is, composed of one kind of mineral, the soil will consist of the detritus of that mineral, more or less decom- posed. The chemical properties of two specimens of such a soil will not be found to materially differ, while the physical pro- perties may be totally unlike. If, on the other hand, the rock be a mixture of several minerals, the quahties of the soil may vary considerably within short spaces, according as one or the other constituent predominated. The second and third kinds of soil being made up in most cases of the detritus of many rocks, mixed in ever-varying proportions, no two specimens can possess the same composition or physical properties. This fact, which is of the greatest importance in connection with all attempts to determine the comparative values of different soils, will be ren- dered more evident by a discussion of the action of water in transporting detiitus and depositing it in new positions. §3. The transporting power of water depends upon its velocity ; according to Hopkins, the law of its progressive increase, estimated by the weight of the pebbles of a given form and density, which it is capable of stirring, is as the sixth power of the velocity of the current ; that is, if we double the swift- ness of a current, it will move pebbles of the same density and form, sixty-four times as heavy: if we quadruple its velocity, the weight capable of being moved will be increased 2048 times. The most casual obsepvation shows us that, whatever may be the propelHng force of a cm'rent of water, it cannot Formation and Chemical Composition of Soils. 185 move all kinds of detritus with the same facility ; the mota- "bility of the latter depends upon the size, density, and form of the component particles, and on the position of each with regard to the neighbouring ones, that is, to the existence of greater or lesser obstacles in the way of their onward motion. The less the density and weight, other things being equal, the more easily pebbles are moved along. The more nearly a pebble approaches a sphere, the more readily it can be moved; the flatter or more elongated or angular the forms, the more force will be required to move it. If a heap of detritus consisting of dijfferent sized worn fragments of coal sandstone (sp. gr. 2.60), Silurian sandstone (sp. gr. 2.76), carboniferous lime- stone (sp. gr. 2.72), coal shale (sp. gr. 2.59), mica slate (sp. gr. 2.69), greenstone (sp. gr. 2.85), were to be exposed to the action of a current of water moving at a certain ve- locity, it would be found that those rocks which wear into more or less round fragments would move first, following the order of their density and volume. Those, on the contrary, which were flat, as the shales and slates, would be moved with most difliculty. The result would be a redistribution of the detritus, by which the largest fragments of coal grit, sand- stone, and limestone would be mingled with the smaller frag- ments of slate ; the larger fragments of the slate, being most diffi- cult to move, would be nearly altogether separated from the rocks whioh form round pebbles. But even the disposition of the latter would vary at every step, according as the influence of form, density, or volume would dominate or compensate. If we watch the action of a current of water upon detritus, we shall find that the transportation is eiFected in two distinct ways : 1. by shoving the fragments along the ground; and 2. by lifting them and bearing them along. It is obvious that the comparative amount of detritus which would be transported in each way would greatly modify the arrangement of the fragments when again at rest. The proportion lifted would depend, among other things, upon the density of the substances forming the detritus — the pebbles of smaller specific gravity being more easily moved than those of higher, upon the force of the current, and the slope or inclination of the bottom upon which the detritus moved. The greater the inclination in the direction of the current, the more easily would the material be lifted. Hence, on a shelving shore, the detritus is oftener lifted up by the retiring wave than by the advancing one. §.4. The distribution of detritus shoved along would be very dif- 186 Mr. Sullivan on the Geological ferent from that transported while in suspension. The finer part of all detritus is always lifted, and as it is precisely that part which is of most importance in the formation of soils, it will be desirable to study somewhat more in detail the circumstances upon which the deposition of solid matter in suspension in water depends. Those circumstances are extremely variable, and scarcely admit of accurate determination. It is not difiicult to de- termine the velocity with which homogeneous bodies of a definite form freely fall, without initial velocity, through a fluid. M. De Hennezel, for instance, finds that the acquired velocity at any moment of a spherical body, falling, without initial velocity, in a resisting medium, varies according to a law of progression somewhat less rapid than the direct ratio of the square roots of the density and the diameter of the body, and in the inverse ratio of the square root of the density of the fluid. ^ Hence it fol- lows that for two spherical bodies of the densities D and d, and the diameters A and 3, falHng each in a fluid of the density Q for the first, and q for the second, the corresponding velocities, V and v^ will be given in functions of one another by the expression V _ ./"DxKxq V " ^ dx^xQ This law has been experimentally confirmed by M. Pemolet. It would, however, be clearly impracticable to attempt to give an expression for the fall of bodies of indeterminate ^hape, and whose motion, in addition, would be modified at every instant by impinging against each other. Indeed, mathematical expres- sions, were they possible, would scarcely be useful. Still it is always desirable to have some accurate data as standards by which to correct our general conclusions. The chief circmnstances which influence the fall of bodies in water are, volume or size, density, and shape, being in fact the same that influence the motability when exposed to a current of water. The foregoing formula will give us a standard by which to estimate the influence which calibre and density would have on the velocity of falling bodies. Fortunately an interesting series of experiments, made by M. Pernolet with a view of ascer- taining how far metallic ores could be concentrated for the pur- poses of smelting by allowing them to fall through water,^ afford us some data for estimating the influence of form, which is by far the most important of the three. By experiments made with different sized shot in their usual spherical form, and more or less flBttened, he has shown that it requires a difference of calibre in • Anna! des Mines, 4"^^ Serie, t. iv., p. 353. ' Ibid, t. XX., pp. 389, 535. Formation and Chemical Composition of Soils. 187 the proportion of 1 : 2 in order to produce a difference in the time of full in the proportion of 1 to less than 1^, while the slightest possible change of form, such, for example, as that of a sphere into a cube or cylinder, the dimensions of which would be I less than the diameter of the sphere, would be sufficient to produce an equal difference in the duration of the fall. The following table shows the results which M. Pernolet obtained in experiments made upon the fall in a column of water 6 metres high, of 11 pieces of lead of the same volume, but shaped diffe- rently, but so that the greatest dimensions of any of them did not exceed twice the diameter of the one formed into a sphere. Form. Diameter in Thickness Duration of fall Millimetres. in MUlimfetres. in Seconds. 1 Sphere 14 to 15 14 to 15 3.91 2 Cube 11 „ 12 11 „ 12 5.85 3 CyUnder 11 „ 12 13 „ 14 5.25 4 „ 17 7 6.50 5 „ 20 5 to 6 7.16 6 Prism 8 by 8 26 „ 27 7.33 7 „ 17 „ 19 6 „ 7 7.60 8 » 22 „ 23 3 „ 4 9.25 9 „ 63 „ 3i 2 8.33 10 Cylinder 26 3 to 4 9.50 11 » 42 H 10.673 This table shows in a striking manner the influence of shape alone on the velocity of bodies falling through water. The result of a number of experiments upon spheres of the same density, but of different weights, showed that a differ- ence in the diameters in the ratio of 1 : 2, produced a differ- ence in the times of fall in the ratio of 1,000 : 1,414; and that, in order to double the time of fall, the diameter should be reduced in the ratio of 4 : 1. M. Pernolet was not able to deter- mine experimentally the influence of density upon the time of fall, but the maximum influence may be stated to be about 100 : 300, or that between quartz and platinum; but as the densities of the commoner rocks differ but very little from each other, the maximum variation produced, in the time of fall of detritus of rocks by this cause, would certainly not exceed the ratio of 100 to 115. ' Observations. — No. 1, the time varied between S" and 4"; No. 6, the time also varied in this case between 7" and 8", the former corresponding to a ver- tical fall, and the latter to a spiral one. No. 8 was thrown on the flat, or in the direction of its chief axis, without producing any variation in the time of fall. No, 9 always fell flat, whether it was thrown so or in the direction of its major axis. No. 11 was always thrown flat, and yet the duration varied from 10" to 12". 188 Mr. Sullivan on the Geological §. 5. We have now to consider what would be the combined effect of all the influences which could modify the time of fall of bodies in water. To determine this point, it would be necessary to experiment upon bodies of different densities, volumes, and shapes, simultaneously. It is, however, very difficult to do this. I have attempted some experiments to determine the order of deposit of detritus of various sizes, density, and shape ; but not having adequate means at my disposal, the results which I have as yet obtained are of no further use than to show the difficulties which beset such experiments, except, indeed, that they suffi- ciently indicate the character of the results which may be looked for. In the absence of data of this kind, it is fortunate that we possess some experiments of M. Pemolet, in which he sought to determine the same thing, though for a different purpose, with those minerals which it is the object of the pro- cess for washing ores to separate. He took pebbles of galena, quartz, and coal, substances which exhibit a considerable differ- ence in their relative densities, divided into four classes according to size, the classification being effected by means of gratings of given dimensions. As the bodies which escape through a grating of any given dimension are not, as is well known, of the same size, it was necessary to sort by the hand each class into groups, including, as far as possible, fragments of equal size. The time of fall for each group, of each class, as in those already quoted, was made by a series of observations upon the fall of isolated grains through a column of water 6 metres high, and 0°" 20 in diameter. Similar experiments were made upon the sand pro- duced by crushing galena, which has a cubical fracture, crystal- line pyrites, blende, which breaks into smaller fragments, lamel- lar sulphate of baryta, lamellar carbonate of lime, ribbon quartz, plumbago, and bituminous coal, classified into seven classes. It is important to observe here that considerable difference may exist between the velocity of fall of the same substances in the state of pebbles and of very fine powder. Bodies of lamellar structure, for example, may form round pebbles, but when ground to fine powder, the particles forming the powder would consist t)f thin plates. The result of this would be, that while the pebbles might be amongst those which de- scend fastest, the fine mud produced by their attrition might be one of the slowest descending kinds. Even though we may not be able to detect any difference of form between the particles composing the finest powders of dif