Page 1
Page 2
Page 3
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Encyclopaedia Britannica, 11th
Edition, "Equation" to "Ethics"
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever.
You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project
Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org.
If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of
the country where you are located before using this eBook.
Title: Encyclopaedia Britannica, 11th Edition, "Equation" to "Ethics"
Author: Various
Release date: February 25, 2011 [eBook #35398]
Most recently updated: January 7, 2021
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35398
Credits: Produced by Marius Masi, Don Kretz and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENCYCLOPAEDIA
BRITANNICA, 11TH EDITION, "EQUATION" TO "ETHICS" ***
Transcriber’s note: A few typographical errors have been corrected. They
appear in the text like this, and the explanation will
appear when the mouse pointer is moved over the
marked passage. Sections in Greek will yield a
transliteration when the pointer is moved over them,
Edition, "Equation" to "Ethics"
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever.
You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project
Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org.
If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of
the country where you are located before using this eBook.
Title: Encyclopaedia Britannica, 11th Edition, "Equation" to "Ethics"
Author: Various
Release date: February 25, 2011 [eBook #35398]
Most recently updated: January 7, 2021
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35398
Credits: Produced by Marius Masi, Don Kretz and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENCYCLOPAEDIA
BRITANNICA, 11TH EDITION, "EQUATION" TO "ETHICS" ***
Transcriber’s note: A few typographical errors have been corrected. They
appear in the text like this, and the explanation will
appear when the mouse pointer is moved over the
marked passage. Sections in Greek will yield a
transliteration when the pointer is moved over them,
Page 4
and words using diacritic characters in the Latin
Extended Additional block, which may not display in
some fonts or browsers, will display an unaccented
version.
Links to other EB articles: Links to articles residing in
other EB volumes will be made available when the
respective volumes are introduced online.
Extended Additional block, which may not display in
some fonts or browsers, will display an unaccented
version.
Links to other EB articles: Links to articles residing in
other EB volumes will be made available when the
respective volumes are introduced online.
Page 5
THE ENCYCLOPÆDIA BRITANNICA
Page 6
A DICTIONARY OF ARTS, SCIENCES,
LITERATURE AND GENERAL INFORMATION
ELEVENTH EDITION
VOLUME IX SLICE VII
Equation to Ethics
Articles in This Slice
EQUATION ESCHEAT
EQUATION OF THE CENTRE ESCHENBURG, JOHANN JOACHIM
EQUATION OF TIME ESCHENMAYER, ADAM KARL AUGUST
VON
EQUATOR ESCHER VON DER LINTH, ARNOLD
EQUERRY ESCHSCHOLTZ, JOHANN FRIEDRICH
EQUIDAE ESCHWEGE
EQUILIBRIUM ESCHWEILER
EQUINOX ESCOBAR Y MENDOZA, ANTONIO
EQUITES ESCOIQUIZ, JUAN
LITERATURE AND GENERAL INFORMATION
ELEVENTH EDITION
VOLUME IX SLICE VII
Equation to Ethics
Articles in This Slice
EQUATION ESCHEAT
EQUATION OF THE CENTRE ESCHENBURG, JOHANN JOACHIM
EQUATION OF TIME ESCHENMAYER, ADAM KARL AUGUST
VON
EQUATOR ESCHER VON DER LINTH, ARNOLD
EQUERRY ESCHSCHOLTZ, JOHANN FRIEDRICH
EQUIDAE ESCHWEGE
EQUILIBRIUM ESCHWEILER
EQUINOX ESCOBAR Y MENDOZA, ANTONIO
EQUITES ESCOIQUIZ, JUAN
Page 7
EQUITY ESCOMBE, HARRY
EQUIVALENT ESCORIAL
ÉRARD, SÉBASTIEN ESCOVEDO, JUAN DE
ERASMUS, DESIDERIUS ESCUINTLA
ERASTUS, THOMAS ESCUTCHEON
ERATOSTHENES OF ESHER, WILLIAM BALIOL BRETT
ALEXANDRIA
ERBACH ESHER
ERBIUM ESKER
ERCILLA Y ZÚNIGA, ALONSO ESKILSTUNA
DE
ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN ESKIMO
ERDÉLYI, JÁNOS ESKI-SHEHR
ERDMANN, JOHANN EDUARD ESMARCH, JOHANNES FRIEDRICH
AUGUST VON
ERDMANN, OTTO LINNÉ ESNA
EREBUS ESOTERIC
ERECH ESPAGNOLS SUR MER, LES
ERECHTHEUM ESPALIER
ERECHTHEUS ESPARTERO, BALDOMERO
ERESHKIGAL ESPARTO
ERETRIA ESPERANCE
ERETRIAN SCHOOL OF ESPERANTO
PHILOSOPHY
ERFURT ESPINAY, TIMOLÉON D’
ERGOT ESPINEL, VICENTE MARTINEZ
ERIC XIV ESPIRITO SANTO
ERICACEAE ESPRONCEDA, JOSÉ IGNACIO JAVIER
ORIOL ENCARNACIÓN DE
ERICHSEN, SIR JOHN ERIC ESQUIRE
ERICHT, LOCH ESQUIROL, JEAN ÉTIENNE DOMINIQUE
ERICSSON, JOHN ESQUIROS, HENRI FRANÇOIS ALPHONSE
ERIDANUS ESS, JOHANN HEINRICH VAN
ERIDU ESSAY, ESSAYIST
ERIE (lake) ESSEG
EQUIVALENT ESCORIAL
ÉRARD, SÉBASTIEN ESCOVEDO, JUAN DE
ERASMUS, DESIDERIUS ESCUINTLA
ERASTUS, THOMAS ESCUTCHEON
ERATOSTHENES OF ESHER, WILLIAM BALIOL BRETT
ALEXANDRIA
ERBACH ESHER
ERBIUM ESKER
ERCILLA Y ZÚNIGA, ALONSO ESKILSTUNA
DE
ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN ESKIMO
ERDÉLYI, JÁNOS ESKI-SHEHR
ERDMANN, JOHANN EDUARD ESMARCH, JOHANNES FRIEDRICH
AUGUST VON
ERDMANN, OTTO LINNÉ ESNA
EREBUS ESOTERIC
ERECH ESPAGNOLS SUR MER, LES
ERECHTHEUM ESPALIER
ERECHTHEUS ESPARTERO, BALDOMERO
ERESHKIGAL ESPARTO
ERETRIA ESPERANCE
ERETRIAN SCHOOL OF ESPERANTO
PHILOSOPHY
ERFURT ESPINAY, TIMOLÉON D’
ERGOT ESPINEL, VICENTE MARTINEZ
ERIC XIV ESPIRITO SANTO
ERICACEAE ESPRONCEDA, JOSÉ IGNACIO JAVIER
ORIOL ENCARNACIÓN DE
ERICHSEN, SIR JOHN ERIC ESQUIRE
ERICHT, LOCH ESQUIROL, JEAN ÉTIENNE DOMINIQUE
ERICSSON, JOHN ESQUIROS, HENRI FRANÇOIS ALPHONSE
ERIDANUS ESS, JOHANN HEINRICH VAN
ERIDU ESSAY, ESSAYIST
ERIE (lake) ESSEG
Page 8
ERIE (city) ESSEN
ERIGENA, JOHANNES ESSENES
SCOTUS
ERIGONE ESSENTUKI
ERIN ESSEQUIBO
ERINNA ESSEX, EARLS OF
ERINYES ESSEX, ARTHUR CAPEL
ERIPHYLE ESSEX, ROBERT DEVEREUX
ERIS ESSEX, ROBERT DEVEREUX
ERITH ESSEX, WALTER DEVEREUX
ERITREA ESSEX
ERIVAN (government of Russia) ESSEX, KINGDOM OF
ERIVAN (town of Russia) ESSLINGEN
ERLANGEN ESTABLISHMENT
ERLE, SIR WILLIAM ESTABLISHMENT OF A PORT
ERLKÖNIG ESTAING, CHARLES HECTOR
ERMAN, PAUL ESTATE
ERMANARIC ESTATE AND HOUSE AGENTS
ERMELAND ESTATE DUTY
ERMELO ESTCOURT, RICHARD
ERMINE ESTE (family)
ERMINE STREET ESTE (town)
ERMOLDUS NIGELLUS ESTÉBANEZ CALDERÓN, SERAFÍN
ERNE ESTELLA
ERNEST I ESTERHÁZY OF GALÁNTHA
ERNEST II ESTERS
ERNEST AUGUSTUS ESTHER
ERNESTI, JOHANN AUGUST ESTHONIA
ERNESTI, JOHANN ESTIENNE
CHRISTIAN GOTTLIEB
ERNST, HEINRICH WILHELM ESTON
ERODE ESTOPPEL
EROS (planet) ESTOUTEVILLE, GUILLAUME D’
EROS (god of love) ESTOVERS
ERIGENA, JOHANNES ESSENES
SCOTUS
ERIGONE ESSENTUKI
ERIN ESSEQUIBO
ERINNA ESSEX, EARLS OF
ERINYES ESSEX, ARTHUR CAPEL
ERIPHYLE ESSEX, ROBERT DEVEREUX
ERIS ESSEX, ROBERT DEVEREUX
ERITH ESSEX, WALTER DEVEREUX
ERITREA ESSEX
ERIVAN (government of Russia) ESSEX, KINGDOM OF
ERIVAN (town of Russia) ESSLINGEN
ERLANGEN ESTABLISHMENT
ERLE, SIR WILLIAM ESTABLISHMENT OF A PORT
ERLKÖNIG ESTAING, CHARLES HECTOR
ERMAN, PAUL ESTATE
ERMANARIC ESTATE AND HOUSE AGENTS
ERMELAND ESTATE DUTY
ERMELO ESTCOURT, RICHARD
ERMINE ESTE (family)
ERMINE STREET ESTE (town)
ERMOLDUS NIGELLUS ESTÉBANEZ CALDERÓN, SERAFÍN
ERNE ESTELLA
ERNEST I ESTERHÁZY OF GALÁNTHA
ERNEST II ESTERS
ERNEST AUGUSTUS ESTHER
ERNESTI, JOHANN AUGUST ESTHONIA
ERNESTI, JOHANN ESTIENNE
CHRISTIAN GOTTLIEB
ERNST, HEINRICH WILHELM ESTON
ERODE ESTOPPEL
EROS (planet) ESTOUTEVILLE, GUILLAUME D’
EROS (god of love) ESTOVERS
Page 9
ERPENIUS, THOMAS ESTRADA, LA
ERROLL, FRANCIS HAY ESTRADE
ERROR ESTRADES, GODEFROI
ERSCH, JOHANN SAMUEL ESTREAT
ERSKINE, EBENEZER ESTRÉES, GABRIELLE D’
ERSKINE, HENRY ESTREMADURA
ERSKINE, JOHN (Scottish ESTREMOZ
divine)
ERSKINE, JOHN (of Carnock) ESTUARY
ERSKINE, JOHN (of Dun) ESZTERGOM
ERSKINE, RALPH ÉTAGÈRE
ERSKINE, THOMAS (of ETAH
Linlathen)
ERSKINE, THOMAS ERSKINE ÉTAMPES, ANNE DE PISSELEU D’HEILLY
ERUBESCITE ÉTAMPES
ERYSIPELAS ÉTAPLES
ERYTHRAE ETAWAH
ERYTHRITE ETCHING
ERZERUM ETEOCLES
ERZGEBIRGE ETESIAN WIND
ERZINGAN ÉTEX, ANTOINE
ESAR-HADDON ETHER
ESAU ETHEREDGE, SIR GEORGE
ESBJERG ETHERIDGE, JOHN WESLEY
ESCANABA ETHERIDGE, ROBERT
ESCAPE ETHERS
ESCHATOLOGY ETHICS
ERROLL, FRANCIS HAY ESTRADE
ERROR ESTRADES, GODEFROI
ERSCH, JOHANN SAMUEL ESTREAT
ERSKINE, EBENEZER ESTRÉES, GABRIELLE D’
ERSKINE, HENRY ESTREMADURA
ERSKINE, JOHN (Scottish ESTREMOZ
divine)
ERSKINE, JOHN (of Carnock) ESTUARY
ERSKINE, JOHN (of Dun) ESZTERGOM
ERSKINE, RALPH ÉTAGÈRE
ERSKINE, THOMAS (of ETAH
Linlathen)
ERSKINE, THOMAS ERSKINE ÉTAMPES, ANNE DE PISSELEU D’HEILLY
ERUBESCITE ÉTAMPES
ERYSIPELAS ÉTAPLES
ERYTHRAE ETAWAH
ERYTHRITE ETCHING
ERZERUM ETEOCLES
ERZGEBIRGE ETESIAN WIND
ERZINGAN ÉTEX, ANTOINE
ESAR-HADDON ETHER
ESAU ETHEREDGE, SIR GEORGE
ESBJERG ETHERIDGE, JOHN WESLEY
ESCANABA ETHERIDGE, ROBERT
ESCAPE ETHERS
ESCHATOLOGY ETHICS
Page 10
EQUATION (from Lat. aequatio, aequare, to equalize), an expression or
statement of the equality of two quantities. Mathematical equivalence is
denoted by the sign =, a symbol invented by Robert Recorde (1510-1558), who
considered that nothing could be more equal than two equal and parallel
straight lines. An equation states an equality existing between two classes of
quantities, distinguished as known and unknown; these correspond to the data
of a problem and the thing sought. It is the purpose of the mathematician to
state the unknowns separately in terms of the knowns; this is called solving the
equation, and the values of the unknowns so obtained are called the roots or
solutions. The unknowns are usually denoted by the terminal letters, ... x, y, z,
of the alphabet, and the knowns are either actual numbers or are represented by
the literals a, b, c, &c..., i.e. the introductory letters of the alphabet. Any
number or literal which expresses what multiple of term occurs in an equation
is called the coefficient of that term; and the term which does not contain an
unknown is called the absolute term. The degree of an equation is equal to the
greatest index of an unknown in the equation, or to the greatest sum of the
indices of products of unknowns. If each term has the sum of its indices the
same, the equation is said to be homogeneous. These definitions are
exemplified in the equations:—
(1) ax² + 2bx + c = 0,
(2) xy² + 4a²x = 8a³,
(3) ax² + 2hxy + by² = 0.
In (1) the unknown is x, and the knowns a, b, c; the coefficients of x² and x are
a and 2b; the absolute term is c, and the degree is 2. In (2) the unknowns are x
and y, and the known a; the degree is 3, i.e. the sum of the indices in the term
xy². (3) is a homogeneous equation of the second degree in x and y. Equations
of the first degree are called simple or linear; of the second, quadratic; of the
third, cubic; of the fourth, biquadratic; of the fifth, quintic, and so on. Of
equations containing only one unknown the number of roots equals the degree
statement of the equality of two quantities. Mathematical equivalence is
denoted by the sign =, a symbol invented by Robert Recorde (1510-1558), who
considered that nothing could be more equal than two equal and parallel
straight lines. An equation states an equality existing between two classes of
quantities, distinguished as known and unknown; these correspond to the data
of a problem and the thing sought. It is the purpose of the mathematician to
state the unknowns separately in terms of the knowns; this is called solving the
equation, and the values of the unknowns so obtained are called the roots or
solutions. The unknowns are usually denoted by the terminal letters, ... x, y, z,
of the alphabet, and the knowns are either actual numbers or are represented by
the literals a, b, c, &c..., i.e. the introductory letters of the alphabet. Any
number or literal which expresses what multiple of term occurs in an equation
is called the coefficient of that term; and the term which does not contain an
unknown is called the absolute term. The degree of an equation is equal to the
greatest index of an unknown in the equation, or to the greatest sum of the
indices of products of unknowns. If each term has the sum of its indices the
same, the equation is said to be homogeneous. These definitions are
exemplified in the equations:—
(1) ax² + 2bx + c = 0,
(2) xy² + 4a²x = 8a³,
(3) ax² + 2hxy + by² = 0.
In (1) the unknown is x, and the knowns a, b, c; the coefficients of x² and x are
a and 2b; the absolute term is c, and the degree is 2. In (2) the unknowns are x
and y, and the known a; the degree is 3, i.e. the sum of the indices in the term
xy². (3) is a homogeneous equation of the second degree in x and y. Equations
of the first degree are called simple or linear; of the second, quadratic; of the
third, cubic; of the fourth, biquadratic; of the fifth, quintic, and so on. Of
equations containing only one unknown the number of roots equals the degree
Page 11
of the equation; thus a simple equation has one root, a quadratic two, a cubic
three, and so on. If one equation be given containing two unknowns, as for
example ax + by = c or ax² + by² = c, it is seen that there are an infinite number
of roots, for we can give x, say, any value and then determine the
corresponding value of y; such an equation is called indeterminate; of the
examples chosen the first is a linear and the second a quadratic indeterminate
equation. In general, an indeterminate equation results when the number of
unknowns exceeds by unity the number of equations. If, on the other hand, we
have two equations connecting two unknowns, it is possible to solve the
equations separately for one unknown, and then if we equate these values we
obtain an equation in one unknown, which is soluble if its degree does not
exceed the fourth. By substituting these values the corresponding values of the
other unknown are determined. Such equations are called simultaneous; and a
simultaneous system is a series of equations equal in number to the number of
unknowns. Such a system is not always soluble, for it may happen that one
equation is implied by the others; when this occurs the system is called
porismatic or poristic. An identity differs from an equation inasmuch as it
cannot be solved, the terms mutually cancelling; for example, the expression x²
− a² = (x − a)(x + a) is an identity, for on reduction it gives 0 = 0. It is usual to
employ the sign ≡ to express this relation.
An equation admits of description in two ways:—(1) It may be
regarded purely as an algebraic expression, or (2) as a geometrical locus.
In the first case there is obviously no limit to the number of unknowns and
to the degree of the equation; and, consequently, this aspect is the most
general. In the second case the number of unknowns is limited to three,
corresponding to the three dimensions of space; the degree is unlimited as
before. It must be noticed, however, that by the introduction of
appropriate hyperspaces, i.e. of degree equal to the number of unknowns,
any equation theoretically admits of geometrical visualization, in other
words, every equation may be represented by a geometrical figure and
every geometrical figure by an equation. Corresponding to these two
three, and so on. If one equation be given containing two unknowns, as for
example ax + by = c or ax² + by² = c, it is seen that there are an infinite number
of roots, for we can give x, say, any value and then determine the
corresponding value of y; such an equation is called indeterminate; of the
examples chosen the first is a linear and the second a quadratic indeterminate
equation. In general, an indeterminate equation results when the number of
unknowns exceeds by unity the number of equations. If, on the other hand, we
have two equations connecting two unknowns, it is possible to solve the
equations separately for one unknown, and then if we equate these values we
obtain an equation in one unknown, which is soluble if its degree does not
exceed the fourth. By substituting these values the corresponding values of the
other unknown are determined. Such equations are called simultaneous; and a
simultaneous system is a series of equations equal in number to the number of
unknowns. Such a system is not always soluble, for it may happen that one
equation is implied by the others; when this occurs the system is called
porismatic or poristic. An identity differs from an equation inasmuch as it
cannot be solved, the terms mutually cancelling; for example, the expression x²
− a² = (x − a)(x + a) is an identity, for on reduction it gives 0 = 0. It is usual to
employ the sign ≡ to express this relation.
An equation admits of description in two ways:—(1) It may be
regarded purely as an algebraic expression, or (2) as a geometrical locus.
In the first case there is obviously no limit to the number of unknowns and
to the degree of the equation; and, consequently, this aspect is the most
general. In the second case the number of unknowns is limited to three,
corresponding to the three dimensions of space; the degree is unlimited as
before. It must be noticed, however, that by the introduction of
appropriate hyperspaces, i.e. of degree equal to the number of unknowns,
any equation theoretically admits of geometrical visualization, in other
words, every equation may be represented by a geometrical figure and
every geometrical figure by an equation. Corresponding to these two
Page 12
aspects, there are two typical methods by which equations can be solved,
viz. the algebraic and geometric. The former leads to exact results, or, by
methods of approximation, to results correct to any required degree of
accuracy. The latter can only yield approximate values: when theoretically
exact constructions are available there is a source of error in the
draughtsmanship, and when the constructions are only approximate, the
accuracy of the results is more problematical. The geometric aspect,
however, is of considerable value in discussing the theory of equations.
History.—There is little doubt that the earliest solutions of equations are
given, in the Rhind papyrus, a hieratic document written some 2000 years
before our era. The problems solved were of an arithmetical nature, assuming
such forms as “a mass and its 1⁄7th makes 19.” Calling the unknown mass x, we
have given x + 1⁄7 x = 19, which is a simple equation. Arithmetical problems
also gave origin to equations involving two unknowns; the early Greeks were
familiar with and solved simultaneous linear equations, but indeterminate
equations, such, for instance, as the system given in the “cattle problem” of
Archimedes, were not seriously studied until Diophantus solved many
particular problems. Quadratic equations arose in the Greek investigations in
the doctrine of proportion, and although they were presented and solved in a
geometrical form, the methods employed have no relation to the generalized
conception of algebraic geometry which represents a curve by an equation and
vice versa. The simplest quadratic arose in the construction of a mean
proportional (x) between two lines (a, b), or in the construction of a square
equal to a given rectangle; for we have the proportion a:x = x:b; i.e. x² = ab. A
more general equation, viz. x² − ax + a² = 0, is the algebraic equivalent of the
problem to divide a line in medial section; this is solved in Euclid, ii. 11. It is
possible that Diophantus was in possession of an algebraic solution of
quadratics; he recognized, however, only one root, the interpretation of both
being first effected by the Hindu Bhaskara. A simple cubic equation was
presented in the problem of finding two mean proportionals, x, y, between two
lines, one double the other. We have a:x = x:y = y:2a, which gives x² = ay and
viz. the algebraic and geometric. The former leads to exact results, or, by
methods of approximation, to results correct to any required degree of
accuracy. The latter can only yield approximate values: when theoretically
exact constructions are available there is a source of error in the
draughtsmanship, and when the constructions are only approximate, the
accuracy of the results is more problematical. The geometric aspect,
however, is of considerable value in discussing the theory of equations.
History.—There is little doubt that the earliest solutions of equations are
given, in the Rhind papyrus, a hieratic document written some 2000 years
before our era. The problems solved were of an arithmetical nature, assuming
such forms as “a mass and its 1⁄7th makes 19.” Calling the unknown mass x, we
have given x + 1⁄7 x = 19, which is a simple equation. Arithmetical problems
also gave origin to equations involving two unknowns; the early Greeks were
familiar with and solved simultaneous linear equations, but indeterminate
equations, such, for instance, as the system given in the “cattle problem” of
Archimedes, were not seriously studied until Diophantus solved many
particular problems. Quadratic equations arose in the Greek investigations in
the doctrine of proportion, and although they were presented and solved in a
geometrical form, the methods employed have no relation to the generalized
conception of algebraic geometry which represents a curve by an equation and
vice versa. The simplest quadratic arose in the construction of a mean
proportional (x) between two lines (a, b), or in the construction of a square
equal to a given rectangle; for we have the proportion a:x = x:b; i.e. x² = ab. A
more general equation, viz. x² − ax + a² = 0, is the algebraic equivalent of the
problem to divide a line in medial section; this is solved in Euclid, ii. 11. It is
possible that Diophantus was in possession of an algebraic solution of
quadratics; he recognized, however, only one root, the interpretation of both
being first effected by the Hindu Bhaskara. A simple cubic equation was
presented in the problem of finding two mean proportionals, x, y, between two
lines, one double the other. We have a:x = x:y = y:2a, which gives x² = ay and
Page 13
xy = 2a²; eliminating y we obtain x³ = 2a³, a simple cubic. The Greeks could
not solve this equation, which also arose in the problems of duplicating a cube
and trisecting an angle, by the ruler and compasses, but only by mechanical
curves such as the cissoid, conchoid and quadratrix. Such solutions were much
improved by the Arabs, who also solved both cubics and biquadratics by
means of intersecting conics; at the same time, they developed methods,
originated by Diophantus and improved by the Hindus, for finding
approximate roots of numerical equations by algebraic processes. The
algebraic solution of the general cubic and biquadratic was effected in the 16th
century by S. Ferro, N. Tartaglia, H. Cardan and L. Ferrari (see Algebra:
History). Many fruitless attempts were made to solve algebraically the quintic
equation until P. Ruffini and N.H. Abel proved the problem to be impossible; a
solution involving elliptic functions has been given by C. Hermite and L.
Kronecker, while F. Klein has given another solution.
In the geometric treatment of equations the Greeks and Arabs based their
constructions upon certain empirically deduced properties of the curves and
figures employed. Knowing various metrical relations, generally expressed as
proportions, it was found possible to solve particular equations, but a general
method was wanting. This lacuna was not filled until the 17th century, when
Descartes discovered the general theory which explained the nature of such
solutions, in particular those wherein conics were employed, and, in addition,
established the most important facts that every equation represents a
geometrical locus, and conversely. To represent equations containing two
unknowns, x, y, he chose two axes of reference mutually perpendicular, and
measured x along the horizontal axis and y along the vertical. Then by the
methods described in the article Geometry: Analytical, he showed that—(1) a
linear equation represents a straight line, and (2) a quadratic represents a conic.
If the equation be homogeneous or break up into factors, it represents a number
of straight lines in the first case, and the loci corresponding to the factors in the
second. The solution of simultaneous equations is easily seen to be the values
of x, y corresponding to the intersections of the loci. It follows that there is
not solve this equation, which also arose in the problems of duplicating a cube
and trisecting an angle, by the ruler and compasses, but only by mechanical
curves such as the cissoid, conchoid and quadratrix. Such solutions were much
improved by the Arabs, who also solved both cubics and biquadratics by
means of intersecting conics; at the same time, they developed methods,
originated by Diophantus and improved by the Hindus, for finding
approximate roots of numerical equations by algebraic processes. The
algebraic solution of the general cubic and biquadratic was effected in the 16th
century by S. Ferro, N. Tartaglia, H. Cardan and L. Ferrari (see Algebra:
History). Many fruitless attempts were made to solve algebraically the quintic
equation until P. Ruffini and N.H. Abel proved the problem to be impossible; a
solution involving elliptic functions has been given by C. Hermite and L.
Kronecker, while F. Klein has given another solution.
In the geometric treatment of equations the Greeks and Arabs based their
constructions upon certain empirically deduced properties of the curves and
figures employed. Knowing various metrical relations, generally expressed as
proportions, it was found possible to solve particular equations, but a general
method was wanting. This lacuna was not filled until the 17th century, when
Descartes discovered the general theory which explained the nature of such
solutions, in particular those wherein conics were employed, and, in addition,
established the most important facts that every equation represents a
geometrical locus, and conversely. To represent equations containing two
unknowns, x, y, he chose two axes of reference mutually perpendicular, and
measured x along the horizontal axis and y along the vertical. Then by the
methods described in the article Geometry: Analytical, he showed that—(1) a
linear equation represents a straight line, and (2) a quadratic represents a conic.
If the equation be homogeneous or break up into factors, it represents a number
of straight lines in the first case, and the loci corresponding to the factors in the
second. The solution of simultaneous equations is easily seen to be the values
of x, y corresponding to the intersections of the loci. It follows that there is
Page 14
only one value of x, y which satisfies two linear equations, since two lines
intersect in one point only; two values which satisfy a linear and quadratic,
since a line intersects a conic in two points; and four values which satisfy two
quadratics, since two conics intersect in four points. It may happen that the
curves do not actually intersect in the theoretical maximum number of points;
the principle of continuity (see Geometrical Continuity) shows us that in such
cases some of the roots are imaginary. To represent equations involving three
unknowns x, y, z, a third axis is introduced, the z-axis, perpendicular to the
plane xy and passing through the intersection of the lines x, y. In this notation a
linear equation represents a plane, and two linear simultaneous equations
represent a line, i.e. the intersection of two planes; a quadratic equation
represents a surface of the second degree. In order to graphically consider
equations containing only one unknown, it is convenient to equate the terms to
y; i.e. if the equation be ƒ(x) = 0, we take y = ƒ(x) and construct this curve on
rectangular Cartesian co-ordinates by determining the values of y which
correspond to chosen values of x, and describing a curve through the points so
obtained. The intersections of the curve with the axis of x gives the real roots
of the equation; imaginary roots are obviously not represented.
In this article we shall treat of: (1) Simultaneous equations, (2)
indeterminate equations, (3) cubic equations, (4) biquadratic equations, (5)
theory of equations. Simple, linear simultaneous and quadratic equations are
treated in the article Algebra; for differential equations see Differential
Equations.
I. Simultaneous Equations.
Simultaneous equations which involve the second and higher powers of
the unknown may be impossible of solution. No general rules can be
given, and the solution of any particular problem will largely depend upon
the student’s ingenuity. Here we shall only give a few typical examples.
intersect in one point only; two values which satisfy a linear and quadratic,
since a line intersects a conic in two points; and four values which satisfy two
quadratics, since two conics intersect in four points. It may happen that the
curves do not actually intersect in the theoretical maximum number of points;
the principle of continuity (see Geometrical Continuity) shows us that in such
cases some of the roots are imaginary. To represent equations involving three
unknowns x, y, z, a third axis is introduced, the z-axis, perpendicular to the
plane xy and passing through the intersection of the lines x, y. In this notation a
linear equation represents a plane, and two linear simultaneous equations
represent a line, i.e. the intersection of two planes; a quadratic equation
represents a surface of the second degree. In order to graphically consider
equations containing only one unknown, it is convenient to equate the terms to
y; i.e. if the equation be ƒ(x) = 0, we take y = ƒ(x) and construct this curve on
rectangular Cartesian co-ordinates by determining the values of y which
correspond to chosen values of x, and describing a curve through the points so
obtained. The intersections of the curve with the axis of x gives the real roots
of the equation; imaginary roots are obviously not represented.
In this article we shall treat of: (1) Simultaneous equations, (2)
indeterminate equations, (3) cubic equations, (4) biquadratic equations, (5)
theory of equations. Simple, linear simultaneous and quadratic equations are
treated in the article Algebra; for differential equations see Differential
Equations.
I. Simultaneous Equations.
Simultaneous equations which involve the second and higher powers of
the unknown may be impossible of solution. No general rules can be
given, and the solution of any particular problem will largely depend upon
the student’s ingenuity. Here we shall only give a few typical examples.
Page 15
1. Equations which may be reduced to linear equations.—Ex. To solve
x(x − a) = yz, y (y − b) = zx, z (z − c) = xy. Multiply the equations by y, z
and x respectively, and divide the sum by xyz; then
a b c
+ + =0
z x y (1).
Multiply by z, x and y, and divide the sum by xyz; then
a b c
+ + =0
y z x (2).
From (1) and (2) by cross multiplication we obtain
1 1 1 1
= = = (suppose)
y (b² − ac) z (c² − ab) x (a² − bc) λ (3).
Substituting for x, y and z in x (x − a) = yz we obtain
1 3abc − (a³ + b³ + c³)
= ;
λ (a² − bc) (b² − ac) (c² − ab)
and therefore x, y and z are known from (3). The same artifice solves the
equations x² − yz = a, y² − xz = b, z² − xy = c.
2. Equations which are homogeneous and of the same degree.—These
equations can be solved by substituting y = mx. We proceed to explain the
method by an example.
Ex. To solve 3x² + xy + y² = 15, 31xy − 3x² − 5y² = 45. Substituting y =
mx in both these equations, and then dividing, we obtain 31m − 3 − 5m² =
3 (3 + m + m²) or 8m² − 28m + 12 = 0. The roots of this quadratic are m =
½ or 3, and therefore 2y = x, or y = 3x.
Taking 2y = x and substituting in 3x² + xy + y² = 0, we obtain y² (12 + 2
+ 1) = 15; ∴ y² = 1, which gives y = ±1, x = ±2. Taking the second value,
x(x − a) = yz, y (y − b) = zx, z (z − c) = xy. Multiply the equations by y, z
and x respectively, and divide the sum by xyz; then
a b c
+ + =0
z x y (1).
Multiply by z, x and y, and divide the sum by xyz; then
a b c
+ + =0
y z x (2).
From (1) and (2) by cross multiplication we obtain
1 1 1 1
= = = (suppose)
y (b² − ac) z (c² − ab) x (a² − bc) λ (3).
Substituting for x, y and z in x (x − a) = yz we obtain
1 3abc − (a³ + b³ + c³)
= ;
λ (a² − bc) (b² − ac) (c² − ab)
and therefore x, y and z are known from (3). The same artifice solves the
equations x² − yz = a, y² − xz = b, z² − xy = c.
2. Equations which are homogeneous and of the same degree.—These
equations can be solved by substituting y = mx. We proceed to explain the
method by an example.
Ex. To solve 3x² + xy + y² = 15, 31xy − 3x² − 5y² = 45. Substituting y =
mx in both these equations, and then dividing, we obtain 31m − 3 − 5m² =
3 (3 + m + m²) or 8m² − 28m + 12 = 0. The roots of this quadratic are m =
½ or 3, and therefore 2y = x, or y = 3x.
Taking 2y = x and substituting in 3x² + xy + y² = 0, we obtain y² (12 + 2
+ 1) = 15; ∴ y² = 1, which gives y = ±1, x = ±2. Taking the second value,
Page 16
y = 3x, and substituting for y, we obtain x² (3 + 3 + 9) = 15; ∴ x² = 1,
which gives x = ±1, y = ±3. Therefore the solutions are x = ±2, y = ±1 and
x = ±1, y = ±3. Other artifices have to be adopted to solve other forms of
simultaneous equations, for which the reader is referred to J.J. Milne,
Companion to Weekly Problem Papers.
II. Indeterminate Equations.
1. When the number of unknown quantities exceeds the number of
equations, the equations will admit of innumerable solutions, and are
therefore said to be indeterminate. Thus if it be required to find two
numbers such that their sum be 10, we have two unknown quantities x and
y, and only one equation, viz. x + y = 10, which may evidently be satisfied
by innumerable different values of x and y, if fractional solutions be
admitted. It is, however, usual, in such questions as this, to restrict values
of the numbers sought to positive integers, and therefore, in this case, we
can have only these nine solutions,
x = 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9;
y = 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1;
which indeed may be reduced to five; for the first four become the same
as the last four, by simply changing x into y, and the contrary. This branch
of analysis was extensively studied by Diophantus, and is sometimes
termed the Diophantine Analysis.
2. Indeterminate problems are of different orders, according to the
dimensions of the equation which is obtained after all the unknown
quantities but two have been eliminated by means of the given equations.
Those of the first order lead always to equations of the form
ax ± by = ±c,
which gives x = ±1, y = ±3. Therefore the solutions are x = ±2, y = ±1 and
x = ±1, y = ±3. Other artifices have to be adopted to solve other forms of
simultaneous equations, for which the reader is referred to J.J. Milne,
Companion to Weekly Problem Papers.
II. Indeterminate Equations.
1. When the number of unknown quantities exceeds the number of
equations, the equations will admit of innumerable solutions, and are
therefore said to be indeterminate. Thus if it be required to find two
numbers such that their sum be 10, we have two unknown quantities x and
y, and only one equation, viz. x + y = 10, which may evidently be satisfied
by innumerable different values of x and y, if fractional solutions be
admitted. It is, however, usual, in such questions as this, to restrict values
of the numbers sought to positive integers, and therefore, in this case, we
can have only these nine solutions,
x = 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9;
y = 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1;
which indeed may be reduced to five; for the first four become the same
as the last four, by simply changing x into y, and the contrary. This branch
of analysis was extensively studied by Diophantus, and is sometimes
termed the Diophantine Analysis.
2. Indeterminate problems are of different orders, according to the
dimensions of the equation which is obtained after all the unknown
quantities but two have been eliminated by means of the given equations.
Those of the first order lead always to equations of the form
ax ± by = ±c,
Page 17
where a, b, c denote given whole numbers, and x, y two numbers to be
found, so that both may be integers. That this condition may be fulfilled, it
is necessary that the coefficients a, b have no common divisor which is
not also a divisor of c; for if a = md and b = me, then ax + by = mdx +
mey = c, and dx + ey = c/m; but d, e, x, y are supposed to be whole
numbers, therefore c/m is a whole number; hence m must be a divisor of
c.
Of the four forms expressed by the equation ax ± by = ±c, it is obvious
that ax + by = −c can have no positive integral solutions. Also ax − by =
−c is equivalent to by − ax = c, and so we have only to consider the forms
ax ± by = c. Before proceeding to the general solution of these equations
we will give a numerical example.
To solve 2x + 3y = 25 in positive integers. From the given equation we
have x = (25 − 3y) / 2 = 12 − y − (y − 1) / 2. Now, since x must be a whole
number, it follows that (y − 1)/2 must be a whole number. Let us assume
(y − 1) / 2 = z, then y = 1 + 2z; and x = 11 − 3z, where z might be any
whole number whatever, if there were no limitation as to the signs of x
and y. But since these quantities are required to be positive, it is evident,
from the value of y, that z must be either 0 or positive, and from the value
of x, that it must be less than 4; hence z may have these four values, 0, 1,
2, 3.
If z = 0, z = 1, z = 2, z = 3;
Then x = 11, x = 8, x = 5, x = 2,
y = 1, y = 3, y = 5, y = 7.
3. We shall now give the solution of the equation ax − by = c in positive
integers.
found, so that both may be integers. That this condition may be fulfilled, it
is necessary that the coefficients a, b have no common divisor which is
not also a divisor of c; for if a = md and b = me, then ax + by = mdx +
mey = c, and dx + ey = c/m; but d, e, x, y are supposed to be whole
numbers, therefore c/m is a whole number; hence m must be a divisor of
c.
Of the four forms expressed by the equation ax ± by = ±c, it is obvious
that ax + by = −c can have no positive integral solutions. Also ax − by =
−c is equivalent to by − ax = c, and so we have only to consider the forms
ax ± by = c. Before proceeding to the general solution of these equations
we will give a numerical example.
To solve 2x + 3y = 25 in positive integers. From the given equation we
have x = (25 − 3y) / 2 = 12 − y − (y − 1) / 2. Now, since x must be a whole
number, it follows that (y − 1)/2 must be a whole number. Let us assume
(y − 1) / 2 = z, then y = 1 + 2z; and x = 11 − 3z, where z might be any
whole number whatever, if there were no limitation as to the signs of x
and y. But since these quantities are required to be positive, it is evident,
from the value of y, that z must be either 0 or positive, and from the value
of x, that it must be less than 4; hence z may have these four values, 0, 1,
2, 3.
If z = 0, z = 1, z = 2, z = 3;
Then x = 11, x = 8, x = 5, x = 2,
y = 1, y = 3, y = 5, y = 7.
3. We shall now give the solution of the equation ax − by = c in positive
integers.
Page 18
Convert a/b into a continued fraction, and let p/q be the convergent
immediately preceding a/b, then aq − bp = ±1 (see Continued Fraction).
(α) If aq − bp = 1, the given equation may be written
ax − by = c (aq − bp);
∴ a (x − cq) = b (y − cp).
Since a and b are prime to one another, then x − cq must be divisible by
b and y − cp by a; hence
(x − cq) / b = (y − cq) / a = t.
That is, x = bt + cq and y = at + cp.
Positive integral solutions, unlimited in number, are obtained by giving
t any positive integral value, and any negative integral value, so long as it
is numerically less than the smaller of the quantities cq/b, cp/a; t may also
be zero.
(β) If aq − bp = −1, we obtain x = bt − cq, y = at − cp, from which
positive integral solutions, again unlimited in number, are obtained by
giving t any positive integral value which exceeds the greater of the two
quantities cq/b, cp/a.
If a or b is unity, a/b cannot be converted into a continued fraction with
unit numerators, and the above method fails. In this case the solutions can
be derived directly, for if b is unity, the equation may be written y = ax −
c, and solutions are obtained by giving x positive integral values greater
than c/a.
4. To solve ax + by = c in positive integers. Converting a b into a
continued fraction and proceeding as before, we obtain, in the case of aq −
bp = 1,
x = cq − bt, y = at − cp.
immediately preceding a/b, then aq − bp = ±1 (see Continued Fraction).
(α) If aq − bp = 1, the given equation may be written
ax − by = c (aq − bp);
∴ a (x − cq) = b (y − cp).
Since a and b are prime to one another, then x − cq must be divisible by
b and y − cp by a; hence
(x − cq) / b = (y − cq) / a = t.
That is, x = bt + cq and y = at + cp.
Positive integral solutions, unlimited in number, are obtained by giving
t any positive integral value, and any negative integral value, so long as it
is numerically less than the smaller of the quantities cq/b, cp/a; t may also
be zero.
(β) If aq − bp = −1, we obtain x = bt − cq, y = at − cp, from which
positive integral solutions, again unlimited in number, are obtained by
giving t any positive integral value which exceeds the greater of the two
quantities cq/b, cp/a.
If a or b is unity, a/b cannot be converted into a continued fraction with
unit numerators, and the above method fails. In this case the solutions can
be derived directly, for if b is unity, the equation may be written y = ax −
c, and solutions are obtained by giving x positive integral values greater
than c/a.
4. To solve ax + by = c in positive integers. Converting a b into a
continued fraction and proceeding as before, we obtain, in the case of aq −
bp = 1,
x = cq − bt, y = at − cp.
Page 19
Positive integral solutions are obtained by giving t positive integral
values not less than cp/a and not greater than cq/b.
In this case the number of solutions is limited. If aq − bp = −1 we
obtain the general solution x = bt − cq, y = cp − at, which is of the same
form as in the preceding case. For the determination of the number of
solutions the reader is referred to H.S. Hall and S.R. Knight’s Higher
Algebra, G. Chrystal’s Algebra, and other text-books.
5. If an equation were proposed involving three unknown quantities, as
ax + by + cz = d, by transposition we have ax + by = d − cz, and, putting d
− cz = c′, ax + by = c′. From this last equation we may find values of x
and y of this form,
x = mr + nc′, y = mr + n′c′,
or x = mr + n (d − cz), y = m′r + n′ (d − cz);
where z and r may be taken at pleasure, except in so far as the values of x,
y, z may be required to be all positive; for from such restriction the values
of z and r may be confined within certain limits to be determined from the
given equation. For more advanced treatment of linear indeterminate
equations see Combinatorial Analysis.
6. We proceed to indeterminate problems of the second degree: limiting
ourselves to the consideration of the formula y² = a + bx + cx², where x is
to be found, so that y may be a rational quantity. The possibility of
rendering the proposed formula a square depends altogether upon the
coefficients a, b, c; and there are four cases of the problem, the solution of
each of which is connected with some peculiarity in its nature.
Case 1. Let a be a square number; then, putting g² for a, we have y² = g²
+ bx + cx². Suppose √(g² + bx + cx²) = g + mx; then g² + bx + cx² = g² +
2gmx + m²x², or bx + cx² = 2gmx + m²x², that is, b + cx = 2gm + m²x;
hence
values not less than cp/a and not greater than cq/b.
In this case the number of solutions is limited. If aq − bp = −1 we
obtain the general solution x = bt − cq, y = cp − at, which is of the same
form as in the preceding case. For the determination of the number of
solutions the reader is referred to H.S. Hall and S.R. Knight’s Higher
Algebra, G. Chrystal’s Algebra, and other text-books.
5. If an equation were proposed involving three unknown quantities, as
ax + by + cz = d, by transposition we have ax + by = d − cz, and, putting d
− cz = c′, ax + by = c′. From this last equation we may find values of x
and y of this form,
x = mr + nc′, y = mr + n′c′,
or x = mr + n (d − cz), y = m′r + n′ (d − cz);
where z and r may be taken at pleasure, except in so far as the values of x,
y, z may be required to be all positive; for from such restriction the values
of z and r may be confined within certain limits to be determined from the
given equation. For more advanced treatment of linear indeterminate
equations see Combinatorial Analysis.
6. We proceed to indeterminate problems of the second degree: limiting
ourselves to the consideration of the formula y² = a + bx + cx², where x is
to be found, so that y may be a rational quantity. The possibility of
rendering the proposed formula a square depends altogether upon the
coefficients a, b, c; and there are four cases of the problem, the solution of
each of which is connected with some peculiarity in its nature.
Case 1. Let a be a square number; then, putting g² for a, we have y² = g²
+ bx + cx². Suppose √(g² + bx + cx²) = g + mx; then g² + bx + cx² = g² +
2gmx + m²x², or bx + cx² = 2gmx + m²x², that is, b + cx = 2gm + m²x;
hence
Page 20
2gm − b cg − bm + gm²
x= , y = √(g² + bx + cx²)= .
c − m² c − m²
Case 2. Let c be a square number = g²; then, putting √(a + bx + g²x²) =
m + gx, we find a + bx + g²x² = m² + 2mgx + g²x², or a + bx = m² + 2mgx;
hence we find
m² − a bm − gm² − ag
x= , y = √(a + bx + g²x²) = .
b − 2mg b − 2mg
Case 3. When neither a nor c is a square number, yet if the expression a
+ bx + cx² can be resolved into two simple factors, as f + gx and h + kx,
the irrationality may be taken away as follows:—
Assume √(a + bx + cx²) = √{ (f + gx) (h + kx) } = m (f + gx), then (f +
gx) (h + kx) = m² (f + gx)², or h + kx = m² (f + gx); hence we find
fm² − h (fk − gh) m
x= , y = √{ (f + gx) (h + kx) } = ;
k − gm² k − gm²
and in all these formulae m may be taken at pleasure.
Case 4. The expression a + bx + cx² may be transformed into a square
as often as it can be resolved into two parts, one of which is a complete
square, and the other a product of two simple factors; for then it has this
form, p² + qr, where p, q and r are quantities which contain no power of x
higher than the first. Let us assume √(p² + qr) = p + mq; thus we have p² +
qr = p² + 2mpq + m²q² and r = 2mp + m²q, and as this equation involves
only the first power of x, we may by proper reduction obtain from it
rational values of x and y, as in the three foregoing cases.
The application of the preceding general methods of resolution to any
particular case is very easy; we shall therefore conclude with a single
example.
x= , y = √(g² + bx + cx²)= .
c − m² c − m²
Case 2. Let c be a square number = g²; then, putting √(a + bx + g²x²) =
m + gx, we find a + bx + g²x² = m² + 2mgx + g²x², or a + bx = m² + 2mgx;
hence we find
m² − a bm − gm² − ag
x= , y = √(a + bx + g²x²) = .
b − 2mg b − 2mg
Case 3. When neither a nor c is a square number, yet if the expression a
+ bx + cx² can be resolved into two simple factors, as f + gx and h + kx,
the irrationality may be taken away as follows:—
Assume √(a + bx + cx²) = √{ (f + gx) (h + kx) } = m (f + gx), then (f +
gx) (h + kx) = m² (f + gx)², or h + kx = m² (f + gx); hence we find
fm² − h (fk − gh) m
x= , y = √{ (f + gx) (h + kx) } = ;
k − gm² k − gm²
and in all these formulae m may be taken at pleasure.
Case 4. The expression a + bx + cx² may be transformed into a square
as often as it can be resolved into two parts, one of which is a complete
square, and the other a product of two simple factors; for then it has this
form, p² + qr, where p, q and r are quantities which contain no power of x
higher than the first. Let us assume √(p² + qr) = p + mq; thus we have p² +
qr = p² + 2mpq + m²q² and r = 2mp + m²q, and as this equation involves
only the first power of x, we may by proper reduction obtain from it
rational values of x and y, as in the three foregoing cases.
The application of the preceding general methods of resolution to any
particular case is very easy; we shall therefore conclude with a single
example.
Page 21
Ex. It is required to find two square numbers whose sum is a given
square number.
Let a² be the given square number, and x², y² the numbers required;
then, by the question, x² + y² = a², and y = √(a² − x²). This equation is
evidently of such a form as to be resolvable by the method employed in
case 1. Accordingly, by comparing √(a² − x²) with the general expression
√(g² + bx + cx²), we have g = a, b = 0, c = −1, and substituting these
values in the formulae, and also −n for +m, we find
2an a (n² − 1)
x= ,y= .
n² + 1 n² + 1
If a = n² + 1, there results x = 2n, y = n² − 1, a = n² + 1. Hence if r be an
even number, the three sides of a rational right-angled triangle are r, (½ r)²
− 1, (½ r)² + 1. If r be an odd number, they become (dividing by 2) r, ½ (r²
− 1), ½ (r² + 1).
For example, if r = 4, 4, 4 − 1, 4 + 1, or 4, 3, 5, are the sides of a right-
angled triangle; if r = 7, 7, 24, 25 are the sides of a right-angled triangle.
III. Cubic Equations.
1. Cubic equations, like all equations above the first degree, are divided
into two classes: they are said to be pure when they contain only one
power of the unknown quantity; and adfected when they contain two or
more powers of that quantity.
Pure cubic equations are therefore of the form x³ = r; and hence it
appears that a value of the simple power of the unknown quantity may
always be found without difficulty, by extracting the cube root of each
side of the equation. Let us consider the equation x³ − c³ = 0 more fully.
This is decomposable into the factors x − c = 0 and x² + cx + c² = 0. The
square number.
Let a² be the given square number, and x², y² the numbers required;
then, by the question, x² + y² = a², and y = √(a² − x²). This equation is
evidently of such a form as to be resolvable by the method employed in
case 1. Accordingly, by comparing √(a² − x²) with the general expression
√(g² + bx + cx²), we have g = a, b = 0, c = −1, and substituting these
values in the formulae, and also −n for +m, we find
2an a (n² − 1)
x= ,y= .
n² + 1 n² + 1
If a = n² + 1, there results x = 2n, y = n² − 1, a = n² + 1. Hence if r be an
even number, the three sides of a rational right-angled triangle are r, (½ r)²
− 1, (½ r)² + 1. If r be an odd number, they become (dividing by 2) r, ½ (r²
− 1), ½ (r² + 1).
For example, if r = 4, 4, 4 − 1, 4 + 1, or 4, 3, 5, are the sides of a right-
angled triangle; if r = 7, 7, 24, 25 are the sides of a right-angled triangle.
III. Cubic Equations.
1. Cubic equations, like all equations above the first degree, are divided
into two classes: they are said to be pure when they contain only one
power of the unknown quantity; and adfected when they contain two or
more powers of that quantity.
Pure cubic equations are therefore of the form x³ = r; and hence it
appears that a value of the simple power of the unknown quantity may
always be found without difficulty, by extracting the cube root of each
side of the equation. Let us consider the equation x³ − c³ = 0 more fully.
This is decomposable into the factors x − c = 0 and x² + cx + c² = 0. The
Page 22
roots of this quadratic equation are ½ (−1 ± √−3) c, and we see that the
equation x³ = c³ has three roots, namely, one real root c, and two
imaginary roots ½ (−1 ± √−3) c. By making c equal to unity, we observe
that ½ (−1 ± √−3) are the imaginary cube roots of unity, which are
generally denoted by ω and ω², for it is easy to show that (½ (−1 − √−3))²
= ½ (−1 + √−3).
2. Let us now consider such cubic equations as have all their terms, and
which are therefore of this form,
x³ + Ax² + Bx + C = 0,
where A, B and C denote known quantities, either positive or negative.
This equation may be transformed into another in which the second
term is wanting by the substitution x = y − A/3. This transformation is a
particular case of a general theorem. Let xn + Axn−1 + Bxn−2 ... = 0.
Substitute x = y + h; then (y + h)n + A (y + h)n−1 ... = 0. Expand each term
by the binomial theorem, and let us fix our attention on the coefficient of
yn−1. By this process we obtain 0 = yn + yn−1(A + nh) + terms involving
lower powers of y.
Now h can have any value, and if we choose it so that A + nh = 0, then
the second term of our derived equation vanishes.
Resuming, therefore, the equation y³ + qy + r = 0, let us suppose y = v
+ z; we then have y³ = v³ + z³ + 3vz (v + z) = v³ + z³ + 3vzy, and the
original equation becomes v³ + z³ + (3vz + q) y + r = 0. Now v and z are
any two quantities subject to the relation y = v + z, and if we suppose 3vz
+ q = 0, they are completely determined. This leads to v³ + z³ + r = 0 and
3vz + q = 0. Therefore v³ and z³ are the roots of the quadratic t² + rt −
q²/27 = 0. Therefore
v³ = −½ r + √(1⁄27 q³ + ¼ r²); z³ = −½ r − √(1⁄27 q³ + ¼r²);
equation x³ = c³ has three roots, namely, one real root c, and two
imaginary roots ½ (−1 ± √−3) c. By making c equal to unity, we observe
that ½ (−1 ± √−3) are the imaginary cube roots of unity, which are
generally denoted by ω and ω², for it is easy to show that (½ (−1 − √−3))²
= ½ (−1 + √−3).
2. Let us now consider such cubic equations as have all their terms, and
which are therefore of this form,
x³ + Ax² + Bx + C = 0,
where A, B and C denote known quantities, either positive or negative.
This equation may be transformed into another in which the second
term is wanting by the substitution x = y − A/3. This transformation is a
particular case of a general theorem. Let xn + Axn−1 + Bxn−2 ... = 0.
Substitute x = y + h; then (y + h)n + A (y + h)n−1 ... = 0. Expand each term
by the binomial theorem, and let us fix our attention on the coefficient of
yn−1. By this process we obtain 0 = yn + yn−1(A + nh) + terms involving
lower powers of y.
Now h can have any value, and if we choose it so that A + nh = 0, then
the second term of our derived equation vanishes.
Resuming, therefore, the equation y³ + qy + r = 0, let us suppose y = v
+ z; we then have y³ = v³ + z³ + 3vz (v + z) = v³ + z³ + 3vzy, and the
original equation becomes v³ + z³ + (3vz + q) y + r = 0. Now v and z are
any two quantities subject to the relation y = v + z, and if we suppose 3vz
+ q = 0, they are completely determined. This leads to v³ + z³ + r = 0 and
3vz + q = 0. Therefore v³ and z³ are the roots of the quadratic t² + rt −
q²/27 = 0. Therefore
v³ = −½ r + √(1⁄27 q³ + ¼ r²); z³ = −½ r − √(1⁄27 q³ + ¼r²);
Page 23
v= 3√{−½ r + √(1⁄27 q³ + ¼ r²) }; z = 3√{ (−½ r − √(1⁄27 q³ + ¼ r²) };
and y = v + z = 3√{−½ r + √(1⁄27q³ + ¼ r²) } + 3√{−½ r − √(1⁄27 q³ + ¼ r²) }.
Thus we have obtained a value of the unknown quantity y, in terms of the
known quantities q and r; therefore the equation is resolved.
3. But this is only one of three values which y may have. Let us, for the
sake of brevity, put
A = −½ r + √(1⁄27 q³ + ¼ r²), B = −½ r − √(1⁄27 q³ + ¼ r²),
and put α = ½ (−1 + √−3),
β = ½ (−1 − √−3).
Then, from what has been shown (§ 1), it is evident that v and z have each
these three values,
v = 3√A, v = α3√A, v = β3√A;
z = 3√B, z = α3√B, z = β3√B.
To determine the corresponding values of v and z, we must consider
that vz = −1⁄3 q = 3√(AB). Now if we observe that αβ = 1, it will
immediately appear that v + z has these three values,
v+z= 3√A + √B,
3
v + z = α3√A + β3√B,
v + z = β3√A + α3√B,
which are therefore the three values of y.
The first of these formulae is commonly known by the name of
Cardan’s rule (see Algebra: History).
and y = v + z = 3√{−½ r + √(1⁄27q³ + ¼ r²) } + 3√{−½ r − √(1⁄27 q³ + ¼ r²) }.
Thus we have obtained a value of the unknown quantity y, in terms of the
known quantities q and r; therefore the equation is resolved.
3. But this is only one of three values which y may have. Let us, for the
sake of brevity, put
A = −½ r + √(1⁄27 q³ + ¼ r²), B = −½ r − √(1⁄27 q³ + ¼ r²),
and put α = ½ (−1 + √−3),
β = ½ (−1 − √−3).
Then, from what has been shown (§ 1), it is evident that v and z have each
these three values,
v = 3√A, v = α3√A, v = β3√A;
z = 3√B, z = α3√B, z = β3√B.
To determine the corresponding values of v and z, we must consider
that vz = −1⁄3 q = 3√(AB). Now if we observe that αβ = 1, it will
immediately appear that v + z has these three values,
v+z= 3√A + √B,
3
v + z = α3√A + β3√B,
v + z = β3√A + α3√B,
which are therefore the three values of y.
The first of these formulae is commonly known by the name of
Cardan’s rule (see Algebra: History).
Page 24
The formulae given above for the roots of a cubic equation may be put
under a different form, better adapted to the purposes of arithmetical
calculation, as follows:—Because vz = −1⁄3 q, therefore z = −1⁄3q × 1/v =
−1⁄3 q / 3√A; hence v + z = 3√A − 1⁄3 q / 3√A: thus it appears that the three
values of y may also be expressed thus:
y= 3√A − 1⁄3 q / √A
3
y = α3√A − 1⁄3 qβ / 3√A
y = β3√A − 1⁄3 qα / 3√A.
See below, Theory of Equations, §§ 16 et seq.
IV. Biquadratic Equations.
1. When a biquadratic equation contains all its terms, it has this form,
x4 + Ax³ + Bx² + Cx + D = 0,
where A, B, C, D denote known quantities.
We shall first consider pure biquadratics, or such as contain only the
first and last terms, and therefore are of this form, x4 = b4. In this case it is
evident that x may be readily had by two extractions of the square root; by
the first we find x² = b², and by the second x = b. This, however, is only
one of the values which x may have; for since x4 = b4, therefore x4 − b4 =
0; but x4 − b4 may be resolved into two factors x² − b² and x² + b², each of
which admits of a similar resolution; for x² − b² = (x − b)(x + b) and x² +
b² = (x − b√−1)(x + b√−1). Hence it appears that the equation x4 − b4 = 0
may also be expressed thus,
(x − b) (x + b) (x − b√−1) (x + b√−1) = 0;
so that x may have these four values,
under a different form, better adapted to the purposes of arithmetical
calculation, as follows:—Because vz = −1⁄3 q, therefore z = −1⁄3q × 1/v =
−1⁄3 q / 3√A; hence v + z = 3√A − 1⁄3 q / 3√A: thus it appears that the three
values of y may also be expressed thus:
y= 3√A − 1⁄3 q / √A
3
y = α3√A − 1⁄3 qβ / 3√A
y = β3√A − 1⁄3 qα / 3√A.
See below, Theory of Equations, §§ 16 et seq.
IV. Biquadratic Equations.
1. When a biquadratic equation contains all its terms, it has this form,
x4 + Ax³ + Bx² + Cx + D = 0,
where A, B, C, D denote known quantities.
We shall first consider pure biquadratics, or such as contain only the
first and last terms, and therefore are of this form, x4 = b4. In this case it is
evident that x may be readily had by two extractions of the square root; by
the first we find x² = b², and by the second x = b. This, however, is only
one of the values which x may have; for since x4 = b4, therefore x4 − b4 =
0; but x4 − b4 may be resolved into two factors x² − b² and x² + b², each of
which admits of a similar resolution; for x² − b² = (x − b)(x + b) and x² +
b² = (x − b√−1)(x + b√−1). Hence it appears that the equation x4 − b4 = 0
may also be expressed thus,
(x − b) (x + b) (x − b√−1) (x + b√−1) = 0;
so that x may have these four values,
Page 25
+b, −b, +b√−1, −b√−1,
two of which are real, and the others imaginary.
2. Next to pure biquadratic equations, in respect of easiness of
resolution, are such as want the second and fourth terms, and therefore
have this form,
x4 + qx² + s = 0.
These may be resolved in the manner of quadratic equations; for if we put
y = x², we have
y² + qy + s = 0,
from which we find y = ½ {−q ± √(q² − 4s) }, and therefore
x = ±√½ {−q ± √(q² − 4s) }.
3. When a biquadratic equation has all its terms, its resolution may be
always reduced to that of a cubic equation. There are various methods by
which such a reduction may be effected. The following was first given by
Leonhard Euler in the Petersburg Commentaries, and afterwards
explained more fully in his Elements of Algebra.
We have already explained how an equation which is complete in its
terms may be transformed into another of the same degree, but which
wants the second term; therefore any biquadratic equation may be reduced
to this form,
y4 + py² + qy + r = 0,
where the second term is wanting, and where p, q, r denote any known
quantities whatever.
That we may form an equation similar to the above, let us assume y =
√a + √b + √c, and also suppose that the letters a, b, c denote the roots of
two of which are real, and the others imaginary.
2. Next to pure biquadratic equations, in respect of easiness of
resolution, are such as want the second and fourth terms, and therefore
have this form,
x4 + qx² + s = 0.
These may be resolved in the manner of quadratic equations; for if we put
y = x², we have
y² + qy + s = 0,
from which we find y = ½ {−q ± √(q² − 4s) }, and therefore
x = ±√½ {−q ± √(q² − 4s) }.
3. When a biquadratic equation has all its terms, its resolution may be
always reduced to that of a cubic equation. There are various methods by
which such a reduction may be effected. The following was first given by
Leonhard Euler in the Petersburg Commentaries, and afterwards
explained more fully in his Elements of Algebra.
We have already explained how an equation which is complete in its
terms may be transformed into another of the same degree, but which
wants the second term; therefore any biquadratic equation may be reduced
to this form,
y4 + py² + qy + r = 0,
where the second term is wanting, and where p, q, r denote any known
quantities whatever.
That we may form an equation similar to the above, let us assume y =
√a + √b + √c, and also suppose that the letters a, b, c denote the roots of
Page 26
the cubic equation
z³ + Pz² + Qz − R = 0;
then, from the theory of equations we have
a + b + c = −P, ab + ac + bc = Q, abc = R.
We square the assumed formula
y = √a + √b + √c,
and obtain y² = a + b + c + 2(√ab + √ac + √bc);
or, substituting −P for a + b + c, and transposing,
y² + P = 2(√ab + √ac + √bc).
Let this equation be also squared, and we have
y4 + 2Py² + P² = 4 (ab + ac + bc) + 8 (√a²bc + √ab²c + √abc²);
and since ab + ac + bc = Q,
and √a²bc + √ab²c + √abc² = √abc (√a + √b + √c) = √R·y,
the same equation may be expressed thus:
y4 + 2Py² + P² = 4Q + 8√R·y.
Thus we have the biquadratic equation
y4 + 2Py² − 8√R·y + P² − 4Q = 0,
one of the roots of which is y = √a + √b + √c, while a, b, c are the roots of
the cubic equation z³ + Pz² + Qz − R = 0.
4. In order to apply this resolution to the proposed equation y4 + py² +
qy + r = 0, we must express the assumed coefficients P, Q, R by means of
z³ + Pz² + Qz − R = 0;
then, from the theory of equations we have
a + b + c = −P, ab + ac + bc = Q, abc = R.
We square the assumed formula
y = √a + √b + √c,
and obtain y² = a + b + c + 2(√ab + √ac + √bc);
or, substituting −P for a + b + c, and transposing,
y² + P = 2(√ab + √ac + √bc).
Let this equation be also squared, and we have
y4 + 2Py² + P² = 4 (ab + ac + bc) + 8 (√a²bc + √ab²c + √abc²);
and since ab + ac + bc = Q,
and √a²bc + √ab²c + √abc² = √abc (√a + √b + √c) = √R·y,
the same equation may be expressed thus:
y4 + 2Py² + P² = 4Q + 8√R·y.
Thus we have the biquadratic equation
y4 + 2Py² − 8√R·y + P² − 4Q = 0,
one of the roots of which is y = √a + √b + √c, while a, b, c are the roots of
the cubic equation z³ + Pz² + Qz − R = 0.
4. In order to apply this resolution to the proposed equation y4 + py² +
qy + r = 0, we must express the assumed coefficients P, Q, R by means of
Page 27
p, q, r, the coefficients of that equation. For this purpose let us compare
the equations
y4 + py² + qy + r = 0,
y4 + 2Py² − 8√Ry + P² − 4Q = 0,
and it immediately appears that
2P = p, −8√R = q, P² − 4Q = r;
and from these equations we find
P = ½ p, Q = 1⁄16 (p² − 4r), R = 1⁄64 q².
Hence it follows that the roots of the proposed equation are generally
expressed by the formula
y = √a + √b + √c;
where a, b, c denote the roots of this cubic equation,
p p² − 4r q²
z³ + z² + z− = 0.
2 16 64
But to find each particular root, we must consider, that as the square root
of a number may be either positive or negative, so each of the quantities
√a, √b, √c may have either the sign + or − prefixed to it; and hence our
formula will give eight different expressions for the root. It is, however, to
be observed, that as the product of the three quantities √a, √b, √c must be
equal to √R or to −1⁄8 q; when q is positive, their product must be a
negative quantity, and this can only be effected by making either one or
three of them negative; again, when q is negative, their product must be a
positive quantity; so that in this case they must either be all positive, or
two of them must be negative. These considerations enable us to
determine that four of the eight expressions for the root belong to the case
in which q is positive, and the other four to that in which it is negative.
the equations
y4 + py² + qy + r = 0,
y4 + 2Py² − 8√Ry + P² − 4Q = 0,
and it immediately appears that
2P = p, −8√R = q, P² − 4Q = r;
and from these equations we find
P = ½ p, Q = 1⁄16 (p² − 4r), R = 1⁄64 q².
Hence it follows that the roots of the proposed equation are generally
expressed by the formula
y = √a + √b + √c;
where a, b, c denote the roots of this cubic equation,
p p² − 4r q²
z³ + z² + z− = 0.
2 16 64
But to find each particular root, we must consider, that as the square root
of a number may be either positive or negative, so each of the quantities
√a, √b, √c may have either the sign + or − prefixed to it; and hence our
formula will give eight different expressions for the root. It is, however, to
be observed, that as the product of the three quantities √a, √b, √c must be
equal to √R or to −1⁄8 q; when q is positive, their product must be a
negative quantity, and this can only be effected by making either one or
three of them negative; again, when q is negative, their product must be a
positive quantity; so that in this case they must either be all positive, or
two of them must be negative. These considerations enable us to
determine that four of the eight expressions for the root belong to the case
in which q is positive, and the other four to that in which it is negative.
Page 28
5. We shall now give the result of the preceding investigation in the
form of a practical rule; and as the coefficients of the cubic equation
which has been found involve fractions, we shall transform it into another,
in which the coefficients are integers, by supposing z = ¼ v. Thus the
equation
p p² − 4r q²
z³ + z² + z− =0
2 16 64
becomes, after reduction,
v³ + 2pv² + (p² − 4r) v − q² = 0;
it also follows, that if the roots of the latter equation are a, b, c, the roots
of the former are ¼ a, ¼ b, ¼ c, so that our rule may now be expressed
thus:
Let y4 + py² + qy + r = 0 be any biquadratic equation wanting its second
term. Form this cubic equation
v³ + 2pv² + (p² − 4r) v − q² = 0,
and find its roots, which let us denote by a, b, c.
Then the roots of the proposed biquadratic equation are,
when q is negative, when q is positive,
y = ½ (√a + √b + √c), y = ½ (−√a − √b − √c),
y = ½ (√a − √b − √c), y = ½ (−√a + √b + √c),
y = ½ (−√a + √b − √c), y = ½ (√a − √b + √c),
y = ½ (−√a − √b + √c), y = ½ (√a + √b − √c).
See also below, Theory of Equations, § 17 et seq. (X.)
form of a practical rule; and as the coefficients of the cubic equation
which has been found involve fractions, we shall transform it into another,
in which the coefficients are integers, by supposing z = ¼ v. Thus the
equation
p p² − 4r q²
z³ + z² + z− =0
2 16 64
becomes, after reduction,
v³ + 2pv² + (p² − 4r) v − q² = 0;
it also follows, that if the roots of the latter equation are a, b, c, the roots
of the former are ¼ a, ¼ b, ¼ c, so that our rule may now be expressed
thus:
Let y4 + py² + qy + r = 0 be any biquadratic equation wanting its second
term. Form this cubic equation
v³ + 2pv² + (p² − 4r) v − q² = 0,
and find its roots, which let us denote by a, b, c.
Then the roots of the proposed biquadratic equation are,
when q is negative, when q is positive,
y = ½ (√a + √b + √c), y = ½ (−√a − √b − √c),
y = ½ (√a − √b − √c), y = ½ (−√a + √b + √c),
y = ½ (−√a + √b − √c), y = ½ (√a − √b + √c),
y = ½ (−√a − √b + √c), y = ½ (√a + √b − √c).
See also below, Theory of Equations, § 17 et seq. (X.)
Page 29
V. Theory of Equations.
1. In the subject “Theory of Equations” the term equation is used to denote
an equation of the form xn − p1xn−1 ... ± pn = 0, where p1, p2 ... pn are regarded
as known, and x as a quantity to be determined; for shortness the equation is
written ƒ(x) = 0.
The equation may be numerical; that is, the coefficients p1, p2n, ... pn are
then numbers—understanding by number a quantity of the form α + βi (α and
β having any positive or negative real values whatever, or say each of these is
regarded as susceptible of continuous variation from an indefinitely large
negative to an indefinitely large positive value), and i denoting √−1.
Or the equation may be algebraical; that is, the coefficients are not then
restricted to denote, or are not explicitly considered as denoting, numbers.
1. We consider first numerical equations. (Real theory, 2-6; Imaginary
theory, 7-10.)
Real Theory.
2. Postponing all consideration of imaginaries, we take in the first instance
the coefficients to be real, and attend only to the real roots (if any); that is, p1,
p2, ... pn are real positive or negative quantities, and a root a, if it exists, is a
positive or negative quantity such that an − p1an−1 ... ± pn = 0, or say, ƒ(a) = 0.
It is very useful to consider the curve y = ƒ(x),—or, what would come to the
same, the curve Ay = ƒ(x),—but it is better to retain the first-mentioned form
of equation, drawing, if need be, the ordinate y on a reduced scale. For
instance, if the given equation be x³ − 6x² + 11x − 6.06 = 0,1 then the curve y =
x³ − 6x² + 11x − 6.06 is as shown in fig. 1, without any reduction of scale for
the ordinate.
1. In the subject “Theory of Equations” the term equation is used to denote
an equation of the form xn − p1xn−1 ... ± pn = 0, where p1, p2 ... pn are regarded
as known, and x as a quantity to be determined; for shortness the equation is
written ƒ(x) = 0.
The equation may be numerical; that is, the coefficients p1, p2n, ... pn are
then numbers—understanding by number a quantity of the form α + βi (α and
β having any positive or negative real values whatever, or say each of these is
regarded as susceptible of continuous variation from an indefinitely large
negative to an indefinitely large positive value), and i denoting √−1.
Or the equation may be algebraical; that is, the coefficients are not then
restricted to denote, or are not explicitly considered as denoting, numbers.
1. We consider first numerical equations. (Real theory, 2-6; Imaginary
theory, 7-10.)
Real Theory.
2. Postponing all consideration of imaginaries, we take in the first instance
the coefficients to be real, and attend only to the real roots (if any); that is, p1,
p2, ... pn are real positive or negative quantities, and a root a, if it exists, is a
positive or negative quantity such that an − p1an−1 ... ± pn = 0, or say, ƒ(a) = 0.
It is very useful to consider the curve y = ƒ(x),—or, what would come to the
same, the curve Ay = ƒ(x),—but it is better to retain the first-mentioned form
of equation, drawing, if need be, the ordinate y on a reduced scale. For
instance, if the given equation be x³ − 6x² + 11x − 6.06 = 0,1 then the curve y =
x³ − 6x² + 11x − 6.06 is as shown in fig. 1, without any reduction of scale for
the ordinate.
Page 30
It is clear that, in general, y is a continuous one-valued function of x, finite
for every finite value of x, but becoming infinite when x is infinite; i.e.,
assuming throughout that the coefficient of xn is +1, then when x = ∞, y = +∞;
but when x = −∞, then y = +∞ or −∞, according as n is even or odd; the curve
cuts any line whatever, and in particular it cuts the axis (of x) in at most n
points; and the value of x, at any point of intersection with the axis, is a root of
the equation ƒ(x) = 0.
If β, α are any two values of x (α > β, that is, α nearer +∞), then if ƒ(β), ƒ(α)
have opposite signs, the curve cuts the axis an odd number of times, and
therefore at least once, between the points x = β, x = α; but if ƒ(β), ƒ(α) have
the same sign, then between these points the curve cuts the axis an even
number of times, or it may be not at all. That is, ƒ(β), ƒ(α) having opposite
signs, there are between the limits β, α an odd number of real roots, and
therefore at least one real root; but ƒ(β), ƒ(α) having the same sign, there are
between these limits an even number of real roots, or it may be there is no real
root. In particular, by giving to β, α the values -∞, +∞ (or, what is the same
thing, any two values sufficiently near to these values respectively) it appears
that an equation of an odd order has always an odd number of real roots, and
therefore at least one real root; but that an equation of an even order has an
even number of real roots, or it may be no real root.
If α be such that for x = or > a (that is, x nearer to +∞) ƒ(x) is always +, and
β be such that for x = or < β (that is, x nearer to −∞) ƒ(x) is always −, then the
real roots (if any) lie between these limits x = β, x = α; and it is easy to find by
trial such two limits including between them all the real roots (if any).
3. Suppose that the positive value δ is an inferior limit to the difference
between two real roots of the equation; or rather (since the foregoing
expression would imply the existence of real roots) suppose that there are not
two real roots such that their difference taken positively is = or < δ; then, γ
being any value whatever, there is clearly at most one real root between the
limits γ and γ + δ; and by what precedes there is such real root or there is not
for every finite value of x, but becoming infinite when x is infinite; i.e.,
assuming throughout that the coefficient of xn is +1, then when x = ∞, y = +∞;
but when x = −∞, then y = +∞ or −∞, according as n is even or odd; the curve
cuts any line whatever, and in particular it cuts the axis (of x) in at most n
points; and the value of x, at any point of intersection with the axis, is a root of
the equation ƒ(x) = 0.
If β, α are any two values of x (α > β, that is, α nearer +∞), then if ƒ(β), ƒ(α)
have opposite signs, the curve cuts the axis an odd number of times, and
therefore at least once, between the points x = β, x = α; but if ƒ(β), ƒ(α) have
the same sign, then between these points the curve cuts the axis an even
number of times, or it may be not at all. That is, ƒ(β), ƒ(α) having opposite
signs, there are between the limits β, α an odd number of real roots, and
therefore at least one real root; but ƒ(β), ƒ(α) having the same sign, there are
between these limits an even number of real roots, or it may be there is no real
root. In particular, by giving to β, α the values -∞, +∞ (or, what is the same
thing, any two values sufficiently near to these values respectively) it appears
that an equation of an odd order has always an odd number of real roots, and
therefore at least one real root; but that an equation of an even order has an
even number of real roots, or it may be no real root.
If α be such that for x = or > a (that is, x nearer to +∞) ƒ(x) is always +, and
β be such that for x = or < β (that is, x nearer to −∞) ƒ(x) is always −, then the
real roots (if any) lie between these limits x = β, x = α; and it is easy to find by
trial such two limits including between them all the real roots (if any).
3. Suppose that the positive value δ is an inferior limit to the difference
between two real roots of the equation; or rather (since the foregoing
expression would imply the existence of real roots) suppose that there are not
two real roots such that their difference taken positively is = or < δ; then, γ
being any value whatever, there is clearly at most one real root between the
limits γ and γ + δ; and by what precedes there is such real root or there is not
Page 31
such real root, according as ƒ(γ), ƒ(γ + δ) have opposite signs or have the same
sign. And by dividing in this manner the interval β to α into intervals each of
which is = or < δ, we should not only ascertain the number of the real roots (if
any), but we should also separate the real roots, that is, find for each of them
limits γ, γ + δ between which there lies this one, and only this one, real root.
In particular cases it is frequently possible to ascertain the number of
the real roots, and to effect their separation by trial or otherwise, without
much difficulty; but the foregoing was the general process as employed by
Joseph Louis Lagrange even in the second edition (1808) of the Traité de
la résolution des équations numériques;2 the determination of the limit δ
had to be effected by means of the “equation of differences” or equation
of the order ½ n(n − 1), the roots of which are the squares of the
differences of the roots of the given equation, and the process is a
cumbrous and unsatisfactory one.
4. The great step was effected by the theorem of J.C.F. Sturm (1835)—viz.
here starting from the function ƒ(x), and its first derived function ƒ′(x), we
have (by a process which is a slight modification of that for obtaining the
greatest common measure of these two functions) to form a series of functions
ƒ(x), ƒ′(x), ƒ2(x), ... ƒn(x)
of the degrees n, n − 1, n − 2 ... 0 respectively,—the last term ƒn(x) being thus
an absolute constant. These lead to the immediate determination of the number
of real roots (if any) between any two given limits β, α; viz. supposing α > β
(that is, α nearer to +∞), then substituting successively these two values in the
series of functions, and attending only to the signs of the resulting values, the
number of the changes of sign lost in passing from β to α is the required
number of real roots between the two limits. In particular, taking β, α = −∞, +∞
respectively, the signs of the several functions depend merely on the signs of
the terms which contain the highest powers of x, and are seen by inspection,
and the theorem thus gives at once the whole number of real roots.
sign. And by dividing in this manner the interval β to α into intervals each of
which is = or < δ, we should not only ascertain the number of the real roots (if
any), but we should also separate the real roots, that is, find for each of them
limits γ, γ + δ between which there lies this one, and only this one, real root.
In particular cases it is frequently possible to ascertain the number of
the real roots, and to effect their separation by trial or otherwise, without
much difficulty; but the foregoing was the general process as employed by
Joseph Louis Lagrange even in the second edition (1808) of the Traité de
la résolution des équations numériques;2 the determination of the limit δ
had to be effected by means of the “equation of differences” or equation
of the order ½ n(n − 1), the roots of which are the squares of the
differences of the roots of the given equation, and the process is a
cumbrous and unsatisfactory one.
4. The great step was effected by the theorem of J.C.F. Sturm (1835)—viz.
here starting from the function ƒ(x), and its first derived function ƒ′(x), we
have (by a process which is a slight modification of that for obtaining the
greatest common measure of these two functions) to form a series of functions
ƒ(x), ƒ′(x), ƒ2(x), ... ƒn(x)
of the degrees n, n − 1, n − 2 ... 0 respectively,—the last term ƒn(x) being thus
an absolute constant. These lead to the immediate determination of the number
of real roots (if any) between any two given limits β, α; viz. supposing α > β
(that is, α nearer to +∞), then substituting successively these two values in the
series of functions, and attending only to the signs of the resulting values, the
number of the changes of sign lost in passing from β to α is the required
number of real roots between the two limits. In particular, taking β, α = −∞, +∞
respectively, the signs of the several functions depend merely on the signs of
the terms which contain the highest powers of x, and are seen by inspection,
and the theorem thus gives at once the whole number of real roots.
Page 32
And although theoretically, in order to complete by a finite number of
operations the separation of the real roots, we still need to know the value of
the before-mentioned limit δ; yet in any given case the separation may be
effected by a limited number of repetitions of the process. The practical
difficulty is when two or more roots are very near to each other. Suppose, for
instance, that the theorem shows that there are two roots between 0 and 10; by
giving to x the values 1, 2, 3, ... successively, it might appear that the two roots
were between 5 and 6; then again that they were between 5.3 and 5.4, then
between 5.34 and 5.35, and so on until we arrive at a separation; say it appears
that between 5.346 and 5.347 there is one root, and between 5.348 and 5.349
the other root. But in the case in question δ would have a very small value,
such as .002, and even supposing this value known, the direct application of
the first-mentioned process would be still more laborious.
5. Supposing the separation once effected, the determination of the single
real root which lies between the two given limits may be effected to any
required degree of approximation either by the processes of W.G. Horner and
Lagrange (which are in principle a carrying out of the method of Sturm’s
theorem), or by the process of Sir Isaac Newton, as perfected by Joseph
Fourier (which requires to be separately considered).
First as to Horner and Lagrange. We know that between the limits β, α
there lies one, and only one, real root of the equation; ƒ(β) and ƒ(α) have
therefore opposite signs. Suppose any intermediate value is θ; in order to
determine by Sturm’s theorem whether the root lies between β, θ, or
between θ, α, it would be quite unnecessary to calculate the signs of
ƒ(θ),ƒ′(θ), ƒ2(θ) ...; only the sign of ƒ(θ) is required; for, if this has the
same sign as ƒ(β), then the root is between β, θ; if the same sign as ƒ(α),
then the root is between θ, α. We want to make θ increase from the
inferior limit β, at which ƒ(θ) has the sign of ƒ(β), so long as ƒ(θ) retains
this sign, and then to a value for which it assumes the opposite sign; we
operations the separation of the real roots, we still need to know the value of
the before-mentioned limit δ; yet in any given case the separation may be
effected by a limited number of repetitions of the process. The practical
difficulty is when two or more roots are very near to each other. Suppose, for
instance, that the theorem shows that there are two roots between 0 and 10; by
giving to x the values 1, 2, 3, ... successively, it might appear that the two roots
were between 5 and 6; then again that they were between 5.3 and 5.4, then
between 5.34 and 5.35, and so on until we arrive at a separation; say it appears
that between 5.346 and 5.347 there is one root, and between 5.348 and 5.349
the other root. But in the case in question δ would have a very small value,
such as .002, and even supposing this value known, the direct application of
the first-mentioned process would be still more laborious.
5. Supposing the separation once effected, the determination of the single
real root which lies between the two given limits may be effected to any
required degree of approximation either by the processes of W.G. Horner and
Lagrange (which are in principle a carrying out of the method of Sturm’s
theorem), or by the process of Sir Isaac Newton, as perfected by Joseph
Fourier (which requires to be separately considered).
First as to Horner and Lagrange. We know that between the limits β, α
there lies one, and only one, real root of the equation; ƒ(β) and ƒ(α) have
therefore opposite signs. Suppose any intermediate value is θ; in order to
determine by Sturm’s theorem whether the root lies between β, θ, or
between θ, α, it would be quite unnecessary to calculate the signs of
ƒ(θ),ƒ′(θ), ƒ2(θ) ...; only the sign of ƒ(θ) is required; for, if this has the
same sign as ƒ(β), then the root is between β, θ; if the same sign as ƒ(α),
then the root is between θ, α. We want to make θ increase from the
inferior limit β, at which ƒ(θ) has the sign of ƒ(β), so long as ƒ(θ) retains
this sign, and then to a value for which it assumes the opposite sign; we
Page 33
have thus two nearer limits of the required root, and the process may be
repeated indefinitely.
Horner’s method (1819) gives the root as a decimal, figure by figure;
thus if the equation be known to have one real root between 0 and 10, it is
in effect shown say that 5 is too small (that is, the root is between 5 and
6); next that 5.4 is too small (that is, the root is between 5.4 and 5.5); and
so on to any number of decimals. Each figure is obtained, not by the
successive trial of all the figures which precede it, but (as in the ordinary
process of the extraction of a square root, which is in fact Horner’s
process applied to this particular case) it is given presumptively as the
first figure of a quotient; such value may be too large, and then the next
inferior integer must be tried instead of it, or it may require to be further
diminished. And it is to be remarked that the process not only gives the
approximate value α of the root, but (as in the extraction of a square root)
it includes the calculation of the function ƒ(α), which should be, and
approximately is, = 0. The arrangement of the calculations is very elegant,
and forms an integral part of the actual method. It is to be observed that
after a certain number of decimal places have been obtained, a good many
more can be found by a mere division. It is in the progress tacitly assumed
that the roots have been first separated.
Lagrange’s method (1767) gives the root as a continued fraction a + 1/b
+ 1/c + ..., where a is a positive or negative integer (which may be = 0),
but b, c, ... are positive integers. Suppose the roots have been separated;
then (by trial if need be of consecutive integer values) the limits may be
made to be consecutive integer numbers: say they are a, a + 1; the value of
x is therefore = a + 1/y, where y is positive and greater than 1; from the
given equation for x, writing therein x = a + 1/y, we form an equation of
the same order for y, and this equation will have one, and only one,
positive root greater than 1; hence finding for it the limits b, b + 1 (where
b is = or > 1), we have y = b + 1/z, where z is positive and greater than 1;
and so on—that is, we thus obtain the successive denominators b, c, d ...
repeated indefinitely.
Horner’s method (1819) gives the root as a decimal, figure by figure;
thus if the equation be known to have one real root between 0 and 10, it is
in effect shown say that 5 is too small (that is, the root is between 5 and
6); next that 5.4 is too small (that is, the root is between 5.4 and 5.5); and
so on to any number of decimals. Each figure is obtained, not by the
successive trial of all the figures which precede it, but (as in the ordinary
process of the extraction of a square root, which is in fact Horner’s
process applied to this particular case) it is given presumptively as the
first figure of a quotient; such value may be too large, and then the next
inferior integer must be tried instead of it, or it may require to be further
diminished. And it is to be remarked that the process not only gives the
approximate value α of the root, but (as in the extraction of a square root)
it includes the calculation of the function ƒ(α), which should be, and
approximately is, = 0. The arrangement of the calculations is very elegant,
and forms an integral part of the actual method. It is to be observed that
after a certain number of decimal places have been obtained, a good many
more can be found by a mere division. It is in the progress tacitly assumed
that the roots have been first separated.
Lagrange’s method (1767) gives the root as a continued fraction a + 1/b
+ 1/c + ..., where a is a positive or negative integer (which may be = 0),
but b, c, ... are positive integers. Suppose the roots have been separated;
then (by trial if need be of consecutive integer values) the limits may be
made to be consecutive integer numbers: say they are a, a + 1; the value of
x is therefore = a + 1/y, where y is positive and greater than 1; from the
given equation for x, writing therein x = a + 1/y, we form an equation of
the same order for y, and this equation will have one, and only one,
positive root greater than 1; hence finding for it the limits b, b + 1 (where
b is = or > 1), we have y = b + 1/z, where z is positive and greater than 1;
and so on—that is, we thus obtain the successive denominators b, c, d ...
Page 34
of the continued fraction. The method is theoretically very elegant, but the
disadvantage is that it gives the result in the form of a continued fraction,
which for the most part must ultimately be converted into a decimal.
There is one advantage in the method, that a commensurable root (that is,
a root equal to a rational fraction) is found accurately, since, when such
root exists, the continued fraction terminates.
6. Newton’s method (1711), as perfected by Fourier(1831), may be
roughly stated as follows. If x = γ be an approximate value of any root,
and γ + h the correct value, then ƒ(γ + h) = 0, that is,
h h²
ƒ(γ) + ƒ′(γ) + ƒ″(γ) + ... = 0;
1 1·2
and then, if h be so small that the terms after the second may be neglected,
ƒ(γ) + hƒ′(γ) = 0, that is, h = {−ƒ(γ)/ƒ′(γ) }, or the new approximate value
is x = γ − {ƒ(γ)/ƒ′(γ) }; and so on, as often as we please. It will be
observed that so far nothing has been assumed as to the separation of the
roots, or even as to the existence of a real root; γ has been taken as the
approximate value of a root, but no precise meaning has been attached to
this expression. The question arises, What are the conditions to be
satisfied by γ in order that the process may by successive repetitions
actually lead to a certain real root of the equation; or that, γ being an
approximate value of a certain real root, the new value γ − {ƒ(γ)/ƒ′(γ) }
may be a more approximate value.
disadvantage is that it gives the result in the form of a continued fraction,
which for the most part must ultimately be converted into a decimal.
There is one advantage in the method, that a commensurable root (that is,
a root equal to a rational fraction) is found accurately, since, when such
root exists, the continued fraction terminates.
6. Newton’s method (1711), as perfected by Fourier(1831), may be
roughly stated as follows. If x = γ be an approximate value of any root,
and γ + h the correct value, then ƒ(γ + h) = 0, that is,
h h²
ƒ(γ) + ƒ′(γ) + ƒ″(γ) + ... = 0;
1 1·2
and then, if h be so small that the terms after the second may be neglected,
ƒ(γ) + hƒ′(γ) = 0, that is, h = {−ƒ(γ)/ƒ′(γ) }, or the new approximate value
is x = γ − {ƒ(γ)/ƒ′(γ) }; and so on, as often as we please. It will be
observed that so far nothing has been assumed as to the separation of the
roots, or even as to the existence of a real root; γ has been taken as the
approximate value of a root, but no precise meaning has been attached to
this expression. The question arises, What are the conditions to be
satisfied by γ in order that the process may by successive repetitions
actually lead to a certain real root of the equation; or that, γ being an
approximate value of a certain real root, the new value γ − {ƒ(γ)/ƒ′(γ) }
may be a more approximate value.
Page 35
Fig. 1.
Referring to fig. 1, it is easy to see that if OC represent the assumed
value γ, then, drawing the ordinate CP to meet the curve in P, and the
tangent PC′ to meet the axis in C′, we shall have OC′ as the new
approximate value of the root. But observe that there is here a real root
OX, and that the curve beyond X is convex to the axis; under these
conditions the point C′ is nearer to X than was C; and, starting with C′
instead of C, and proceeding in like manner to draw a new ordinate and
tangent, and so on as often as we please, we approximate continually, and
that with great rapidity, to the true value OX. But if C had been taken on
the other side of X, where the curve is concave to the axis, the new point
C′ might or might not be nearer to X than was the point C; and in this case
the method, if it succeeds at all, does so by accident only, i.e. it may
happen that C′ or some subsequent point comes to be a point C, such that
CO is a proper approximate value of the root, and then the subsequent
approximations proceed in the same manner as if this value had been
assumed in the first instance, all the preceding work being wasted. It thus
appears that for the proper application of the method we require more than
the mere separation of the roots. In order to be able to approximate to a
Referring to fig. 1, it is easy to see that if OC represent the assumed
value γ, then, drawing the ordinate CP to meet the curve in P, and the
tangent PC′ to meet the axis in C′, we shall have OC′ as the new
approximate value of the root. But observe that there is here a real root
OX, and that the curve beyond X is convex to the axis; under these
conditions the point C′ is nearer to X than was C; and, starting with C′
instead of C, and proceeding in like manner to draw a new ordinate and
tangent, and so on as often as we please, we approximate continually, and
that with great rapidity, to the true value OX. But if C had been taken on
the other side of X, where the curve is concave to the axis, the new point
C′ might or might not be nearer to X than was the point C; and in this case
the method, if it succeeds at all, does so by accident only, i.e. it may
happen that C′ or some subsequent point comes to be a point C, such that
CO is a proper approximate value of the root, and then the subsequent
approximations proceed in the same manner as if this value had been
assumed in the first instance, all the preceding work being wasted. It thus
appears that for the proper application of the method we require more than
the mere separation of the roots. In order to be able to approximate to a
Page 36
certain root α, = OX, we require to know that, between OX and some
value ON, the curve is always convex to the axis (analytically, between
the two values, ƒ(x) and ƒ″(x) must have always the same sign). When
this is so, the point C may be taken anywhere on the proper side of X, and
within the portion XN of the axis; and the process is then the one already
explained. The approximation is in general a very rapid one. If we know
for the required root OX the two limits OM, ON such that from M to X
the curve is always concave to the axis, while from X to N it is always
convex to the axis,—then, taking D anywhere in the portion MX and (as
before) C in the portion XN, drawing the ordinates DQ, CP, and joining
the points P, Q by a line which meets the axis in D′, also constructing the
point C′ by means of the tangent at P as before, we have for the required
root the new limits OD′, OC′; and proceeding in like manner with the
points D′, C′, and so on as often as we please, we obtain at each step two
limits approximating more and more nearly to the required root OX. The
process as to the point D′, translated into analysis, is the ordinate process
of interpolation. Suppose OD = β, OC = α, we have approximately ƒ(β +
h) = ƒ(β) + h{ƒ(α) − ƒ(β) } / (α − β), whence if the root is β + h then h = −
(α − β)ƒ(β) / {ƒ(α) − ƒ(β) }.
Returning for a moment to Horner’s method, it may be remarked that
the correction h, to an approximate value α, is therein found as a quotient
the same or such as the quotient ƒ(α) ÷ ƒ′(α) which presents itself in
Newton’s method. The difference is that with Horner the integer part of
this quotient is taken as the presumptive value of h, and the figure is
verified at each step. With Newton the quotient itself, developed to the
proper number of decimal places, is taken as the value of h; if too many
decimals are taken, there would be a waste of work; but the error would
correct itself at the next step. Of course the calculation should be
conducted without any such waste of work.
value ON, the curve is always convex to the axis (analytically, between
the two values, ƒ(x) and ƒ″(x) must have always the same sign). When
this is so, the point C may be taken anywhere on the proper side of X, and
within the portion XN of the axis; and the process is then the one already
explained. The approximation is in general a very rapid one. If we know
for the required root OX the two limits OM, ON such that from M to X
the curve is always concave to the axis, while from X to N it is always
convex to the axis,—then, taking D anywhere in the portion MX and (as
before) C in the portion XN, drawing the ordinates DQ, CP, and joining
the points P, Q by a line which meets the axis in D′, also constructing the
point C′ by means of the tangent at P as before, we have for the required
root the new limits OD′, OC′; and proceeding in like manner with the
points D′, C′, and so on as often as we please, we obtain at each step two
limits approximating more and more nearly to the required root OX. The
process as to the point D′, translated into analysis, is the ordinate process
of interpolation. Suppose OD = β, OC = α, we have approximately ƒ(β +
h) = ƒ(β) + h{ƒ(α) − ƒ(β) } / (α − β), whence if the root is β + h then h = −
(α − β)ƒ(β) / {ƒ(α) − ƒ(β) }.
Returning for a moment to Horner’s method, it may be remarked that
the correction h, to an approximate value α, is therein found as a quotient
the same or such as the quotient ƒ(α) ÷ ƒ′(α) which presents itself in
Newton’s method. The difference is that with Horner the integer part of
this quotient is taken as the presumptive value of h, and the figure is
verified at each step. With Newton the quotient itself, developed to the
proper number of decimal places, is taken as the value of h; if too many
decimals are taken, there would be a waste of work; but the error would
correct itself at the next step. Of course the calculation should be
conducted without any such waste of work.
Page 37
Imaginary Theory.
7. It will be recollected that the expression number and the correlative
epithet numerical were at the outset used in a wide sense, as extending to
imaginaries. This extension arises out of the theory of equations by a process
analogous to that by which number, in its original most restricted sense of
positive integer number, was extended to have the meaning of a real positive or
negative magnitude susceptible of continuous variation.
If for a moment number is understood in its most restricted sense as
meaning positive integer number, the solution of a simple equation leads to an
extension; ax − b = 0 gives x = b/a, a positive fraction, and we can in this
manner represent, not accurately, but as nearly as we please, any positive
magnitude whatever; so an equation ax + b = 0 gives x = −b/a, which
(approximately as before) represents any negative magnitude. We thus arrive at
the extended signification of number as a continuously varying positive or
negative magnitude. Such numbers may be added or subtracted, multiplied or
divided one by another, and the result is always a number. Now from a quadric
equation we derive, in like manner, the notion of a complex or imaginary
number such as is spoken of above. The equation x² + 1 = 0 is not (in the
foregoing sense, number = real number) satisfied by any numerical value
whatever of x; but we assume that there is a number which we call i, satisfying
the equation i² + 1 = 0, and then taking a and b any real numbers, we form an
expression such as a + bi, and use the expression number in this extended
sense: any two such numbers may be added or subtracted, multiplied or
divided one by the other, and the result is always a number. And if we consider
first a quadric equation x² + px + q = 0 where p and q are real numbers, and
next the like equation, where p and q are any numbers whatever, it can be
shown that there exists for x a numerical value which satisfies the equation; or,
in other words, it can be shown that the equation has a numerical root. The like
theorem, in fact, holds good for an equation of any order whatever; but
7. It will be recollected that the expression number and the correlative
epithet numerical were at the outset used in a wide sense, as extending to
imaginaries. This extension arises out of the theory of equations by a process
analogous to that by which number, in its original most restricted sense of
positive integer number, was extended to have the meaning of a real positive or
negative magnitude susceptible of continuous variation.
If for a moment number is understood in its most restricted sense as
meaning positive integer number, the solution of a simple equation leads to an
extension; ax − b = 0 gives x = b/a, a positive fraction, and we can in this
manner represent, not accurately, but as nearly as we please, any positive
magnitude whatever; so an equation ax + b = 0 gives x = −b/a, which
(approximately as before) represents any negative magnitude. We thus arrive at
the extended signification of number as a continuously varying positive or
negative magnitude. Such numbers may be added or subtracted, multiplied or
divided one by another, and the result is always a number. Now from a quadric
equation we derive, in like manner, the notion of a complex or imaginary
number such as is spoken of above. The equation x² + 1 = 0 is not (in the
foregoing sense, number = real number) satisfied by any numerical value
whatever of x; but we assume that there is a number which we call i, satisfying
the equation i² + 1 = 0, and then taking a and b any real numbers, we form an
expression such as a + bi, and use the expression number in this extended
sense: any two such numbers may be added or subtracted, multiplied or
divided one by the other, and the result is always a number. And if we consider
first a quadric equation x² + px + q = 0 where p and q are real numbers, and
next the like equation, where p and q are any numbers whatever, it can be
shown that there exists for x a numerical value which satisfies the equation; or,
in other words, it can be shown that the equation has a numerical root. The like
theorem, in fact, holds good for an equation of any order whatever; but
Page 38
suppose for a moment that this was not the case; say that there was a cubic
equation x³ + px² + qx + r = 0, with numerical coefficients, not satisfied by any
numerical value of x, we should have to establish a new imaginary j satisfying
some such equation, and should then have to consider numbers of the form a +
bj, or perhaps a + bj + cj² (a, b, c numbers α + βi of the kind heretofore
considered),—first we should be thrown back on the quadric equation x² + px
+ q = 0, p and q being now numbers of the last-mentioned extended form—non
constat that every such equation has a numerical root—and if not, we might be
led to other imaginaries k, l, &c., and so on ad infinitum in inextricable
confusion.
But in fact a numerical equation of any order whatever has always a
numerical root, and thus numbers (in the foregoing sense, number = quantity of
the form α + βi) form (what real numbers do not) a universe complete in itself,
such that starting in it we are never led out of it. There may very well be, and
perhaps are, numbers in a more general sense of the term (quaternions are not a
case in point, as the ordinary laws of combination are not adhered to), but in
order to have to do with such numbers (if any) we must start with them.
8. The capital theorem as regards numerical equations thus is, every
numerical equation has a numerical root; or for shortness (the meaning being
as before), every equation has a root. Of course the theorem is the reverse of
self-evident, and it requires proof; but provisionally assuming it as true, we
derive from it the general theory of numerical equations. As the term root was
introduced in the course of an explanation, it will be convenient to give here
the formal definition.
A number a such that substituted for x it makes the function x1n −
p1xn−1 ... ± pn to be = 0, or say such that it satisfies the equation ƒ(x) = 0,
is said to be a root of the equation; that is, a being a root, we have
an − p1an−1 ... ± pn = 0, or say ƒ(a) = 0;
equation x³ + px² + qx + r = 0, with numerical coefficients, not satisfied by any
numerical value of x, we should have to establish a new imaginary j satisfying
some such equation, and should then have to consider numbers of the form a +
bj, or perhaps a + bj + cj² (a, b, c numbers α + βi of the kind heretofore
considered),—first we should be thrown back on the quadric equation x² + px
+ q = 0, p and q being now numbers of the last-mentioned extended form—non
constat that every such equation has a numerical root—and if not, we might be
led to other imaginaries k, l, &c., and so on ad infinitum in inextricable
confusion.
But in fact a numerical equation of any order whatever has always a
numerical root, and thus numbers (in the foregoing sense, number = quantity of
the form α + βi) form (what real numbers do not) a universe complete in itself,
such that starting in it we are never led out of it. There may very well be, and
perhaps are, numbers in a more general sense of the term (quaternions are not a
case in point, as the ordinary laws of combination are not adhered to), but in
order to have to do with such numbers (if any) we must start with them.
8. The capital theorem as regards numerical equations thus is, every
numerical equation has a numerical root; or for shortness (the meaning being
as before), every equation has a root. Of course the theorem is the reverse of
self-evident, and it requires proof; but provisionally assuming it as true, we
derive from it the general theory of numerical equations. As the term root was
introduced in the course of an explanation, it will be convenient to give here
the formal definition.
A number a such that substituted for x it makes the function x1n −
p1xn−1 ... ± pn to be = 0, or say such that it satisfies the equation ƒ(x) = 0,
is said to be a root of the equation; that is, a being a root, we have
an − p1an−1 ... ± pn = 0, or say ƒ(a) = 0;
Page 39
and it is then easily shown that x − a is a factor of the function ƒ(x), viz.
that we have ƒ(x) = (x − a)ƒ1(x), where ƒ1(x) is a function xn−1 − q1xn−2 ...
± qn−1 of the order n − 1, with numerical coefficients q1, q2 ... qn−1.
In general a is not a root of the equation ƒ1(x) = 0, but it may be so—
i.e. ƒ1(x) may contain the factor x − a; when this is so, ƒ(x) will contain
the factor (x − a)²; writing then ƒ(x) = (x − a)²ƒ2(x), and assuming that a is
not a root of the equation ƒ2(x) = 0, x = a is then said to be a double root
of the equation ƒ(x) = 0; and similarly ƒ(x) may contain the factor (x − a)³
and no higher power, and x = a is then a triple root; and so on.
Supposing in general that ƒ(x) = (x − a)αF(x) (α being a positive integer
which may be = 1, (x − a)α the highest power of x − a which divides ƒ(x),
and F(x) being of course of the order n − α), then the equation F(x) = 0
will have a root b which will be different from a; x − b will be a factor, in
general a simple one, but it may be a multiple one, of F(x), and ƒ(x) will
in this case be = (x − a)α (x − b)β Φ(x) (β a positive integer which may be
= 1, (x − b)β the highest power of x − b in F(x) or ƒ(x), and Φ(x) being of
course of the order n − α − β). The original equation ƒ(x) = 0 is in this
case said to have α roots each = a, β roots each = b; and so on for any
other factors (x − c)γ, &c.
We have thus the theorem—A numerical equation of the order n has in
every case n roots, viz. there exist n numbers, a, b, ... (in general all
distinct, but which may arrange themselves in any sets of equal values),
such that ƒ(x) = (x − a)(x − b)(x − c) ... identically.
If the equation has equal roots, these can in general be determined, and
the case is at any rate a special one which may be in the first instance
excluded from consideration. It is, therefore, in general assumed that the
equation ƒ(x) = 0 has all its roots unequal.
that we have ƒ(x) = (x − a)ƒ1(x), where ƒ1(x) is a function xn−1 − q1xn−2 ...
± qn−1 of the order n − 1, with numerical coefficients q1, q2 ... qn−1.
In general a is not a root of the equation ƒ1(x) = 0, but it may be so—
i.e. ƒ1(x) may contain the factor x − a; when this is so, ƒ(x) will contain
the factor (x − a)²; writing then ƒ(x) = (x − a)²ƒ2(x), and assuming that a is
not a root of the equation ƒ2(x) = 0, x = a is then said to be a double root
of the equation ƒ(x) = 0; and similarly ƒ(x) may contain the factor (x − a)³
and no higher power, and x = a is then a triple root; and so on.
Supposing in general that ƒ(x) = (x − a)αF(x) (α being a positive integer
which may be = 1, (x − a)α the highest power of x − a which divides ƒ(x),
and F(x) being of course of the order n − α), then the equation F(x) = 0
will have a root b which will be different from a; x − b will be a factor, in
general a simple one, but it may be a multiple one, of F(x), and ƒ(x) will
in this case be = (x − a)α (x − b)β Φ(x) (β a positive integer which may be
= 1, (x − b)β the highest power of x − b in F(x) or ƒ(x), and Φ(x) being of
course of the order n − α − β). The original equation ƒ(x) = 0 is in this
case said to have α roots each = a, β roots each = b; and so on for any
other factors (x − c)γ, &c.
We have thus the theorem—A numerical equation of the order n has in
every case n roots, viz. there exist n numbers, a, b, ... (in general all
distinct, but which may arrange themselves in any sets of equal values),
such that ƒ(x) = (x − a)(x − b)(x − c) ... identically.
If the equation has equal roots, these can in general be determined, and
the case is at any rate a special one which may be in the first instance
excluded from consideration. It is, therefore, in general assumed that the
equation ƒ(x) = 0 has all its roots unequal.
Page 40
If the coefficients p1, p2, ... are all or any one or more of them
imaginary, then the equation ƒ(x) = 0, separating the real and imaginary
parts thereof, may be written F(x) + iΦ(x) = 0, where F(x), Φ(x) are each
of them a function with real coefficients; and it thus appears that the
equation ƒ(x) = 0, with imaginary coefficients, has not in general any real
root; supposing it to have a real root a, this must be at once a root of each
of the equations F(x) = 0 and Φ(x) = 0.
But an equation with real coefficients may have as well imaginary as
real roots, and we have further the theorem that for any such equation the
imaginary roots enter in pairs, viz. α + βi being a root, then α − βi will be
also a root. It follows that if the order be odd, there is always an odd
number of real roots, and therefore at least one real root.
9. In the case of an equation with real coefficients, the question of the
existence of real roots, and of their separation, has been already considered. In
the general case of an equation with imaginary (it may be real) coefficients, the
like question arises as to the situation of the (real or imaginary) roots; thus, if
for facility of conception we regard the constituents α, β of a root α + βi as the
co-ordinates of a point in plano, and accordingly represent the root by such
point, then drawing in the plane any closed curve or “contour,” the question is
how many roots lie within such contour.
This is solved theoretically by means of a theorem of A.L. Cauchy
(1837), viz. writing in the original equation x + iy in place of x, the
function ƒ(x + iy) becomes = P + iQ, where P and Q are each of them a
rational and integral function (with real coefficients) of (x, y). Imagining
the point (x, y) to travel along the contour, and considering the number of
changes of sign from − to + and from + to − of the fraction corresponding
to passages of the fraction through zero (that is, to values for which P
becomes = 0, disregarding those for which Q becomes = 0), the difference
of these numbers gives the number of roots within the contour.
imaginary, then the equation ƒ(x) = 0, separating the real and imaginary
parts thereof, may be written F(x) + iΦ(x) = 0, where F(x), Φ(x) are each
of them a function with real coefficients; and it thus appears that the
equation ƒ(x) = 0, with imaginary coefficients, has not in general any real
root; supposing it to have a real root a, this must be at once a root of each
of the equations F(x) = 0 and Φ(x) = 0.
But an equation with real coefficients may have as well imaginary as
real roots, and we have further the theorem that for any such equation the
imaginary roots enter in pairs, viz. α + βi being a root, then α − βi will be
also a root. It follows that if the order be odd, there is always an odd
number of real roots, and therefore at least one real root.
9. In the case of an equation with real coefficients, the question of the
existence of real roots, and of their separation, has been already considered. In
the general case of an equation with imaginary (it may be real) coefficients, the
like question arises as to the situation of the (real or imaginary) roots; thus, if
for facility of conception we regard the constituents α, β of a root α + βi as the
co-ordinates of a point in plano, and accordingly represent the root by such
point, then drawing in the plane any closed curve or “contour,” the question is
how many roots lie within such contour.
This is solved theoretically by means of a theorem of A.L. Cauchy
(1837), viz. writing in the original equation x + iy in place of x, the
function ƒ(x + iy) becomes = P + iQ, where P and Q are each of them a
rational and integral function (with real coefficients) of (x, y). Imagining
the point (x, y) to travel along the contour, and considering the number of
changes of sign from − to + and from + to − of the fraction corresponding
to passages of the fraction through zero (that is, to values for which P
becomes = 0, disregarding those for which Q becomes = 0), the difference
of these numbers gives the number of roots within the contour.
Page 41
It is important to remark that the demonstration does not presuppose the
existence of any root; the contour may be the infinity of the plane (such
infinity regarded as a contour, or closed curve), and in this case it can be
shown (and that very easily) that the difference of the numbers of changes
of sign is = n; that is, there are within the infinite contour, or (what is the
same thing) there are in all n roots; thus Cauchy’s theorem contains really
the proof of the fundamental theorem that a numerical equation of the nth
order (not only has a numerical root, but) has precisely n roots. It would
appear that this proof of the fundamental theorem in its most complete
form is in principle identical with the last proof of K.F. Gauss (1849) of
the theorem, in the form—A numerical equation of the nth order has
always a root.3
But in the case of a finite contour, the actual determination of the
difference which gives the number of real roots can be effected only in the
case of a rectangular contour, by applying to each of its sides separately a
method such as that of Sturm’s theorem; and thus the actual determination
ultimately depends on a method such as that of Sturm’s theorem.
Very little has been done in regard to the calculation of the imaginary
roots of an equation by approximation; and the question is not here
considered.
10. A class of numerical equations which needs to be considered is that of
the binomial equations xn − a = 0 (a = α + βi, a complex number).
The foregoing conclusions apply, viz. there are always n roots, which, it
may be shown, are all unequal. And these can be found numerically by the
extraction of the square root, and of an nth root, of real numbers, and by
the aid of a table of natural sines and cosines.4 For writing
α β
α + βi = √(α² + β²) { + i },
√(α² + β²) √(α² + β²)
existence of any root; the contour may be the infinity of the plane (such
infinity regarded as a contour, or closed curve), and in this case it can be
shown (and that very easily) that the difference of the numbers of changes
of sign is = n; that is, there are within the infinite contour, or (what is the
same thing) there are in all n roots; thus Cauchy’s theorem contains really
the proof of the fundamental theorem that a numerical equation of the nth
order (not only has a numerical root, but) has precisely n roots. It would
appear that this proof of the fundamental theorem in its most complete
form is in principle identical with the last proof of K.F. Gauss (1849) of
the theorem, in the form—A numerical equation of the nth order has
always a root.3
But in the case of a finite contour, the actual determination of the
difference which gives the number of real roots can be effected only in the
case of a rectangular contour, by applying to each of its sides separately a
method such as that of Sturm’s theorem; and thus the actual determination
ultimately depends on a method such as that of Sturm’s theorem.
Very little has been done in regard to the calculation of the imaginary
roots of an equation by approximation; and the question is not here
considered.
10. A class of numerical equations which needs to be considered is that of
the binomial equations xn − a = 0 (a = α + βi, a complex number).
The foregoing conclusions apply, viz. there are always n roots, which, it
may be shown, are all unequal. And these can be found numerically by the
extraction of the square root, and of an nth root, of real numbers, and by
the aid of a table of natural sines and cosines.4 For writing
α β
α + βi = √(α² + β²) { + i },
√(α² + β²) √(α² + β²)
Page 42
there is always a real angle λ (positive and less than 2π), such that its
cosine and sine are = α / √(α² + β²) and β / √(α² + β²) respectively; that is,
writing for shortness √(α² + β²) = ρ, we have α + βi = ρ (cos λ + i sin λ), or
the equation is xn = ρ (cos λ + i sin λ); hence observing that (cos λ/n + i
sin λ/n )n = cos λ + i sin λ, a value of x is = n√ρ (cos λ/n + i sin λ/n). The
formula really gives all the roots, for instead of λ we may write λ + 2sπ, s
a positive or negative integer, and then we have
λ + 2sπ λ + 2sπ
x = n√ρ ( cos + i sin ),
n n
which has the n values obtained by giving to s the values 0, 1, 2 ... n − 1 in
succession; the roots are, it is clear, represented by points lying at equal
intervals on a circle. But it is more convenient to proceed somewhat
differently; taking one of the roots to be θ, so that θn = a, then assuming x
= θy, the equation becomes yn − 1 = 0, which equation, like the original
equation, has precisely n roots (one of them being of course = 1). And the
original equation xn − a = 0 is thus reduced to the more simple equation xn
− 1 = 0; and although the theory of this equation is included in the
preceding one, yet it is proper to state it separately.
The equation xn − 1 = 0 has its several roots expressed in the form 1, ω,
ω², ... ωn−1, where ω may be taken = cos 2π/n + i sin 2π/n; in fact, ω
having this value, any integer power ωk is = cos 2πk/n + i sin 2πk/n, and
we thence have (ωk)n = cos 2πk + i sin 2πk, = 1, that is, ωk is a root of the
equation. The theory will be resumed further on.
By what precedes, we are led to the notion (a numerical) of the radical
a1/n regarded as an n-valued function; any one of these being denoted by
n√a, then the series of values is n√a, ωn√a, ... ωn−1 n√a; or we may, if we
please, use n√a instead of a1/n as a symbol to denote the n-valued function.
cosine and sine are = α / √(α² + β²) and β / √(α² + β²) respectively; that is,
writing for shortness √(α² + β²) = ρ, we have α + βi = ρ (cos λ + i sin λ), or
the equation is xn = ρ (cos λ + i sin λ); hence observing that (cos λ/n + i
sin λ/n )n = cos λ + i sin λ, a value of x is = n√ρ (cos λ/n + i sin λ/n). The
formula really gives all the roots, for instead of λ we may write λ + 2sπ, s
a positive or negative integer, and then we have
λ + 2sπ λ + 2sπ
x = n√ρ ( cos + i sin ),
n n
which has the n values obtained by giving to s the values 0, 1, 2 ... n − 1 in
succession; the roots are, it is clear, represented by points lying at equal
intervals on a circle. But it is more convenient to proceed somewhat
differently; taking one of the roots to be θ, so that θn = a, then assuming x
= θy, the equation becomes yn − 1 = 0, which equation, like the original
equation, has precisely n roots (one of them being of course = 1). And the
original equation xn − a = 0 is thus reduced to the more simple equation xn
− 1 = 0; and although the theory of this equation is included in the
preceding one, yet it is proper to state it separately.
The equation xn − 1 = 0 has its several roots expressed in the form 1, ω,
ω², ... ωn−1, where ω may be taken = cos 2π/n + i sin 2π/n; in fact, ω
having this value, any integer power ωk is = cos 2πk/n + i sin 2πk/n, and
we thence have (ωk)n = cos 2πk + i sin 2πk, = 1, that is, ωk is a root of the
equation. The theory will be resumed further on.
By what precedes, we are led to the notion (a numerical) of the radical
a1/n regarded as an n-valued function; any one of these being denoted by
n√a, then the series of values is n√a, ωn√a, ... ωn−1 n√a; or we may, if we
please, use n√a instead of a1/n as a symbol to denote the n-valued function.
Page 43
As the coefficients of an algebraical equation may be numerical, all
which follows in regard to algebraical equations is (with, it may be, some
few modifications) applicable to numerical equations; and hence,
concluding for the present this subject, it will be convenient to pass on to
algebraical equations.
Algebraical Equations.
11. The equation is
xn − p1xn−1 + ... ± pn = 0,
and we here assume the existence of roots, viz. we assume that there are n
quantities a, b, c ... (in general all of them different, but which in particular
cases may become equal in sets in any manner), such that
xn − p1xn−1 + ... ± pn = 0;
or looking at the question in a different point of view, and starting with the
roots a, b, c ... as given, we express the product of the n factors x − a, x − b, ...
in the foregoing form, and thus arrive at an equation of the order n having the n
roots a, b, c.... In either case we have
p1 = Σa, p2 = Σab, ... pn = abc...;
i.e. regarding the coefficients p1, p2 ... pn as given, then we assume the
existence of roots a, b, c, ... such that p1 = Σa, &c.; or, regarding the roots as
given, then we write p1, p2, &c., to denote the functions Σa, Σab, &c.
As already explained, the epithet algebraical is not used in opposition to
numerical; an algebraical equation is merely an equation wherein the
coefficients are not restricted to denote, or are not explicitly considered as
denoting, numbers. That the abstraction is legitimate, appears by the
simplest example; in saying that the equation x² − px + q = 0 has a root x
which follows in regard to algebraical equations is (with, it may be, some
few modifications) applicable to numerical equations; and hence,
concluding for the present this subject, it will be convenient to pass on to
algebraical equations.
Algebraical Equations.
11. The equation is
xn − p1xn−1 + ... ± pn = 0,
and we here assume the existence of roots, viz. we assume that there are n
quantities a, b, c ... (in general all of them different, but which in particular
cases may become equal in sets in any manner), such that
xn − p1xn−1 + ... ± pn = 0;
or looking at the question in a different point of view, and starting with the
roots a, b, c ... as given, we express the product of the n factors x − a, x − b, ...
in the foregoing form, and thus arrive at an equation of the order n having the n
roots a, b, c.... In either case we have
p1 = Σa, p2 = Σab, ... pn = abc...;
i.e. regarding the coefficients p1, p2 ... pn as given, then we assume the
existence of roots a, b, c, ... such that p1 = Σa, &c.; or, regarding the roots as
given, then we write p1, p2, &c., to denote the functions Σa, Σab, &c.
As already explained, the epithet algebraical is not used in opposition to
numerical; an algebraical equation is merely an equation wherein the
coefficients are not restricted to denote, or are not explicitly considered as
denoting, numbers. That the abstraction is legitimate, appears by the
simplest example; in saying that the equation x² − px + q = 0 has a root x
Page 44
= ½ {p + √(p² − 4q) }, we mean that writing this value for x the equation
becomes an identity, [½ {p + √(p² − 4q) }]² − p[½ {p + √(p² − 4q) }] + q =
0; and the verification of this identity in nowise depends upon p and q
meaning numbers. But if it be asked what there is beyond numerical
equations included in the term algebraical equation, or, again, what is the
full extent of the meaning attributed to the term—the latter question at any
rate it would be very difficult to answer; as to the former one, it may be
said that the coefficients may, for instance, be symbols of operation. As
regards such equations, there is certainly no proof that every equation has
a root, or that an equation of the nth order has n roots; nor is it in any wise
clear what the precise signification of the statement is. But it is found that
the assumption of the existence of the n roots can be made without
contradictory results; conclusions derived from it, if they involve the
roots, rest on the same ground as the original assumption; but the
conclusion may be independent of the roots altogether, and in this case it
is undoubtedly valid; the reasoning, although actually conducted by aid of
the assumption (and, it may be, most easily and elegantly in this manner),
is really independent of the assumption. In illustration, we observe that it
is allowable to express a function of p and q as follows,—that is, by
means of a rational symmetrical function of a and b, this can, as a fact, be
expressed as a rational function of a + b and ab; and if we prescribe that a
+ b and ab shall then be changed into p and q respectively, we have the
required function of p, q. That is, we have F(α, β) as a representation of
ƒ(p, q), obtained as if we had p = a + b, q = ab, but without in any wise
assuming the existence of the a, b of these equations.
12. Starting from the equation
xn − p1xn−1 + ... = x − a·x − b. &c.
or the equivalent equations p1 = Σa, &c., we find
becomes an identity, [½ {p + √(p² − 4q) }]² − p[½ {p + √(p² − 4q) }] + q =
0; and the verification of this identity in nowise depends upon p and q
meaning numbers. But if it be asked what there is beyond numerical
equations included in the term algebraical equation, or, again, what is the
full extent of the meaning attributed to the term—the latter question at any
rate it would be very difficult to answer; as to the former one, it may be
said that the coefficients may, for instance, be symbols of operation. As
regards such equations, there is certainly no proof that every equation has
a root, or that an equation of the nth order has n roots; nor is it in any wise
clear what the precise signification of the statement is. But it is found that
the assumption of the existence of the n roots can be made without
contradictory results; conclusions derived from it, if they involve the
roots, rest on the same ground as the original assumption; but the
conclusion may be independent of the roots altogether, and in this case it
is undoubtedly valid; the reasoning, although actually conducted by aid of
the assumption (and, it may be, most easily and elegantly in this manner),
is really independent of the assumption. In illustration, we observe that it
is allowable to express a function of p and q as follows,—that is, by
means of a rational symmetrical function of a and b, this can, as a fact, be
expressed as a rational function of a + b and ab; and if we prescribe that a
+ b and ab shall then be changed into p and q respectively, we have the
required function of p, q. That is, we have F(α, β) as a representation of
ƒ(p, q), obtained as if we had p = a + b, q = ab, but without in any wise
assuming the existence of the a, b of these equations.
12. Starting from the equation
xn − p1xn−1 + ... = x − a·x − b. &c.
or the equivalent equations p1 = Σa, &c., we find
Page 45
an − p1an−1 + ... = 0,
bn − p1bn−1 + ... = 0;
· · ·
· · ·
· · ·
(it is as satisfying these equations that a, b ... are said to be the roots of xn −
p1xn−1 + ... = 0); and conversely from the last-mentioned equations, assuming
that a, b ... are all different, we deduce
p1 = Σa, p2 = Σab, &c.
and
xn − p1xn−1 + ... = x − a·x − b. &c.
Observe that if, for instance, a = b, then the equations an − p1an−1 + ... = 0, bn −
p1bn−1 + ... = 0 would reduce themselves to a single relation, which would not
of itself express that a was a double root,—that is, that (x − a)² was a factor of
xn − p1xn−1 +, &c; but by considering b as the limit of a + h, h indefinitely
small, we obtain a second equation
nan−1 − (n − 1) p1an−2 + ... = 0,
which, with the first, expresses that a is a double root; and then the whole
system of equations leads as before to the equations p1 = Σa, &c. But the
existence of a double root implies a certain relation between the coefficients;
the general case is when the roots are all unequal.
We have then the theorem that every rational symmetrical function of the
roots is a rational function of the coefficients. This is an easy consequence
from the less general theorem, every rational and integral symmetrical function
of the roots is a rational and integral function of the coefficients.
bn − p1bn−1 + ... = 0;
· · ·
· · ·
· · ·
(it is as satisfying these equations that a, b ... are said to be the roots of xn −
p1xn−1 + ... = 0); and conversely from the last-mentioned equations, assuming
that a, b ... are all different, we deduce
p1 = Σa, p2 = Σab, &c.
and
xn − p1xn−1 + ... = x − a·x − b. &c.
Observe that if, for instance, a = b, then the equations an − p1an−1 + ... = 0, bn −
p1bn−1 + ... = 0 would reduce themselves to a single relation, which would not
of itself express that a was a double root,—that is, that (x − a)² was a factor of
xn − p1xn−1 +, &c; but by considering b as the limit of a + h, h indefinitely
small, we obtain a second equation
nan−1 − (n − 1) p1an−2 + ... = 0,
which, with the first, expresses that a is a double root; and then the whole
system of equations leads as before to the equations p1 = Σa, &c. But the
existence of a double root implies a certain relation between the coefficients;
the general case is when the roots are all unequal.
We have then the theorem that every rational symmetrical function of the
roots is a rational function of the coefficients. This is an easy consequence
from the less general theorem, every rational and integral symmetrical function
of the roots is a rational and integral function of the coefficients.
Page 46
In particular, the sums of the powers Σa², Σa³, &c., are rational and integral
functions of the coefficients.
The process originally employed for the expression of other functions
Σaαbβ, &c., in terms of the coefficients is to make them depend upon the
sums of powers: for instance, Σaαbβ = ΣaαΣaβ − Σaα+β; but this is very
objectionable; the true theory consists in showing that we have systems of
equations
p1 = Σa,
p2 = Σab,
p1² = Σa² + 2Σab,
p3 = Σabc,
p1p2 = Σa²b + 3Σabc,
p1³ = Σa³ + 3Σa²b + 6Σabc,
where in each system there are precisely as many equations as there are
root-functions on the right-hand side—e.g. 3 equations and 3 functions
Σabc, Σa²b, Σa³. Hence in each system the root-functions can be
determined linearly in terms of the powers and products of the
coefficients:
Σab = p2,
Σa² = p1² − 2p2,
Σabc = p3,
Σa²b = p1p2 − 3p3,
Σa³ = p1³ − 3p1p2 + 3p3,
functions of the coefficients.
The process originally employed for the expression of other functions
Σaαbβ, &c., in terms of the coefficients is to make them depend upon the
sums of powers: for instance, Σaαbβ = ΣaαΣaβ − Σaα+β; but this is very
objectionable; the true theory consists in showing that we have systems of
equations
p1 = Σa,
p2 = Σab,
p1² = Σa² + 2Σab,
p3 = Σabc,
p1p2 = Σa²b + 3Σabc,
p1³ = Σa³ + 3Σa²b + 6Σabc,
where in each system there are precisely as many equations as there are
root-functions on the right-hand side—e.g. 3 equations and 3 functions
Σabc, Σa²b, Σa³. Hence in each system the root-functions can be
determined linearly in terms of the powers and products of the
coefficients:
Σab = p2,
Σa² = p1² − 2p2,
Σabc = p3,
Σa²b = p1p2 − 3p3,
Σa³ = p1³ − 3p1p2 + 3p3,
Page 47
and so on. The other process, if applied consistently, would derive the
originally assumed value Σab = p2, from the two equations Σa = p, Σa² =
p1² − 2p2; i.e. we have 2Σab = Σa·Σa − Σa²,= p1² − (p1² − 2p2), = 2p2.
13. It is convenient to mention here the theorem that, x being determined as
above by an equation of the order n, any rational and integral function
whatever of x, or more generally any rational function which does not become
infinite in virtue of the equation itself, can be expressed as a rational and
integral function of x, of the order n − 1, the coefficients being rational
functions of the coefficients of the equation. Thus the equation gives xn a
function of the form in question; multiplying each side by x, and on the right-
hand side writing for xn its foregoing value, we have xn+1, a function of the
form in question; and the like for any higher power of x, and therefore also for
any rational and integral function of x. The proof in the case of a rational non-
integral function is somewhat more complicated. The final result is of the form
φ(x)/ψ(x) = I(x), or say φ(x) − ψ(x)I(x) = 0, where φ, ψ, I are rational and
integral functions; in other words, this equation, being true if only ƒ(x) = 0, can
only be so by reason that the left-hand side contains ƒ(x) as a factor, or we
must have identically φ(x) − ψ(x)I(x) = M(x)ƒ(x). And it is, moreover, clear
that the equation φ(x)/ψ(x) = I(x), being satisfied if only ƒ(x) = 0, must be
satisfied by each root of the equation.
From the theorem that a rational symmetrical function of the roots is
expressible in terms of the coefficients, it at once follows that it is possible
to determine an equation (of an assignable order) having for its roots the
several values of any given (unsymmetrical) function of the roots of the
given equation. For example, in the case of a quartic equation, roots (a, b,
c, d), it is possible to find an equation having the roots ab, ac, ad, bc, bd,
cd (being therefore a sextic equation): viz. in the product
(y − ab) (y − ac) (y − ad) (y − bc) (y − bd) (y − cd)
originally assumed value Σab = p2, from the two equations Σa = p, Σa² =
p1² − 2p2; i.e. we have 2Σab = Σa·Σa − Σa²,= p1² − (p1² − 2p2), = 2p2.
13. It is convenient to mention here the theorem that, x being determined as
above by an equation of the order n, any rational and integral function
whatever of x, or more generally any rational function which does not become
infinite in virtue of the equation itself, can be expressed as a rational and
integral function of x, of the order n − 1, the coefficients being rational
functions of the coefficients of the equation. Thus the equation gives xn a
function of the form in question; multiplying each side by x, and on the right-
hand side writing for xn its foregoing value, we have xn+1, a function of the
form in question; and the like for any higher power of x, and therefore also for
any rational and integral function of x. The proof in the case of a rational non-
integral function is somewhat more complicated. The final result is of the form
φ(x)/ψ(x) = I(x), or say φ(x) − ψ(x)I(x) = 0, where φ, ψ, I are rational and
integral functions; in other words, this equation, being true if only ƒ(x) = 0, can
only be so by reason that the left-hand side contains ƒ(x) as a factor, or we
must have identically φ(x) − ψ(x)I(x) = M(x)ƒ(x). And it is, moreover, clear
that the equation φ(x)/ψ(x) = I(x), being satisfied if only ƒ(x) = 0, must be
satisfied by each root of the equation.
From the theorem that a rational symmetrical function of the roots is
expressible in terms of the coefficients, it at once follows that it is possible
to determine an equation (of an assignable order) having for its roots the
several values of any given (unsymmetrical) function of the roots of the
given equation. For example, in the case of a quartic equation, roots (a, b,
c, d), it is possible to find an equation having the roots ab, ac, ad, bc, bd,
cd (being therefore a sextic equation): viz. in the product
(y − ab) (y − ac) (y − ad) (y − bc) (y − bd) (y − cd)
Page 48
the coefficients of the several powers of y will be symmetrical functions
of a, b, c, d and therefore rational and integral functions of the coefficients
of the quartic equation; hence, supposing the product so expressed, and
equating it to zero, we have the required sextic equation. In the same
manner can be found the sextic equation having the roots (a − b)², (a − c)²,
(a − d)², (b − c)², (b − d)², (c − d)², which is the equation of differences
previously referred to; and similarly we obtain the equation of differences
for a given equation of any order. Again, the equation sought for may be
that having for its n roots the given rational functions φ(a), φ(b), ... of the
several roots of the given equation. Any such rational function can (as was
shown) be expressed as a rational and integral function of the order n − 1;
and, retaining x in place of any one of the roots, the problem is to find y
from the equations xn − p1xn−1 ... = 0, and y = M0xn−1 + M1xn−2 + ..., or,
what is the same thing, from these two equations to eliminate x. This is in
fact E.W. Tschirnhausen’s transformation (1683).
14. In connexion with what precedes, the question arises as to the number of
values (obtained by permutations of the roots) of given unsymmetrical
functions of the roots, or say of a given set of letters: for instance, with roots or
letters (a, b, c, d) as before, how many values are there of the function ab + cd,
or better, how many functions are there of this form? The answer is 3, viz. ab +
cd, ac + bd, ad + bc; or again we may ask whether, in the case of a given
number of letters, there exist functions with a given number of values, 3-
valued, 4-valued functions, &c.
It is at once seen that for any given number of letters there exist 2-
valued functions; the product of the differences of the letters is such a
function; however the letters are interchanged, it alters only its sign; or
say the two values are Δ and −Δ. And if P, Q are symmetrical functions of
the letters, then the general form of such a function is P + QΔ; this has
only the two values P + QΔ, P − QΔ.
of a, b, c, d and therefore rational and integral functions of the coefficients
of the quartic equation; hence, supposing the product so expressed, and
equating it to zero, we have the required sextic equation. In the same
manner can be found the sextic equation having the roots (a − b)², (a − c)²,
(a − d)², (b − c)², (b − d)², (c − d)², which is the equation of differences
previously referred to; and similarly we obtain the equation of differences
for a given equation of any order. Again, the equation sought for may be
that having for its n roots the given rational functions φ(a), φ(b), ... of the
several roots of the given equation. Any such rational function can (as was
shown) be expressed as a rational and integral function of the order n − 1;
and, retaining x in place of any one of the roots, the problem is to find y
from the equations xn − p1xn−1 ... = 0, and y = M0xn−1 + M1xn−2 + ..., or,
what is the same thing, from these two equations to eliminate x. This is in
fact E.W. Tschirnhausen’s transformation (1683).
14. In connexion with what precedes, the question arises as to the number of
values (obtained by permutations of the roots) of given unsymmetrical
functions of the roots, or say of a given set of letters: for instance, with roots or
letters (a, b, c, d) as before, how many values are there of the function ab + cd,
or better, how many functions are there of this form? The answer is 3, viz. ab +
cd, ac + bd, ad + bc; or again we may ask whether, in the case of a given
number of letters, there exist functions with a given number of values, 3-
valued, 4-valued functions, &c.
It is at once seen that for any given number of letters there exist 2-
valued functions; the product of the differences of the letters is such a
function; however the letters are interchanged, it alters only its sign; or
say the two values are Δ and −Δ. And if P, Q are symmetrical functions of
the letters, then the general form of such a function is P + QΔ; this has
only the two values P + QΔ, P − QΔ.
Page 49
In the case of 4 letters there exist (as appears above) 3-valued functions:
but in the case of 5 letters there does not exist any 3-valued or 4-valued
function; and the only 5-valued functions are those which are symmetrical
in regard to four of the letters, and can thus be expressed in terms of one
letter and of symmetrical functions of all the letters. These last theorems
present themselves in the demonstration of the non-existence of a solution
of a quintic equation by radicals.
The theory is an extensive and important one, depending on the notions of
substitutions and of groups (q.v.).
15. Returning to equations, we have the very important theorem that, given
the value of any unsymmetrical function of the roots, e.g. in the case of a
quartic equation, the function ab + cd, it is in general possible to determine
rationally the value of any similar function, such as (a + b)³ + (c + d)³.
The a priori ground of this theorem may be illustrated by means of a
numerical equation. Suppose that the roots of a quartic equation are 1, 2,
3, 4, then if it is given that ab + cd = 14, this in effect determines a, b to be
1, 2 and c, d to be 3, 4 (viz. a = 1, b = 2 or a = 2, b = 1, and c = 3, d = 4 or
c = 3, d = 4) or else a, b to be 3, 4 and c, d to be 1, 2; and it therefore in
effect determines (a + b)³ + (c + d)³ to be = 370, and not any other value;
that is, (a + b)³ + (c + d)³, as having a single value, must be determinable
rationally. And we can in the same way account for cases of failure as
regards particular equations; thus, the roots being 1, 2, 3, 4 as before, a²b
= 2 determines a to be = 1 and b to be = 2, but if the roots had been 1, 2, 4,
16 then a²b = 16 does not uniquely determine a, b but only makes them to
be 1, 16 or 2, 4 respectively.
As to the a posteriori proof, assume, for instance,
t1 = ab + cd, y1 = (a + b)³ + (c + d)³,
t2 = ac + bd, y2 = (a + c)³ + (b + d)³,
t3 = ad + bc, y3 = (a + d)³ + (b + c)³;
but in the case of 5 letters there does not exist any 3-valued or 4-valued
function; and the only 5-valued functions are those which are symmetrical
in regard to four of the letters, and can thus be expressed in terms of one
letter and of symmetrical functions of all the letters. These last theorems
present themselves in the demonstration of the non-existence of a solution
of a quintic equation by radicals.
The theory is an extensive and important one, depending on the notions of
substitutions and of groups (q.v.).
15. Returning to equations, we have the very important theorem that, given
the value of any unsymmetrical function of the roots, e.g. in the case of a
quartic equation, the function ab + cd, it is in general possible to determine
rationally the value of any similar function, such as (a + b)³ + (c + d)³.
The a priori ground of this theorem may be illustrated by means of a
numerical equation. Suppose that the roots of a quartic equation are 1, 2,
3, 4, then if it is given that ab + cd = 14, this in effect determines a, b to be
1, 2 and c, d to be 3, 4 (viz. a = 1, b = 2 or a = 2, b = 1, and c = 3, d = 4 or
c = 3, d = 4) or else a, b to be 3, 4 and c, d to be 1, 2; and it therefore in
effect determines (a + b)³ + (c + d)³ to be = 370, and not any other value;
that is, (a + b)³ + (c + d)³, as having a single value, must be determinable
rationally. And we can in the same way account for cases of failure as
regards particular equations; thus, the roots being 1, 2, 3, 4 as before, a²b
= 2 determines a to be = 1 and b to be = 2, but if the roots had been 1, 2, 4,
16 then a²b = 16 does not uniquely determine a, b but only makes them to
be 1, 16 or 2, 4 respectively.
As to the a posteriori proof, assume, for instance,
t1 = ab + cd, y1 = (a + b)³ + (c + d)³,
t2 = ac + bd, y2 = (a + c)³ + (b + d)³,
t3 = ad + bc, y3 = (a + d)³ + (b + c)³;
Page 50
then y1 + y2 + y3, t1y1 + t2y2 + t3y3, t1²y1 + t2²y2 + t3²y3 will be
respectively symmetrical functions of the roots of the quartic, and
therefore rational and integral functions of the coefficients; that is, they
will be known.
Suppose for a moment that t1, t2, t3 are all known; then the equations
being linear in y1, y2, y3 these can be expressed rationally in terms of the
coefficients and of t1, t2, t3; that is, y1, y2, y3 will be known. But observe
further that y1 is obtained as a function of t1, t2, t3 symmetrical as regards
t2, t3; it can therefore be expressed as a rational function of t1 and of t2 +
t3, t2t3, and thence as a rational function of t1 and of t1 + t2 + t3, t1t2 + t1t3
+ t2t3, t1t2t3; but these last are symmetrical functions of the roots, and as
such they are expressible rationally in terms of the coefficients; that is, y1
will be expressed as a rational function of t1 and of the coefficients; or t1
(alone, not t2 or t3) being known, y1 will be rationally determined.
16. We now consider the question of the algebraical solution of equations,
or, more accurately, that of the solution of equations by radicals.
In the case of a quadric equation x² − px + q = 0, we can by the
assistance of the sign √( ) or ( )1/2 find an expression for x as a 2-valued
function of the coefficients p, q such that substituting this value in the
equation, the equation is thereby identically satisfied; it has been found
that this expression is
x = ½ {p ± √(p² − 4q) },
and the equation is on this account said to be algebraically solvable, or
more accurately solvable by radicals. Or we may by writing x = −½ p + z
reduce the equation to z² = ¼ (p² − 4q), viz. to an equation of the form x²
= a; and in virtue of its being thus reducible we say that the original
equation is solvable by radicals. And the question for an equation of any
higher order, say of the order n, is, can we by means of radicals (that is, by
respectively symmetrical functions of the roots of the quartic, and
therefore rational and integral functions of the coefficients; that is, they
will be known.
Suppose for a moment that t1, t2, t3 are all known; then the equations
being linear in y1, y2, y3 these can be expressed rationally in terms of the
coefficients and of t1, t2, t3; that is, y1, y2, y3 will be known. But observe
further that y1 is obtained as a function of t1, t2, t3 symmetrical as regards
t2, t3; it can therefore be expressed as a rational function of t1 and of t2 +
t3, t2t3, and thence as a rational function of t1 and of t1 + t2 + t3, t1t2 + t1t3
+ t2t3, t1t2t3; but these last are symmetrical functions of the roots, and as
such they are expressible rationally in terms of the coefficients; that is, y1
will be expressed as a rational function of t1 and of the coefficients; or t1
(alone, not t2 or t3) being known, y1 will be rationally determined.
16. We now consider the question of the algebraical solution of equations,
or, more accurately, that of the solution of equations by radicals.
In the case of a quadric equation x² − px + q = 0, we can by the
assistance of the sign √( ) or ( )1/2 find an expression for x as a 2-valued
function of the coefficients p, q such that substituting this value in the
equation, the equation is thereby identically satisfied; it has been found
that this expression is
x = ½ {p ± √(p² − 4q) },
and the equation is on this account said to be algebraically solvable, or
more accurately solvable by radicals. Or we may by writing x = −½ p + z
reduce the equation to z² = ¼ (p² − 4q), viz. to an equation of the form x²
= a; and in virtue of its being thus reducible we say that the original
equation is solvable by radicals. And the question for an equation of any
higher order, say of the order n, is, can we by means of radicals (that is, by
Page 51
aid of the sign m√( ) or ( )1/m, using as many as we please of such signs
and with any values of m) find an n-valued function (or any function) of
the coefficients which substituted for x in the equation shall satisfy it
identically?
It will be observed that the coefficients p, q ... are not explicitly
considered as numbers, but even if they do denote numbers, the question
whether a numerical equation admits of solution by radicals is wholly
unconnected with the before-mentioned theorem of the existence of the n
roots of such an equation. It does not even follow that in the case of a
numerical equation solvable by radicals the algebraical solution gives the
numerical solution, but this requires explanation. Consider first a
numerical quadric equation with imaginary coefficients. In the formula x
= ½ {p ± √(p² − 4q) }, substituting for p, q their given numerical values,
we obtain for x an expression of the form x = α + βi ± √(γ + δi), where α,
β, γ, δ are real numbers. This expression substituted for x in the quadric
equation would satisfy it identically, and it is thus an algebraical solution;
but there is no obvious a priori reason why √(γ + δi) should have a value
= c + di, where c and d are real numbers calculable by the extraction of a
root or roots of real numbers; however the case is (what there was no a
priori right to expect) that √(γ + δi) has such a value calculable by means
of the radical expressions √{√(γ² + δ²) ± γ}; and hence the algebraical
solution of a numerical quadric equation does in every case give the
numerical solution. The case of a numerical cubic equation will be
considered presently.
17. A cubic equation can be solved by radicals.
Taking for greater simplicity the cubic in the reduced form x³ + qx − r =
0, and assuming x = a + b, this will be a solution if only 3ab = q and a³ +
b³ = r, equations which give (a³ − b³)² = r² − 4⁄27 q³, a quadric equation
solvable by radicals, and giving a³ − b³ = √(r² − 4⁄27 q³), a 2-valued
function of the coefficients: combining this with a³ + b³ = r, we have a³ =
and with any values of m) find an n-valued function (or any function) of
the coefficients which substituted for x in the equation shall satisfy it
identically?
It will be observed that the coefficients p, q ... are not explicitly
considered as numbers, but even if they do denote numbers, the question
whether a numerical equation admits of solution by radicals is wholly
unconnected with the before-mentioned theorem of the existence of the n
roots of such an equation. It does not even follow that in the case of a
numerical equation solvable by radicals the algebraical solution gives the
numerical solution, but this requires explanation. Consider first a
numerical quadric equation with imaginary coefficients. In the formula x
= ½ {p ± √(p² − 4q) }, substituting for p, q their given numerical values,
we obtain for x an expression of the form x = α + βi ± √(γ + δi), where α,
β, γ, δ are real numbers. This expression substituted for x in the quadric
equation would satisfy it identically, and it is thus an algebraical solution;
but there is no obvious a priori reason why √(γ + δi) should have a value
= c + di, where c and d are real numbers calculable by the extraction of a
root or roots of real numbers; however the case is (what there was no a
priori right to expect) that √(γ + δi) has such a value calculable by means
of the radical expressions √{√(γ² + δ²) ± γ}; and hence the algebraical
solution of a numerical quadric equation does in every case give the
numerical solution. The case of a numerical cubic equation will be
considered presently.
17. A cubic equation can be solved by radicals.
Taking for greater simplicity the cubic in the reduced form x³ + qx − r =
0, and assuming x = a + b, this will be a solution if only 3ab = q and a³ +
b³ = r, equations which give (a³ − b³)² = r² − 4⁄27 q³, a quadric equation
solvable by radicals, and giving a³ − b³ = √(r² − 4⁄27 q³), a 2-valued
function of the coefficients: combining this with a³ + b³ = r, we have a³ =
Page 52
½ {r + √(r² − 4⁄27 q³) }, a 2-valued function: we then have a by means of a
cube root, viz.
a = 3√[½ {r + √(r² − 4⁄27 q³) }],
a 6-valued function of the coefficients; but then, writing q = b/3a, we
have, as may be shown, a + b a 3-valued function of the coefficients; and
x = a + b is the required solution by radicals. It would have been wrong to
complete the solution by writing
b = 3√[½ {r − √(r² − 4⁄27 q³) } ],
for then a + b would have been given as a 9-valued function having only 3
of its values roots, and the other 6 values being irrelevant. Observe that in
this last process we make no use of the equation 3ab = q, in its original
form, but use only the derived equation 27a³b³ = q³, implied in, but not
implying, the original form.
An interesting variation of the solution is to write x = ab(a + b), giving
a³b³ (a³ + b³) = r and 3a³b³ = q, or say a³ + b³ = 3r/q, a³b³ = 1⁄3 q; and
consequently
32 ⁄ ⁄
32
a³ = {r + √(r² − 4⁄27 q³) }, b³ = {r − √(r² − 4⁄27 q³) },
q q
i.e. here a³, b³ are each of them a 2-valued function, but as the only effect
of altering the sign of the quadric radical is to interchange a³, b³, they may
be regarded as each of them 1-valued; a and b are each of them 3-valued
(for observe that here only a³b³, not ab, is given); and ab(a + b) thus is in
appearance a 9-valued function; but it can easily be shown that it is (as it
ought to be) only 3-valued.
In the case of a numerical cubic, even when the coefficients are real,
substituting their values in the expression
cube root, viz.
a = 3√[½ {r + √(r² − 4⁄27 q³) }],
a 6-valued function of the coefficients; but then, writing q = b/3a, we
have, as may be shown, a + b a 3-valued function of the coefficients; and
x = a + b is the required solution by radicals. It would have been wrong to
complete the solution by writing
b = 3√[½ {r − √(r² − 4⁄27 q³) } ],
for then a + b would have been given as a 9-valued function having only 3
of its values roots, and the other 6 values being irrelevant. Observe that in
this last process we make no use of the equation 3ab = q, in its original
form, but use only the derived equation 27a³b³ = q³, implied in, but not
implying, the original form.
An interesting variation of the solution is to write x = ab(a + b), giving
a³b³ (a³ + b³) = r and 3a³b³ = q, or say a³ + b³ = 3r/q, a³b³ = 1⁄3 q; and
consequently
32 ⁄ ⁄
32
a³ = {r + √(r² − 4⁄27 q³) }, b³ = {r − √(r² − 4⁄27 q³) },
q q
i.e. here a³, b³ are each of them a 2-valued function, but as the only effect
of altering the sign of the quadric radical is to interchange a³, b³, they may
be regarded as each of them 1-valued; a and b are each of them 3-valued
(for observe that here only a³b³, not ab, is given); and ab(a + b) thus is in
appearance a 9-valued function; but it can easily be shown that it is (as it
ought to be) only 3-valued.
In the case of a numerical cubic, even when the coefficients are real,
substituting their values in the expression
Page 53
x = 3√[½ {r + √(r² − 4⁄27 q³) }] + 1⁄3 q ÷ 3√[½ {r + √(r² − 4⁄27 q³) }],
this may depend on an expression of the form 3√(γ + δi) where γ and δ are
real numbers (it will do so if r² − 4⁄27 q³ is a negative number), and then we
cannot by the extraction of any root or roots of real positive numbers
reduce 3√(γ + δi) to the form c + di, c and d real numbers; hence here the
algebraical solution does not give the numerical solution, and we have
here the so-called “irreducible case” of a cubic equation. By what
precedes there is nothing in this that might not have been expected; the
algebraical solution makes the solution depend on the extraction of the
cube root of a number, and there was no reason for expecting this to be a
real number. It is well known that the case in question is that wherein the
three roots of the numerical cubic equation are all real; if the roots are two
imaginary, one real, then contrariwise the quantity under the cube root is
real; and the algebraical solution gives the numerical one.
The irreducible case is solvable by a trigonometrical formula, but this is
not a solution by radicals: it consists in effect in reducing the given
numerical cubic (not to a cubic of the form z³ = a, solvable by the
extraction of a cube root, but) to a cubic of the form 4x³ − 3x = a,
corresponding to the equation 4 cos³ θ − 3 cos θ = cos 3θ which serves to
determine cosθ when cos 3θ is known. The theory is applicable to an
algebraical cubic equation; say that such an equation, if it can be reduced
to the form 4x³ − 3x = a, is solvable by “trisection”—then the general
cubic equation is solvable by trisection.
18. A quartic equation is solvable by radicals, and it is to be remarked that
the existence of such a solution depends on the existence of 3-valued functions
such as ab + cd of the four roots (a, b, c, d): by what precedes ab + cd is the
root of a cubic equation, which equation is solvable by radicals: hence ab + cd
can be found by radicals; and since abcd is a given function, ab and cd can
then be found by radicals. But by what precedes, if ab be known then any
this may depend on an expression of the form 3√(γ + δi) where γ and δ are
real numbers (it will do so if r² − 4⁄27 q³ is a negative number), and then we
cannot by the extraction of any root or roots of real positive numbers
reduce 3√(γ + δi) to the form c + di, c and d real numbers; hence here the
algebraical solution does not give the numerical solution, and we have
here the so-called “irreducible case” of a cubic equation. By what
precedes there is nothing in this that might not have been expected; the
algebraical solution makes the solution depend on the extraction of the
cube root of a number, and there was no reason for expecting this to be a
real number. It is well known that the case in question is that wherein the
three roots of the numerical cubic equation are all real; if the roots are two
imaginary, one real, then contrariwise the quantity under the cube root is
real; and the algebraical solution gives the numerical one.
The irreducible case is solvable by a trigonometrical formula, but this is
not a solution by radicals: it consists in effect in reducing the given
numerical cubic (not to a cubic of the form z³ = a, solvable by the
extraction of a cube root, but) to a cubic of the form 4x³ − 3x = a,
corresponding to the equation 4 cos³ θ − 3 cos θ = cos 3θ which serves to
determine cosθ when cos 3θ is known. The theory is applicable to an
algebraical cubic equation; say that such an equation, if it can be reduced
to the form 4x³ − 3x = a, is solvable by “trisection”—then the general
cubic equation is solvable by trisection.
18. A quartic equation is solvable by radicals, and it is to be remarked that
the existence of such a solution depends on the existence of 3-valued functions
such as ab + cd of the four roots (a, b, c, d): by what precedes ab + cd is the
root of a cubic equation, which equation is solvable by radicals: hence ab + cd
can be found by radicals; and since abcd is a given function, ab and cd can
then be found by radicals. But by what precedes, if ab be known then any
Page 54
similar function, say a + b, is obtainable rationally; and then from the values of
a + b and ab we may by radicals obtain the value of a or b, that is, an
expression for the root of the given quartic equation: the expression ultimately
obtained is 4-valued, corresponding to the different values of the several
radicals which enter therein, and we have thus the expression by radicals of
each of the four roots of the quartic equation. But when the quartic is
numerical the same thing happens as in the cubic, and the algebraical solution
does not in every case give the numerical one.
It will be understood from the foregoing explanation as to the quartic
how in the next following case, that of the quintic, the question of the
solvability by radicals depends on the existence or non-existence of k-
valued functions of the five roots (a, b, c, d, e); the fundamental theorem
is the one already stated, a rational function of five letters, if it has less
than 5, cannot have more than 2 values, that is, there are no 3-valued or 4-
valued functions of 5 letters: and by reasoning depending in part upon this
theorem, N.H. Abel (1824) showed that a general quintic equation is not
solvable by radicals; and a fortiori the general equation of any order
higher than 5 is not solvable by radicals.
19. The general theory of the solvability of an equation by radicals
depends fundamentally on A.T. Vandermonde’s remark (1770) that,
supposing an equation is solvable by radicals, and that we have therefore
an algebraical expression of x in terms of the coefficients, then
substituting for the coefficients their values in terms of the roots, the
resulting expression must reduce itself to any one at pleasure of the roots
a, b, c ...; thus in the case of the quadric equation, in the expression x = ½
{p + √(p² − 4q) }, substituting for p and q their values, and observing that
(a + b)² − 4ab = (a − b)², this becomes x = ½ {a + b + √(a − b)²}, the value
being a or b according as the radical is taken to be +(a − b) or −(a − b).
So in the cubic equation x³ − px² + qx − r = 0, if the roots are a, b, c,
and if ω is used to denote an imaginary cube root of unity, ω² + ω + 1 = 0,
a + b and ab we may by radicals obtain the value of a or b, that is, an
expression for the root of the given quartic equation: the expression ultimately
obtained is 4-valued, corresponding to the different values of the several
radicals which enter therein, and we have thus the expression by radicals of
each of the four roots of the quartic equation. But when the quartic is
numerical the same thing happens as in the cubic, and the algebraical solution
does not in every case give the numerical one.
It will be understood from the foregoing explanation as to the quartic
how in the next following case, that of the quintic, the question of the
solvability by radicals depends on the existence or non-existence of k-
valued functions of the five roots (a, b, c, d, e); the fundamental theorem
is the one already stated, a rational function of five letters, if it has less
than 5, cannot have more than 2 values, that is, there are no 3-valued or 4-
valued functions of 5 letters: and by reasoning depending in part upon this
theorem, N.H. Abel (1824) showed that a general quintic equation is not
solvable by radicals; and a fortiori the general equation of any order
higher than 5 is not solvable by radicals.
19. The general theory of the solvability of an equation by radicals
depends fundamentally on A.T. Vandermonde’s remark (1770) that,
supposing an equation is solvable by radicals, and that we have therefore
an algebraical expression of x in terms of the coefficients, then
substituting for the coefficients their values in terms of the roots, the
resulting expression must reduce itself to any one at pleasure of the roots
a, b, c ...; thus in the case of the quadric equation, in the expression x = ½
{p + √(p² − 4q) }, substituting for p and q their values, and observing that
(a + b)² − 4ab = (a − b)², this becomes x = ½ {a + b + √(a − b)²}, the value
being a or b according as the radical is taken to be +(a − b) or −(a − b).
So in the cubic equation x³ − px² + qx − r = 0, if the roots are a, b, c,
and if ω is used to denote an imaginary cube root of unity, ω² + ω + 1 = 0,
Page 55
then writing for shortness p = a + b + c, L = a + ωb + ω²c, M = a + ω²b +
ωc, it is at once seen that LM, L³ + M³, and therefore also (L³ − M³)² are
symmetrical functions of the roots, and consequently rational functions of
the coefficients; hence
½ {L³ + M³ + √(L³ − M³)²}
is a rational function of the coefficients, which when these are replaced by
their values as functions of the roots becomes, according to the sign given
to the quadric radical, = L³ or M³; taking it = L³, the cube root of the
expression has the three values L, ωL, ω²L; and LM divided by the same
cube root has therefore the values M, ω²M, ωM; whence finally the
expression
⁄ [p + 3√{½ (L³ + M³ + √(L³ − M³)²) } + LM ÷ 3√{½ L³ + M³ + √(L³ −
13
M³)²) }]
has the three values
⁄ (p + L + M), 1⁄3 (p + ωL + ω²M), 1⁄3 (p + ω²L + ωM);
13
that is, these are = a, b, c respectively. If the value M³ had been taken
instead of L³, then the expression would have had the same three values a,
b, c. Comparing the solution given for the cubic x³ + qx − r = 0, it will
readily be seen that the two solutions are identical, and that the function r²
− 4⁄27 q³ under the radical sign must (by aid of the relation p = 0 which
subsists in this case) reduce itself to (L³ − M³)²; it is only by each radical
being equal to a rational function of the roots that the final expression can
become equal to the roots a, b, c respectively.
20. The formulae for the cubic were obtained by J.L. Lagrange (1770-1771)
from a different point of view. Upon examining and comparing the principal
known methods for the solution of algebraical equations, he found that they all
ultimately depended upon finding a “resolvent” equation of which the root is a
ωc, it is at once seen that LM, L³ + M³, and therefore also (L³ − M³)² are
symmetrical functions of the roots, and consequently rational functions of
the coefficients; hence
½ {L³ + M³ + √(L³ − M³)²}
is a rational function of the coefficients, which when these are replaced by
their values as functions of the roots becomes, according to the sign given
to the quadric radical, = L³ or M³; taking it = L³, the cube root of the
expression has the three values L, ωL, ω²L; and LM divided by the same
cube root has therefore the values M, ω²M, ωM; whence finally the
expression
⁄ [p + 3√{½ (L³ + M³ + √(L³ − M³)²) } + LM ÷ 3√{½ L³ + M³ + √(L³ −
13
M³)²) }]
has the three values
⁄ (p + L + M), 1⁄3 (p + ωL + ω²M), 1⁄3 (p + ω²L + ωM);
13
that is, these are = a, b, c respectively. If the value M³ had been taken
instead of L³, then the expression would have had the same three values a,
b, c. Comparing the solution given for the cubic x³ + qx − r = 0, it will
readily be seen that the two solutions are identical, and that the function r²
− 4⁄27 q³ under the radical sign must (by aid of the relation p = 0 which
subsists in this case) reduce itself to (L³ − M³)²; it is only by each radical
being equal to a rational function of the roots that the final expression can
become equal to the roots a, b, c respectively.
20. The formulae for the cubic were obtained by J.L. Lagrange (1770-1771)
from a different point of view. Upon examining and comparing the principal
known methods for the solution of algebraical equations, he found that they all
ultimately depended upon finding a “resolvent” equation of which the root is a
Page 56
+ ωb + ω²c + ω³d + ..., ω being an imaginary root of unity, of the same order as
the equation; e.g. for the cubic the root is a + ωb + ω²c, ω an imaginary cube
root of unity. Evidently the method gives for L³ a quadric equation, which is
the “resolvent” equation in this particular case.
For a quartic the formulae present themselves in a somewhat different form,
by reason that 4 is not a prime number. Attempting to apply it to a quintic, we
seek for the equation of which the root is (a + ωb + ω²c + ω³d + ω4e), ω an
imaginary fifth root of unity, or rather the fifth power thereof (a + ωb + ω²c +
ω³d + ω4e)5; this is a 24-valued function, but if we consider the four values
corresponding to the roots of unity ω, ω², ω³, ω4, viz. the values
(a + ω b + ω²c + ω³d + ω4e)5,
(a + ω²b + ω4c + ω d + ω³e)5,
(a + ω³b + ω c + ω4d + ω²e)5,
(a + ω4b + ω³c + ω²d + ω e)5,
any symmetrical function of these, for instance their sum, is a 6-valued
function of the roots, and may therefore be determined by means of a sextic
equation, the coefficients whereof are rational functions of the coefficients of
the original quintic equation; the conclusion being that the solution of an
equation of the fifth order is made to depend upon that of an equation of the
sixth order. This is, of course, useless for the solution of the quintic equation,
which, as already mentioned, does not admit of solution by radicals; but the
equation of the sixth order, Lagrange’s resolvent sextic, is very important, and
is intimately connected with all the later investigations in the theory.
21. It is to be remarked, in regard to the question of solvability by radicals,
that not only the coefficients are taken to be arbitrary, but it is assumed that
they are represented each by a single letter, or say rather that they are not so
expressed in terms of other arbitrary quantities as to make a solution possible.
If the coefficients are not all arbitrary, for instance, if some of them are zero, a
the equation; e.g. for the cubic the root is a + ωb + ω²c, ω an imaginary cube
root of unity. Evidently the method gives for L³ a quadric equation, which is
the “resolvent” equation in this particular case.
For a quartic the formulae present themselves in a somewhat different form,
by reason that 4 is not a prime number. Attempting to apply it to a quintic, we
seek for the equation of which the root is (a + ωb + ω²c + ω³d + ω4e), ω an
imaginary fifth root of unity, or rather the fifth power thereof (a + ωb + ω²c +
ω³d + ω4e)5; this is a 24-valued function, but if we consider the four values
corresponding to the roots of unity ω, ω², ω³, ω4, viz. the values
(a + ω b + ω²c + ω³d + ω4e)5,
(a + ω²b + ω4c + ω d + ω³e)5,
(a + ω³b + ω c + ω4d + ω²e)5,
(a + ω4b + ω³c + ω²d + ω e)5,
any symmetrical function of these, for instance their sum, is a 6-valued
function of the roots, and may therefore be determined by means of a sextic
equation, the coefficients whereof are rational functions of the coefficients of
the original quintic equation; the conclusion being that the solution of an
equation of the fifth order is made to depend upon that of an equation of the
sixth order. This is, of course, useless for the solution of the quintic equation,
which, as already mentioned, does not admit of solution by radicals; but the
equation of the sixth order, Lagrange’s resolvent sextic, is very important, and
is intimately connected with all the later investigations in the theory.
21. It is to be remarked, in regard to the question of solvability by radicals,
that not only the coefficients are taken to be arbitrary, but it is assumed that
they are represented each by a single letter, or say rather that they are not so
expressed in terms of other arbitrary quantities as to make a solution possible.
If the coefficients are not all arbitrary, for instance, if some of them are zero, a
Page 57
sextic equation might be of the form x6 + bx4 + cx² + d = 0, and so be solvable
as a cubic; or if the coefficients of the sextic are given functions of the six
arbitrary quantities a, b, c, d, e, f, such that the sextic is really of the form (x² +
ax + b)(x4 + cx³ + dx² + ex + f) = 0, then it breaks up into the equations x² + ax
+ b = 0, x4 + cx³ + dx² + ex + f = 0, and is consequently solvable by radicals;
so also if the form is (x − a) (x − b) (x − c) (x − d) (x − e) (x − f) = 0, then the
equation is solvable by radicals,—in this extreme case rationally. Such cases of
solvability are self-evident; but they are enough to show that the general
theorem of the non-solvability by radicals of an equation of the fifth or any
higher order does not in any wise exclude for such orders the existence of
particular equations solvable by radicals, and there are, in fact, extensive
classes of equations which are thus solvable; the binomial equations xn − 1 = 0
present an instance.
22. It has already been shown how the several roots of the equation xn −
1 = 0 can be expressed in the form cos 2sπ/n + i sin 2sπ/n, but the question
is now that of the algebraical solution (or solution by radicals) of this
equation. There is always a root = 1; if ω be any other root, then obviously
ω, ω², ... ωn−1 are all of them roots; xn − 1 contains the factor x − 1, and it
thus appears that ω, ω², ... ωn−1 are the n-1 roots of the equation
xn−1 + xn−2 + ... x + 1 = 0;
we have, of course, ωn−1 + ωn−2 + ... + ω + 1 = 0.
It is proper to distinguish the cases n prime and n composite; and in the
latter case there is a distinction according as the prime factors of n are
simple or multiple. By way of illustration, suppose successively n = 15
and n = 9; in the former case, if α be an imaginary root of x³ − 1 = 0 (or
root of x² + x + 1 = 0), and β an imaginary root of x5 − 1 = 0 (or root of x4
+ x³ + x² + x + 1 = 0), then ω may be taken = αβ; the successive powers
thereof, αβ, α²β², β³, αβ4, α², β, αβ², α²β³, β4, α, α²β, β², αβ³, α²β4, are the
roots of x14 + x13 + ... + x + 1 = 0; the solution thus depends on the
as a cubic; or if the coefficients of the sextic are given functions of the six
arbitrary quantities a, b, c, d, e, f, such that the sextic is really of the form (x² +
ax + b)(x4 + cx³ + dx² + ex + f) = 0, then it breaks up into the equations x² + ax
+ b = 0, x4 + cx³ + dx² + ex + f = 0, and is consequently solvable by radicals;
so also if the form is (x − a) (x − b) (x − c) (x − d) (x − e) (x − f) = 0, then the
equation is solvable by radicals,—in this extreme case rationally. Such cases of
solvability are self-evident; but they are enough to show that the general
theorem of the non-solvability by radicals of an equation of the fifth or any
higher order does not in any wise exclude for such orders the existence of
particular equations solvable by radicals, and there are, in fact, extensive
classes of equations which are thus solvable; the binomial equations xn − 1 = 0
present an instance.
22. It has already been shown how the several roots of the equation xn −
1 = 0 can be expressed in the form cos 2sπ/n + i sin 2sπ/n, but the question
is now that of the algebraical solution (or solution by radicals) of this
equation. There is always a root = 1; if ω be any other root, then obviously
ω, ω², ... ωn−1 are all of them roots; xn − 1 contains the factor x − 1, and it
thus appears that ω, ω², ... ωn−1 are the n-1 roots of the equation
xn−1 + xn−2 + ... x + 1 = 0;
we have, of course, ωn−1 + ωn−2 + ... + ω + 1 = 0.
It is proper to distinguish the cases n prime and n composite; and in the
latter case there is a distinction according as the prime factors of n are
simple or multiple. By way of illustration, suppose successively n = 15
and n = 9; in the former case, if α be an imaginary root of x³ − 1 = 0 (or
root of x² + x + 1 = 0), and β an imaginary root of x5 − 1 = 0 (or root of x4
+ x³ + x² + x + 1 = 0), then ω may be taken = αβ; the successive powers
thereof, αβ, α²β², β³, αβ4, α², β, αβ², α²β³, β4, α, α²β, β², αβ³, α²β4, are the
roots of x14 + x13 + ... + x + 1 = 0; the solution thus depends on the
Page 58
solution of the equations x³ − 1 = 0 and x5 − 1 = 0. In the latter case, if α
be an imaginary root of x³ − 1 = 0 (or root of x² + x + 1 = 0), then the
equation x9 − 1 = 0 gives x³ = 1, α, or α²; x³ = 1 gives x = 1, α, or α²; and
the solution thus depends on the solution of the equations x³ − 1 = 0, x³ −
α = 0, x³ − α² = 0. The first equation has the roots 1, α, α²; if β be a root of
either of the others, say if β³ = α, then assuming ω = β, the successive
powers are β, β², α, αβ, αβ², α², α²β, α²β², which are the roots of the
equation x8 + x7 + ... + x + 1 = 0.
It thus appears that the only case which need be considered is that of n a
prime number, and writing (as is more usual) r in place of ω, we have r, r²,
r³,...rn−1 as the (n − 1) roots of the reduced equation
xn−1 + xn−2 + ... + x + 1 = 0;
then not only rn − 1 = 0, but also rn−1 + rn−2 + ... + r + 1 = 0.
23. The process of solution due to Karl Friedrich Gauss (1801) depends
essentially on the arrangement of the roots in a certain order, viz. not as above,
with the indices of r in arithmetical progression, but with their indices in
geometrical progression; the prime number n has a certain number of prime
roots g, which are such that gn−1 is the lowest power of g, which is ≡ 1 to the
modulus n; or, what is the same thing, that the series of powers 1, g, g², ... gn−2,
each divided by n, leave (in a different order) the remainders 1, 2, 3, ... n − 1;
hence giving to r in succession the indices 1, g, g²,...gn−2, we have, in a
different order, the whole series of roots r, r², r³,...rn−1.
In the most simple case, n = 5, the equation to be solved is x4 + x³ + x²
+ x + 1 = 0; here 2 is a prime root of 5, and the order of the roots is r, r²,
r4, r³. The Gaussian process consists in forming an equation for
determining the periods P1, P2, = r + r4 and r² + r³ respectively;—these
being such that the symmetrical functions P1 + P2, P1P2 are rationally
determinable: in fact P1 + P2 = −1, P1P2 = (r + r4) (r² + r³), = r³ + r4 + r6 +
be an imaginary root of x³ − 1 = 0 (or root of x² + x + 1 = 0), then the
equation x9 − 1 = 0 gives x³ = 1, α, or α²; x³ = 1 gives x = 1, α, or α²; and
the solution thus depends on the solution of the equations x³ − 1 = 0, x³ −
α = 0, x³ − α² = 0. The first equation has the roots 1, α, α²; if β be a root of
either of the others, say if β³ = α, then assuming ω = β, the successive
powers are β, β², α, αβ, αβ², α², α²β, α²β², which are the roots of the
equation x8 + x7 + ... + x + 1 = 0.
It thus appears that the only case which need be considered is that of n a
prime number, and writing (as is more usual) r in place of ω, we have r, r²,
r³,...rn−1 as the (n − 1) roots of the reduced equation
xn−1 + xn−2 + ... + x + 1 = 0;
then not only rn − 1 = 0, but also rn−1 + rn−2 + ... + r + 1 = 0.
23. The process of solution due to Karl Friedrich Gauss (1801) depends
essentially on the arrangement of the roots in a certain order, viz. not as above,
with the indices of r in arithmetical progression, but with their indices in
geometrical progression; the prime number n has a certain number of prime
roots g, which are such that gn−1 is the lowest power of g, which is ≡ 1 to the
modulus n; or, what is the same thing, that the series of powers 1, g, g², ... gn−2,
each divided by n, leave (in a different order) the remainders 1, 2, 3, ... n − 1;
hence giving to r in succession the indices 1, g, g²,...gn−2, we have, in a
different order, the whole series of roots r, r², r³,...rn−1.
In the most simple case, n = 5, the equation to be solved is x4 + x³ + x²
+ x + 1 = 0; here 2 is a prime root of 5, and the order of the roots is r, r²,
r4, r³. The Gaussian process consists in forming an equation for
determining the periods P1, P2, = r + r4 and r² + r³ respectively;—these
being such that the symmetrical functions P1 + P2, P1P2 are rationally
determinable: in fact P1 + P2 = −1, P1P2 = (r + r4) (r² + r³), = r³ + r4 + r6 +
Page 59
r7, = r³ + r4 + r + r², = −1. P1, P2 are thus the roots of u² + u − 1 = 0; and
taking them to be known, they are themselves broken up into subperiods,
in the present case single terms, r and r4 for P1, r² and r³ for P2; the
symmetrical functions of these are then rationally determined in terms of
P1 and P2; thus r + r4 = P1, r·r4 = 1, or r, r4 are the roots of u² − P1u + 1 =
0. The mode of division is more clearly seen for a larger value of n; thus,
for n = 7 a prime root is = 3, and the arrangement of the roots is r, r³, r², r6,
r4, r5. We may form either 3 periods each of 2 terms, P1, P2, P3 = r + r6, r³
+ r4, r² + r5 respectively; or else 2 periods each of 3 terms, P1, P2 = r + r² +
r4, r³ + r6 + r5 respectively; in each ease the symmetrical functions of the
periods are rationally determinable: thus in the case of the two periods P1
+ P2 = −1, P1P2 = 3 + r + r² + r³ + r4 + r5 + r6, = 2; and the periods being
known the symmetrical functions of the several terms of each period are
rationally determined in terms of the periods, thus r + r² + r4 = P1, r·r² +
r·r4 + r²·r4 = P2, r·r²·r4 = 1.
The theory was further developed by Lagrange (1808), who, applying his
general process to the equation in question, xn−1 + xn−2 + ... + x + 1 = 0 (the
roots a, b, c... being the several powers of r, the indices in geometrical
progression as above), showed that the function (a + ωb + ω²c + ...)n−1 was in
this case a given function of ω with integer coefficients.
Reverting to the before-mentioned particular equation x4 + x³ + x² + x +
1 = 0, it is very interesting to compare the process of solution with that for
the solution of the general quartic the roots whereof are a, b, c, d.
Take ω, a root of the equation ω4 − 1 = 0 (whence ω is = 1, −1, i, or −i,
at pleasure), and consider the expression
(a + ωb + ω²c + ω³d)4,
the developed value of this is
taking them to be known, they are themselves broken up into subperiods,
in the present case single terms, r and r4 for P1, r² and r³ for P2; the
symmetrical functions of these are then rationally determined in terms of
P1 and P2; thus r + r4 = P1, r·r4 = 1, or r, r4 are the roots of u² − P1u + 1 =
0. The mode of division is more clearly seen for a larger value of n; thus,
for n = 7 a prime root is = 3, and the arrangement of the roots is r, r³, r², r6,
r4, r5. We may form either 3 periods each of 2 terms, P1, P2, P3 = r + r6, r³
+ r4, r² + r5 respectively; or else 2 periods each of 3 terms, P1, P2 = r + r² +
r4, r³ + r6 + r5 respectively; in each ease the symmetrical functions of the
periods are rationally determinable: thus in the case of the two periods P1
+ P2 = −1, P1P2 = 3 + r + r² + r³ + r4 + r5 + r6, = 2; and the periods being
known the symmetrical functions of the several terms of each period are
rationally determined in terms of the periods, thus r + r² + r4 = P1, r·r² +
r·r4 + r²·r4 = P2, r·r²·r4 = 1.
The theory was further developed by Lagrange (1808), who, applying his
general process to the equation in question, xn−1 + xn−2 + ... + x + 1 = 0 (the
roots a, b, c... being the several powers of r, the indices in geometrical
progression as above), showed that the function (a + ωb + ω²c + ...)n−1 was in
this case a given function of ω with integer coefficients.
Reverting to the before-mentioned particular equation x4 + x³ + x² + x +
1 = 0, it is very interesting to compare the process of solution with that for
the solution of the general quartic the roots whereof are a, b, c, d.
Take ω, a root of the equation ω4 − 1 = 0 (whence ω is = 1, −1, i, or −i,
at pleasure), and consider the expression
(a + ωb + ω²c + ω³d)4,
the developed value of this is
Page 60
= a4 + b4 + c4 + d4 + 6 (a²c² + b²d²) + 12 (a²bd + b²ca + c²db + d²ac)
+ω {4 (a³b + b³c + c³ + d³a) + 12 (a²cd + b²da + c²ab + d²bc) }
+ω² {6 (a²b² + b²c² + c²d² + d²a²) + 4 (a³c + b³d + c³a + d³b) + 24abcd}
+ω³ {4 (a³d + b³a + c³b + d³c) + 12 (a²bc + b²cd + c²da + d²ab) }
that is, this is a 6-valued function of a, b, c, d, the root of a sextic (which
is, in fact, solvable by radicals; but this is not here material).
If, however, a, b, c, d denote the roots r, r², r4, r³ of the special equation,
then the expression becomes
r4 + r³ + r + r² + 6 (1 + 1) + 12 (r² + r4 + r³ + r)
+ ω {4 (1 + 1 + 1 + 1) + 12 (r4 + r³ + r + r²) }
+ ω²{6 (r + r² + r4 + r³) + 4 (r² + r4 + r³ + r) }
+ ω³{4 (r + r² + r4 + r³) + 12 (r³ + r + r² + r4) }
viz. this is
= −1 + 4ω + 14ω² − 16ω³,
a completely determined value. That is, we have
(r + ωr² + ω²r4 + ω³r³) = −1 + 4ω + 14ω² − 16ω³,
which result contains the solution of the equation. If ω = 1, we have (r + r²
+ r4 + r³)4 = 1, which is right; if ω = −1, then (r + r4 − r² − r³)4 = 25; if ω =
i, then we have {r − r4 + i(r² − r³) }4 = −15 + 20i; and if ω = −i, then {r −
r4 − i (r² − r³) }4 = −15 − 20i; the solution may be completed without
difficulty.
The result is perfectly general, thus:—n being a prime number, r a root of
the equation xn−1 + xn−2 + ... + x + 1 = 0, ω a root of ωn−1 − 1 = 0, and g a
+ω {4 (a³b + b³c + c³ + d³a) + 12 (a²cd + b²da + c²ab + d²bc) }
+ω² {6 (a²b² + b²c² + c²d² + d²a²) + 4 (a³c + b³d + c³a + d³b) + 24abcd}
+ω³ {4 (a³d + b³a + c³b + d³c) + 12 (a²bc + b²cd + c²da + d²ab) }
that is, this is a 6-valued function of a, b, c, d, the root of a sextic (which
is, in fact, solvable by radicals; but this is not here material).
If, however, a, b, c, d denote the roots r, r², r4, r³ of the special equation,
then the expression becomes
r4 + r³ + r + r² + 6 (1 + 1) + 12 (r² + r4 + r³ + r)
+ ω {4 (1 + 1 + 1 + 1) + 12 (r4 + r³ + r + r²) }
+ ω²{6 (r + r² + r4 + r³) + 4 (r² + r4 + r³ + r) }
+ ω³{4 (r + r² + r4 + r³) + 12 (r³ + r + r² + r4) }
viz. this is
= −1 + 4ω + 14ω² − 16ω³,
a completely determined value. That is, we have
(r + ωr² + ω²r4 + ω³r³) = −1 + 4ω + 14ω² − 16ω³,
which result contains the solution of the equation. If ω = 1, we have (r + r²
+ r4 + r³)4 = 1, which is right; if ω = −1, then (r + r4 − r² − r³)4 = 25; if ω =
i, then we have {r − r4 + i(r² − r³) }4 = −15 + 20i; and if ω = −i, then {r −
r4 − i (r² − r³) }4 = −15 − 20i; the solution may be completed without
difficulty.
The result is perfectly general, thus:—n being a prime number, r a root of
the equation xn−1 + xn−2 + ... + x + 1 = 0, ω a root of ωn−1 − 1 = 0, and g a
Page 61
prime root of gn−1 ≡ 1 (mod. n), then
(r + ωr g + ... + ωn − 2r g n−2) n−1
is a given function M0 + M1ω ... + Mn−2ωn−2 with integer coefficients, and by
the extraction of (n − 1)th roots of this and similar expressions we ultimately
obtain r in terms of ω, which is taken to be known; the equation xn − 1 = 0, n a
prime number, is thus solvable by radicals. In particular, if n − 1 be a power of
2, the solution (by either process) requires the extraction of square roots only;
and it was thus that Gauss discovered that it was possible to construct
geometrically the regular polygons of 17 sides and 257 sides respectively.
Some interesting developments in regard to the theory were obtained by C.G.J.
Jacobi (1837); see the memoir “Ueber die Kreistheilung, u.s.w.,” Crelle, t. xxx.
(1846).
The equation xn−1 + ... + x + 1 = 0 has been considered for its own sake, but
it also serves as a specimen of a class of equations solvable by radicals,
considered by N.H. Abel (1828), and since called Abelian equations, viz. for
the Abelian equation of the order n, if x be any root, the roots are x, θx, θ²x, ...
θn−1x (θx being a rational function of x, and θnx = x); the theory is, in fact,
very analogous to that of the above particular case.
(r + ωr g + ... + ωn − 2r g n−2) n−1
is a given function M0 + M1ω ... + Mn−2ωn−2 with integer coefficients, and by
the extraction of (n − 1)th roots of this and similar expressions we ultimately
obtain r in terms of ω, which is taken to be known; the equation xn − 1 = 0, n a
prime number, is thus solvable by radicals. In particular, if n − 1 be a power of
2, the solution (by either process) requires the extraction of square roots only;
and it was thus that Gauss discovered that it was possible to construct
geometrically the regular polygons of 17 sides and 257 sides respectively.
Some interesting developments in regard to the theory were obtained by C.G.J.
Jacobi (1837); see the memoir “Ueber die Kreistheilung, u.s.w.,” Crelle, t. xxx.
(1846).
The equation xn−1 + ... + x + 1 = 0 has been considered for its own sake, but
it also serves as a specimen of a class of equations solvable by radicals,
considered by N.H. Abel (1828), and since called Abelian equations, viz. for
the Abelian equation of the order n, if x be any root, the roots are x, θx, θ²x, ...
θn−1x (θx being a rational function of x, and θnx = x); the theory is, in fact,
very analogous to that of the above particular case.
Page 62
A more general theorem obtained by Abel is as follows:—If the roots
of an equation of any order are connected together in such wise that all
the roots can be expressed rationally in terms of any one of them, say
x; if, moreover, θx, θ1x being any two of the roots, we have θθ1x =
θ1θx, the equation will be solvable algebraically. It is proper to refer
also to Abel’s definition of an irreducible equation:—an equation φx =
0, the coefficients of which are rational functions of a certain number
of known quantities a, b, c ..., is called irreducible when it is impossible
to express its roots by an equation of an inferior degree, the coefficients
of which are also rational functions of a, b, c ... (or, what is the same
thing, when φx does not break up into factors which are rational
functions of a, b, c ...). Abel applied his theory to the equations which
present themselves in the division of the elliptic functions, but not to
the modular equations.
24. But the theory of the algebraical solution of equations in its most
complete form was established by Evariste Galois (born October 1811,
killed in a duel May 1832; see his collected works, Liouville, t. xl., 1846).
The definition of an irreducible equation resembles Abel’s,—an equation is
reducible when it admits of a rational divisor, irreducible in the contrary
case; only the word rational is used in this extended sense that, in
connexion with the coefficients of the given equation, or with the irrational
quantities (if any) whereof these are composed, he considers any number of
other irrational quantities called “adjoint radicals,” and he terms rational
any rational function of the coefficients (or the irrationals whereof they are
composed) and of these adjoint radicals; the epithet irreducible is thus taken
either absolutely or in a relative sense, according to the system of adjoint
radicals which are taken into account. For instance, the equation x4 + x³ +
x² + x + 1 = 0; the left hand side has here no rational divisor, and the
equation is irreducible; but this function is = (x² + ½ x + 1)² − 5⁄4 x², and it
of an equation of any order are connected together in such wise that all
the roots can be expressed rationally in terms of any one of them, say
x; if, moreover, θx, θ1x being any two of the roots, we have θθ1x =
θ1θx, the equation will be solvable algebraically. It is proper to refer
also to Abel’s definition of an irreducible equation:—an equation φx =
0, the coefficients of which are rational functions of a certain number
of known quantities a, b, c ..., is called irreducible when it is impossible
to express its roots by an equation of an inferior degree, the coefficients
of which are also rational functions of a, b, c ... (or, what is the same
thing, when φx does not break up into factors which are rational
functions of a, b, c ...). Abel applied his theory to the equations which
present themselves in the division of the elliptic functions, but not to
the modular equations.
24. But the theory of the algebraical solution of equations in its most
complete form was established by Evariste Galois (born October 1811,
killed in a duel May 1832; see his collected works, Liouville, t. xl., 1846).
The definition of an irreducible equation resembles Abel’s,—an equation is
reducible when it admits of a rational divisor, irreducible in the contrary
case; only the word rational is used in this extended sense that, in
connexion with the coefficients of the given equation, or with the irrational
quantities (if any) whereof these are composed, he considers any number of
other irrational quantities called “adjoint radicals,” and he terms rational
any rational function of the coefficients (or the irrationals whereof they are
composed) and of these adjoint radicals; the epithet irreducible is thus taken
either absolutely or in a relative sense, according to the system of adjoint
radicals which are taken into account. For instance, the equation x4 + x³ +
x² + x + 1 = 0; the left hand side has here no rational divisor, and the
equation is irreducible; but this function is = (x² + ½ x + 1)² − 5⁄4 x², and it
Page 63
has thus the irrational divisors x² + ½ (1 + √5)x + 1, x² + ½ (1 − √5)x + 1;
and these, if we adjoin the radical √5, are rational, and the equation is no
longer irreducible. In the case of a given equation, assumed to be
irreducible, the problem to solve the equation is, in fact, that of finding
radicals by the adjunction of which the equation becomes reducible; for
instance, the general quadric equation x² + px + q = 0 is irreducible, but it
becomes reducible, breaking up into rational linear factors, when we adjoin
the radical √(¼ p² − q).
The fundamental theorem is the Proposition I. of the “Mémoire sur
les conditions de résolubilité des équations par radicaux”; viz. given an
equation of which a, b, c ... are the m roots, there is always a group of
permutations of the letters a, b, c ... possessed of the following
properties:—
1. Every function of the roots invariable by the substitutions of the
group is rationally known.
2. Reciprocally every rationally determinable function of the roots is
invariable by the substitutions of the group.
Here by an invariable function is meant not only a function of which
the form is invariable by the substitutions of the group, but further, one
of which the value is invariable by these substitutions: for instance, if
the equation be φ(x) = 0, then φ(x) is a function of the roots invariable
by any substitution whatever. And in saying that a function is rationally
known, it is meant that its value is expressible rationally in terms of the
coefficients and of the adjoint quantities.
For instance in the case of a general equation, the group is simply
the system of the 1.2.3 ... n permutations of all the roots, since, in this
case, the only rationally determinable functions are the symmetric
functions of the roots.
and these, if we adjoin the radical √5, are rational, and the equation is no
longer irreducible. In the case of a given equation, assumed to be
irreducible, the problem to solve the equation is, in fact, that of finding
radicals by the adjunction of which the equation becomes reducible; for
instance, the general quadric equation x² + px + q = 0 is irreducible, but it
becomes reducible, breaking up into rational linear factors, when we adjoin
the radical √(¼ p² − q).
The fundamental theorem is the Proposition I. of the “Mémoire sur
les conditions de résolubilité des équations par radicaux”; viz. given an
equation of which a, b, c ... are the m roots, there is always a group of
permutations of the letters a, b, c ... possessed of the following
properties:—
1. Every function of the roots invariable by the substitutions of the
group is rationally known.
2. Reciprocally every rationally determinable function of the roots is
invariable by the substitutions of the group.
Here by an invariable function is meant not only a function of which
the form is invariable by the substitutions of the group, but further, one
of which the value is invariable by these substitutions: for instance, if
the equation be φ(x) = 0, then φ(x) is a function of the roots invariable
by any substitution whatever. And in saying that a function is rationally
known, it is meant that its value is expressible rationally in terms of the
coefficients and of the adjoint quantities.
For instance in the case of a general equation, the group is simply
the system of the 1.2.3 ... n permutations of all the roots, since, in this
case, the only rationally determinable functions are the symmetric
functions of the roots.
Page 64
In the case of the equation xn−1 ... + x + 1 = 0, n a prime number, a,
b, c ... k = r, r g, r g² ... r g n−2, where g is a prime root of n, then the
group is the cyclical group abc ... k, bc ... ka, ... kab ... j, that is, in this
particular case the number of the permutations of the group is equal to
the order of the equation.
This notion of the group of the original equation, or of the group of
the equation as varied by the adjunction of a series of radicals, seems to
be the fundamental one in Galois’s theory. But the problem of solution
by radicals, instead of being the sole object of the theory, appears as the
first link of a long chain of questions relating to the transformation and
classification of irrationals.
Returning to the question of solution by radicals, it will be readily
understood that by the adjunction of a radical the group may be
diminished; for instance, in the case of the general cubic, where the
group is that of the six permutations, by the adjunction of the square
root which enters into the solution, the group is reduced to abc, bca,
cab; that is, it becomes possible to express rationally, in terms of the
coefficients and of the adjoint square root, any function such as a²b +
b²c + c²a which is not altered by the cyclical substitution a into b, b into
c, c into a. And hence, to determine whether an equation of a given
form is solvable by radicals, the course of investigation is to inquire
whether, by the successive adjunction of radicals, it is possible to
reduce the original group of the equation so as to make it ultimately
consist of a single permutation.
The condition in order that an equation of a given prime order n may
be solvable by radicals was in this way obtained—in the first instance
in the form (scarcely intelligible without further explanation) that every
function of the roots x1, x2 ... xn, invariable by the substitutions xak + b
b, c ... k = r, r g, r g² ... r g n−2, where g is a prime root of n, then the
group is the cyclical group abc ... k, bc ... ka, ... kab ... j, that is, in this
particular case the number of the permutations of the group is equal to
the order of the equation.
This notion of the group of the original equation, or of the group of
the equation as varied by the adjunction of a series of radicals, seems to
be the fundamental one in Galois’s theory. But the problem of solution
by radicals, instead of being the sole object of the theory, appears as the
first link of a long chain of questions relating to the transformation and
classification of irrationals.
Returning to the question of solution by radicals, it will be readily
understood that by the adjunction of a radical the group may be
diminished; for instance, in the case of the general cubic, where the
group is that of the six permutations, by the adjunction of the square
root which enters into the solution, the group is reduced to abc, bca,
cab; that is, it becomes possible to express rationally, in terms of the
coefficients and of the adjoint square root, any function such as a²b +
b²c + c²a which is not altered by the cyclical substitution a into b, b into
c, c into a. And hence, to determine whether an equation of a given
form is solvable by radicals, the course of investigation is to inquire
whether, by the successive adjunction of radicals, it is possible to
reduce the original group of the equation so as to make it ultimately
consist of a single permutation.
The condition in order that an equation of a given prime order n may
be solvable by radicals was in this way obtained—in the first instance
in the form (scarcely intelligible without further explanation) that every
function of the roots x1, x2 ... xn, invariable by the substitutions xak + b
Page 65
for xk, must be rationally known; and then in the equivalent form that
the resolvent equation of the order 1.2 ... (n − 2) must have a rational
root. In particular, the condition in order that a quintic equation may be
solvable is that Lagrange’s resolvent of the order 6 may have a rational
factor, a result obtained from a direct investigation in a valuable
memoir by E. Luther, Crelle, t. xxxiv. (1847).
Among other results demonstrated or announced by Galois may be
mentioned those relating to the modular equations in the theory of
elliptic functions; for the transformations of the orders 5, 7, 11, the
modular equations of the orders 6, 8, 12 are depressible to the orders 5,
7, 11 respectively; but for the transformation, n a prime number greater
than 11, the depression is impossible.
The general theory of Galois in regard to the solution of equations
was completed, and some of the demonstrations supplied by E. Betti
(1852). See also J.A. Serret’s Cours d’algèbre supérieure, 2nd ed.
(1854); 4th ed. (1877-1878).
25. Returning to quintic equations, George Birch Jerrard (1835)
established the theorem that the general quintic equation is by the extraction
of only square and cubic roots reducible to the form x5 + ax + b = 0, or what
is the same thing, to x5 + x + b = 0. The actual reduction by means of
Tschirnhausen’s theorem was effected by Charles Hermite in connexion
with his elliptic-function solution of the quintic equation (1858) in a very
elegant manner. It was shown by Sir James Cockle and Robert Harley
(1858-1859) in connexion with the Jerrardian form, and by Arthur Cayley
(1861), that Lagrange’s resolvent equation of the sixth order can be
replaced by a more simple sextic equation occupying a like place in the
theory.
the resolvent equation of the order 1.2 ... (n − 2) must have a rational
root. In particular, the condition in order that a quintic equation may be
solvable is that Lagrange’s resolvent of the order 6 may have a rational
factor, a result obtained from a direct investigation in a valuable
memoir by E. Luther, Crelle, t. xxxiv. (1847).
Among other results demonstrated or announced by Galois may be
mentioned those relating to the modular equations in the theory of
elliptic functions; for the transformations of the orders 5, 7, 11, the
modular equations of the orders 6, 8, 12 are depressible to the orders 5,
7, 11 respectively; but for the transformation, n a prime number greater
than 11, the depression is impossible.
The general theory of Galois in regard to the solution of equations
was completed, and some of the demonstrations supplied by E. Betti
(1852). See also J.A. Serret’s Cours d’algèbre supérieure, 2nd ed.
(1854); 4th ed. (1877-1878).
25. Returning to quintic equations, George Birch Jerrard (1835)
established the theorem that the general quintic equation is by the extraction
of only square and cubic roots reducible to the form x5 + ax + b = 0, or what
is the same thing, to x5 + x + b = 0. The actual reduction by means of
Tschirnhausen’s theorem was effected by Charles Hermite in connexion
with his elliptic-function solution of the quintic equation (1858) in a very
elegant manner. It was shown by Sir James Cockle and Robert Harley
(1858-1859) in connexion with the Jerrardian form, and by Arthur Cayley
(1861), that Lagrange’s resolvent equation of the sixth order can be
replaced by a more simple sextic equation occupying a like place in the
theory.
Page 66
The theory of the modular equations, more particularly for the case n = 5,
has been studied by C. Hermite, L. Kronecker and F. Brioschi. In the case n
= 5, the modular equation of the order 6 depends, as already mentioned, on
an equation of the order 5; and conversely the general quintic equation may
be made to depend upon this modular equation of the order 6; that is,
assuming the solution of this modular equation, we can solve (not by
radicals) the general quintic equation; this is Hermite’s solution of the
general quintic equation by elliptic functions (1858); it is analogous to the
before-mentioned trigonometrical solution of the cubic equation. The theory
is reproduced and developed in Brioschi’s memoir, “Über die Auflösung der
Gleichungen vom fünften Grade,” Math. Annalen, t. xiii. (1877-1878).
26. The modern work, reproducing the theories of Galois, and
exhibiting the theory of algebraic equations as a whole, is C. Jordan’s
Traité des substitutions et des équations algébriques (Paris, 1870). The
work is divided into four books—book i., preliminary, relating to the
theory of congruences; book ii. is in two chapters, the first relating to
substitutions in general, the second to substitutions defined
analytically, and chiefly to linear substitutions; book iii. has four
chapters, the first discussing the principles of the general theory, the
other three containing applications to algebra, geometry, and the theory
of transcendents; lastly, book iv., divided into seven chapters, contains
a determination of the general types of equations solvable by radicals,
and a complete system of classification of these types. A glance
through the index will show the vast extent which the theory has
assumed, and the form of general conclusions arrived at; thus, in book
iii., the algebraical applications comprise Abelian equations, equations
of Galois; the geometrical ones comprise Q. Hesse’s equation, R.F.A.
Clebsch’s equations, lines on a quartic surface having a nodal line,
singular points of E.E. Kummer’s surface, lines on a cubic surface,
problems of contact; the applications to the theory of transcendents
has been studied by C. Hermite, L. Kronecker and F. Brioschi. In the case n
= 5, the modular equation of the order 6 depends, as already mentioned, on
an equation of the order 5; and conversely the general quintic equation may
be made to depend upon this modular equation of the order 6; that is,
assuming the solution of this modular equation, we can solve (not by
radicals) the general quintic equation; this is Hermite’s solution of the
general quintic equation by elliptic functions (1858); it is analogous to the
before-mentioned trigonometrical solution of the cubic equation. The theory
is reproduced and developed in Brioschi’s memoir, “Über die Auflösung der
Gleichungen vom fünften Grade,” Math. Annalen, t. xiii. (1877-1878).
26. The modern work, reproducing the theories of Galois, and
exhibiting the theory of algebraic equations as a whole, is C. Jordan’s
Traité des substitutions et des équations algébriques (Paris, 1870). The
work is divided into four books—book i., preliminary, relating to the
theory of congruences; book ii. is in two chapters, the first relating to
substitutions in general, the second to substitutions defined
analytically, and chiefly to linear substitutions; book iii. has four
chapters, the first discussing the principles of the general theory, the
other three containing applications to algebra, geometry, and the theory
of transcendents; lastly, book iv., divided into seven chapters, contains
a determination of the general types of equations solvable by radicals,
and a complete system of classification of these types. A glance
through the index will show the vast extent which the theory has
assumed, and the form of general conclusions arrived at; thus, in book
iii., the algebraical applications comprise Abelian equations, equations
of Galois; the geometrical ones comprise Q. Hesse’s equation, R.F.A.
Clebsch’s equations, lines on a quartic surface having a nodal line,
singular points of E.E. Kummer’s surface, lines on a cubic surface,
problems of contact; the applications to the theory of transcendents
Page 67
comprise circular functions, elliptic functions (including division and
the modular equation), hyperelliptic functions, solution of equations by
transcendents. And on this last subject, solution of equations by
transcendents, we may quote the result—“the solution of the general
equation of an order superior to five cannot be made to depend upon
that of the equations for the division of the circular or elliptic
functions”; and again (but with a reference to a possible case of
exception), “the general equation cannot be solved by aid of the
equations which give the division of the hyperelliptic functions into an
odd number of parts.” (See also Groups, Theory of.)
(A. Ca.)
Bibliography.—For the general theory see W.S. Burnside and A.W.
Panton, The Theory of Equations (4th ed., 1899-1901); the Galoisian
theory is treated in G.B. Matthews, Algebraic Equations (1907). See
also the Ency. d. math. Wiss. vol. ii.
1 The coefficients were selected so that the roots might be nearly 1, 2, 3.
2 The third edition (1826) is a reproduction of that of 1808; the first edition has the date
1798, but a large part of the contents is taken from memoirs of 1767-1768 and 1770-1771.
3 The earlier demonstrations by Euler, Lagrange, &c, relate to the case of a numerical
equation with real coefficients; and they consist in showing that such equation has always a
real quadratic divisor, furnishing two roots, which are either real or else conjugate
imaginaries α + βi (see Lagrange’s Équations numériques).
4 The square root of α + βi can be determined by the extraction of square roots of
positive real numbers, without the trigonometrical tables.
the modular equation), hyperelliptic functions, solution of equations by
transcendents. And on this last subject, solution of equations by
transcendents, we may quote the result—“the solution of the general
equation of an order superior to five cannot be made to depend upon
that of the equations for the division of the circular or elliptic
functions”; and again (but with a reference to a possible case of
exception), “the general equation cannot be solved by aid of the
equations which give the division of the hyperelliptic functions into an
odd number of parts.” (See also Groups, Theory of.)
(A. Ca.)
Bibliography.—For the general theory see W.S. Burnside and A.W.
Panton, The Theory of Equations (4th ed., 1899-1901); the Galoisian
theory is treated in G.B. Matthews, Algebraic Equations (1907). See
also the Ency. d. math. Wiss. vol. ii.
1 The coefficients were selected so that the roots might be nearly 1, 2, 3.
2 The third edition (1826) is a reproduction of that of 1808; the first edition has the date
1798, but a large part of the contents is taken from memoirs of 1767-1768 and 1770-1771.
3 The earlier demonstrations by Euler, Lagrange, &c, relate to the case of a numerical
equation with real coefficients; and they consist in showing that such equation has always a
real quadratic divisor, furnishing two roots, which are either real or else conjugate
imaginaries α + βi (see Lagrange’s Équations numériques).
4 The square root of α + βi can be determined by the extraction of square roots of
positive real numbers, without the trigonometrical tables.
Page 68
EQUATION OF THE CENTRE, in astronomy, the angular distance,
measured around the centre of motion, by which a planet moving in an
ellipse deviates from the mean position which it would occupy if it moved
uniformly. Its amount is the correction which must be applied positively or
negatively to the mean anomaly in order to obtain the true anomaly. It arises
from the ellipticity of the orbit, is zero at pericentre and apocentre, and
reaches its greatest amount nearly midway between these points. (See
Anomaly and Orbit.)
EQUATION OF TIME, the difference between apparent time,
determined by the meridian passage of the real sun, and mean time,
determined by the passage of the mean sun. It goes through a double period
in the course of a year. Its amount varies a fraction of a minute for the same
date, from year to year and from one longitude to another, on the same day.
The following table shows an average value for any date and for the
Greenwich meridian for a number of years, from which the actual value will
seldom deviate more than 20 seconds until after 1950. The + sign indicates
that the real sun reaches the meridian after mean noon; the − sign before
mean noon.
Table of the Equation of Time.
m. s. m. s. m. s.
Jan. 1 +3 26 Mar. 1 +12 39 May 1 −2 55
measured around the centre of motion, by which a planet moving in an
ellipse deviates from the mean position which it would occupy if it moved
uniformly. Its amount is the correction which must be applied positively or
negatively to the mean anomaly in order to obtain the true anomaly. It arises
from the ellipticity of the orbit, is zero at pericentre and apocentre, and
reaches its greatest amount nearly midway between these points. (See
Anomaly and Orbit.)
EQUATION OF TIME, the difference between apparent time,
determined by the meridian passage of the real sun, and mean time,
determined by the passage of the mean sun. It goes through a double period
in the course of a year. Its amount varies a fraction of a minute for the same
date, from year to year and from one longitude to another, on the same day.
The following table shows an average value for any date and for the
Greenwich meridian for a number of years, from which the actual value will
seldom deviate more than 20 seconds until after 1950. The + sign indicates
that the real sun reaches the meridian after mean noon; the − sign before
mean noon.
Table of the Equation of Time.
m. s. m. s. m. s.
Jan. 1 +3 26 Mar. 1 +12 39 May 1 −2 55
Page 69
6 5 45 6 11 35 6 −3 27
11 7 51 11 10 20 11 −3 46
16 9 43 16 8 58 16 −3 51
21 11 19 21 7 30 21 −3 40
26 12 36 26 5 59 26 −3 16
Feb. 1 +13 42 Apr. 1 +4 9 June 1 −2 32
6 14 14 6 2 40 6 −1 44
11 14 25 11 +1 15 11 −0 48
16 14 17 16 −0 3 16 +0 14
21 13 52 21 −1 12 21 1 19
26 13 11 26 −2 10 26 2 24
July 1 +3 26 Sept. 1 +0 9 Nov. 1 −16 18
6 4 21 6 −1 28 6 −16 19
11 5 8 11 −3 10 11 −15 58
16 5 44 16 −4 55 16 −15 15
21 6 8 21 −6 41 21 −14 12
26 6 18 26 −8 25 26 −12 49
Aug. 1 +6 10 Oct. 1 −10 5 Dec. 1 −11 7
6 5 47 6 −11 38 6 −9 9
11 5 9 11 −13 2 11 −6 57
16 4 17 16 −14 14 16 −4 35
21 3 12 21 −15 11 21 −2 7
26 1 55 26 −15 52 26 +0 23
EQUATOR (Late Lat. aequator, from aequare, to make equal), in
geography, that great circle of the earth, equidistant from the two poles,
11 7 51 11 10 20 11 −3 46
16 9 43 16 8 58 16 −3 51
21 11 19 21 7 30 21 −3 40
26 12 36 26 5 59 26 −3 16
Feb. 1 +13 42 Apr. 1 +4 9 June 1 −2 32
6 14 14 6 2 40 6 −1 44
11 14 25 11 +1 15 11 −0 48
16 14 17 16 −0 3 16 +0 14
21 13 52 21 −1 12 21 1 19
26 13 11 26 −2 10 26 2 24
July 1 +3 26 Sept. 1 +0 9 Nov. 1 −16 18
6 4 21 6 −1 28 6 −16 19
11 5 8 11 −3 10 11 −15 58
16 5 44 16 −4 55 16 −15 15
21 6 8 21 −6 41 21 −14 12
26 6 18 26 −8 25 26 −12 49
Aug. 1 +6 10 Oct. 1 −10 5 Dec. 1 −11 7
6 5 47 6 −11 38 6 −9 9
11 5 9 11 −13 2 11 −6 57
16 4 17 16 −14 14 16 −4 35
21 3 12 21 −15 11 21 −2 7
26 1 55 26 −15 52 26 +0 23
EQUATOR (Late Lat. aequator, from aequare, to make equal), in
geography, that great circle of the earth, equidistant from the two poles,
Page 70
which divides the northern from the southern hemisphere and lies in a plane
perpendicular to the axis of the earth; this is termed the “geographical” or
“terrestrial equator.” In astronomy, the “celestial equator” is the name given
to the great circle in which the plane of the terrestrial equator intersects the
celestial sphere; it is consequently equidistant from the celestial poles. The
“magnetic equator” is an imaginary line encircling the earth, along which
the vertical component of the earth’s magnetic force is zero; it nearly
coincides with the terrestrial equator.
EQUERRY (from the Fr. écurie, a stable, through its older form escurie,
from the Med. Lat. scuria, a word of Teutonic origin for a stable or shed, cf.
Ger. Scheuer; the modern spelling has confused the word with the Lat.
equus, a horse), a contracted form of “gentleman of the equerry,” an officer
in charge of the stables of a royal household. At the British court, equerries
are officers attached to the department of the master of the horse, the first of
whom is called chief equerry (see Household, Royal).
EQUIDAE, the family of perissodactyle ungulate mammals typified by
the horse (Equus caballus); see Horse. According to the older classification
this family was taken to include only the forms with tall-crowned teeth,
more or less closely allied to the typical genus Equus. There is, however,
perpendicular to the axis of the earth; this is termed the “geographical” or
“terrestrial equator.” In astronomy, the “celestial equator” is the name given
to the great circle in which the plane of the terrestrial equator intersects the
celestial sphere; it is consequently equidistant from the celestial poles. The
“magnetic equator” is an imaginary line encircling the earth, along which
the vertical component of the earth’s magnetic force is zero; it nearly
coincides with the terrestrial equator.
EQUERRY (from the Fr. écurie, a stable, through its older form escurie,
from the Med. Lat. scuria, a word of Teutonic origin for a stable or shed, cf.
Ger. Scheuer; the modern spelling has confused the word with the Lat.
equus, a horse), a contracted form of “gentleman of the equerry,” an officer
in charge of the stables of a royal household. At the British court, equerries
are officers attached to the department of the master of the horse, the first of
whom is called chief equerry (see Household, Royal).
EQUIDAE, the family of perissodactyle ungulate mammals typified by
the horse (Equus caballus); see Horse. According to the older classification
this family was taken to include only the forms with tall-crowned teeth,
more or less closely allied to the typical genus Equus. There is, however,
Page 71
such an almost complete graduation from the former to earlier and more
primitive mammals with short-crowned cheek-teeth, at one time included in
the family Lophiodontidae (see Perissodactyla), that it has now become a
very general practice to include the whole “phylum” in the family Equidae.
The Equidae, in this extended sense, together with the extinct
Palaeotheriidae, are indeed now regarded as forming one of four main
groups into which the Perissodactyla are divided, the other groups being the
Tapiroidea, Rhinocerotoidea and Titanotheriide. For the horse-group the
name Hippoidea is employed. All four groups were closely connected in the
Lower Eocene, so that exact definition is almost impossible.
In the Hippoidea there is generally the full series of 44 teeth, but the first
premolar is often deciduous or wanting in the lower or in both jaws. The
incisors are chisel-shaped, and the canines tend to become isolated so as in
the now specialized forms to occupy nearly the middle of a longer or
shorter gap between the incisors and premolars. In the upper molars the two
outer columns of the primitive tubercular molar coalesce to form an outer
wall, from which proceed two crescentic transverse crests; the connexion
between the crests and the wall being imperfect or slight, and the crests
themselves sometimes tubercular. Each of the lower molars carries two
crescentic ridges. The number of toes ranges from four to one in the fore-
foot, and from three to one in the hind-foot. The paroccipital, postglenoid
and post-tympanic processes of the skull are large, and the latter always
distinct. Normally there are no traces of horn-cores. The calcaneum lacks
the facet for the fibula found in the Titanotheroidea.
In the earlier Equidae the teeth were short-crowned, with the premolars
simpler than the molars; but there is a gradual tendency to an increase in the
height of the crowns of the teeth, accompanied by increasing complexity of
structure and the filling up of the hollows with cement. Similarly the gap on
each side of the canine tooth in each jaw continues to increase in length;
primitive mammals with short-crowned cheek-teeth, at one time included in
the family Lophiodontidae (see Perissodactyla), that it has now become a
very general practice to include the whole “phylum” in the family Equidae.
The Equidae, in this extended sense, together with the extinct
Palaeotheriidae, are indeed now regarded as forming one of four main
groups into which the Perissodactyla are divided, the other groups being the
Tapiroidea, Rhinocerotoidea and Titanotheriide. For the horse-group the
name Hippoidea is employed. All four groups were closely connected in the
Lower Eocene, so that exact definition is almost impossible.
In the Hippoidea there is generally the full series of 44 teeth, but the first
premolar is often deciduous or wanting in the lower or in both jaws. The
incisors are chisel-shaped, and the canines tend to become isolated so as in
the now specialized forms to occupy nearly the middle of a longer or
shorter gap between the incisors and premolars. In the upper molars the two
outer columns of the primitive tubercular molar coalesce to form an outer
wall, from which proceed two crescentic transverse crests; the connexion
between the crests and the wall being imperfect or slight, and the crests
themselves sometimes tubercular. Each of the lower molars carries two
crescentic ridges. The number of toes ranges from four to one in the fore-
foot, and from three to one in the hind-foot. The paroccipital, postglenoid
and post-tympanic processes of the skull are large, and the latter always
distinct. Normally there are no traces of horn-cores. The calcaneum lacks
the facet for the fibula found in the Titanotheroidea.
In the earlier Equidae the teeth were short-crowned, with the premolars
simpler than the molars; but there is a gradual tendency to an increase in the
height of the crowns of the teeth, accompanied by increasing complexity of
structure and the filling up of the hollows with cement. Similarly the gap on
each side of the canine tooth in each jaw continues to increase in length;
Page 72
while in all the later forms the orbit is surrounded by a ring of bone. A third
modification is the increasing length of limb (as well as in general bodily
size), accompanied by a gradual reduction in the number of toes from three
or four to one.
All the existing members of the
family, such as the domesticated
horse (Equus caballus) and its wild
or half-wild relatives, the asses and
the zebras, are included in the
typical genus. In all these the
crowns of the cheek-teeth are very
tall (fig. 1, b) and only develop roots
late in life; while their grinding-
surfaces (fig. 2, b and c) are very
complicated and have all the
hollows filled with cement. The
Fig. 1.—a, Side view of second upper
summits of the incisors are infolded, molar tooth of Anchitherium
(brachyodont form); b, corresponding
producing, when partially worn, the tooth of horse (hypsidont form).
“mark.” In the skull the orbit is
surrounded by bone, and there is no distinct depression in front of the same.
Each limb terminates in one large toe; the lateral digits being represented by
the splint-bones, corresponding to the lateral metacarpals and metatarsals of
Hipparion. Not unfrequently, however, the lower ends of the splint-bones
carry a small expansion, representing the phalanges.
Remains of horses indistinguishable from E. caballus occur in the
Pleistocene deposits of Europe and Asia; and it is from them that the dun-
coloured small horses of northern Europe and Asia are probably derived.
The ancestor of these Pleistocene horses is probably E. stenonis, of the
Upper Pliocene of Europe, which has a small depression in front of the
modification is the increasing length of limb (as well as in general bodily
size), accompanied by a gradual reduction in the number of toes from three
or four to one.
All the existing members of the
family, such as the domesticated
horse (Equus caballus) and its wild
or half-wild relatives, the asses and
the zebras, are included in the
typical genus. In all these the
crowns of the cheek-teeth are very
tall (fig. 1, b) and only develop roots
late in life; while their grinding-
surfaces (fig. 2, b and c) are very
complicated and have all the
hollows filled with cement. The
Fig. 1.—a, Side view of second upper
summits of the incisors are infolded, molar tooth of Anchitherium
(brachyodont form); b, corresponding
producing, when partially worn, the tooth of horse (hypsidont form).
“mark.” In the skull the orbit is
surrounded by bone, and there is no distinct depression in front of the same.
Each limb terminates in one large toe; the lateral digits being represented by
the splint-bones, corresponding to the lateral metacarpals and metatarsals of
Hipparion. Not unfrequently, however, the lower ends of the splint-bones
carry a small expansion, representing the phalanges.
Remains of horses indistinguishable from E. caballus occur in the
Pleistocene deposits of Europe and Asia; and it is from them that the dun-
coloured small horses of northern Europe and Asia are probably derived.
The ancestor of these Pleistocene horses is probably E. stenonis, of the
Upper Pliocene of Europe, which has a small depression in front of the
Page 73
orbit, while the skull is relatively larger, the feet are rather shorter, and the
splint-bones somewhat more developed. In India a nearly allied species (E.
sivalensis), occurs in the Lower Pliocene, and may have been the ancestor
of the Arab stock, which shows traces of the depression in front of the orbit
characteristic of the earlier forms. In North America species of Equus occur
in the Pleistocene and from that continent others reached South America
during the same epoch. In the latter country occurs Hippidium, in which the
cheek-teeth are shorter and simpler, and the nasal bones very long and
slender, with elongated slits at the side. The limbs, especially the cannon-
bones, are relatively short, and the splint-bones large. The allied Argentine
Onohippidium, which is also Pleistocene, has still longer nasal bones and
slits, and a deep double cavity in front of the orbit, part of which probably
contained a gland. Onohippidium is certainly off the direct line of descent
of the modern horses, and, on account of the length of the nasals and their
slits, the same probably holds good for Hippidium.
Fig. 2.—a, Grinding surface of unworn right upper molar tooth of Anchitherium; b, corresponding
surface of unworn molar of young horse; c, the same tooth after it has been some time in use. The
uncoloured portions are the dentine or ivory, the shaded parts the cement filling the cavities and
surrounding the exterior. The black line separating these two structures is the enamel or hardest
constituent of the tooth.
Species from the Pliocene of Texas and the Upper Miocene (Loup Fork)
of Oregon were at one time assigned to Hippidium, but this is incorrect, that
splint-bones somewhat more developed. In India a nearly allied species (E.
sivalensis), occurs in the Lower Pliocene, and may have been the ancestor
of the Arab stock, which shows traces of the depression in front of the orbit
characteristic of the earlier forms. In North America species of Equus occur
in the Pleistocene and from that continent others reached South America
during the same epoch. In the latter country occurs Hippidium, in which the
cheek-teeth are shorter and simpler, and the nasal bones very long and
slender, with elongated slits at the side. The limbs, especially the cannon-
bones, are relatively short, and the splint-bones large. The allied Argentine
Onohippidium, which is also Pleistocene, has still longer nasal bones and
slits, and a deep double cavity in front of the orbit, part of which probably
contained a gland. Onohippidium is certainly off the direct line of descent
of the modern horses, and, on account of the length of the nasals and their
slits, the same probably holds good for Hippidium.
Fig. 2.—a, Grinding surface of unworn right upper molar tooth of Anchitherium; b, corresponding
surface of unworn molar of young horse; c, the same tooth after it has been some time in use. The
uncoloured portions are the dentine or ivory, the shaded parts the cement filling the cavities and
surrounding the exterior. The black line separating these two structures is the enamel or hardest
constituent of the tooth.
Species from the Pliocene of Texas and the Upper Miocene (Loup Fork)
of Oregon were at one time assigned to Hippidium, but this is incorrect, that
Page 74
genus being exclusively South American. The name Pliohippus has been
applied to species from the same two formations on the supposition that the
foot-structure was similar to that of Hippidium, but Mr J.W. Gidley is of
opinion that the lateral digits may have been fully developed.
Apparently there is here some gap in the line of descent of the horse, and
it may be suggested that the evolution took place, not as commonly
supposed, in North America, but in eastern central Asia, of which the
palaeontology is practically unknown; some support is given to this theory
by the fact that the earliest species with which we are acquainted occur in
northern India.
Fig. 3.—Successive stages of modification of the left fore-feet of extinct forms of horse-
like animals, showing gradual reduction of the outer and enlargement of the middle toe (III).
a, Hyracotherium (Eocene). d, Hipparion (Pliocene).
b, Mesohippus (Oligocene). e, Equus (Pleistocene).
c, Anchitherium (Miocene).
Be this as it may, the next North American representatives of the family
constitute the genera Protohippus and Merychippus of the Miocene, in both
of which the lateral digits are fully developed and terminate in small though
applied to species from the same two formations on the supposition that the
foot-structure was similar to that of Hippidium, but Mr J.W. Gidley is of
opinion that the lateral digits may have been fully developed.
Apparently there is here some gap in the line of descent of the horse, and
it may be suggested that the evolution took place, not as commonly
supposed, in North America, but in eastern central Asia, of which the
palaeontology is practically unknown; some support is given to this theory
by the fact that the earliest species with which we are acquainted occur in
northern India.
Fig. 3.—Successive stages of modification of the left fore-feet of extinct forms of horse-
like animals, showing gradual reduction of the outer and enlargement of the middle toe (III).
a, Hyracotherium (Eocene). d, Hipparion (Pliocene).
b, Mesohippus (Oligocene). e, Equus (Pleistocene).
c, Anchitherium (Miocene).
Be this as it may, the next North American representatives of the family
constitute the genera Protohippus and Merychippus of the Miocene, in both
of which the lateral digits are fully developed and terminate in small though
Page 75
perfect hoofs. In both the cheek-teeth have moderately tall crowns, and in
the first named of the two those of the milk-series are nearly similar to their
permanent successors. In Merychippus, on the other hand, the milk-molars
have short crowns, without any cement in the hollows, thus resembling the
permanent molars of the under-mentioned genus Anchitherium. From the
well-known Hipparion, or Hippotherium, typically from the Lower
Pliocene of Europe, but also occurring in the corresponding formation in
North Africa, Persia, India and China, and represented in the Upper
Miocene Loup Fork beds of the United States by species which it has been
proposed to separate generically as Neohipparion, we reach small horses
which are now generally regarded as a lateral offshoot from the
Merychippus type. The cheek-teeth, which have crowns of moderate height,
differ from those of all the foregoing in that the postero-internal pillar (the
projection on the right-hand top corner of c in fig. 2) is isolated in place of
being attached by a narrow neck to the adjacent crescent. The skull, which
is relatively short, has a large depression in front of the orbit, commonly
supposed to have contained a gland, but this may be doubtful. In the typical,
and also in the North American forms these were complete, although small,
lateral toes in both feet (fig. 3, d), but it is possible that in H. antilopinum of
India the lateral toes had disappeared. If this be so, we have the
development of a monodactyle foot in this genus independently of Equus.
The foregoing genera constitute the subfamily Equinae, or the Equidae as
restricted by the older writers. In all the dentition is of the hypsodont type,
with the hollows of the cheek-teeth filled by cement, the premolars
molariform, and the first small and generally deciduous. The orbit is
surrounded by a bony ring; the ulna and radius in the fore, and the tibia and
fibula in the hind-limb are united, and the feet are of the types described
above. Between this subfamily and the second subfamily, Hyracotheriinae,
a partial connexion is formed by the North American Upper Miocene
genera Desmatippus and Anchippus or Parahippus. The characteristics of
the first named of the two those of the milk-series are nearly similar to their
permanent successors. In Merychippus, on the other hand, the milk-molars
have short crowns, without any cement in the hollows, thus resembling the
permanent molars of the under-mentioned genus Anchitherium. From the
well-known Hipparion, or Hippotherium, typically from the Lower
Pliocene of Europe, but also occurring in the corresponding formation in
North Africa, Persia, India and China, and represented in the Upper
Miocene Loup Fork beds of the United States by species which it has been
proposed to separate generically as Neohipparion, we reach small horses
which are now generally regarded as a lateral offshoot from the
Merychippus type. The cheek-teeth, which have crowns of moderate height,
differ from those of all the foregoing in that the postero-internal pillar (the
projection on the right-hand top corner of c in fig. 2) is isolated in place of
being attached by a narrow neck to the adjacent crescent. The skull, which
is relatively short, has a large depression in front of the orbit, commonly
supposed to have contained a gland, but this may be doubtful. In the typical,
and also in the North American forms these were complete, although small,
lateral toes in both feet (fig. 3, d), but it is possible that in H. antilopinum of
India the lateral toes had disappeared. If this be so, we have the
development of a monodactyle foot in this genus independently of Equus.
The foregoing genera constitute the subfamily Equinae, or the Equidae as
restricted by the older writers. In all the dentition is of the hypsodont type,
with the hollows of the cheek-teeth filled by cement, the premolars
molariform, and the first small and generally deciduous. The orbit is
surrounded by a bony ring; the ulna and radius in the fore, and the tibia and
fibula in the hind-limb are united, and the feet are of the types described
above. Between this subfamily and the second subfamily, Hyracotheriinae,
a partial connexion is formed by the North American Upper Miocene
genera Desmatippus and Anchippus or Parahippus. The characteristics of
Page 76
the group will be gathered from the remarks on the leading genera; but it
may be mentioned that the orbit is open behind, the cheek-teeth are short-
crowned and without cement (fig. 1, a), the gap between the canine and the
outermost incisor is short, the bones of the middle part of the leg are
separate, and there are at least three toes to each foot.
The longest-known genus and the one containing the largest species is
Anchitherium, typically from the Middle Miocene of Europe, but also
represented by one species from the Upper Miocene of North America. The
European A. aurelianense was of the size of an ordinary donkey. The cheek-
teeth are of the type shown in a of figs. 1 and 2; the premolars, with the
exception of the small first one, being molar-like; and the lateral toes (fig. 3,
c) were to some extent functional. The summits of the incisors were
infolded to a small extent. Nearly allied is the American Mesohippus,
ranging from the Lower Miocene to the Lower Oligocene of the United
States, of which the earliest species stood only about 18 in. at the shoulder.
The incisors were scarcely, if at all, infolded, and there is a rudiment of the
fifth metacarpal (fig. 3, b). By some writers all the species of Mesohippus
are included in the genus Miohippus, but others consider that the two genera
are distinct.
Mesohippus and Miohippus are connected with the earliest and most
primitive mammal which it is possible to include in the family Equidae by
means of Epihippus of the Uinta or Upper Eocene of North America, and
Pachynolophus, or Orohippus, of the Middle and Lower Eocene of both
halves of the northern hemisphere. The final stage, or rather the initial
stage, in the series is presented by Hyracotherium (Protorohippus), a
mammal no larger than a fox, common to the Lower Eocene of Europe and
North America. The general characteristics of this progenitor of the horses
are those given above as distinctive of the group. The cheek-teeth are,
however, much simpler than those of Anchitherium; the transverse crests of
may be mentioned that the orbit is open behind, the cheek-teeth are short-
crowned and without cement (fig. 1, a), the gap between the canine and the
outermost incisor is short, the bones of the middle part of the leg are
separate, and there are at least three toes to each foot.
The longest-known genus and the one containing the largest species is
Anchitherium, typically from the Middle Miocene of Europe, but also
represented by one species from the Upper Miocene of North America. The
European A. aurelianense was of the size of an ordinary donkey. The cheek-
teeth are of the type shown in a of figs. 1 and 2; the premolars, with the
exception of the small first one, being molar-like; and the lateral toes (fig. 3,
c) were to some extent functional. The summits of the incisors were
infolded to a small extent. Nearly allied is the American Mesohippus,
ranging from the Lower Miocene to the Lower Oligocene of the United
States, of which the earliest species stood only about 18 in. at the shoulder.
The incisors were scarcely, if at all, infolded, and there is a rudiment of the
fifth metacarpal (fig. 3, b). By some writers all the species of Mesohippus
are included in the genus Miohippus, but others consider that the two genera
are distinct.
Mesohippus and Miohippus are connected with the earliest and most
primitive mammal which it is possible to include in the family Equidae by
means of Epihippus of the Uinta or Upper Eocene of North America, and
Pachynolophus, or Orohippus, of the Middle and Lower Eocene of both
halves of the northern hemisphere. The final stage, or rather the initial
stage, in the series is presented by Hyracotherium (Protorohippus), a
mammal no larger than a fox, common to the Lower Eocene of Europe and
North America. The general characteristics of this progenitor of the horses
are those given above as distinctive of the group. The cheek-teeth are,
however, much simpler than those of Anchitherium; the transverse crests of
Page 77
the upper molars not being fully connected with the outer wall, while the
premolars in the upper jaw are triangular, and thus unlike the molars. The
incisors are small and the canines scarcely enlarged; the latter having a gap
on each side in the lower, but only one on their hinder aspect in the upper
jaw. The fore-feet have four complete toes (fig. 3, a), but there are only
three hind-toes, with a rudiment of the fifth metatarsal. The vertebrae are
simpler in structure than in Equus. From Hyracotherium, which is closely
related to the Eocene representatives of the ancestral stocks of the other
three branches of the Perissodactyla, the transition is easy to Phenacodus,
the representative of the common ancestor of all the Ungulata.
See also H.F. Osborn, “New Oligocene Horses,” Bull. Amer. Mus.
vol. xx. p. 167 (1904); J.W. Gidley, Proper Generic Names of Miocene
Horses, p. 191; and the article Palaeontology.
(R. L.*)
EQUILIBRIUM (from the Lat. aequus, equal, and libra, a balance), a
condition of equal balance between opposite or counteracting forces. By the
“sense of equilibrium” is meant the sense, or sensations, by which we have
a feeling of security in standing, walking, and indeed in all the movements
by which the body is carried through space. Such a feeling of security is
necessary both for maintaining any posture, such as standing, or for
performing any movement. If this feeling is absent or uncertain, or if there
are contradictory sensations, then definite muscular movements are
inefficiently or irregularly performed, and the body may stagger or fall.
When we stand erect on a firm surface, like a floor, there is a feeling of
premolars in the upper jaw are triangular, and thus unlike the molars. The
incisors are small and the canines scarcely enlarged; the latter having a gap
on each side in the lower, but only one on their hinder aspect in the upper
jaw. The fore-feet have four complete toes (fig. 3, a), but there are only
three hind-toes, with a rudiment of the fifth metatarsal. The vertebrae are
simpler in structure than in Equus. From Hyracotherium, which is closely
related to the Eocene representatives of the ancestral stocks of the other
three branches of the Perissodactyla, the transition is easy to Phenacodus,
the representative of the common ancestor of all the Ungulata.
See also H.F. Osborn, “New Oligocene Horses,” Bull. Amer. Mus.
vol. xx. p. 167 (1904); J.W. Gidley, Proper Generic Names of Miocene
Horses, p. 191; and the article Palaeontology.
(R. L.*)
EQUILIBRIUM (from the Lat. aequus, equal, and libra, a balance), a
condition of equal balance between opposite or counteracting forces. By the
“sense of equilibrium” is meant the sense, or sensations, by which we have
a feeling of security in standing, walking, and indeed in all the movements
by which the body is carried through space. Such a feeling of security is
necessary both for maintaining any posture, such as standing, or for
performing any movement. If this feeling is absent or uncertain, or if there
are contradictory sensations, then definite muscular movements are
inefficiently or irregularly performed, and the body may stagger or fall.
When we stand erect on a firm surface, like a floor, there is a feeling of
Page 78
resistance, due to nervous impulses reaching the brain from the soles of the
feet and from the muscles of the limbs and trunk. In walking or running,
these feelings of resistance seem to precede and guide the muscular
movements necessary for the next step. If these are absent or perverted or
deficient, as is the case in the disease known as locomotor ataxia, then,
although there is no loss of the power of voluntary movement, the patient
staggers in walking, especially if he is not allowed to look at his feet, or if
he is blind-folded. He misses the guiding sensations that come from the
limbs; and with a feeling that he is walking on a soft substance, offering
little or no resistance, he staggers, and his muscular movements become
irregular. Such a condition maybe artificially brought about by washing the
soles of the feet with chloroform or ether. And it has been observed to exist
partially after extensive destruction of the skin of the soles of the feet by
burns or scalds. This shows that tactile impulses from the skin take a share
in generating the guiding sensation. In the disease above mentioned,
however, tactile impressions may be nearly normal, but the guiding
sensation is weak and inefficient, owing to the absence of impulses from the
muscles. The disease is known to depend on morbid changes in the
posterior columns of the spinal cord, by which impulses are not freely
transmitted upwards to the brain. These facts point to the existence of
impulses coming from the muscles and tendons. It is now known that there
exist peculiar spindles, in muscle, and rosettes or coils or loops of nerve
fibres in close proximity to tendons. These are the end organs of the sense.
The transmission of impulses gives rise to the muscular sense, and the
guiding sensation which precedes co-ordinated muscular movements
depends on these impulses. Thus from the limbs streams of nervous
impulses pass to the sensorium from the skin and from muscles and
tendons; these may or may not arouse consciousness, but they guide or
evoke muscular movements of a co-ordinated character, more especially of
the limbs.
feet and from the muscles of the limbs and trunk. In walking or running,
these feelings of resistance seem to precede and guide the muscular
movements necessary for the next step. If these are absent or perverted or
deficient, as is the case in the disease known as locomotor ataxia, then,
although there is no loss of the power of voluntary movement, the patient
staggers in walking, especially if he is not allowed to look at his feet, or if
he is blind-folded. He misses the guiding sensations that come from the
limbs; and with a feeling that he is walking on a soft substance, offering
little or no resistance, he staggers, and his muscular movements become
irregular. Such a condition maybe artificially brought about by washing the
soles of the feet with chloroform or ether. And it has been observed to exist
partially after extensive destruction of the skin of the soles of the feet by
burns or scalds. This shows that tactile impulses from the skin take a share
in generating the guiding sensation. In the disease above mentioned,
however, tactile impressions may be nearly normal, but the guiding
sensation is weak and inefficient, owing to the absence of impulses from the
muscles. The disease is known to depend on morbid changes in the
posterior columns of the spinal cord, by which impulses are not freely
transmitted upwards to the brain. These facts point to the existence of
impulses coming from the muscles and tendons. It is now known that there
exist peculiar spindles, in muscle, and rosettes or coils or loops of nerve
fibres in close proximity to tendons. These are the end organs of the sense.
The transmission of impulses gives rise to the muscular sense, and the
guiding sensation which precedes co-ordinated muscular movements
depends on these impulses. Thus from the limbs streams of nervous
impulses pass to the sensorium from the skin and from muscles and
tendons; these may or may not arouse consciousness, but they guide or
evoke muscular movements of a co-ordinated character, more especially of
the limbs.
Page 79
In animals whose limbs are not adapted for delicate touch nor for the
performance of complicated movements, such as some mammals and birds
and fishes, the guiding sensations depend largely on the sense of vision.
This sense in man, instead of assisting, sometimes disturbs the guiding
sensation. It is true that in locomotor ataxia visual sensations may take the
place of the tactile and muscular sensations that are inefficient, and the man
can walk without staggering if he is allowed to look at the floor, and
especially if he is guided by transverse straight lines. On the other hand, the
acrobat on the wire-rope dare not trust his visual sensations in the
maintenance of his equilibrium. He keeps his eyes fixed on one point
instead of allowing them to wander to objects below him, and his muscular
movements are regulated by the impulses that come from the skin and
muscles of his limbs. The feeling of insecurity probably arises from a
conception of height, and also from the knowledge that by no muscular
movements can a man avoid a catastrophe if he should fall. A bird, on the
other hand, depends largely on visual impressions, and it knows by
experience that if launched into the air from a height it can fly. Here,
probably, is an explanation of the large size of the eyes of birds. Cover the
head, as in hooding a falcon, and the bird seems to be deprived of the power
of voluntary movement. Little effect will be produced if we attempt to
restrain the movements of a cat by covering its eyes. A fish also is deprived
of the power of motion if its eyes are covered. But both in the bird and in
the fish tactile and muscular impressions, especially the latter, come into
play in the mechanism of equilibrium. In flight the large-winged birds,
especially in soaring, can feel the most delicate wind-pressures, both as
regards direction and force, and they adapt the position of their body so as
to catch the pressure at the most efficient angle. The same is true of the fish,
especially of the flat-fishes. In mammals the sense of equilibrium depends,
then, on streams of tactile, muscular and visual impressions pouring in on
the sensorium, and calling forth appropriate muscular movements. It has
performance of complicated movements, such as some mammals and birds
and fishes, the guiding sensations depend largely on the sense of vision.
This sense in man, instead of assisting, sometimes disturbs the guiding
sensation. It is true that in locomotor ataxia visual sensations may take the
place of the tactile and muscular sensations that are inefficient, and the man
can walk without staggering if he is allowed to look at the floor, and
especially if he is guided by transverse straight lines. On the other hand, the
acrobat on the wire-rope dare not trust his visual sensations in the
maintenance of his equilibrium. He keeps his eyes fixed on one point
instead of allowing them to wander to objects below him, and his muscular
movements are regulated by the impulses that come from the skin and
muscles of his limbs. The feeling of insecurity probably arises from a
conception of height, and also from the knowledge that by no muscular
movements can a man avoid a catastrophe if he should fall. A bird, on the
other hand, depends largely on visual impressions, and it knows by
experience that if launched into the air from a height it can fly. Here,
probably, is an explanation of the large size of the eyes of birds. Cover the
head, as in hooding a falcon, and the bird seems to be deprived of the power
of voluntary movement. Little effect will be produced if we attempt to
restrain the movements of a cat by covering its eyes. A fish also is deprived
of the power of motion if its eyes are covered. But both in the bird and in
the fish tactile and muscular impressions, especially the latter, come into
play in the mechanism of equilibrium. In flight the large-winged birds,
especially in soaring, can feel the most delicate wind-pressures, both as
regards direction and force, and they adapt the position of their body so as
to catch the pressure at the most efficient angle. The same is true of the fish,
especially of the flat-fishes. In mammals the sense of equilibrium depends,
then, on streams of tactile, muscular and visual impressions pouring in on
the sensorium, and calling forth appropriate muscular movements. It has
Page 80
also been suggested that impulses coming from the abdominal viscera may
take part in the mechanism. The presence in the mesentery of felines (cats,
&c.) of large numbers of Pacinian corpuscles, which are believed to be
modified tactile bodies, favours this supposition. Such animals are
remarkable for the delicacy of such muscular movements, as balancing and
leaping.
There is another channel by which nervous impulses reach the sensorium
and play their part in the sense of equilibrium, namely, from the
semicircular canals, a portion of the internal ear. It is pointed out in the
article Hearing that the appreciation of sound is in reality an appreciation of
variations of pressure. The labyrinth consists of the vestibule, the cochlea
and the semicircular canals. The cochlea receives the sound-waves
(variations of pressure) that constitute musical tones. This it accomplishes
by the structures in the ductus cochlearis. In the vestibule we find two sacs,
the saccule next to and communicating with the ductus cochlearis, and the
utricle communicating with the semicircular canals. The base of the stapes
communicates pressures to the utricle. The membranous portion of the
semicircular canals consists of a tube, dilated at one end into a swelling or
pouch, termed the ampulla, and each end communicates freely with the
utricle. On the posterior wall of both the saccule and of the utricle there is a
ridge, termed in each case the macula acustica, bearing a highly specialized
epithelium. A similar structure exists in each ampulla. This would suggest
that all three structures have to do with hearing; but, on the other hand,
there is experimental evidence that the utricle and the canals may transmit
impressions that have to do with equilibrium. Pressure of the base of the
stapes is exerted on the utricle. This will compress the fluid in that cavity,
and tend to drive the fluid into the semicircular canals that communicate
with that cavity by five openings. Each canal is surrounded by a thin layer
of perilymph, so that it may yield a little to this pressure, and exert a pull or
take part in the mechanism. The presence in the mesentery of felines (cats,
&c.) of large numbers of Pacinian corpuscles, which are believed to be
modified tactile bodies, favours this supposition. Such animals are
remarkable for the delicacy of such muscular movements, as balancing and
leaping.
There is another channel by which nervous impulses reach the sensorium
and play their part in the sense of equilibrium, namely, from the
semicircular canals, a portion of the internal ear. It is pointed out in the
article Hearing that the appreciation of sound is in reality an appreciation of
variations of pressure. The labyrinth consists of the vestibule, the cochlea
and the semicircular canals. The cochlea receives the sound-waves
(variations of pressure) that constitute musical tones. This it accomplishes
by the structures in the ductus cochlearis. In the vestibule we find two sacs,
the saccule next to and communicating with the ductus cochlearis, and the
utricle communicating with the semicircular canals. The base of the stapes
communicates pressures to the utricle. The membranous portion of the
semicircular canals consists of a tube, dilated at one end into a swelling or
pouch, termed the ampulla, and each end communicates freely with the
utricle. On the posterior wall of both the saccule and of the utricle there is a
ridge, termed in each case the macula acustica, bearing a highly specialized
epithelium. A similar structure exists in each ampulla. This would suggest
that all three structures have to do with hearing; but, on the other hand,
there is experimental evidence that the utricle and the canals may transmit
impressions that have to do with equilibrium. Pressure of the base of the
stapes is exerted on the utricle. This will compress the fluid in that cavity,
and tend to drive the fluid into the semicircular canals that communicate
with that cavity by five openings. Each canal is surrounded by a thin layer
of perilymph, so that it may yield a little to this pressure, and exert a pull or
Page 81
pressure on the nerve-endings in each ampulla. Thus impulses may be
generated in the nerves of the ampullae.
The three semicircular canals lie in the three directions in space, and it
has been suggested that they have to do with our appreciation of the
direction of sound. But our appreciation of sound is very inaccurate: we
look with the eyes for the source of a sound, and instinctively direct the ears
or the head, or both, in the direction from which the sound appears to
proceed. But the relationship of the canals on the two sides must have a
physiological significance. Thus (1) the six canals are parallel, two and two;
or (2) the two horizontal canals are in the same plane, while the superior
canal on one side is nearly parallel with the posterior canal of the other.
These facts point to the two sets of canals and ampullae acting as one organ,
in a manner analogous to the action of two retinae for single vision.
We have next to consider how the canals may possibly act in connexion
with the sense of equilibrium. In 1820 J. Purkinje studied the vertigo that
follows rapid rotation of the body in the erect position on a vertical axis. On
stopping the rotation there is a sense of rotation in the opposite direction,
and this may occur even when the eyes are closed. Purkinje noticed that the
position of the imaginary axis of rotation depends on the axis around which
the head revolves. In 1828 M.J.P. Flourens discovered that injury to the
canals causes disturbance to the equilibrium and loss of co-ordination, and
that sections of the canals produce a rotatory movement of a kind
corresponding to the canal that had been divided. Thus division of a
membranous canal causes rotatory movements round an axis at right angles
to the plane of the divided canal. The body of the animal always moves in
the direction of the cut canal. Many other observers have corroborated these
experiments. F. Goltz was the first who formulated the conditions necessary
for equilibration. He put the matter thus:—(1) A central co-ordinating organ
—in the brain; (2) centripetal fibres, with their peripheral terminations—in
generated in the nerves of the ampullae.
The three semicircular canals lie in the three directions in space, and it
has been suggested that they have to do with our appreciation of the
direction of sound. But our appreciation of sound is very inaccurate: we
look with the eyes for the source of a sound, and instinctively direct the ears
or the head, or both, in the direction from which the sound appears to
proceed. But the relationship of the canals on the two sides must have a
physiological significance. Thus (1) the six canals are parallel, two and two;
or (2) the two horizontal canals are in the same plane, while the superior
canal on one side is nearly parallel with the posterior canal of the other.
These facts point to the two sets of canals and ampullae acting as one organ,
in a manner analogous to the action of two retinae for single vision.
We have next to consider how the canals may possibly act in connexion
with the sense of equilibrium. In 1820 J. Purkinje studied the vertigo that
follows rapid rotation of the body in the erect position on a vertical axis. On
stopping the rotation there is a sense of rotation in the opposite direction,
and this may occur even when the eyes are closed. Purkinje noticed that the
position of the imaginary axis of rotation depends on the axis around which
the head revolves. In 1828 M.J.P. Flourens discovered that injury to the
canals causes disturbance to the equilibrium and loss of co-ordination, and
that sections of the canals produce a rotatory movement of a kind
corresponding to the canal that had been divided. Thus division of a
membranous canal causes rotatory movements round an axis at right angles
to the plane of the divided canal. The body of the animal always moves in
the direction of the cut canal. Many other observers have corroborated these
experiments. F. Goltz was the first who formulated the conditions necessary
for equilibration. He put the matter thus:—(1) A central co-ordinating organ
—in the brain; (2) centripetal fibres, with their peripheral terminations—in
Page 82
the ampullae; and (3) centrifugal fibres, with their terminal organs—in the
muscular mechanisms. A lesion of any one of these portions of the
mechanism causes loss or impairment of balancing. Cyon also investigated
the subject, and concluded:—(1) To maintain equilibrium, we must have an
accurate notion of the position of the head in space; (2) the function of the
semicircular canals is to communicate impressions that give a
representation of this position—each canal having a relation to one of the
dimensions of space; (3) disturbance of equilibrium follows section; (4)
involuntary movements following section are due to abnormal excitations;
(5) abnormal movements occurring a few days after the operation are
caused by irritation of the cerebellum.
On theoretical considerations of a physical character, E. Mach, Crum-
Brown and Breuer have advanced theories based on the idea of the canals
being organs for sensations of acceleration of movement, or for the sense of
rotation. Mach first pointed out that Purkinje’s phenomena, already alluded
to, were in all probability related to the semicircular canals. “He showed
that when the body is moved in space, in a straight line, we are not
conscious of the velocity of motion, but of variations in this velocity.
Similarly, if a body is rotated round a vertical axis, we perceive only
angular acceleration and not angular velocity. The sensations produced by
angular acceleration last longer than the acceleration itself, and the position
of the head during the movements enables us to determine direction.” Both
Mach and Goltz state that varying pressures of the fluid in the canals
produced by angular rotation produce sensations of movement (always in a
direction opposite to the rotation of the body), and that these, in turn, cause
the vertigo of Purkinje and the phenomena of Flourens. Mach, Crum-Brown
and Breuer advance hydrodynamical theories in which they assume that the
fluids move in the canals. Goltz, on the other hand, supports a hydrostatical
theory in which he assumes that the phenomena can be accounted for by
varying pressures. Crum-Brown differs from Mach and Breuer as follows:
muscular mechanisms. A lesion of any one of these portions of the
mechanism causes loss or impairment of balancing. Cyon also investigated
the subject, and concluded:—(1) To maintain equilibrium, we must have an
accurate notion of the position of the head in space; (2) the function of the
semicircular canals is to communicate impressions that give a
representation of this position—each canal having a relation to one of the
dimensions of space; (3) disturbance of equilibrium follows section; (4)
involuntary movements following section are due to abnormal excitations;
(5) abnormal movements occurring a few days after the operation are
caused by irritation of the cerebellum.
On theoretical considerations of a physical character, E. Mach, Crum-
Brown and Breuer have advanced theories based on the idea of the canals
being organs for sensations of acceleration of movement, or for the sense of
rotation. Mach first pointed out that Purkinje’s phenomena, already alluded
to, were in all probability related to the semicircular canals. “He showed
that when the body is moved in space, in a straight line, we are not
conscious of the velocity of motion, but of variations in this velocity.
Similarly, if a body is rotated round a vertical axis, we perceive only
angular acceleration and not angular velocity. The sensations produced by
angular acceleration last longer than the acceleration itself, and the position
of the head during the movements enables us to determine direction.” Both
Mach and Goltz state that varying pressures of the fluid in the canals
produced by angular rotation produce sensations of movement (always in a
direction opposite to the rotation of the body), and that these, in turn, cause
the vertigo of Purkinje and the phenomena of Flourens. Mach, Crum-Brown
and Breuer advance hydrodynamical theories in which they assume that the
fluids move in the canals. Goltz, on the other hand, supports a hydrostatical
theory in which he assumes that the phenomena can be accounted for by
varying pressures. Crum-Brown differs from Mach and Breuer as follows:
Page 83
—(1) In attributing movement or variation of pressure not merely to the
endolymph, but also to the walls of the membranous canals and to the
surrounding perilymph; and (2) in regarding the two labyrinths as one
organ, all the six canals being required to form a true conception of the
rotating motion of the head. He sums up the matter thus: “We have two
ways in which a relative motion can occur between the endolymph and the
walls of the cavity containing it—(1) When the head begins to move, here
the walls leave the fluid behind; (2) when the head stops, here the fluid
flows on. In both cases the sensation of rotation is felt. In the first this
sensation corresponds to a real rotation, in the second it does not, but in
both it corresponds to a real acceleration (positive or negative) of rotation,
using the word acceleration in its technical kinematical sense.”
Cyon states that the semicircular canals only indirectly assist in giving a
notion of spatial relations. “He holds that knowledge of the position of
bodies in space depends on nervous impulses coming from the contracting
ocular muscles; that the oculomotor centres are in intimate physiological
relationship with the centres receiving impulses from the nerves of the
semicircular canals; and that the oculomotor centres, thus excited, produce
the movements of the eyeballs, which then determine our notions of spatial
relations.” These views are supported by experiments of Lee on dog-fish.
When the fish is rotated round different axes there are compensating
movements of the eyes and fins. “It was observed that if the fish were
rotated in the plane of one of the canals, exactly the same movements of the
eyes and fins occurred as were produced by experimental operation and
stimulation of the ampulla of that canal.” Sewall, in 1883, carried out
experiments on young sharks and skates with negative results. Lee returned
to the subject in 1894, and, after numerous experiments on dog-fish, in
which the canals or the auditory nerves were divided, obtained evidence
that the ampullae contain sense-organs connected with the sense of
equilibrium.
endolymph, but also to the walls of the membranous canals and to the
surrounding perilymph; and (2) in regarding the two labyrinths as one
organ, all the six canals being required to form a true conception of the
rotating motion of the head. He sums up the matter thus: “We have two
ways in which a relative motion can occur between the endolymph and the
walls of the cavity containing it—(1) When the head begins to move, here
the walls leave the fluid behind; (2) when the head stops, here the fluid
flows on. In both cases the sensation of rotation is felt. In the first this
sensation corresponds to a real rotation, in the second it does not, but in
both it corresponds to a real acceleration (positive or negative) of rotation,
using the word acceleration in its technical kinematical sense.”
Cyon states that the semicircular canals only indirectly assist in giving a
notion of spatial relations. “He holds that knowledge of the position of
bodies in space depends on nervous impulses coming from the contracting
ocular muscles; that the oculomotor centres are in intimate physiological
relationship with the centres receiving impulses from the nerves of the
semicircular canals; and that the oculomotor centres, thus excited, produce
the movements of the eyeballs, which then determine our notions of spatial
relations.” These views are supported by experiments of Lee on dog-fish.
When the fish is rotated round different axes there are compensating
movements of the eyes and fins. “It was observed that if the fish were
rotated in the plane of one of the canals, exactly the same movements of the
eyes and fins occurred as were produced by experimental operation and
stimulation of the ampulla of that canal.” Sewall, in 1883, carried out
experiments on young sharks and skates with negative results. Lee returned
to the subject in 1894, and, after numerous experiments on dog-fish, in
which the canals or the auditory nerves were divided, obtained evidence
that the ampullae contain sense-organs connected with the sense of
equilibrium.
Page 84
It has been found by physicians and aurists that disease or injury of the
canals, occurring rapidly, produces giddiness, staggering, nystagmus (a
peculiar twitching movement of the muscles of the eyeballs), vomiting,
noises in the ear and more or less deafness. It is said, however, that if
pathological changes come on slowly, so that the canals and vestibule are
converted into a solid mass, none of these symptoms may occur. On the
whole, the evidence is in favour of the view that from the semicircular
canals nervous impulses are transmitted, which, co-ordinated with impulses
coming from the visual organs, from the muscles and from the skin, form
the bases of these guiding sensations on which the sense of equilibrium
depends. These impulses may not reach the level of consciousness, but they
call into action co-ordinated mechanisms by which complicated muscular
movements are effected.
Full bibliographical references are given in the article on “The Ear”
by J.G. McKendrick, in Schäfer’s Textbook of Physiology, vol. ii. p.
1194.
(J. G. M.)
EQUINOX (from the Lat. aequus, equal, and nox, night), a term used to
express either the moment at which, or the point at which, the sun
apparently crosses the celestial equator. Since the sun moves in the ecliptic,
it is in the last-named sense the point of intersection of the ecliptic and the
celestial equator. This is the usual meaning of the term in astronomy. There
are two such points, opposite each other, at one of which the sun crosses the
equator toward the north and at the other toward the south. They are called
canals, occurring rapidly, produces giddiness, staggering, nystagmus (a
peculiar twitching movement of the muscles of the eyeballs), vomiting,
noises in the ear and more or less deafness. It is said, however, that if
pathological changes come on slowly, so that the canals and vestibule are
converted into a solid mass, none of these symptoms may occur. On the
whole, the evidence is in favour of the view that from the semicircular
canals nervous impulses are transmitted, which, co-ordinated with impulses
coming from the visual organs, from the muscles and from the skin, form
the bases of these guiding sensations on which the sense of equilibrium
depends. These impulses may not reach the level of consciousness, but they
call into action co-ordinated mechanisms by which complicated muscular
movements are effected.
Full bibliographical references are given in the article on “The Ear”
by J.G. McKendrick, in Schäfer’s Textbook of Physiology, vol. ii. p.
1194.
(J. G. M.)
EQUINOX (from the Lat. aequus, equal, and nox, night), a term used to
express either the moment at which, or the point at which, the sun
apparently crosses the celestial equator. Since the sun moves in the ecliptic,
it is in the last-named sense the point of intersection of the ecliptic and the
celestial equator. This is the usual meaning of the term in astronomy. There
are two such points, opposite each other, at one of which the sun crosses the
equator toward the north and at the other toward the south. They are called
Page 85
vernal and autumnal respectively, from the relation of the corresponding
times to the seasons of the northern hemisphere. The line of the equinoxes
is the imaginary diameter of the celestial sphere which joins them.
The vernal equinox is the initial point from which the right ascensions
and the longitudes of the heavenly bodies are measured (see Astronomy:
Spherical). It is affected by the motions of Precession and Nutation, of
which the former has been known since the time of Hipparchus. The actual
equinox is defined by first taking the conception of a fictitious point called
the Mean Equinox, which moves at a nearly uniform rate, slow varying,
however, from century to century. The true equinox then moves around the
mean equinox in a period equal to that of the moon’s nodes. These two
motions are defined with greater detail in the articles Precession of the
Equinoxes and Nutation.
Equinoctial Gales.—At the time of the equinox it is commonly believed
that strong gales may be expected. This popular idea has no foundation in
fact, for continued observations have failed to show any unusual prevalence
of gales at this season. In one case observations taken for fifty years show
that during the five days from the 21st to the 25th of March and September,
there were fewer gales and storms than during the preceding and succeeding
five days.
EQUITES (“horsemen” or “knights,” from equus, “horse”), in Roman
history, originally a division of the army, but subsequently a distinct
political order, which under the empire resumed its military character.
times to the seasons of the northern hemisphere. The line of the equinoxes
is the imaginary diameter of the celestial sphere which joins them.
The vernal equinox is the initial point from which the right ascensions
and the longitudes of the heavenly bodies are measured (see Astronomy:
Spherical). It is affected by the motions of Precession and Nutation, of
which the former has been known since the time of Hipparchus. The actual
equinox is defined by first taking the conception of a fictitious point called
the Mean Equinox, which moves at a nearly uniform rate, slow varying,
however, from century to century. The true equinox then moves around the
mean equinox in a period equal to that of the moon’s nodes. These two
motions are defined with greater detail in the articles Precession of the
Equinoxes and Nutation.
Equinoctial Gales.—At the time of the equinox it is commonly believed
that strong gales may be expected. This popular idea has no foundation in
fact, for continued observations have failed to show any unusual prevalence
of gales at this season. In one case observations taken for fifty years show
that during the five days from the 21st to the 25th of March and September,
there were fewer gales and storms than during the preceding and succeeding
five days.
EQUITES (“horsemen” or “knights,” from equus, “horse”), in Roman
history, originally a division of the army, but subsequently a distinct
political order, which under the empire resumed its military character.
Page 86
According to the traditional account, Romulus instituted a cavalry corps,
consisting of three centuriae (“hundreds”), called after the three tribes from
which they were taken (Ramnes, Tities, Luceres), divided into ten turmae
(“squadrons”) of thirty men each. The collective name for the corps was
celeres (“the swift,” or possibly from κέλης, “a riding horse”); Livy,
however, restricts the term to a special body-guard of Romulus. The
statements in ancient authorities as to the changes in the number of the
equites during the regal period are very confusing; but it is regarded as
certain that Servius Tuillus found six centuries in existence, to which he
added twelve, making eighteen in all, a number which remained unchanged
throughout the republican period. A proposal by M. Porcius Cato the elder
to supplement the deficiency in the cavalry by the creation of four
additional centuries was not adopted. The earlier centuries were called sex
suffragia (“the six votes”), and at first consisted exclusively of patricians,
while those of Servius Tullius were entirely or for the most part plebeian.
Until the reform of the comitia centuriata (probably during the censorship
of Gaius Flaminius in 220 b.c.; see Comitia), the equites had voted first, but
after that time this privilege was transferred to one century selected by lot
from the centuries of the equites and the first class. The equites then voted
with the first class, the distinction between the sex suffragia and the other
centuries being abolished.
Although the equites were selected from the wealthiest citizens, service
in the cavalry was so expensive that the state gave financial assistance. A
sum of money (aes equestre) was given to each eques for the purchase of
two horses (one for himself and one for his groom), and a further sum for
their keep (aes hordearium); hence the name equites equo publico. In later
times, pay was substituted for the aes hordearium, three times as much as
that of the infantry. If competent, an eques could retain his horse and vote
after the expiration of his ten years’ service, and (till 129 b.c.) even after
entry into the senate.
consisting of three centuriae (“hundreds”), called after the three tribes from
which they were taken (Ramnes, Tities, Luceres), divided into ten turmae
(“squadrons”) of thirty men each. The collective name for the corps was
celeres (“the swift,” or possibly from κέλης, “a riding horse”); Livy,
however, restricts the term to a special body-guard of Romulus. The
statements in ancient authorities as to the changes in the number of the
equites during the regal period are very confusing; but it is regarded as
certain that Servius Tuillus found six centuries in existence, to which he
added twelve, making eighteen in all, a number which remained unchanged
throughout the republican period. A proposal by M. Porcius Cato the elder
to supplement the deficiency in the cavalry by the creation of four
additional centuries was not adopted. The earlier centuries were called sex
suffragia (“the six votes”), and at first consisted exclusively of patricians,
while those of Servius Tullius were entirely or for the most part plebeian.
Until the reform of the comitia centuriata (probably during the censorship
of Gaius Flaminius in 220 b.c.; see Comitia), the equites had voted first, but
after that time this privilege was transferred to one century selected by lot
from the centuries of the equites and the first class. The equites then voted
with the first class, the distinction between the sex suffragia and the other
centuries being abolished.
Although the equites were selected from the wealthiest citizens, service
in the cavalry was so expensive that the state gave financial assistance. A
sum of money (aes equestre) was given to each eques for the purchase of
two horses (one for himself and one for his groom), and a further sum for
their keep (aes hordearium); hence the name equites equo publico. In later
times, pay was substituted for the aes hordearium, three times as much as
that of the infantry. If competent, an eques could retain his horse and vote
after the expiration of his ten years’ service, and (till 129 b.c.) even after
entry into the senate.
Page 87
As the demands upon the services of the cavalry increased, it was
decided to supplement the regulars by the enrolment of wealthy citizens
who kept horses of their own. The origin of these equites equo privato dates
back, according to Livy (v. 7), to the siege of Veii, when a number of young
men came forward and offered their services. According to Mommsen,
although the institution was not intended to be permanent, in later times
vacancies in the ranks were filled in this manner, with the result that service
in the cavalry, with either a public or a private horse, became obligatory
upon all Roman citizens possessed of a certain income. These equites equo
privato had no vote in the centuries, received pay in place of the aes
equestre, and did not form a distinct corps.
Thus, at a comparatively early period, three classes of equites may be
distinguished: (a) The patrician equites equo publico of the sex suffragia;
(b) the plebeian equites in the twelve remaining centuries; (c) the equites
equo privato, both patrician and plebeian.
The equites were originally chosen by the curiae, then in succession by
the kings, the consuls, and (after 443 b.c.) by the censors, by whom they
were reviewed every five years in the Forum. Each eques, as his name was
called out, passed before the censors, leading his horse. Those whose
physique and character were satisfactory, and who had taken care of their
horses and equipments, were bidden to lead their horse on (traducere
equum), those who failed to pass the scrutiny were ordered to sell it, in
token of their expulsion from the corps. This inspection (recognitio) must
not be confounded with the full-dress procession (transvectio) on the 15th
of July from the temple of Mars or Honos to the Capitol, instituted in 304
b.c. by the censor Q. Fabius Maximus Rullianus to commemorate the
miraculous intervention of Castor and Pollux at the battle of Lake Regillus.
Both inspection and procession were discontinued before the end of the
republic, but revived and in a manner combined by Augustus.
decided to supplement the regulars by the enrolment of wealthy citizens
who kept horses of their own. The origin of these equites equo privato dates
back, according to Livy (v. 7), to the siege of Veii, when a number of young
men came forward and offered their services. According to Mommsen,
although the institution was not intended to be permanent, in later times
vacancies in the ranks were filled in this manner, with the result that service
in the cavalry, with either a public or a private horse, became obligatory
upon all Roman citizens possessed of a certain income. These equites equo
privato had no vote in the centuries, received pay in place of the aes
equestre, and did not form a distinct corps.
Thus, at a comparatively early period, three classes of equites may be
distinguished: (a) The patrician equites equo publico of the sex suffragia;
(b) the plebeian equites in the twelve remaining centuries; (c) the equites
equo privato, both patrician and plebeian.
The equites were originally chosen by the curiae, then in succession by
the kings, the consuls, and (after 443 b.c.) by the censors, by whom they
were reviewed every five years in the Forum. Each eques, as his name was
called out, passed before the censors, leading his horse. Those whose
physique and character were satisfactory, and who had taken care of their
horses and equipments, were bidden to lead their horse on (traducere
equum), those who failed to pass the scrutiny were ordered to sell it, in
token of their expulsion from the corps. This inspection (recognitio) must
not be confounded with the full-dress procession (transvectio) on the 15th
of July from the temple of Mars or Honos to the Capitol, instituted in 304
b.c. by the censor Q. Fabius Maximus Rullianus to commemorate the
miraculous intervention of Castor and Pollux at the battle of Lake Regillus.
Both inspection and procession were discontinued before the end of the
republic, but revived and in a manner combined by Augustus.
Page 88
In theory, the twelve plebeian centuries were open to all freeborn youths
of the age of seventeen, although in practice preference was given to the
members of the older families. Other requirements were sound health, high
moral character and an honourable calling. At the beginning of the
republican period, senators were included in the equestrian centuries. The
only definite information as to the amount of fortune necessary refers to
later republican and early imperial times, when it is known to have been
400,000 sesterces (about £3500 to £4000). The insignia of the equites were,
at first, distinctly military—such as the purple-edged, short military cloak
(trabea) and decorations for service in the field.
With the extension of the Roman dominions, the equites lost their
military character. Prolonged service abroad possessed little attraction for
the pick of the Roman youth, and recruiting for the cavalry from the
equestrian centuries was discontinued. The equites remained at home, or
only went out as members of the general’s staff, their places being taken by
the equites equo privato, the cavalry of the allies and the most skilled
horsemen of the subject populations. The first gradually disappeared, and
Roman citizens were rarely found in the ranks of the effective cavalry. In
these circumstances there grew up in Rome a class of wealthy men, whose
sole occupation it was to amass large fortunes by speculation, and who
found a most lucrative field of enterprise in state contracts and the farming
of the public revenues. These tax-farmers (see Publicani) were already in
existence at the time of the Second Punic War; and their numbers and
influence increased as the various provinces were added to the Roman
dominions. The change of the equites into a body of financiers was further
materially promoted (a) by the lex Claudia (218 b.c.), which prohibited
senators from engaging in commercial pursuits, especially if (as seems
probable) it included public contracts (cf. Flaminius, Gaius); (b) by the
enactment in the time of Gaius Gracchus excluding members of the senate
from the equestrian centuries. These two measures definitely marked off the
of the age of seventeen, although in practice preference was given to the
members of the older families. Other requirements were sound health, high
moral character and an honourable calling. At the beginning of the
republican period, senators were included in the equestrian centuries. The
only definite information as to the amount of fortune necessary refers to
later republican and early imperial times, when it is known to have been
400,000 sesterces (about £3500 to £4000). The insignia of the equites were,
at first, distinctly military—such as the purple-edged, short military cloak
(trabea) and decorations for service in the field.
With the extension of the Roman dominions, the equites lost their
military character. Prolonged service abroad possessed little attraction for
the pick of the Roman youth, and recruiting for the cavalry from the
equestrian centuries was discontinued. The equites remained at home, or
only went out as members of the general’s staff, their places being taken by
the equites equo privato, the cavalry of the allies and the most skilled
horsemen of the subject populations. The first gradually disappeared, and
Roman citizens were rarely found in the ranks of the effective cavalry. In
these circumstances there grew up in Rome a class of wealthy men, whose
sole occupation it was to amass large fortunes by speculation, and who
found a most lucrative field of enterprise in state contracts and the farming
of the public revenues. These tax-farmers (see Publicani) were already in
existence at the time of the Second Punic War; and their numbers and
influence increased as the various provinces were added to the Roman
dominions. The change of the equites into a body of financiers was further
materially promoted (a) by the lex Claudia (218 b.c.), which prohibited
senators from engaging in commercial pursuits, especially if (as seems
probable) it included public contracts (cf. Flaminius, Gaius); (b) by the
enactment in the time of Gaius Gracchus excluding members of the senate
from the equestrian centuries. These two measures definitely marked off the
Page 89
aristocracy of birth from the aristocracy of wealth—the landed proprietor
from the capitalist. The term equites, originally confined to the purely
military equestrian centuries of Servius Tullius, now came to be applied to
all who possessed the property qualification of 400,000 sesterces.
As the equites practically monopolized the farming of the taxes, they
came to be regarded as identical with the publicani, not, as Pliny remarks,
because any particular rank was necessary to obtain the farming of the
taxes, but because such occupation was beyond the reach of all except those
who were possessed of considerable means. Thus, at the time of the
Gracchi, these equites-publicani formed a close financial corporation of
about 30,000 members, holding an intermediate position between the
nobility and the lower classes, keenly alive to their own interests, and ready
to stand by one another when attacked. Although to some extent looked
down upon by the senate as following a dishonourable occupation, they had
as a rule sided with the latter, as being at least less hostile to them than the
democratic party. To obtain the support of the capitalists, Gaius Gracchus
conceived the plan of creating friction between them and the senate, which
he carried out by handing over to them the control (a) of the jury-courts,
and (b) of the revenues of Asia.
(a) Hitherto, the list of jurymen for service in the majority of processes,
both civil and criminal, had been composed exclusively of senators. The
result was that charges of corruption and extortion failed, when brought
against members of that order, even in cases where there was little doubt of
their guilt. The popular indignation at such scandalous miscarriages of
justice rendered a change in the composition of the courts imperative.
Apparently Gracchus at first proposed to create new senators from the
equites and to select the jurymen from this mixed body, but this moderate
proposal was rejected in favour of one more radical (see W.W. Fowler in
Classical Review, July 1896). By the lex Sempronia (123 b.c.) the list was
from the capitalist. The term equites, originally confined to the purely
military equestrian centuries of Servius Tullius, now came to be applied to
all who possessed the property qualification of 400,000 sesterces.
As the equites practically monopolized the farming of the taxes, they
came to be regarded as identical with the publicani, not, as Pliny remarks,
because any particular rank was necessary to obtain the farming of the
taxes, but because such occupation was beyond the reach of all except those
who were possessed of considerable means. Thus, at the time of the
Gracchi, these equites-publicani formed a close financial corporation of
about 30,000 members, holding an intermediate position between the
nobility and the lower classes, keenly alive to their own interests, and ready
to stand by one another when attacked. Although to some extent looked
down upon by the senate as following a dishonourable occupation, they had
as a rule sided with the latter, as being at least less hostile to them than the
democratic party. To obtain the support of the capitalists, Gaius Gracchus
conceived the plan of creating friction between them and the senate, which
he carried out by handing over to them the control (a) of the jury-courts,
and (b) of the revenues of Asia.
(a) Hitherto, the list of jurymen for service in the majority of processes,
both civil and criminal, had been composed exclusively of senators. The
result was that charges of corruption and extortion failed, when brought
against members of that order, even in cases where there was little doubt of
their guilt. The popular indignation at such scandalous miscarriages of
justice rendered a change in the composition of the courts imperative.
Apparently Gracchus at first proposed to create new senators from the
equites and to select the jurymen from this mixed body, but this moderate
proposal was rejected in favour of one more radical (see W.W. Fowler in
Classical Review, July 1896). By the lex Sempronia (123 b.c.) the list was
Page 90
to be drawn from persons of free birth over thirty years of age, who must
possess the equestrian census, and must not be senators. Although this
measure was bound to set senators and equites at variance, it in no way
improved the lot of those chiefly concerned. In fact, it increased the burden
of the luckless provincials, whose only appeal lay to a body of men whose
interests were identical with those of the publicani. Provided he left the tax-
gatherer alone, the governor might squeeze what he could out of the people,
while on the other hand, if he were humanely disposed, it was dangerous for
him to remonstrate.
(b) The taxes of Asia had formerly been paid by the inhabitants
themselves in the shape of a fixed sum. Gracchus ordered that the taxes,
direct and indirect, should be increased, and that the farming of them should
be put up to auction at Rome. By this arrangement the provincials were
ignored, and everything was left in the hands of the capitalists.
From this time dates the existence of the equestrian order as an officially
recognized political instrument. When the control of the courts passed into
the hands of the property equites, all who were summoned to undertake the
duties of judices were called equites; the ordo judicum (the official title)
and the ordo equester were regarded as identical. It is probable that certain
privileges of the equites were due to Gracchus; that of wearing the gold
ring, hitherto reserved for senators; that of special seats in the theatre,
subsequently withdrawn (probably by Sulla) and restored by the lex
Othonis (67 b.c.); the narrow band of purple on the tunic as distinguished
from the broad band worn by the senators.
Various attempts were made by the senate to regain control of the courts,
but without success. The lex Livia of M. Livius Drusus (q.v.), passed with
that object, but irregularly and by the aid of violence, was annulled by the
senate itself. In 82 Sulla restored the right of serving as judices to the
senate, to which he elevated 300 of the most influential equites, whose
possess the equestrian census, and must not be senators. Although this
measure was bound to set senators and equites at variance, it in no way
improved the lot of those chiefly concerned. In fact, it increased the burden
of the luckless provincials, whose only appeal lay to a body of men whose
interests were identical with those of the publicani. Provided he left the tax-
gatherer alone, the governor might squeeze what he could out of the people,
while on the other hand, if he were humanely disposed, it was dangerous for
him to remonstrate.
(b) The taxes of Asia had formerly been paid by the inhabitants
themselves in the shape of a fixed sum. Gracchus ordered that the taxes,
direct and indirect, should be increased, and that the farming of them should
be put up to auction at Rome. By this arrangement the provincials were
ignored, and everything was left in the hands of the capitalists.
From this time dates the existence of the equestrian order as an officially
recognized political instrument. When the control of the courts passed into
the hands of the property equites, all who were summoned to undertake the
duties of judices were called equites; the ordo judicum (the official title)
and the ordo equester were regarded as identical. It is probable that certain
privileges of the equites were due to Gracchus; that of wearing the gold
ring, hitherto reserved for senators; that of special seats in the theatre,
subsequently withdrawn (probably by Sulla) and restored by the lex
Othonis (67 b.c.); the narrow band of purple on the tunic as distinguished
from the broad band worn by the senators.
Various attempts were made by the senate to regain control of the courts,
but without success. The lex Livia of M. Livius Drusus (q.v.), passed with
that object, but irregularly and by the aid of violence, was annulled by the
senate itself. In 82 Sulla restored the right of serving as judices to the
senate, to which he elevated 300 of the most influential equites, whose
Page 91
support he thus hoped to secure; at the same time he indirectly dealt a blow
at the order generally, by abolishing the office of the censor (immediately
revived), in whom was vested the right of bestowing the public horse. To
this period Mommsen assigns the regulation, generally attributed to
Augustus, that the sons of senators should be knights by right of birth. By
the lex Aurelia (70 b.c.) the judices were to be chosen in equal numbers
from senators, equites and tribuni aerarii (see Aerarium), (the last-named
being closely connected with the equites), who thus practically commanded
a majority. About this time the influence of the equestrian order reached its
height, and Cicero’s great object was to reconcile it with the senate. In this
he was successful at the time of the Catilinarian conspiracy, in the
suppression of which he was materially aided by the equites. But the union
did not last long; shortly afterwards the majority ranged themselves on the
side of Julius Caesar, who did away with the tribuni aerarii as judices, and
replaced them by equites.
Augustus undertook the thorough reorganization of the equestrian order
on a military basis. The equites equo privato were abolished (according to
Herzog, not till the reign of Tiberius) and the term equites was officially
limited to the equites equo publico, although all who possessed the property
qualification were still considered to belong to the “equestrian order.” For
the equites equo publico high moral character, good health and the
equestrian fortune were necessary. Although free birth was considered
indispensable, the right of wearing the gold ring (jus anuli aurei) was
frequently bestowed by the emperor upon freedmen, who thereby became
ingenui and eligible as equites. Tiberius, however, insisted upon free birth
on the father’s side to the third generation. Extreme youth was no bar; the
emperor Marcus Aurelius had been an eques at the age of six. The sons of
senators were eligible by right of birth, and appear to have been known as
equites illustres. The right of bestowing the equus publicus was vested in
at the order generally, by abolishing the office of the censor (immediately
revived), in whom was vested the right of bestowing the public horse. To
this period Mommsen assigns the regulation, generally attributed to
Augustus, that the sons of senators should be knights by right of birth. By
the lex Aurelia (70 b.c.) the judices were to be chosen in equal numbers
from senators, equites and tribuni aerarii (see Aerarium), (the last-named
being closely connected with the equites), who thus practically commanded
a majority. About this time the influence of the equestrian order reached its
height, and Cicero’s great object was to reconcile it with the senate. In this
he was successful at the time of the Catilinarian conspiracy, in the
suppression of which he was materially aided by the equites. But the union
did not last long; shortly afterwards the majority ranged themselves on the
side of Julius Caesar, who did away with the tribuni aerarii as judices, and
replaced them by equites.
Augustus undertook the thorough reorganization of the equestrian order
on a military basis. The equites equo privato were abolished (according to
Herzog, not till the reign of Tiberius) and the term equites was officially
limited to the equites equo publico, although all who possessed the property
qualification were still considered to belong to the “equestrian order.” For
the equites equo publico high moral character, good health and the
equestrian fortune were necessary. Although free birth was considered
indispensable, the right of wearing the gold ring (jus anuli aurei) was
frequently bestowed by the emperor upon freedmen, who thereby became
ingenui and eligible as equites. Tiberius, however, insisted upon free birth
on the father’s side to the third generation. Extreme youth was no bar; the
emperor Marcus Aurelius had been an eques at the age of six. The sons of
senators were eligible by right of birth, and appear to have been known as
equites illustres. The right of bestowing the equus publicus was vested in
Page 92
the emperor; once given, it was for life, and was only forfeitable through
degradation for some offence or the loss of the equestrian fortune.
Augustus divided the equites into six turmae (regarded by Hirschfeld as a
continuation of the sex suffragia). Each was under the command of a sevir
(ἴλαρχος), who was appointed by the emperor and changed every year.
During their term of command the seviri had to exhibit games (ludi
sevirales). Under these officers the equites formed a kind of corporation,
which, although not officially recognized, had the right of passing
resolutions, chiefly such as embodied acts of homage to the imperial house.
It is not known whether the turmae contained a fixed number of equites;
there is no doubt that, in assigning the public horse, Augustus went far
beyond the earlier figure of 1800. Thus, Dionysius of Halicarnassus
mentions 5000 equites as taking part in a review at which he himself was
present.
As before, the equites wore the narrow, purple-striped tunic, and the gold
ring, the latter now being considered the distinctive badge of knighthood.
The fourteen rows in the theatre were extended by Augustus to seats in the
circus.
The old recognitio was replaced by the probatio, conducted by the
emperor in his censorial capacity, assisted by an advisory board of specially
selected senators. The ceremony was combined with a procession, which,
like the earlier transvectio, took place on the 15th of July, and at such other
times as the emperor pleased. As in earlier times, offenders were punished
by expulsion.
In order to provide a supply of competent officers, each eques was
required to fill certain subordinate posts, called militiae equestres. These
were (1) the command of an auxiliary cohort; (2) the tribunate of a legion;
(3) the command of an auxiliary cavalry squadron, this order being as a rule
degradation for some offence or the loss of the equestrian fortune.
Augustus divided the equites into six turmae (regarded by Hirschfeld as a
continuation of the sex suffragia). Each was under the command of a sevir
(ἴλαρχος), who was appointed by the emperor and changed every year.
During their term of command the seviri had to exhibit games (ludi
sevirales). Under these officers the equites formed a kind of corporation,
which, although not officially recognized, had the right of passing
resolutions, chiefly such as embodied acts of homage to the imperial house.
It is not known whether the turmae contained a fixed number of equites;
there is no doubt that, in assigning the public horse, Augustus went far
beyond the earlier figure of 1800. Thus, Dionysius of Halicarnassus
mentions 5000 equites as taking part in a review at which he himself was
present.
As before, the equites wore the narrow, purple-striped tunic, and the gold
ring, the latter now being considered the distinctive badge of knighthood.
The fourteen rows in the theatre were extended by Augustus to seats in the
circus.
The old recognitio was replaced by the probatio, conducted by the
emperor in his censorial capacity, assisted by an advisory board of specially
selected senators. The ceremony was combined with a procession, which,
like the earlier transvectio, took place on the 15th of July, and at such other
times as the emperor pleased. As in earlier times, offenders were punished
by expulsion.
In order to provide a supply of competent officers, each eques was
required to fill certain subordinate posts, called militiae equestres. These
were (1) the command of an auxiliary cohort; (2) the tribunate of a legion;
(3) the command of an auxiliary cavalry squadron, this order being as a rule
Page 93
strictly adhered to. To these Septimius Severus added the centurionship.
Nomination to the militiae equestres was in the hands of the emperor. After
the completion of their preliminary military service, the equites were
eligible for a number of civil posts, chiefly those with which the emperor
himself was closely concerned. Such were various procuratorships; the
prefectures of the corn supply, of the fleet, of the watch, of the praetorian
guards; the governorships of recently acquired provinces (Egypt, Noricum),
the others being reserved for senators. At the same time, the abolition of the
indirect method of collecting the taxes in the provinces greatly reduced the
political influence of the equites. Certain religious functions of minor
importance were also reserved for them. In the jury courts, the equites,
thanks to Julius Caesar, already formed two-thirds of the judices; Augustus,
by excluding the senators altogether, virtually gave them the sole control of
the tribunals. One of the chief objects of the emperors being to weaken the
influence of the senate by the opposition of the equestrian order, the
practice was adopted of elevating those equites who had reached a certain
stage in their career to the rank of senator by adlectio. Certain official posts,
of which it would have been inadvisable to deprive senators, could thus be
bestowed upon the promoted equites.
The control of the imperial correspondence and purse was at first in the
hands of freedmen and slaves. The emperor Claudius tentatively entrusted
certain posts connected with these to the equites; in the time of Hadrian this
became the regular custom. Thus a civil career was open to the equites
without the obligation of preliminary military service, and the emperor was
freed from the pernicious influence of freedmen. After the reign of Marcus
Aurelius (according to Mommsen) the equites were divided into: (a) viri
eminentissimi, the prefects of the praetorian guard; (b) viri perfectissimi, the
other prefects and the heads of the financial and secretarial departments; (c)
viri egregii, first mentioned in the reign of Antoninus Pius, a title by right of
the procurators generally.
Nomination to the militiae equestres was in the hands of the emperor. After
the completion of their preliminary military service, the equites were
eligible for a number of civil posts, chiefly those with which the emperor
himself was closely concerned. Such were various procuratorships; the
prefectures of the corn supply, of the fleet, of the watch, of the praetorian
guards; the governorships of recently acquired provinces (Egypt, Noricum),
the others being reserved for senators. At the same time, the abolition of the
indirect method of collecting the taxes in the provinces greatly reduced the
political influence of the equites. Certain religious functions of minor
importance were also reserved for them. In the jury courts, the equites,
thanks to Julius Caesar, already formed two-thirds of the judices; Augustus,
by excluding the senators altogether, virtually gave them the sole control of
the tribunals. One of the chief objects of the emperors being to weaken the
influence of the senate by the opposition of the equestrian order, the
practice was adopted of elevating those equites who had reached a certain
stage in their career to the rank of senator by adlectio. Certain official posts,
of which it would have been inadvisable to deprive senators, could thus be
bestowed upon the promoted equites.
The control of the imperial correspondence and purse was at first in the
hands of freedmen and slaves. The emperor Claudius tentatively entrusted
certain posts connected with these to the equites; in the time of Hadrian this
became the regular custom. Thus a civil career was open to the equites
without the obligation of preliminary military service, and the emperor was
freed from the pernicious influence of freedmen. After the reign of Marcus
Aurelius (according to Mommsen) the equites were divided into: (a) viri
eminentissimi, the prefects of the praetorian guard; (b) viri perfectissimi, the
other prefects and the heads of the financial and secretarial departments; (c)
viri egregii, first mentioned in the reign of Antoninus Pius, a title by right of
the procurators generally.
Page 94
Under the empire the power of the equites was at its highest in the time
of Diocletian; in consequence of the transference of the capital to
Constantinople, they sank to the position of a mere city guard, under the
control of the prefect of the watch. Their history may be said to end with the
reign of Constantine the Great.
Mention may also be made of the equites singulares Augusti. The body-
guard of Augustus, consisting of foreign soldiers (chiefly Germans and
Batavians), abolished by Galba, was revived from the time of Trajan or
Hadrian under the above title. It was chiefly recruited from the pick of the
provincial cavalry, but contained some Roman citizens. It formed the
imperial “Swiss guard,” and never left the city except to accompany the
emperor. In the time of Severus, these equites were divided into two corps,
each of which had its separate quarters, and was commanded by a tribune
under the orders of the prefect of the praetorian guard. They were
subsequently replaced by the protectores Augusti.
See further article Rome: History; also T. Mommsen, Römisches
Staatsrecht, iii.; J.N. Madvig, Die Verfassung des römischen Staates, i.;
R. Cagnat in Daremberg and Saglio’s Dictionnaire des antiquités,
where full references to ancient authorities are given in the footnotes;
A.S. Wilkins in Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities
(3rd ed., 1891); E. Belot, Histoire des chevaliers romains (1866-1873);
H.O. Hirschfeld, Untersuchungen auf dem Gebiete der römischen
Verwaltungsgeschichte (Berlin, 1877); E. Herzog, Geschichte und
System der römischen Staatsverfassung (Leipzig, 1884-1891); A.H.
Friedländer, Sittengeschichte Roms, i. (1901); A.H.J. Greenidge,
History of Rome, i. (1904); J.B. Bury, The Student’s Roman Empire
(1893); T.M. Taylor, Political and Constitutional History of Rome
(1899). For a concise summary of different views of the sex suffragia
see A. Bouché-Leclercq’s Manuel des antiquités romaines, quoted in
of Diocletian; in consequence of the transference of the capital to
Constantinople, they sank to the position of a mere city guard, under the
control of the prefect of the watch. Their history may be said to end with the
reign of Constantine the Great.
Mention may also be made of the equites singulares Augusti. The body-
guard of Augustus, consisting of foreign soldiers (chiefly Germans and
Batavians), abolished by Galba, was revived from the time of Trajan or
Hadrian under the above title. It was chiefly recruited from the pick of the
provincial cavalry, but contained some Roman citizens. It formed the
imperial “Swiss guard,” and never left the city except to accompany the
emperor. In the time of Severus, these equites were divided into two corps,
each of which had its separate quarters, and was commanded by a tribune
under the orders of the prefect of the praetorian guard. They were
subsequently replaced by the protectores Augusti.
See further article Rome: History; also T. Mommsen, Römisches
Staatsrecht, iii.; J.N. Madvig, Die Verfassung des römischen Staates, i.;
R. Cagnat in Daremberg and Saglio’s Dictionnaire des antiquités,
where full references to ancient authorities are given in the footnotes;
A.S. Wilkins in Smith’s Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities
(3rd ed., 1891); E. Belot, Histoire des chevaliers romains (1866-1873);
H.O. Hirschfeld, Untersuchungen auf dem Gebiete der römischen
Verwaltungsgeschichte (Berlin, 1877); E. Herzog, Geschichte und
System der römischen Staatsverfassung (Leipzig, 1884-1891); A.H.
Friedländer, Sittengeschichte Roms, i. (1901); A.H.J. Greenidge,
History of Rome, i. (1904); J.B. Bury, The Student’s Roman Empire
(1893); T.M. Taylor, Political and Constitutional History of Rome
(1899). For a concise summary of different views of the sex suffragia
see A. Bouché-Leclercq’s Manuel des antiquités romaines, quoted in
Page 95
Daremberg and Saglio; and on the equites singulares, T. Mommsen in
Hermes, xvi. (1881), p. 458. (J. H. F.)
EQUITY (Lat. aequitas), a term which in its most general sense means
equality or justice; in its most technical sense it means a system of law or a
body of connected legal principles, which have superseded or supplemented
the common law on the ground of their intrinsic superiority. Aristotle
(Ethics, bk. v. c. 10) defines equity as a better sort of justice, which corrects
legal justice where the latter errs through being expressed in a universal
form and not taking account of particular cases. When the law speaks
universally, and something happens which is not according to the common
course of events, it is right that the law should be modified in its application
to that particular case, as the lawgiver himself would have done, if the case
had been present to his mind. Accordingly the equitable man (ἐπιεικής) is
he who does not push the law to its extreme, but, having legal justice on his
side, is disposed to make allowances. Equity as thus described would
correspond rather to the judicial discretion which modifies the
administration of the law than to the antagonistic system which claims to
supersede the law.
The part played by equity in the development of law is admirably
illustrated in the well-known work of Sir Henry Maine on Ancient Law.
Positive law, at least in progressive societies, is constantly tending to fall
behind public opinion, and the expedients adopted for bringing it into
harmony therewith are three, viz. legal fictions, equity and statutory
legislation. Equity here is defined to mean “any body of rules existing by
Hermes, xvi. (1881), p. 458. (J. H. F.)
EQUITY (Lat. aequitas), a term which in its most general sense means
equality or justice; in its most technical sense it means a system of law or a
body of connected legal principles, which have superseded or supplemented
the common law on the ground of their intrinsic superiority. Aristotle
(Ethics, bk. v. c. 10) defines equity as a better sort of justice, which corrects
legal justice where the latter errs through being expressed in a universal
form and not taking account of particular cases. When the law speaks
universally, and something happens which is not according to the common
course of events, it is right that the law should be modified in its application
to that particular case, as the lawgiver himself would have done, if the case
had been present to his mind. Accordingly the equitable man (ἐπιεικής) is
he who does not push the law to its extreme, but, having legal justice on his
side, is disposed to make allowances. Equity as thus described would
correspond rather to the judicial discretion which modifies the
administration of the law than to the antagonistic system which claims to
supersede the law.
The part played by equity in the development of law is admirably
illustrated in the well-known work of Sir Henry Maine on Ancient Law.
Positive law, at least in progressive societies, is constantly tending to fall
behind public opinion, and the expedients adopted for bringing it into
harmony therewith are three, viz. legal fictions, equity and statutory
legislation. Equity here is defined to mean “any body of rules existing by
Page 96
the side of the original civil law, founded on distinct principles, and
claiming incidentally to supersede the civil law in virtue of a superior
sanctity inherent in those principles.” It is thus different from legal fiction,
by which a new rule is introduced surreptitiously, and under the pretence
that no change has been made in the law, and from statutory legislation, in
which the obligatory force of the rule is not supposed to depend upon its
intrinsic fitness. The source of Roman equity was the fertile theory of
natural law, or the law common to all nations. Even in the Institutes of
Justinian the distinction is carefully drawn in the laws of a country between
those which are peculiar to itself and those which natural reason appoints
for all mankind. The connexion in Roman law between the ideas of equity,
nature, natural law and the law common to all nations, and the influence of
the Stoical philosophy on their development, are fully discussed in the third
chapter of the work we have referred to. The agency by which these
principles were introduced was the edicts of the praetor, an annual
proclamation setting forth the manner in which the magistrate intended to
administer the law during his year of office. Each successive praetor
adopted the edict of his predecessor, and added new equitable rules of his
own, until the further growth of the irregular code was stopped by the
praetor Salvius Julianus in the reign of Hadrian.
The place of the praetor was occupied in English jurisprudence by the
lord high chancellor. The real beginning of English equity is to be found in
the custom of handing over to that officer, for adjudication, the complaints
which were addressed to the king, praying for remedies beyond the reach of
the common law. Over and above the authority delegated to the ordinary
councils or courts, a reserve of judicial power was believed to reside in the
king, which was invoked as of grace by the suitors who could not obtain
relief from any inferior tribunal. To the chancellor, as already the head of
the judicial system, these petitions were referred, although he was not at
first the only officer through whom the prerogative of grace was
claiming incidentally to supersede the civil law in virtue of a superior
sanctity inherent in those principles.” It is thus different from legal fiction,
by which a new rule is introduced surreptitiously, and under the pretence
that no change has been made in the law, and from statutory legislation, in
which the obligatory force of the rule is not supposed to depend upon its
intrinsic fitness. The source of Roman equity was the fertile theory of
natural law, or the law common to all nations. Even in the Institutes of
Justinian the distinction is carefully drawn in the laws of a country between
those which are peculiar to itself and those which natural reason appoints
for all mankind. The connexion in Roman law between the ideas of equity,
nature, natural law and the law common to all nations, and the influence of
the Stoical philosophy on their development, are fully discussed in the third
chapter of the work we have referred to. The agency by which these
principles were introduced was the edicts of the praetor, an annual
proclamation setting forth the manner in which the magistrate intended to
administer the law during his year of office. Each successive praetor
adopted the edict of his predecessor, and added new equitable rules of his
own, until the further growth of the irregular code was stopped by the
praetor Salvius Julianus in the reign of Hadrian.
The place of the praetor was occupied in English jurisprudence by the
lord high chancellor. The real beginning of English equity is to be found in
the custom of handing over to that officer, for adjudication, the complaints
which were addressed to the king, praying for remedies beyond the reach of
the common law. Over and above the authority delegated to the ordinary
councils or courts, a reserve of judicial power was believed to reside in the
king, which was invoked as of grace by the suitors who could not obtain
relief from any inferior tribunal. To the chancellor, as already the head of
the judicial system, these petitions were referred, although he was not at
first the only officer through whom the prerogative of grace was
Page 97
administered. In the reign of Edward III. the equitable jurisdiction of the
court appears to have been established. Its constitutional origin was
analogous to that of the star chamber and the court of requests. The latter, in
fact, was a minor court of equity attached to the lord privy seal as the court
of chancery was to the chancellor. The successful assumption of
extraordinary or equitable jurisdiction by the chancellor caused similar
pretensions to be made by other officers and courts. “Not only the court of
exchequer, whose functions were in a peculiar manner connected with royal
authority, but the counties palatine of Chester, Lancaster and Durham, the
court of great session in Wales, the universities, the city of London, the
Cinque Ports and other places silently assumed extraordinary jurisdiction
similar to that exercised in the court of chancery.” Even private persons,
lords and ladies, affected to establish in their honours courts of equity.
English equity has one marked historical peculiarity, viz. that it
established itself in a set of independent tribunals which remained in
standing contrast to the ordinary courts for many hundred years. In Roman
law the judge gave the preference to the equitable rule; in English law the
equitable rule was enforced by a distinct set of judges. One cause of this
separation was the rigid adherence to precedent on the part of the common
law courts. Another was the jealousy prevailing in England against the
principles of the Roman law on which English equity to a large extent was
founded.
When a case of prerogative was referred to the chancellor in the reign of
Edward III., he was required to grant such remedy as should be consonant
to honesty (honestas). And honesty, conscience and equity were said to be
the fundamental principles of the court. The early chancellors were
ecclesiastics, and under their influence not only moral principles, where
these were not regarded by the common law, but also the equitable
principles of the Roman law were introduced into English jurisprudence.
court appears to have been established. Its constitutional origin was
analogous to that of the star chamber and the court of requests. The latter, in
fact, was a minor court of equity attached to the lord privy seal as the court
of chancery was to the chancellor. The successful assumption of
extraordinary or equitable jurisdiction by the chancellor caused similar
pretensions to be made by other officers and courts. “Not only the court of
exchequer, whose functions were in a peculiar manner connected with royal
authority, but the counties palatine of Chester, Lancaster and Durham, the
court of great session in Wales, the universities, the city of London, the
Cinque Ports and other places silently assumed extraordinary jurisdiction
similar to that exercised in the court of chancery.” Even private persons,
lords and ladies, affected to establish in their honours courts of equity.
English equity has one marked historical peculiarity, viz. that it
established itself in a set of independent tribunals which remained in
standing contrast to the ordinary courts for many hundred years. In Roman
law the judge gave the preference to the equitable rule; in English law the
equitable rule was enforced by a distinct set of judges. One cause of this
separation was the rigid adherence to precedent on the part of the common
law courts. Another was the jealousy prevailing in England against the
principles of the Roman law on which English equity to a large extent was
founded.
When a case of prerogative was referred to the chancellor in the reign of
Edward III., he was required to grant such remedy as should be consonant
to honesty (honestas). And honesty, conscience and equity were said to be
the fundamental principles of the court. The early chancellors were
ecclesiastics, and under their influence not only moral principles, where
these were not regarded by the common law, but also the equitable
principles of the Roman law were introduced into English jurisprudence.
Page 98
Between this point and the time when equity became settled as a portion of
the legal system, having fixed principles of its own, various views of its
nature seem to have prevailed. For a long time it was thought that
precedents could have no place in equity, inasmuch as it professed in each
case to do that which was just; and we find this view maintained by
common lawyers after it had been abandoned by the professors of equity
themselves. G. Spence, in his book on the Equitable Jurisdiction of the
Court of Chancery, quotes a case in the reign of Charles II., in which chief
justice Vaughan said:
“I wonder to hear of citing of precedents in matter of equity, for if
there be equity in a case, that equity is an universal truth, and there can
be no precedent in it; so that in any precedent that can be produced, if it
be the same with this case, the reason and equity is the same in itself;
and if the precedent be not the same case with this it is not to be cited.”
But the lord keeper Bridgeman answered:
“Certainly precedents are very necessary and useful to us, for in
them we may find the reasons of the equity to guide us, and besides the
authority of those who made them is much to be regarded. We shall
suppose they did it upon great consideration and weighing of the
matter, and it would be very strange and very ill if we should disturb
and set aside what has been the course for a long series of times and
ages.”
Selden’s description is well known: “Equity is a roguish thing. ’Tis all
one as if they should make the standard for measure the chancellor’s foot.”
Lord Nottingham in 1676 reconciled the ancient theory and the established
practice by saying that the conscience which guided the court was not the
natural conscience of the man, but the civil and political conscience of the
judge. The same tendency of equity to settle into a system of law is seen in
the legal system, having fixed principles of its own, various views of its
nature seem to have prevailed. For a long time it was thought that
precedents could have no place in equity, inasmuch as it professed in each
case to do that which was just; and we find this view maintained by
common lawyers after it had been abandoned by the professors of equity
themselves. G. Spence, in his book on the Equitable Jurisdiction of the
Court of Chancery, quotes a case in the reign of Charles II., in which chief
justice Vaughan said:
“I wonder to hear of citing of precedents in matter of equity, for if
there be equity in a case, that equity is an universal truth, and there can
be no precedent in it; so that in any precedent that can be produced, if it
be the same with this case, the reason and equity is the same in itself;
and if the precedent be not the same case with this it is not to be cited.”
But the lord keeper Bridgeman answered:
“Certainly precedents are very necessary and useful to us, for in
them we may find the reasons of the equity to guide us, and besides the
authority of those who made them is much to be regarded. We shall
suppose they did it upon great consideration and weighing of the
matter, and it would be very strange and very ill if we should disturb
and set aside what has been the course for a long series of times and
ages.”
Selden’s description is well known: “Equity is a roguish thing. ’Tis all
one as if they should make the standard for measure the chancellor’s foot.”
Lord Nottingham in 1676 reconciled the ancient theory and the established
practice by saying that the conscience which guided the court was not the
natural conscience of the man, but the civil and political conscience of the
judge. The same tendency of equity to settle into a system of law is seen in
Page 99
the recognition of its limits—in the fact that it did not attempt in all cases to
give a remedy when the rule of the common law was contrary to justice.
Cases of hardship, which the early chancellors would certainly have
relieved, were passed over by later judges, simply because no precedent
could be found for their interference. The point at which the introduction of
new principles of equity finally stopped is fixed by Sir Henry Maine in the
chancellorship of Lord Eldon, who held that the doctrines of the court ought
to be as well settled and made as uniform almost as those of the common
law. From that time certainly equity, like common law, has professed to take
its principles wholly from recorded decisions and statute law. The view
(traceable no doubt to the Aristotelian definition) that equity mitigates the
hardships of the law where the law errs through being framed in universals,
is to be found in some of the earlier writings. Thus in the Doctor and
Student it is said:
“Law makers take heed to such things as may often come, and not to
every particular case, for they could not though they would; therefore,
in some cases it is necessary to leave the words of the law and follow
that reason and justice requireth, and to that intent equity is ordained,
that is to say, to temper and mitigate the rigour of the law.”
And Lord Ellesmere said:
“The cause why there is a chancery is for that men’s actions are so
divers and infinite that it is impossible to make any general law which
shall aptly meet with every particular act and not fail in some
circumstances.”
Modern equity, it need hardly be said, does not profess to soften the
rigour of the law, or to correct the errors into which it falls by reason of its
generality.
give a remedy when the rule of the common law was contrary to justice.
Cases of hardship, which the early chancellors would certainly have
relieved, were passed over by later judges, simply because no precedent
could be found for their interference. The point at which the introduction of
new principles of equity finally stopped is fixed by Sir Henry Maine in the
chancellorship of Lord Eldon, who held that the doctrines of the court ought
to be as well settled and made as uniform almost as those of the common
law. From that time certainly equity, like common law, has professed to take
its principles wholly from recorded decisions and statute law. The view
(traceable no doubt to the Aristotelian definition) that equity mitigates the
hardships of the law where the law errs through being framed in universals,
is to be found in some of the earlier writings. Thus in the Doctor and
Student it is said:
“Law makers take heed to such things as may often come, and not to
every particular case, for they could not though they would; therefore,
in some cases it is necessary to leave the words of the law and follow
that reason and justice requireth, and to that intent equity is ordained,
that is to say, to temper and mitigate the rigour of the law.”
And Lord Ellesmere said:
“The cause why there is a chancery is for that men’s actions are so
divers and infinite that it is impossible to make any general law which
shall aptly meet with every particular act and not fail in some
circumstances.”
Modern equity, it need hardly be said, does not profess to soften the
rigour of the law, or to correct the errors into which it falls by reason of its
generality.
Page 100
To give any account, even in outline, of the subject matter of equity
within the necessary limits of this article would be impossible. It will be
sufficient to say here that the classification generally adopted by text-
writers is based upon the relations of equity to the common law, of which
some explanation is given above. Thus equitable jurisdiction is said to be
exclusive, concurrent or auxiliary. Equity has exclusive jurisdiction where it
recognizes rights which are unknown to the common law. The most
important example is trusts. Equity has concurrent jurisdiction in cases
where the law recognized the right but did not give adequate relief, or did
not give relief without circuity of action or some similar inconvenience.
And equity has auxiliary jurisdiction when the machinery of the courts of
law was unable to procure the necessary evidence.
“The evils of this double system of judicature,” says the report of the
judicature commission (1863-1867), “and the confusion and conflict of
jurisdiction to which it has led, have been long known and acknowledged.”
A partial attempt to meet the difficulty was made by several acts of
parliament (passed after the reports of commissions appointed in 1850 and
1851), which enabled courts of law and equity both to exercise certain
powers formerly peculiar to one or other of them. A more complete remedy
was introduced by the Judicature Act 1873, which consolidated the courts
of law and equity, and ordered that law and equity should be administered
concurrently according to the rules contained in the 26th section of the act.
At the same time many matters of equitable jurisdiction are still left to the
chancery division of the High Court in the first instance. (See Chancery.)
Authorities.—The principles of equity as set out by the following
writers may be consulted: J. Story, J.W. Smith, H.A. Smith and W.
Ashburner; and for the history see G. Spence, The Equitable
Jurisdiction of the Court of Chancery (2 vols., 1846-1849); D.M.
within the necessary limits of this article would be impossible. It will be
sufficient to say here that the classification generally adopted by text-
writers is based upon the relations of equity to the common law, of which
some explanation is given above. Thus equitable jurisdiction is said to be
exclusive, concurrent or auxiliary. Equity has exclusive jurisdiction where it
recognizes rights which are unknown to the common law. The most
important example is trusts. Equity has concurrent jurisdiction in cases
where the law recognized the right but did not give adequate relief, or did
not give relief without circuity of action or some similar inconvenience.
And equity has auxiliary jurisdiction when the machinery of the courts of
law was unable to procure the necessary evidence.
“The evils of this double system of judicature,” says the report of the
judicature commission (1863-1867), “and the confusion and conflict of
jurisdiction to which it has led, have been long known and acknowledged.”
A partial attempt to meet the difficulty was made by several acts of
parliament (passed after the reports of commissions appointed in 1850 and
1851), which enabled courts of law and equity both to exercise certain
powers formerly peculiar to one or other of them. A more complete remedy
was introduced by the Judicature Act 1873, which consolidated the courts
of law and equity, and ordered that law and equity should be administered
concurrently according to the rules contained in the 26th section of the act.
At the same time many matters of equitable jurisdiction are still left to the
chancery division of the High Court in the first instance. (See Chancery.)
Authorities.—The principles of equity as set out by the following
writers may be consulted: J. Story, J.W. Smith, H.A. Smith and W.
Ashburner; and for the history see G. Spence, The Equitable
Jurisdiction of the Court of Chancery (2 vols., 1846-1849); D.M.
Page 101
Kerly, Historical Sketch of the Equitable Jurisdiction of the Court of
Chancery (1890).
EQUIVALENT, in chemistry, the proportion of an element which will
combine with or replace unit weight of hydrogen. When multiplied by the
valency it gives the atomic weight. The determination of equivalent weights
is treated in the article Stoichiometry. (See also Chemistry.) In a more
general sense the term “equivalent” is used to denote quantities of
substances which neutralize one another, as for example NaOH, HCl,
½H2SO4, ½Ba(OH)2.
ÉRARD, SÉBASTIEN (1752-1831), French manufacturer of musical
instruments, distinguished especially for the improvements he made upon
the harp and the pianoforte, was born at Strassburg on the 5th of April 1752.
While a boy he showed great aptitude for practical geometry and
architectural drawing, and in the workshop of his father, who was an
upholsterer, he found opportunity for the early exercise of his mechanical
ingenuity. When he was sixteen his father died, and he removed to Paris
where he obtained employment with a harpsichord maker. Here his
remarkable constructive skill, though it speedily excited the jealousy of his
master and procured his dismissal, almost equally soon attracted the notice
Chancery (1890).
EQUIVALENT, in chemistry, the proportion of an element which will
combine with or replace unit weight of hydrogen. When multiplied by the
valency it gives the atomic weight. The determination of equivalent weights
is treated in the article Stoichiometry. (See also Chemistry.) In a more
general sense the term “equivalent” is used to denote quantities of
substances which neutralize one another, as for example NaOH, HCl,
½H2SO4, ½Ba(OH)2.
ÉRARD, SÉBASTIEN (1752-1831), French manufacturer of musical
instruments, distinguished especially for the improvements he made upon
the harp and the pianoforte, was born at Strassburg on the 5th of April 1752.
While a boy he showed great aptitude for practical geometry and
architectural drawing, and in the workshop of his father, who was an
upholsterer, he found opportunity for the early exercise of his mechanical
ingenuity. When he was sixteen his father died, and he removed to Paris
where he obtained employment with a harpsichord maker. Here his
remarkable constructive skill, though it speedily excited the jealousy of his
master and procured his dismissal, almost equally soon attracted the notice
Page 102
of musicians and musical instrument makers of eminence. Before he was
twenty-five he set up in business for himself, his first workshop being a
room in the hotel of the duchesse de Villeroi, who gave him warm
encouragement. Here he constructed in 1780 his first pianoforte, which was
also one of the first manufactured in France. It quickly secured for its maker
such a reputation that he was soon overwhelmed with commissions, and
finding assistance necessary, he sent for his brother, Jean Baptiste, in
conjunction with whom he established in the rue de Bourbon, in the
Faubourg St Germain, a piano manufactory, which in a few years became
one of the most celebrated in Europe. On the outbreak of the Revolution he
went to London where he established a factory. Returning to Paris in 1796,
he soon afterwards introduced grand pianofortes, made in the English
fashion, with improvements of his own. In 1808 he again visited London,
where, two years later, he produced his first double-movement harp. He had
previously made various improvements in the manufacture of harps, but the
new instrument was an immense advance upon anything he had before
produced, and obtained such a reputation that for some time he devoted
himself exclusively to its manufacture. It has been said that in the year
following his invention he made harps to the value of £25,000. In 1812 he
returned to Paris, and continued to devote himself to the further perfecting
of the two instruments with which his name is associated. In 1823 he
crowned his work by producing his model grand pianoforte with the double
escapement. Érard died at Passy, on the 5th of August 1831. (See also Harp
and Pianoforte.)
twenty-five he set up in business for himself, his first workshop being a
room in the hotel of the duchesse de Villeroi, who gave him warm
encouragement. Here he constructed in 1780 his first pianoforte, which was
also one of the first manufactured in France. It quickly secured for its maker
such a reputation that he was soon overwhelmed with commissions, and
finding assistance necessary, he sent for his brother, Jean Baptiste, in
conjunction with whom he established in the rue de Bourbon, in the
Faubourg St Germain, a piano manufactory, which in a few years became
one of the most celebrated in Europe. On the outbreak of the Revolution he
went to London where he established a factory. Returning to Paris in 1796,
he soon afterwards introduced grand pianofortes, made in the English
fashion, with improvements of his own. In 1808 he again visited London,
where, two years later, he produced his first double-movement harp. He had
previously made various improvements in the manufacture of harps, but the
new instrument was an immense advance upon anything he had before
produced, and obtained such a reputation that for some time he devoted
himself exclusively to its manufacture. It has been said that in the year
following his invention he made harps to the value of £25,000. In 1812 he
returned to Paris, and continued to devote himself to the further perfecting
of the two instruments with which his name is associated. In 1823 he
crowned his work by producing his model grand pianoforte with the double
escapement. Érard died at Passy, on the 5th of August 1831. (See also Harp
and Pianoforte.)
Page 103
ERASMUS, DESIDERIUS (1466-1536), Dutch scholar and theologian,
was born on the night of the 27/28th of October, probably in 1466; but his
statements about his age are conflicting, and in view of his own uncertainty
(Ep. x. 29: 466) and the weakness of his memory for dates, the year of his
birth cannot be definitely fixed. His father’s name seems to have been
Rogerius Gerardus. He himself was christened Herasmus; but in 1503,
when becoming familiar with Greek, he assimilated the name to a fancied
Greek original, which he had a few years before Latinized into Desyderius.
A contemporary authority states that he was born at Gouda, his father’s
native town; but he adopted the style Rotterdammensis or Roterodamus, in
accordance with a story to which he himself gave credence. His first
schooling was at Gouda under Peter Winckel, who was afterwards vice-
pastor of the church. In the dull round of instruction in “grammar” he did
not distinguish himself, and was surpassed by his early friend and
companion, William Herman, who was Winckel’s favourite pupil. From
Gouda the two boys went to the school attached to St Lebuin’s church at
Deventer, which was one of the first in northern Europe to feel the influence
of the Renaissance. Erasmus was at Deventer from 1475 to 1484, and when
he left, had learnt from Johannes Sinthius (Syntheim) and Alexander
Hegius, who had come as headmaster in 1483, the love of letters which was
the ruling passion of his life. At some period, perhaps in an interval of his
time at Deventer, he was a chorister at Utrecht under the famous organist of
the cathedral, Jacob Obrecht.
About 1484 Erasmus’ father died, leaving him and an elder brother Peter,
both born out of wedlock, to the care of guardians, their mother having died
shortly before. Erasmus was eager to go to a university, but the guardians,
acting under a perhaps genuine enthusiasm for the religious life, sent the
boys to another school at Hertogenbosch; and when they returned after two
or three years, prevailed on them to enter monasteries. Peter went to Sion,
near Delft; Erasmus after prolonged reluctance became an Augustinian
was born on the night of the 27/28th of October, probably in 1466; but his
statements about his age are conflicting, and in view of his own uncertainty
(Ep. x. 29: 466) and the weakness of his memory for dates, the year of his
birth cannot be definitely fixed. His father’s name seems to have been
Rogerius Gerardus. He himself was christened Herasmus; but in 1503,
when becoming familiar with Greek, he assimilated the name to a fancied
Greek original, which he had a few years before Latinized into Desyderius.
A contemporary authority states that he was born at Gouda, his father’s
native town; but he adopted the style Rotterdammensis or Roterodamus, in
accordance with a story to which he himself gave credence. His first
schooling was at Gouda under Peter Winckel, who was afterwards vice-
pastor of the church. In the dull round of instruction in “grammar” he did
not distinguish himself, and was surpassed by his early friend and
companion, William Herman, who was Winckel’s favourite pupil. From
Gouda the two boys went to the school attached to St Lebuin’s church at
Deventer, which was one of the first in northern Europe to feel the influence
of the Renaissance. Erasmus was at Deventer from 1475 to 1484, and when
he left, had learnt from Johannes Sinthius (Syntheim) and Alexander
Hegius, who had come as headmaster in 1483, the love of letters which was
the ruling passion of his life. At some period, perhaps in an interval of his
time at Deventer, he was a chorister at Utrecht under the famous organist of
the cathedral, Jacob Obrecht.
About 1484 Erasmus’ father died, leaving him and an elder brother Peter,
both born out of wedlock, to the care of guardians, their mother having died
shortly before. Erasmus was eager to go to a university, but the guardians,
acting under a perhaps genuine enthusiasm for the religious life, sent the
boys to another school at Hertogenbosch; and when they returned after two
or three years, prevailed on them to enter monasteries. Peter went to Sion,
near Delft; Erasmus after prolonged reluctance became an Augustinian
Page 104
canon in St Gregory’s at Steyn, a house of the same Chapter near Gouda.
There he found little religion and less refinement; but no serious difficulty
seems to have been made about his reading the classics and the Fathers with
his friends to his heart’s content. The monastery once entered, there was no
drawing back; and Erasmus passed through the various stages which
culminated in his ordination as priest on the 25th of April 1492.
But his ardent spirit could not long be content with monastic life. He
brought his attainments somehow to the notice of Henry of Bergen, bishop
of Cambrai, the leading prelate at the court of Brussels; and about 1494
permission was obtained for him to leave Steyn and become Latin secretary
to the bishop, who was then preparing for a visit to Rome. But the journey
was abandoned, and after some months Erasmus found that even with
occasional chances to read at Groenendael, the life of a court was hardly
more favourable to study than that of Steyn. At the suggestion of a friend,
James Batt, he applied to his patron for leave to go to Paris University. The
bishop consented and promised a small pension; and in August 1495
Erasmus entered the “domus pauperum” of the college of Montaigu, which
was then under the somewhat rigid rule of the reformer Jan Standonck. He
at once introduced himself to the distinguished French historian and
diplomatist Robert Gaguin (1425-1502) and published a small volume of
poems; and he became intimate with Johann Mauburnus (Mombaer), the
leader of a mission summoned from Windesheim in 1496 to reform the
abbey of Château-Landon. But the life at Montaigu was too hard for him.
Every Lent he fell ill and had to return to Holland to recover. He continued
to read nevertheless for a degree in theology, and at some time completed
the requirements for the B.D. After a year or two he left Montaigu and eked
out his money from the bishop by taking pupils. One of these, a young
Englishman, William Blount, 4th Baron Mountjoy (d. 1534), persuaded him
to visit England in the spring of 1499.
There he found little religion and less refinement; but no serious difficulty
seems to have been made about his reading the classics and the Fathers with
his friends to his heart’s content. The monastery once entered, there was no
drawing back; and Erasmus passed through the various stages which
culminated in his ordination as priest on the 25th of April 1492.
But his ardent spirit could not long be content with monastic life. He
brought his attainments somehow to the notice of Henry of Bergen, bishop
of Cambrai, the leading prelate at the court of Brussels; and about 1494
permission was obtained for him to leave Steyn and become Latin secretary
to the bishop, who was then preparing for a visit to Rome. But the journey
was abandoned, and after some months Erasmus found that even with
occasional chances to read at Groenendael, the life of a court was hardly
more favourable to study than that of Steyn. At the suggestion of a friend,
James Batt, he applied to his patron for leave to go to Paris University. The
bishop consented and promised a small pension; and in August 1495
Erasmus entered the “domus pauperum” of the college of Montaigu, which
was then under the somewhat rigid rule of the reformer Jan Standonck. He
at once introduced himself to the distinguished French historian and
diplomatist Robert Gaguin (1425-1502) and published a small volume of
poems; and he became intimate with Johann Mauburnus (Mombaer), the
leader of a mission summoned from Windesheim in 1496 to reform the
abbey of Château-Landon. But the life at Montaigu was too hard for him.
Every Lent he fell ill and had to return to Holland to recover. He continued
to read nevertheless for a degree in theology, and at some time completed
the requirements for the B.D. After a year or two he left Montaigu and eked
out his money from the bishop by taking pupils. One of these, a young
Englishman, William Blount, 4th Baron Mountjoy (d. 1534), persuaded him
to visit England in the spring of 1499.
Page 105
Being without a benefice, he had no settled income to look to, and apart
from the precarious profits of teaching and writing books, could only wait
on the generosity of patrons to supply him with the leisure he craved. The
faithful Batt had sought a pension for him from his own patroness, Anne of
Borsselen, the Lady of Veere, who resided at the castle of Tournehem near
Calais, and whose son Batt was now teaching. But as nothing promised at
once, Erasmus accepted Mountjoy’s offer, and thus a tie was formed which
led Mountjoy then or a few years later to grant him a pension of £20 for
life. Otherwise the visit to England gave no hope of preferment; and in the
summer Erasmus prepared to leave. He was delayed, and used the interval
to spend two or three months at Oxford, where he found John Colet
lecturing on the Epistle to the Romans. Discussions between them on
theological questions soon convinced Colet of Erasmus’ worth, and he
sought to persuade him to stay and teach at Oxford. But Erasmus could not
be content with the Bible in Latin. Oxford could teach him no Greek, so
away he must go.
In January 1500 he returned to Paris, which though it could offer no
Greek teacher better than George Hermonymus, was at least a better centre
for buying and for printing books. The next few years were spent still in
preparation, supported by pupils’ fees and the dedications of books; the
Collectanea adagiorum in June 1500 to Mountjoy, and some devotional and
moral compositions to Batt’s patroness and her son. When the plague drove
him from Paris, he went to Orleans or Tournehem or St Omer, as the way
opened. From 1502 to 1504 he was at Louvain, still declining to teach
publicly; among his friends being the future Pope Adrian VI. In January
1504 the archduke Philip gave him fifty livres for the Panegyric which “ung
religieux de l’ordre de St Augustin” had composed on his Spanish journey;
and in October, ten more, for the maintenance of his studies.
from the precarious profits of teaching and writing books, could only wait
on the generosity of patrons to supply him with the leisure he craved. The
faithful Batt had sought a pension for him from his own patroness, Anne of
Borsselen, the Lady of Veere, who resided at the castle of Tournehem near
Calais, and whose son Batt was now teaching. But as nothing promised at
once, Erasmus accepted Mountjoy’s offer, and thus a tie was formed which
led Mountjoy then or a few years later to grant him a pension of £20 for
life. Otherwise the visit to England gave no hope of preferment; and in the
summer Erasmus prepared to leave. He was delayed, and used the interval
to spend two or three months at Oxford, where he found John Colet
lecturing on the Epistle to the Romans. Discussions between them on
theological questions soon convinced Colet of Erasmus’ worth, and he
sought to persuade him to stay and teach at Oxford. But Erasmus could not
be content with the Bible in Latin. Oxford could teach him no Greek, so
away he must go.
In January 1500 he returned to Paris, which though it could offer no
Greek teacher better than George Hermonymus, was at least a better centre
for buying and for printing books. The next few years were spent still in
preparation, supported by pupils’ fees and the dedications of books; the
Collectanea adagiorum in June 1500 to Mountjoy, and some devotional and
moral compositions to Batt’s patroness and her son. When the plague drove
him from Paris, he went to Orleans or Tournehem or St Omer, as the way
opened. From 1502 to 1504 he was at Louvain, still declining to teach
publicly; among his friends being the future Pope Adrian VI. In January
1504 the archduke Philip gave him fifty livres for the Panegyric which “ung
religieux de l’ordre de St Augustin” had composed on his Spanish journey;
and in October, ten more, for the maintenance of his studies.
Page 106
He had been working hard at Greek, of which he now felt himself master,
at the Fathers (above all at Jerome), and at the Epistles of St Paul, fulfilling
the promise made to Colet in Oxford, to give himself to sacred learning. But
the bent of his reading is shown by the manuscript with which he returned
to Paris at the close of 1504—Valla’s Annotations on the New Testament,
which Badius printed for him in 1505.
Shortly afterwards Lord Mountjoy invited him again to England, and this
visit was more successful. He found in London a circle of learned friends
through whom he was introduced to William Warham, archbishop of
Canterbury, Richard Foxe, bishop of Winchester and other dignitaries. John
Fisher (bishop of Rochester), who was then superintending the foundation
of Christ’s College for the Lady Margaret, took him down to Cambridge for
the king’s visit; and at length the opportunity came to fulfil his dream of
seeing Italy. Baptista Boerio, the king’s physician, engaged him to
accompany his two sons thither as supervisor of their studies. In September
1506 he set foot on that sacred soil, and took his D.D. at Turin. For a year
he remained with his pupils at Bologna, and then, his engagement
completed, negotiated with Aldus Manutius for a new edition of his Adagia
upon a very different scale. The volume of 1500 had been jejune, written
when he knew nothing of Greek; 800 adages put together with scanty
elucidations. In 1508 he had conceived a work on lines more to the taste of
the learned world, full of apt and recondite learning, and now and again
relieved by telling comments or lively anecdotes. Three thousand and more
collected justified a new title—Chiliades adagiorum; and the author’s
reputation was now established. So secure in public favour did the book in
time become, that the council of Trent, unable to suppress it and not daring
to overlook it, ordered the preparation of a castrated edition.
To print the Adagia he had gone to Venice, where he lived with Andrea
Torresano of Asola (Asulanus) and did the work of two men, writing and
at the Fathers (above all at Jerome), and at the Epistles of St Paul, fulfilling
the promise made to Colet in Oxford, to give himself to sacred learning. But
the bent of his reading is shown by the manuscript with which he returned
to Paris at the close of 1504—Valla’s Annotations on the New Testament,
which Badius printed for him in 1505.
Shortly afterwards Lord Mountjoy invited him again to England, and this
visit was more successful. He found in London a circle of learned friends
through whom he was introduced to William Warham, archbishop of
Canterbury, Richard Foxe, bishop of Winchester and other dignitaries. John
Fisher (bishop of Rochester), who was then superintending the foundation
of Christ’s College for the Lady Margaret, took him down to Cambridge for
the king’s visit; and at length the opportunity came to fulfil his dream of
seeing Italy. Baptista Boerio, the king’s physician, engaged him to
accompany his two sons thither as supervisor of their studies. In September
1506 he set foot on that sacred soil, and took his D.D. at Turin. For a year
he remained with his pupils at Bologna, and then, his engagement
completed, negotiated with Aldus Manutius for a new edition of his Adagia
upon a very different scale. The volume of 1500 had been jejune, written
when he knew nothing of Greek; 800 adages put together with scanty
elucidations. In 1508 he had conceived a work on lines more to the taste of
the learned world, full of apt and recondite learning, and now and again
relieved by telling comments or lively anecdotes. Three thousand and more
collected justified a new title—Chiliades adagiorum; and the author’s
reputation was now established. So secure in public favour did the book in
time become, that the council of Trent, unable to suppress it and not daring
to overlook it, ordered the preparation of a castrated edition.
To print the Adagia he had gone to Venice, where he lived with Andrea
Torresano of Asola (Asulanus) and did the work of two men, writing and
Page 107
correcting proof at the same time. When it was finished, with an ample re-
dedication to Mountjoy, a new pupil presented himself, Alexander Stewart,
natural son of James IV. of Scotland—perhaps through a connexion formed
in early days at Paris. They went together to Siena and Rome and then on to
Campania, thirsty under the summer sun. When they returned to Rome, his
pupil departed to Scotland, to fall a few years later by his father’s side at
Flodden; Erasmus also found a summons to call him northwards.
On the death of Henry VII. Lord Mountjoy, who had been companion to
Prince Henry in his studies, had become a person of influence. He wrote to
Erasmus of a land flowing with milk and honey under the “divine” young
king, and with Warham sent him £10 for journey money. At first Erasmus
hesitated. He had been disappointed in Italy, to find that he had not much to
learn from its famed scholarship; but he had made many friends in Aldus’s
circle—Marcus Musurus, John Lascaris, Baptista Egnatius, Paul
Bombasius, Scipio Carteromachus; and his reception had been flattering,
especially in Rome, where cardinals had delighted to honour him. But to
remain in Rome was to sell himself. He might have the leisure which was
so indispensable, but at price of the freedom to read, think, write what he
liked. He decided, therefore, to go, though with regrets; which returned
upon him sometimes in after years, when the English hopes had not borne
fruit.
In the autumn he reached London, and in Thomas More’s house in
Bucklersbury wrote the witty satire which Milton found “in every one’s
hands” at Cambridge in 1628, and which is read to this day. The Moriae
encomium was a sign of his decision. In it kings and princes, bishops and
popes alike are shown to be in bondage to Folly; and no class of men is
spared. Its author was willing to be beholden to any one for leisure; but he
would be no man’s slave. For the next eighteen months he is entirely lost to
view; when he reappears in April 1511, he is leaving More’s house and
dedication to Mountjoy, a new pupil presented himself, Alexander Stewart,
natural son of James IV. of Scotland—perhaps through a connexion formed
in early days at Paris. They went together to Siena and Rome and then on to
Campania, thirsty under the summer sun. When they returned to Rome, his
pupil departed to Scotland, to fall a few years later by his father’s side at
Flodden; Erasmus also found a summons to call him northwards.
On the death of Henry VII. Lord Mountjoy, who had been companion to
Prince Henry in his studies, had become a person of influence. He wrote to
Erasmus of a land flowing with milk and honey under the “divine” young
king, and with Warham sent him £10 for journey money. At first Erasmus
hesitated. He had been disappointed in Italy, to find that he had not much to
learn from its famed scholarship; but he had made many friends in Aldus’s
circle—Marcus Musurus, John Lascaris, Baptista Egnatius, Paul
Bombasius, Scipio Carteromachus; and his reception had been flattering,
especially in Rome, where cardinals had delighted to honour him. But to
remain in Rome was to sell himself. He might have the leisure which was
so indispensable, but at price of the freedom to read, think, write what he
liked. He decided, therefore, to go, though with regrets; which returned
upon him sometimes in after years, when the English hopes had not borne
fruit.
In the autumn he reached London, and in Thomas More’s house in
Bucklersbury wrote the witty satire which Milton found “in every one’s
hands” at Cambridge in 1628, and which is read to this day. The Moriae
encomium was a sign of his decision. In it kings and princes, bishops and
popes alike are shown to be in bondage to Folly; and no class of men is
spared. Its author was willing to be beholden to any one for leisure; but he
would be no man’s slave. For the next eighteen months he is entirely lost to
view; when he reappears in April 1511, he is leaving More’s house and
Page 108
taking the Moria to be printed privily in Paris. Wherever they were spent,
these must have been months of hard work, as were the years that followed.
His time was now come. The long preparation and training, bought by
privation and uncongenial toil, was over, and he was ready to apply himself
to the scientific study of sacred letters. His English patrons were liberal.
Fisher sent him in August 1511 to teach in Cambridge; Warham gave him a
benefice, Aldington in Kent, worth £33, 6s. 8d. a year, and in violation of
his own rule commuted it for a pension of £20 charged on the living; and
the dedications of his books were fruitful. In Cambridge he completed his
work on the New Testament, the Letters of Jerome, and Seneca; and then in
1514, when there seemed no prospect of ampler preferment, he determined
to transfer himself to Basel and give the results of his labours to the world.
The origin of Erasmus’s connexion with Johann Froben is not clear. In
1511 he was preparing to reprint his Adagia with Jodocus Badius, who in
the following year was to have also Seneca and Jerome. But in 1513
Froben, who had just reprinted the Aldine Adagia, acquired through a
bookseller-agent Erasmus’ amended copy which had been destined for
Badius. That the agent was acting entirely on his own responsibility may be
doubted; for within a few months Erasmus had decided to betake himself to
Basel, bearing with him Seneca and Jerome, the latter to be incorporated in
the great edition which Johannes Amerbach and Froben had had in hand
since 1510. In Germany he was widely welcomed. The Strassburg Literary
Society fêted him, and Johannes Sapidus, headmaster of the Latin school at
Schlettstadt, rode with him into Basel. Froben received him with open arms,
and the presses were soon busy with his books. Through the winter of 1514-
1515 Erasmus worked with the strength of ten; and after a brief visit to
England in the spring, the New Testament was set up. Around him was a
circle of students, some young, some already distinguished—the three sons
of Froben’s partner, Johannes Amerbach, who was now dead, Beatus
Rhenanus, Wilhelm Nesen, Ludwig Ber, Heinrich Glareanus, Nikolaus
these must have been months of hard work, as were the years that followed.
His time was now come. The long preparation and training, bought by
privation and uncongenial toil, was over, and he was ready to apply himself
to the scientific study of sacred letters. His English patrons were liberal.
Fisher sent him in August 1511 to teach in Cambridge; Warham gave him a
benefice, Aldington in Kent, worth £33, 6s. 8d. a year, and in violation of
his own rule commuted it for a pension of £20 charged on the living; and
the dedications of his books were fruitful. In Cambridge he completed his
work on the New Testament, the Letters of Jerome, and Seneca; and then in
1514, when there seemed no prospect of ampler preferment, he determined
to transfer himself to Basel and give the results of his labours to the world.
The origin of Erasmus’s connexion with Johann Froben is not clear. In
1511 he was preparing to reprint his Adagia with Jodocus Badius, who in
the following year was to have also Seneca and Jerome. But in 1513
Froben, who had just reprinted the Aldine Adagia, acquired through a
bookseller-agent Erasmus’ amended copy which had been destined for
Badius. That the agent was acting entirely on his own responsibility may be
doubted; for within a few months Erasmus had decided to betake himself to
Basel, bearing with him Seneca and Jerome, the latter to be incorporated in
the great edition which Johannes Amerbach and Froben had had in hand
since 1510. In Germany he was widely welcomed. The Strassburg Literary
Society fêted him, and Johannes Sapidus, headmaster of the Latin school at
Schlettstadt, rode with him into Basel. Froben received him with open arms,
and the presses were soon busy with his books. Through the winter of 1514-
1515 Erasmus worked with the strength of ten; and after a brief visit to
England in the spring, the New Testament was set up. Around him was a
circle of students, some young, some already distinguished—the three sons
of Froben’s partner, Johannes Amerbach, who was now dead, Beatus
Rhenanus, Wilhelm Nesen, Ludwig Ber, Heinrich Glareanus, Nikolaus
Page 109
Gerbell, Johannes Oecolampadius—who looked to him as their head and
were proud to do him service.
Though from this time forward Basel became the centre of occupation
and interest for Erasmus, yet for the next few years he was mainly in the
Netherlands. On the completion of the New Testament in 1516 he returned
to his friends in England; but his appointment, then recent, as councillor to
the young king Charles, brought him back to Brussels in the autumn. In the
spring of 1517 he went for the last time to England, about a dispensation
from wearing his canonical dress, obtained originally from Julius II. and
recently confirmed by Leo X., and in May 1518 he journeyed to Basel for
three months to set the second edition of the New Testament in progress.
But with these exceptions he remained in proximity to the court, living
much at Louvain, where he took great interest in the foundation of
Hieronymus Busleiden’s Collegium Trilingue. His circumstances had
improved so much, by pensions, the presents which were showered upon
him, and the sale of his books, that he was now in a position to refuse all
proposals which would have interfered with his cherished independence.
The general ardour for the restoration of the arts and of learning created an
aristocratic public, of which Erasmus was supreme pontiff. Luther spoke to
the people and the ignorant; Erasmus had the ear of the educated class. His
friends and admirers were distributed over all the countries of Europe, and
presents were continually arriving from small as well as great, from a
donation of 200 florins, made by Pope Clement VII., down to sweetmeats
and comfits contributed by the nuns of Cologne (Ep. 666). From England,
in particular, he continued to receive supplies of money. In the last year of
his life Thomas Cromwell sent him 20 angels, and Archbishop Cranmer 18.
Though Erasmus led a very hard-working and far from luxurious life, and
had no extravagant habits, yet he could not live upon little. The excessive
delicacy of his constitution, not pampered appetite, exacted some unusual
indulgences. He could not bear the stoves of Germany, and required an
were proud to do him service.
Though from this time forward Basel became the centre of occupation
and interest for Erasmus, yet for the next few years he was mainly in the
Netherlands. On the completion of the New Testament in 1516 he returned
to his friends in England; but his appointment, then recent, as councillor to
the young king Charles, brought him back to Brussels in the autumn. In the
spring of 1517 he went for the last time to England, about a dispensation
from wearing his canonical dress, obtained originally from Julius II. and
recently confirmed by Leo X., and in May 1518 he journeyed to Basel for
three months to set the second edition of the New Testament in progress.
But with these exceptions he remained in proximity to the court, living
much at Louvain, where he took great interest in the foundation of
Hieronymus Busleiden’s Collegium Trilingue. His circumstances had
improved so much, by pensions, the presents which were showered upon
him, and the sale of his books, that he was now in a position to refuse all
proposals which would have interfered with his cherished independence.
The general ardour for the restoration of the arts and of learning created an
aristocratic public, of which Erasmus was supreme pontiff. Luther spoke to
the people and the ignorant; Erasmus had the ear of the educated class. His
friends and admirers were distributed over all the countries of Europe, and
presents were continually arriving from small as well as great, from a
donation of 200 florins, made by Pope Clement VII., down to sweetmeats
and comfits contributed by the nuns of Cologne (Ep. 666). From England,
in particular, he continued to receive supplies of money. In the last year of
his life Thomas Cromwell sent him 20 angels, and Archbishop Cranmer 18.
Though Erasmus led a very hard-working and far from luxurious life, and
had no extravagant habits, yet he could not live upon little. The excessive
delicacy of his constitution, not pampered appetite, exacted some unusual
indulgences. He could not bear the stoves of Germany, and required an
Page 110
open fireplace in the room in which he worked. He was afflicted with the
stone, and obliged to be particular as to what he drank. Beer he could not
touch. The white wines of Baden or the Rhine did not suit him; he could
only drink those of Burgundy or Franche-Comté. He could neither eat, nor
bear the smell of, fish. “His heart,” he said, “was Catholic, but his stomach
was Lutheran.” For his constant journeys he required two horses, one for
himself and one for his attendant. And though he was almost always found
in horse-flesh by his friends, the keep had to be paid for. For his literary
labours and his extensive correspondence he required one or more
amanuenses. He often had occasion, on his own business, or on that of
Froben’s press, to send special couriers to a distance, employing them by
the way in collecting the free gifts of his tributaries.
Precarious as these means of subsistence seem, he preferred the
independence thus obtained to an assured position which would have
involved obligations to a patron or professional duties which his weak
health would have made onerous. The duke of Bavaria offered to dispense
with teaching, if he would only reside, and would have named him on these
terms to a chair in his new university of Ingolstadt, with a salary of 200
ducats, and the reversion of one or more prebendal stalls. The archduke
Ferdinand offered a pension of 400 florins, if he would only come to reside
at Vienna. Adrian VI. offered him a deanery, but the offer seems to have
been of a possible and not an actual deanery. Offers, flattering but equally
vague, were made from France, on the part of the bishop of Bayeux, and
even of Francis I. “Invitor amplissimis conditionibus; offeruntur dignitates
et episcopatus; plane rex essem, si juvenis essem” (Ep. xix. 106; 735).
Erasmus declined all, and in November 1521 settled permanently at Basel,
in the capacity of general editor and literary adviser of Froben’s press. As a
subject of the emperor, and attached to his court by a pension, it would have
been convenient to him to have fixed his residence in Louvain. But the
bigotry of the Flemish clergy, and the monkish atmosphere of the university
stone, and obliged to be particular as to what he drank. Beer he could not
touch. The white wines of Baden or the Rhine did not suit him; he could
only drink those of Burgundy or Franche-Comté. He could neither eat, nor
bear the smell of, fish. “His heart,” he said, “was Catholic, but his stomach
was Lutheran.” For his constant journeys he required two horses, one for
himself and one for his attendant. And though he was almost always found
in horse-flesh by his friends, the keep had to be paid for. For his literary
labours and his extensive correspondence he required one or more
amanuenses. He often had occasion, on his own business, or on that of
Froben’s press, to send special couriers to a distance, employing them by
the way in collecting the free gifts of his tributaries.
Precarious as these means of subsistence seem, he preferred the
independence thus obtained to an assured position which would have
involved obligations to a patron or professional duties which his weak
health would have made onerous. The duke of Bavaria offered to dispense
with teaching, if he would only reside, and would have named him on these
terms to a chair in his new university of Ingolstadt, with a salary of 200
ducats, and the reversion of one or more prebendal stalls. The archduke
Ferdinand offered a pension of 400 florins, if he would only come to reside
at Vienna. Adrian VI. offered him a deanery, but the offer seems to have
been of a possible and not an actual deanery. Offers, flattering but equally
vague, were made from France, on the part of the bishop of Bayeux, and
even of Francis I. “Invitor amplissimis conditionibus; offeruntur dignitates
et episcopatus; plane rex essem, si juvenis essem” (Ep. xix. 106; 735).
Erasmus declined all, and in November 1521 settled permanently at Basel,
in the capacity of general editor and literary adviser of Froben’s press. As a
subject of the emperor, and attached to his court by a pension, it would have
been convenient to him to have fixed his residence in Louvain. But the
bigotry of the Flemish clergy, and the monkish atmosphere of the university
Page 111
of Louvain, overrun with Dominicans and Franciscans, united for once in
their enmity to the new classical learning, inclined Erasmus to seek a more
congenial home in Basel. To Froben his arrival was the advent of the very
man whom he had long wanted. Froben’s enterprise, united with Erasmus’s
editorial skill, raised the press of Basel, for a time, to be the most important
in Europe. The death of Froben in 1527, the final separation of Basel from
the Empire, the wreck of learning in the religious disputes, and the cheap
paper and scamped work of the Frankfort presses, gradually withdrew the
trade from Basel. But during the years of Erasmus’s co-operation the
Froben press took the lead of all the presses in Europe, both in the standard
value of the works published and in style of typographical execution. Like
some other publishers who preferred reputation to returns in money, Froben
died poor, and his impressions never reached the splendour afterwards
attained by those of the Estiennes, or of Plantin. The series of the Fathers
alone contains Jerome (1516), Cyprian (1520), Pseudo-Arnobius (1522),
Hilarius (1523), Irenaeus (Latin, 1526), Ambrose (1527), Augustine (1528),
Chrysostom (Latin, 1530), Basil (Greek, 1532, the first Greek author
printed in Germany), and Origen (Latin, 1536). In these editions, partly
texts, partly translations, it is impossible to determine the respective shares
of Erasmus and his many helpers. The prefaces and dedications are all
written by him, and some of them, as that to the Hilarius, are of importance
for the history as well of the times as of Erasmus himself. Of his most
important edition, that of the Greek text of the New Testament, something
will be said farther on.
In this “mill,” as he calls it, Erasmus continued to grind incessantly for
eight years. Besides his work as editor, he was always writing himself some
book or pamphlet called for by the event of the day, some general fray in
which he was compelled to mingle, or some personal assault which it was
necessary to repel. But though painfully conscious how much his reputation
as a writer was damaged by this extempore production, he was unable to
their enmity to the new classical learning, inclined Erasmus to seek a more
congenial home in Basel. To Froben his arrival was the advent of the very
man whom he had long wanted. Froben’s enterprise, united with Erasmus’s
editorial skill, raised the press of Basel, for a time, to be the most important
in Europe. The death of Froben in 1527, the final separation of Basel from
the Empire, the wreck of learning in the religious disputes, and the cheap
paper and scamped work of the Frankfort presses, gradually withdrew the
trade from Basel. But during the years of Erasmus’s co-operation the
Froben press took the lead of all the presses in Europe, both in the standard
value of the works published and in style of typographical execution. Like
some other publishers who preferred reputation to returns in money, Froben
died poor, and his impressions never reached the splendour afterwards
attained by those of the Estiennes, or of Plantin. The series of the Fathers
alone contains Jerome (1516), Cyprian (1520), Pseudo-Arnobius (1522),
Hilarius (1523), Irenaeus (Latin, 1526), Ambrose (1527), Augustine (1528),
Chrysostom (Latin, 1530), Basil (Greek, 1532, the first Greek author
printed in Germany), and Origen (Latin, 1536). In these editions, partly
texts, partly translations, it is impossible to determine the respective shares
of Erasmus and his many helpers. The prefaces and dedications are all
written by him, and some of them, as that to the Hilarius, are of importance
for the history as well of the times as of Erasmus himself. Of his most
important edition, that of the Greek text of the New Testament, something
will be said farther on.
In this “mill,” as he calls it, Erasmus continued to grind incessantly for
eight years. Besides his work as editor, he was always writing himself some
book or pamphlet called for by the event of the day, some general fray in
which he was compelled to mingle, or some personal assault which it was
necessary to repel. But though painfully conscious how much his reputation
as a writer was damaged by this extempore production, he was unable to
Page 112
resist the fatal facility of print. He was the object of those solicitations
which always beset the author whose name upon the title page assures the
sale of a book. He was besieged for dedications, and as every dedication
meant a present proportioned to the circumstances of the dedicatee, there
was a natural temptation to be lavish of them. Add to this a correspondence
so extensive as to require him at times to write forty letters in one day. “I
receive daily,” he writes, “letters from remote parts, from kings, princes,
prelates and men of learning, and even from persons of whose existence I
was ignorant.” His day was thus one of incessant mental activity; but hard
work was so far from breeding a distaste for his occupation, that reading
and writing grew ever more delightful to him (literarum assiduitas non
modo mihi fastidium non parit, sed voluptatem; crescit scribendo scribendi
studium).
Shortly after Froben’s death the disturbances at Basel, occasioned by the
zealots for the religious revolution which was in progress throughout
Switzerland, began to make Erasmus desirous of changing his residence. He
selected Freiburg in the Breisgau, as a city which was still in the dominion
of the emperor, and was free from religious dissension. Thither he removed
in April 1529. He was received with public marks of respect by the
authorities, who granted him the use of an unfinished residence which had
been begun to be built for the late emperor Maximilian. Erasmus proposed
only to remain at Freiburg for a few months, but found the place so suited to
his habits that he bought a house of his own, and remained there six years.
A desire for change of air—he fancied Freiburg was damp—rumours of a
new war with France, and the necessity of seeing his Ecclesiastes through
the press, took him back to Basel in 1535. He lived now a very retired life,
and saw only a small circle of intimate friends. A last attempt was made by
the papal court to enlist him in some public way against the Reformation.
On the election of Paul III. in 1534, he had, as usual, sent the new pope a
congratulatory letter. After his arrival in Basel, he received a complimentary
which always beset the author whose name upon the title page assures the
sale of a book. He was besieged for dedications, and as every dedication
meant a present proportioned to the circumstances of the dedicatee, there
was a natural temptation to be lavish of them. Add to this a correspondence
so extensive as to require him at times to write forty letters in one day. “I
receive daily,” he writes, “letters from remote parts, from kings, princes,
prelates and men of learning, and even from persons of whose existence I
was ignorant.” His day was thus one of incessant mental activity; but hard
work was so far from breeding a distaste for his occupation, that reading
and writing grew ever more delightful to him (literarum assiduitas non
modo mihi fastidium non parit, sed voluptatem; crescit scribendo scribendi
studium).
Shortly after Froben’s death the disturbances at Basel, occasioned by the
zealots for the religious revolution which was in progress throughout
Switzerland, began to make Erasmus desirous of changing his residence. He
selected Freiburg in the Breisgau, as a city which was still in the dominion
of the emperor, and was free from religious dissension. Thither he removed
in April 1529. He was received with public marks of respect by the
authorities, who granted him the use of an unfinished residence which had
been begun to be built for the late emperor Maximilian. Erasmus proposed
only to remain at Freiburg for a few months, but found the place so suited to
his habits that he bought a house of his own, and remained there six years.
A desire for change of air—he fancied Freiburg was damp—rumours of a
new war with France, and the necessity of seeing his Ecclesiastes through
the press, took him back to Basel in 1535. He lived now a very retired life,
and saw only a small circle of intimate friends. A last attempt was made by
the papal court to enlist him in some public way against the Reformation.
On the election of Paul III. in 1534, he had, as usual, sent the new pope a
congratulatory letter. After his arrival in Basel, he received a complimentary
Page 113
answer, together with the nomination to the deanery of Deventer, the
income of which was reckoned at 600 ducats. This nomination was
accompanied with an intimation that more was in store for him, and that
steps would be taken to provide for him the income, viz., 3000 ducats,
which was necessary to qualify for the cardinal’s hat. But Erasmus was
even less disposed now than he had been before to barter his reputation for
honours. His health had been for some years gradually declining, and
disease in the shape of gout gaining upon him. In the winter of 1535-1536
he was confined entirely to his chamber, many days to his bed. Though thus
afflicted he never ceased his literary activity, dictating his tract On the
Purity of the Church, and revising the sheets of a translation of Origen
which was passing through the Froben press. His last letter is dated the 28th
of June 1536, and subscribed “Eras. Rot. aegra manu.” “I have never been
so ill in my life before as I am now,—for many days unable even to read.”
Dysentery setting in carried him off on the 12th of July 1536, in his 70th
year.
By his will, made on the 12th of February 1536, he left what he had to
leave, with the exception of some legacies, to Bonifazius Amerbach, partly
for himself, partly in trust for the benefit of the aged and the infirm, or to be
spent in portioning young girls, and in educating young men of promise. He
left none of the usual legacies for masses or other clerical purposes, and
was not attended by any priest or confessor in his last moments.
Erasmus’s features are familiar to all, from Holbein’s many portraits or
their copies. Beatus Rhenanus, “summus Erasmi observator,” as he is called
by de Thou, describes his person thus: “In stature not tall, but not noticeably
short; in figure well built and graceful; of an extremely delicate
constitution, sensitive to the slightest changes of climate, food or drink.
After middle life he suffered from the stone, not to mention the common
plague of studious men, an irritable mucous membrane. His complexion
income of which was reckoned at 600 ducats. This nomination was
accompanied with an intimation that more was in store for him, and that
steps would be taken to provide for him the income, viz., 3000 ducats,
which was necessary to qualify for the cardinal’s hat. But Erasmus was
even less disposed now than he had been before to barter his reputation for
honours. His health had been for some years gradually declining, and
disease in the shape of gout gaining upon him. In the winter of 1535-1536
he was confined entirely to his chamber, many days to his bed. Though thus
afflicted he never ceased his literary activity, dictating his tract On the
Purity of the Church, and revising the sheets of a translation of Origen
which was passing through the Froben press. His last letter is dated the 28th
of June 1536, and subscribed “Eras. Rot. aegra manu.” “I have never been
so ill in my life before as I am now,—for many days unable even to read.”
Dysentery setting in carried him off on the 12th of July 1536, in his 70th
year.
By his will, made on the 12th of February 1536, he left what he had to
leave, with the exception of some legacies, to Bonifazius Amerbach, partly
for himself, partly in trust for the benefit of the aged and the infirm, or to be
spent in portioning young girls, and in educating young men of promise. He
left none of the usual legacies for masses or other clerical purposes, and
was not attended by any priest or confessor in his last moments.
Erasmus’s features are familiar to all, from Holbein’s many portraits or
their copies. Beatus Rhenanus, “summus Erasmi observator,” as he is called
by de Thou, describes his person thus: “In stature not tall, but not noticeably
short; in figure well built and graceful; of an extremely delicate
constitution, sensitive to the slightest changes of climate, food or drink.
After middle life he suffered from the stone, not to mention the common
plague of studious men, an irritable mucous membrane. His complexion
Page 114
was fair; light blue eyes, and yellowish hair. Though his voice was weak,
his enunciation was distinct; the expression of his face cheerful; his manner
and conversation polished, affable, even charming.” His highly nervous
organization made his feelings acute, and his brain incessantly active.
Through his ready sympathy with all forms of life and character, his
attention was always alive. The active movement of his spirit spent itself,
not in following out its own trains of thought, but in outward observation.
No man was ever less introspective, and though he talks much of himself,
his egotism is the genial egotism which takes the world into its confidence,
not the selfish egotism which feels no interest but in its own woes. He says
of himself, and justly, “that he was incapable of dissimulation” (Ep. xxvi.
19; 1152). There is nothing behind, no pose, no scenic effect. It may be said
of his letters that in them “tota patet vita senis.” His nature was flexible
without being faultily weak. He has many moods and each mood imprints
itself in turn on his words. Hence, on a superficial view, Erasmus is set
down as the most inconsistent of men. Further acquaintance makes us feel a
unity of character underlying this susceptibility to the impressions of the
moment. His seeming inconsistencies are reconciled to apprehension, not
by a formula of the intellect, but by the many-sidedness of a highly
impressible nature. In the words of J. Nisard, Erasmus was one of those
“dont la gloire a été de beaucoup comprendre et d’affirmer peu.”
This equal openness to every vibration of his environment is the key to
all Erasmus’s acts and words, and among them to the middle attitude which
he took up towards the great religious conflict of his time. The reproaches
of party assailed him in his lifetime, and have continued to be heaped upon
his memory. He was loudly accused by the Catholics of collusion with the
enemies of the faith. His powerful friends, the pope, Wolsey, Henry VIII.,
the emperor, called upon him to declare against Luther. Theological
historians from that time forward have perpetuated the indictment that
Erasmus sided with neither party in the struggle for religious truth. The
his enunciation was distinct; the expression of his face cheerful; his manner
and conversation polished, affable, even charming.” His highly nervous
organization made his feelings acute, and his brain incessantly active.
Through his ready sympathy with all forms of life and character, his
attention was always alive. The active movement of his spirit spent itself,
not in following out its own trains of thought, but in outward observation.
No man was ever less introspective, and though he talks much of himself,
his egotism is the genial egotism which takes the world into its confidence,
not the selfish egotism which feels no interest but in its own woes. He says
of himself, and justly, “that he was incapable of dissimulation” (Ep. xxvi.
19; 1152). There is nothing behind, no pose, no scenic effect. It may be said
of his letters that in them “tota patet vita senis.” His nature was flexible
without being faultily weak. He has many moods and each mood imprints
itself in turn on his words. Hence, on a superficial view, Erasmus is set
down as the most inconsistent of men. Further acquaintance makes us feel a
unity of character underlying this susceptibility to the impressions of the
moment. His seeming inconsistencies are reconciled to apprehension, not
by a formula of the intellect, but by the many-sidedness of a highly
impressible nature. In the words of J. Nisard, Erasmus was one of those
“dont la gloire a été de beaucoup comprendre et d’affirmer peu.”
This equal openness to every vibration of his environment is the key to
all Erasmus’s acts and words, and among them to the middle attitude which
he took up towards the great religious conflict of his time. The reproaches
of party assailed him in his lifetime, and have continued to be heaped upon
his memory. He was loudly accused by the Catholics of collusion with the
enemies of the faith. His powerful friends, the pope, Wolsey, Henry VIII.,
the emperor, called upon him to declare against Luther. Theological
historians from that time forward have perpetuated the indictment that
Erasmus sided with neither party in the struggle for religious truth. The
Page 115
most moderate form of the censure presents him in the odious light of a
trimmer; the vulgar and venomous assailant is sure that Erasmus was a
Protestant at heart, but withheld the avowal that he might not forfeit the
worldly advantages he enjoyed as a Catholic. When by study of his writings
we come to know Erasmus intimately, there is revealed to us one of those
natures to which partisanship is an impossibility. It was not timidity or
weakness which kept Erasmus neutral, but the reasonableness of his nature.
It was not only that his intellect revolted against the narrowness of party, his
whole being repudiated its clamorous and vulgar excesses. As he loathed
fish, so he loathed clerical fanaticism. Himself a Catholic priest—“the glory
of the priesthood and the shame”—the tone of the orthodox clergy was
distasteful to him; the ignorant hostility to classical learning which reigned
in their colleges and convents disgusted him. In common with all the
learned men of his age, he wished to see the power of the clergy broken, as
that of an obscurantist army arrayed against light. He had employed all his
resources of wit and satire against the priests and monks, and the
superstitions in which they traded, long before Luther’s name was heard of.
The motto which was already current in his lifetime, “that Erasmus laid the
egg and Luther hatched it,” is so far true, and no more. Erasmus would have
suppressed the monasteries, put an end to the domination of the clergy, and
swept away scandalous and profitable abuses, but to attack the church or re-
mould received theology was far from his thoughts. And when out of
Luther’s revolt there arose a new fanaticism—that of evangelism, Erasmus
recoiled from the violence of the new preachers. “Is it for this,” he writes to
Melanchthon (Ep. xix. 113; 703), “that we have shaken off bishops and
popes, that we may come under the yoke of such madmen as Otto and
Farel?” Passages have been collected, and it is an easy task, from the
writings of Erasmus to prove that he shared the doctrines of the Reformers.
Passages equally strong might be culled to show that he repudiated them.
The truth is that theological questions in themselves had no attraction for
trimmer; the vulgar and venomous assailant is sure that Erasmus was a
Protestant at heart, but withheld the avowal that he might not forfeit the
worldly advantages he enjoyed as a Catholic. When by study of his writings
we come to know Erasmus intimately, there is revealed to us one of those
natures to which partisanship is an impossibility. It was not timidity or
weakness which kept Erasmus neutral, but the reasonableness of his nature.
It was not only that his intellect revolted against the narrowness of party, his
whole being repudiated its clamorous and vulgar excesses. As he loathed
fish, so he loathed clerical fanaticism. Himself a Catholic priest—“the glory
of the priesthood and the shame”—the tone of the orthodox clergy was
distasteful to him; the ignorant hostility to classical learning which reigned
in their colleges and convents disgusted him. In common with all the
learned men of his age, he wished to see the power of the clergy broken, as
that of an obscurantist army arrayed against light. He had employed all his
resources of wit and satire against the priests and monks, and the
superstitions in which they traded, long before Luther’s name was heard of.
The motto which was already current in his lifetime, “that Erasmus laid the
egg and Luther hatched it,” is so far true, and no more. Erasmus would have
suppressed the monasteries, put an end to the domination of the clergy, and
swept away scandalous and profitable abuses, but to attack the church or re-
mould received theology was far from his thoughts. And when out of
Luther’s revolt there arose a new fanaticism—that of evangelism, Erasmus
recoiled from the violence of the new preachers. “Is it for this,” he writes to
Melanchthon (Ep. xix. 113; 703), “that we have shaken off bishops and
popes, that we may come under the yoke of such madmen as Otto and
Farel?” Passages have been collected, and it is an easy task, from the
writings of Erasmus to prove that he shared the doctrines of the Reformers.
Passages equally strong might be culled to show that he repudiated them.
The truth is that theological questions in themselves had no attraction for
Page 116
him. And when a theological position was emphasized by party passion it
became odious to him. In the words of Drummond: “Erasmus was in his
own age the apostle of common sense and of rational religion. He did not
care for dogma, and accordingly the dogmas of Rome, which had the
consent of the Christian world, were in his eyes preferable to the dogmas of
Protestantism.... From the beginning to the end of his career he remained
true to the purpose of his life, which was to fight the battle of sound
learning and plain common sense against the powers of ignorance and
superstition, and amid all the convulsions of that period he never once lost
his mental balance.”
Erasmus is accused of indifference. But he was far from indifferent to the
progress of the revolution. He was keenly alive to its pernicious influence
on the cherished interest of his life, the cause of learning. “I abhor the
evangelics, because it is through them that literature is everywhere
declining, and upon the point of perishing.” He had been born with the
hopes of the Renaissance, with its anticipation of a new Augustan age, and
had seen this fair promise blighted by the irruption of a new horde of
theological polemics, worse than the old scholastics, inasmuch as they were
revolutionary instead of conservative. Erasmus never flouted at religion nor
even at theology as such, but only at blind and intemperate theologians.
In the mind of Erasmus there was no metaphysical inclination; he was a
man of letters, with a general tendency to rational views on every subject
which came under his pen. His was not the mind to originate, like Calvin, a
new scheme of Christian thought. He is at his weakest in defending free
will against Luther, and indeed he can hardly be said to enter on the
metaphysical question. He treats the dispute entirely from the outside. It is
impossible in reading Erasmus not to be reminded of the rationalist of the
18th century. Erasmus has been called the “Voltaire of the Renaissance.”
But there is a vast difference in the relations in which they respectively
became odious to him. In the words of Drummond: “Erasmus was in his
own age the apostle of common sense and of rational religion. He did not
care for dogma, and accordingly the dogmas of Rome, which had the
consent of the Christian world, were in his eyes preferable to the dogmas of
Protestantism.... From the beginning to the end of his career he remained
true to the purpose of his life, which was to fight the battle of sound
learning and plain common sense against the powers of ignorance and
superstition, and amid all the convulsions of that period he never once lost
his mental balance.”
Erasmus is accused of indifference. But he was far from indifferent to the
progress of the revolution. He was keenly alive to its pernicious influence
on the cherished interest of his life, the cause of learning. “I abhor the
evangelics, because it is through them that literature is everywhere
declining, and upon the point of perishing.” He had been born with the
hopes of the Renaissance, with its anticipation of a new Augustan age, and
had seen this fair promise blighted by the irruption of a new horde of
theological polemics, worse than the old scholastics, inasmuch as they were
revolutionary instead of conservative. Erasmus never flouted at religion nor
even at theology as such, but only at blind and intemperate theologians.
In the mind of Erasmus there was no metaphysical inclination; he was a
man of letters, with a general tendency to rational views on every subject
which came under his pen. His was not the mind to originate, like Calvin, a
new scheme of Christian thought. He is at his weakest in defending free
will against Luther, and indeed he can hardly be said to enter on the
metaphysical question. He treats the dispute entirely from the outside. It is
impossible in reading Erasmus not to be reminded of the rationalist of the
18th century. Erasmus has been called the “Voltaire of the Renaissance.”
But there is a vast difference in the relations in which they respectively
Page 117
stood to the church and to Christianity. Voltaire, though he did not originate,
yet adopted a moral and religious scheme which he sought to substitute for
the church tradition. He waged war, not only against the clergy, but against
the church and its sovereigns. Erasmus drew the line at the first of these. He
was not an anticipation of the 18th century; he was the man of his age, as
Voltaire of his; though Erasmus did not intend it, he undoubtedly shook the
ecclesiastical edifice in all its parts; and, as Melchior Adam says of him,
“pontifici Romano plus nocuit jocando quam Lutherus stomachando.”
But if Erasmus was unlike the 18th century rationalist in that he did not
declare war against the church, but remained a Catholic and mourned the
disruption, he was yet a true rationalist in principle. The principle that
reason is the one only guide of life, the supreme arbiter of all questions,
politics and religion included, has its earliest and most complete exemplar
in Erasmus. He does not dogmatically denounce the rights of reason, but he
practically exercises them. Along with the charm of style, the great
attraction of the writings of Erasmus is this unconscious freedom by which
they are pervaded.
It must excite our surprise that one who used his pen so freely should
have escaped the pains and penalties which invariably overtook minor
offenders in the same kind. For it was not only against the clergy and the
monks that he kept up a ceaseless stream of satiric raillery; he treated
nobles, princes and kings with equal freedom. No 18th century republican
has used stronger language than has this pensioner of Charles V. “The
people build cities, princes pull them down; the industry of the citizens
creates wealth for rapacious lords to plunder; plebeian magistrates pass
good laws for kings to violate; the people love peace, and their rulers stir up
war.” Such outbursts are frequent in the Adagia. These freedoms are part
cause of Erasmus’s popularity. He was here in sympathy with the secret
sore of his age, and gave utterance to what all felt but none dared to whisper
yet adopted a moral and religious scheme which he sought to substitute for
the church tradition. He waged war, not only against the clergy, but against
the church and its sovereigns. Erasmus drew the line at the first of these. He
was not an anticipation of the 18th century; he was the man of his age, as
Voltaire of his; though Erasmus did not intend it, he undoubtedly shook the
ecclesiastical edifice in all its parts; and, as Melchior Adam says of him,
“pontifici Romano plus nocuit jocando quam Lutherus stomachando.”
But if Erasmus was unlike the 18th century rationalist in that he did not
declare war against the church, but remained a Catholic and mourned the
disruption, he was yet a true rationalist in principle. The principle that
reason is the one only guide of life, the supreme arbiter of all questions,
politics and religion included, has its earliest and most complete exemplar
in Erasmus. He does not dogmatically denounce the rights of reason, but he
practically exercises them. Along with the charm of style, the great
attraction of the writings of Erasmus is this unconscious freedom by which
they are pervaded.
It must excite our surprise that one who used his pen so freely should
have escaped the pains and penalties which invariably overtook minor
offenders in the same kind. For it was not only against the clergy and the
monks that he kept up a ceaseless stream of satiric raillery; he treated
nobles, princes and kings with equal freedom. No 18th century republican
has used stronger language than has this pensioner of Charles V. “The
people build cities, princes pull them down; the industry of the citizens
creates wealth for rapacious lords to plunder; plebeian magistrates pass
good laws for kings to violate; the people love peace, and their rulers stir up
war.” Such outbursts are frequent in the Adagia. These freedoms are part
cause of Erasmus’s popularity. He was here in sympathy with the secret
sore of his age, and gave utterance to what all felt but none dared to whisper
Page 118
but he. It marks the difference between 1513 and 1669 that, in a reprint of
the Julius Exclusus published in 1669 at Oxford, it was thought necessary to
leave out a sentence in which the writer of that dialogue, supposed by the
editor to be Erasmus, asserts the right of states to deprive and punish bad
kings. It is difficult to say to what we are to ascribe his immunity from
painful consequences. We have to remember that he was removed from the
scene early in the reaction, before force was fully organized for the
suppression of the revolution. And his popular works, the Adagia, and the
Colloquia (1524), had established themselves as standard books in the more
easy going age, when power, secure in its unchallenged strength, could
afford to laugh with the laughers at itself. At the date of his death the
Catholic revival, with its fell antipathy to art and letters, was only in its
infancy; and when times became dangerous, Erasmus cautiously declined to
venture out of the protection of the Empire, refusing repeated invitations to
Italy and to France. “I had thought of going to Besançon,” he said, “ne non
essem in ditione Caesaris” (Ep. xxx. 74; 1299). In Italy a Bembo and a
Sadoleto wrote a purer Latin than Erasmus, but contented themselves with
pretty phrases, and were careful to touch no living chord of feeling. In
France it was necessary for a Rabelais to hide his free-thinking under a
disguise of revolting and unintelligible jargon. It was only in the Empire
that such liberty of speech as Erasmus used was practicable, and in the
Empire Erasmus passed for a moderate man. Upon the strength of an
established character for moderation he enjoyed an exceptional licence for
the utterance of unwelcome truths; and in spite of his flings at the rich and
powerful, he remained through life a privileged person with them.
But though the men of the keys and the sword let him go his way
unmolested, it was otherwise with his brethren of the pen. A man who is
always launching opinions must expect to be retorted on. And when these
judgments were winged by epigram, and weighted by the name of Erasmus,
who stood at the head of letters, a widespread exasperation was the
the Julius Exclusus published in 1669 at Oxford, it was thought necessary to
leave out a sentence in which the writer of that dialogue, supposed by the
editor to be Erasmus, asserts the right of states to deprive and punish bad
kings. It is difficult to say to what we are to ascribe his immunity from
painful consequences. We have to remember that he was removed from the
scene early in the reaction, before force was fully organized for the
suppression of the revolution. And his popular works, the Adagia, and the
Colloquia (1524), had established themselves as standard books in the more
easy going age, when power, secure in its unchallenged strength, could
afford to laugh with the laughers at itself. At the date of his death the
Catholic revival, with its fell antipathy to art and letters, was only in its
infancy; and when times became dangerous, Erasmus cautiously declined to
venture out of the protection of the Empire, refusing repeated invitations to
Italy and to France. “I had thought of going to Besançon,” he said, “ne non
essem in ditione Caesaris” (Ep. xxx. 74; 1299). In Italy a Bembo and a
Sadoleto wrote a purer Latin than Erasmus, but contented themselves with
pretty phrases, and were careful to touch no living chord of feeling. In
France it was necessary for a Rabelais to hide his free-thinking under a
disguise of revolting and unintelligible jargon. It was only in the Empire
that such liberty of speech as Erasmus used was practicable, and in the
Empire Erasmus passed for a moderate man. Upon the strength of an
established character for moderation he enjoyed an exceptional licence for
the utterance of unwelcome truths; and in spite of his flings at the rich and
powerful, he remained through life a privileged person with them.
But though the men of the keys and the sword let him go his way
unmolested, it was otherwise with his brethren of the pen. A man who is
always launching opinions must expect to be retorted on. And when these
judgments were winged by epigram, and weighted by the name of Erasmus,
who stood at the head of letters, a widespread exasperation was the
Page 119
consequence. Disraeli has not noticed Erasmus in his Quarrels of Authors,
perhaps because Erasmus’s quarrels would require a volume to themselves.
“So thin-skinned that a fly would draw blood,” as the prince of Carpi
expressed it, he could not himself restrain his pen from sarcasm. He forgot
that though it is safe to lash the dunces, he could not with equal impunity
sneer at those who, though they might not have the ear of the public as he
had, could yet contradict and call names. And when literary jealousy was
complicated with theological differences, as in the case of the free-thinkers,
or with French vanity, as in that of Budaeus, the cause of the enemy was
espoused by a party and a nation. The quarrel with Budaeus was strictly a
national one. Cosmopolitan as Erasmus was, to the French literati he was
still the Teuton. Étienne Dolet calls him “enemy of Cicero, and jealous
detractor of the French name.” The only contemporary name which could
approach to a rivalry with his was that of Budaeus (Budé), who was exactly
contemporary, having been born in the same year as Erasmus. Rivals in
fame, they were unlike in accomplishment, each having the quality which
the other wanted. Budaeus, though a Frenchman, knew Greek well;
Erasmus, though a Dutchman, very imperfectly. But the Frenchman
Budaeus wrote an execrable Latin style, unreadable then as now, while the
Teuton Erasmus charmed the reading world with a style which, though far
from good Latin, is the most delightful which the Renaissance has left us.
The style of Erasmus is, considered as Latin, incorrect, sometimes even
barbarous, and far removed from any classical model. But it has qualities
far above purity. The best Italian Latin is but an echo and an imitation; like
the painted glass which we put in our churches, it is an anachronism.
Bembo, Sadoleto and the rest write purely in a dead language. Erasmus’s
Latin was a living and spoken tongue. Though Erasmus had passed nearly
all his life in England, France and Germany, his conversation was Latin;
and the language in which he talked about common things he wrote. Hence
the spontaneity and naturalness of his page, its flavour of life and not of
perhaps because Erasmus’s quarrels would require a volume to themselves.
“So thin-skinned that a fly would draw blood,” as the prince of Carpi
expressed it, he could not himself restrain his pen from sarcasm. He forgot
that though it is safe to lash the dunces, he could not with equal impunity
sneer at those who, though they might not have the ear of the public as he
had, could yet contradict and call names. And when literary jealousy was
complicated with theological differences, as in the case of the free-thinkers,
or with French vanity, as in that of Budaeus, the cause of the enemy was
espoused by a party and a nation. The quarrel with Budaeus was strictly a
national one. Cosmopolitan as Erasmus was, to the French literati he was
still the Teuton. Étienne Dolet calls him “enemy of Cicero, and jealous
detractor of the French name.” The only contemporary name which could
approach to a rivalry with his was that of Budaeus (Budé), who was exactly
contemporary, having been born in the same year as Erasmus. Rivals in
fame, they were unlike in accomplishment, each having the quality which
the other wanted. Budaeus, though a Frenchman, knew Greek well;
Erasmus, though a Dutchman, very imperfectly. But the Frenchman
Budaeus wrote an execrable Latin style, unreadable then as now, while the
Teuton Erasmus charmed the reading world with a style which, though far
from good Latin, is the most delightful which the Renaissance has left us.
The style of Erasmus is, considered as Latin, incorrect, sometimes even
barbarous, and far removed from any classical model. But it has qualities
far above purity. The best Italian Latin is but an echo and an imitation; like
the painted glass which we put in our churches, it is an anachronism.
Bembo, Sadoleto and the rest write purely in a dead language. Erasmus’s
Latin was a living and spoken tongue. Though Erasmus had passed nearly
all his life in England, France and Germany, his conversation was Latin;
and the language in which he talked about common things he wrote. Hence
the spontaneity and naturalness of his page, its flavour of life and not of
Page 120
books. He writes from himself, and not out of Cicero. Hence, too, he
spoiled nothing by anxious revision in terror lest some phrase not of the
golden age should escape from his pen. He confesses apologetically to
Christopher Longolius (Ep. iii. 63; 402) that it was his habit to extemporize
all he wrote, and that this habit was incorrigible; “effundo verius quam
scribo omnia.” He complains that much reading of the works of St Jerome
had spoiled his Latin; but, as Scaliger says (Scaliga 2a), “Erasmus’s
language is better than St Jerome’s.” The same critic, however, thought
Erasmus would have done better “if he had kept more closely to the
classical models.”
In the annals of classical learning Erasmus may be regarded as
constituting an intermediate stage between the humanists of the Latin
Renaissance and the learned men of the age of Greek scholarship, between
Angelo Poliziano and Joseph Scaliger. Erasmus, though justly styled by
Muretus (Varr. Lectt. 7, 15) “eruditus sane vir, ac multae lectionis,” was not
a “learned” man in the special sense of the word—not an “érudit.” He was
more than this; he was the “man of letters”—the first who had appeared in
Europe since the fall of the Roman empire. His acquirements were vast, and
they were all brought to bear upon the life of his day. He did not make a
study apart of antiquity for its own sake, but used it as an instrument of
culture. He did not worship, imitate and reproduce the classics, like the
Latin humanists who preceded him; he did not master them and reduce
them to a special science, as did the French Hellenists who succeeded him.
He edited many authors, it is true, but he had neither the means of forming a
text, nor did he attempt to do so. In editing a father, or a classic, he had in
view the practical utility of the general reader, not the accuracy required by
the gild of scholars. “His Jerome,” says J. Scaliger, “is full of sad blunders”
(Scaliga 2a). Even Julien Garnier could discover that Erasmus “falls in his
haste into grievous error in his Latin version of St Basil, though his Latinity
is superior to that of the other translators” (Pref. in Opp. St. Bas., 1721). It
spoiled nothing by anxious revision in terror lest some phrase not of the
golden age should escape from his pen. He confesses apologetically to
Christopher Longolius (Ep. iii. 63; 402) that it was his habit to extemporize
all he wrote, and that this habit was incorrigible; “effundo verius quam
scribo omnia.” He complains that much reading of the works of St Jerome
had spoiled his Latin; but, as Scaliger says (Scaliga 2a), “Erasmus’s
language is better than St Jerome’s.” The same critic, however, thought
Erasmus would have done better “if he had kept more closely to the
classical models.”
In the annals of classical learning Erasmus may be regarded as
constituting an intermediate stage between the humanists of the Latin
Renaissance and the learned men of the age of Greek scholarship, between
Angelo Poliziano and Joseph Scaliger. Erasmus, though justly styled by
Muretus (Varr. Lectt. 7, 15) “eruditus sane vir, ac multae lectionis,” was not
a “learned” man in the special sense of the word—not an “érudit.” He was
more than this; he was the “man of letters”—the first who had appeared in
Europe since the fall of the Roman empire. His acquirements were vast, and
they were all brought to bear upon the life of his day. He did not make a
study apart of antiquity for its own sake, but used it as an instrument of
culture. He did not worship, imitate and reproduce the classics, like the
Latin humanists who preceded him; he did not master them and reduce
them to a special science, as did the French Hellenists who succeeded him.
He edited many authors, it is true, but he had neither the means of forming a
text, nor did he attempt to do so. In editing a father, or a classic, he had in
view the practical utility of the general reader, not the accuracy required by
the gild of scholars. “His Jerome,” says J. Scaliger, “is full of sad blunders”
(Scaliga 2a). Even Julien Garnier could discover that Erasmus “falls in his
haste into grievous error in his Latin version of St Basil, though his Latinity
is superior to that of the other translators” (Pref. in Opp. St. Bas., 1721). It
Page 121
must be remembered that the commercial interests of Froben’s press led to
the introduction of Erasmus’s name on many a title page when he had little
to do with the book, e.g. the Latin Josephus of 1524 to which Erasmus only
contributed one translation of 14 pages; or the Aristotle of 1531, of which
Simon Grynaeus was the real editor. Where Erasmus excelled was in
prefaces—not philological introductions to each author, but spirited appeals
to the interest of the general reader, showing how an ancient book might be
made to minister to modern spiritual demands.
Of Erasmus’s works the Greek Testament is the most memorable. It has
no title to be considered as a work of learning or scholarship, yet its
influence upon opinion was profound and durable. It contributed more to
the liberation of the human mind from the thraldom of the clergy than all
the uproar and rage of Luther’s many pamphlets. As an edition of the Greek
Testament it has no critical value. But it was the first, and it revealed the
fact that the Vulgate, the Bible of the church, was not only a second-hand
document, but in places an erroneous document. A shock was thus given to
the credit of the clergy in the province of literature, equal to that which was
given in the province of science by the astronomical discoveries of the 17th
century. Even if Erasmus had had at his disposal the MSS. subsidia for
forming a text, he had not the critical skill required to use them. He had at
hand a few late Basel MSS., one of which he sent straight to press,
correcting them in places by collations of others which had been sent to him
by Colet in England. In four reprints, 1519, 1522, 1527, 1535, Erasmus
gradually weeded out many of the typographical errors of his first edition,
but the text remained essentially such as he had first printed it. The Greek
text indeed was only a part of his scheme. An important feature of the
volume was the new Latin version, the original being placed alongside as a
guarantee of the translator’s good faith. This translation, with the
justificatory notes which accompanied it, though not itself a work of critical
scholarship, became the starting-point of modern exegetical science.
the introduction of Erasmus’s name on many a title page when he had little
to do with the book, e.g. the Latin Josephus of 1524 to which Erasmus only
contributed one translation of 14 pages; or the Aristotle of 1531, of which
Simon Grynaeus was the real editor. Where Erasmus excelled was in
prefaces—not philological introductions to each author, but spirited appeals
to the interest of the general reader, showing how an ancient book might be
made to minister to modern spiritual demands.
Of Erasmus’s works the Greek Testament is the most memorable. It has
no title to be considered as a work of learning or scholarship, yet its
influence upon opinion was profound and durable. It contributed more to
the liberation of the human mind from the thraldom of the clergy than all
the uproar and rage of Luther’s many pamphlets. As an edition of the Greek
Testament it has no critical value. But it was the first, and it revealed the
fact that the Vulgate, the Bible of the church, was not only a second-hand
document, but in places an erroneous document. A shock was thus given to
the credit of the clergy in the province of literature, equal to that which was
given in the province of science by the astronomical discoveries of the 17th
century. Even if Erasmus had had at his disposal the MSS. subsidia for
forming a text, he had not the critical skill required to use them. He had at
hand a few late Basel MSS., one of which he sent straight to press,
correcting them in places by collations of others which had been sent to him
by Colet in England. In four reprints, 1519, 1522, 1527, 1535, Erasmus
gradually weeded out many of the typographical errors of his first edition,
but the text remained essentially such as he had first printed it. The Greek
text indeed was only a part of his scheme. An important feature of the
volume was the new Latin version, the original being placed alongside as a
guarantee of the translator’s good faith. This translation, with the
justificatory notes which accompanied it, though not itself a work of critical
scholarship, became the starting-point of modern exegetical science.
Page 122
Erasmus did nothing to solve the problem, but to him belongs the honour of
having first propounded it.
Besides translating and editing the New Testament, Erasmus paraphrased
the whole, except the Apocalypse, between 1517 and 1524. The paraphrases
were received with great applause, even by those who had little
appreciation for Erasmus. In England a translation of them made in 1548
was ordered to be placed in all parish churches beside the Bible. His
correspondence is perhaps the part of his works which has the most
permanent value; it comprises about 3000 letters, which form an important
source for the history of that period. For the same purpose his Colloquia
may be consulted. They are a series of dialogues, written first for pupils in
the early Paris days as formulae of polite address, but afterwards expanded
into lively conversations, in which many of the topics of the day are
discussed. Later in the century they were read in schools, and some of
Shakespeare’s lines are direct reminiscences of Erasmus.
His complete works have been printed twice; by the Froben firm
under the direction of his literary executors (9 vols., Basel, 1540); and
by Leclerc at Leiden (11 vols., 1703-1706). For his life the chief
contemporary sources are a Compendium vitae written by himself in
1524, and a sketch prefixed by Beatus Rhenanus to the Basel edition of
1540. Of his writings he gives an account in his Catalogus
lucubrationum, composed first in January 1523 and enlarged in
September 1524; and also in a letter to Hector Boece of Aberdeen,
written in 1530. An elaborate bibliography, entitled Bibliotheca
Erasmiana, was undertaken by the officials of the Ghent University
Library; it is divided into three sections, for Erasmus’s writings, the
books he edited, and the literature about him. Listes sommaires were
issued in 1893; and since 1897 the completed volumes have been
appearing at intervals. There is an excellent sketch of Erasmus’s life
having first propounded it.
Besides translating and editing the New Testament, Erasmus paraphrased
the whole, except the Apocalypse, between 1517 and 1524. The paraphrases
were received with great applause, even by those who had little
appreciation for Erasmus. In England a translation of them made in 1548
was ordered to be placed in all parish churches beside the Bible. His
correspondence is perhaps the part of his works which has the most
permanent value; it comprises about 3000 letters, which form an important
source for the history of that period. For the same purpose his Colloquia
may be consulted. They are a series of dialogues, written first for pupils in
the early Paris days as formulae of polite address, but afterwards expanded
into lively conversations, in which many of the topics of the day are
discussed. Later in the century they were read in schools, and some of
Shakespeare’s lines are direct reminiscences of Erasmus.
His complete works have been printed twice; by the Froben firm
under the direction of his literary executors (9 vols., Basel, 1540); and
by Leclerc at Leiden (11 vols., 1703-1706). For his life the chief
contemporary sources are a Compendium vitae written by himself in
1524, and a sketch prefixed by Beatus Rhenanus to the Basel edition of
1540. Of his writings he gives an account in his Catalogus
lucubrationum, composed first in January 1523 and enlarged in
September 1524; and also in a letter to Hector Boece of Aberdeen,
written in 1530. An elaborate bibliography, entitled Bibliotheca
Erasmiana, was undertaken by the officials of the Ghent University
Library; it is divided into three sections, for Erasmus’s writings, the
books he edited, and the literature about him. Listes sommaires were
issued in 1893; and since 1897 the completed volumes have been
appearing at intervals. There is an excellent sketch of Erasmus’s life
Page 123
down to 1519 in F. Seebohm’s Oxford Reformers (3rd ed., 1887); and
of the many biographies those by S. Knight (1726), J. Jortin (2 vols.,
1758-1760) and R.B. Drummond (2 vols., 1873) may be mentioned.
There are also two volumes (1901-1904) of translations by F.M.
Nichols from Erasmus’s letters down to 1517, with an ample
commentary which amounts almost to a biography; and an edition of
the letters, in Latin, was begun by the Oxford University Press in 1906
(vol. ii., 1910). (M. P.; P. S. A.)
ERASTUS, THOMAS (1524-1583), German-Swiss theologian, whose
surname was Lüber, Lieber, or Liebler, was born of poor parents on the 7th
of September 1524, probably at Baden, canton of Aargau, Switzerland. In
1540 he was studying theology at Basel. The plague of 1544 drove him to
Bologna and thence to Padua as student of philosophy and medicine. In
1553 he became physician to the count of Henneberg, Saxe-Meiningen, and
in 1558 held the same post with the elector-palatine, Otto Heinrich, being at
the same time professor of medicine at Heidelberg. His patron’s successor,
Frederick III., made him (1559) a privy councillor and member of the
church consistory. In theology he followed Zwingli, and at the
sacramentarian conferences of Heidelberg (1560) and Maulbronn (1564) he
advocated by voice and pen the Zwinglian doctrine of the Lord’s Supper,
replying (1565) to the counter arguments of the Lutheran Johann Marbach,
of Strassburg. He ineffectually resisted the efforts of the Calvinists, led by
Caspar Olevianus, to introduce the Presbyterian polity and discipline, which
were established at Heidelberg in 1570, on the Genevan model. One of the
of the many biographies those by S. Knight (1726), J. Jortin (2 vols.,
1758-1760) and R.B. Drummond (2 vols., 1873) may be mentioned.
There are also two volumes (1901-1904) of translations by F.M.
Nichols from Erasmus’s letters down to 1517, with an ample
commentary which amounts almost to a biography; and an edition of
the letters, in Latin, was begun by the Oxford University Press in 1906
(vol. ii., 1910). (M. P.; P. S. A.)
ERASTUS, THOMAS (1524-1583), German-Swiss theologian, whose
surname was Lüber, Lieber, or Liebler, was born of poor parents on the 7th
of September 1524, probably at Baden, canton of Aargau, Switzerland. In
1540 he was studying theology at Basel. The plague of 1544 drove him to
Bologna and thence to Padua as student of philosophy and medicine. In
1553 he became physician to the count of Henneberg, Saxe-Meiningen, and
in 1558 held the same post with the elector-palatine, Otto Heinrich, being at
the same time professor of medicine at Heidelberg. His patron’s successor,
Frederick III., made him (1559) a privy councillor and member of the
church consistory. In theology he followed Zwingli, and at the
sacramentarian conferences of Heidelberg (1560) and Maulbronn (1564) he
advocated by voice and pen the Zwinglian doctrine of the Lord’s Supper,
replying (1565) to the counter arguments of the Lutheran Johann Marbach,
of Strassburg. He ineffectually resisted the efforts of the Calvinists, led by
Caspar Olevianus, to introduce the Presbyterian polity and discipline, which
were established at Heidelberg in 1570, on the Genevan model. One of the
Page 124
first acts of the new church system was to excommunicate Erastus on a
charge of Socinianism, founded on his correspondence with Transylvania.
The ban was not removed till 1575, Erastus declaring his firm adhesion to
the doctrine of the Trinity. His position, however, was uncomfortable, and
in 1580 he returned to Basel, where in 1583 he was made professor of
ethics. He died on the 31st of December 1583. He published several pieces
bearing on medicine, astrology and alchemy, and attacking the system of
Paracelsus. His name is permanently associated with a posthumous
publication, written in 1568. Its immediate occasion was the disputation at
Heidelberg (1568) for the doctorate of theology by George Wither or
Withers, an English Puritan (subsequently archdeacon of Colchester),
silenced (1565) at Bury St Edmunds by Archbishop Parker. Withers had
proposed a disputation against vestments, which the university would not
allow; his thesis affirming the excommunicating power of the presbytery
was sustained. Hence the treatise of Erastus. It was published (1589) by
Giacomo Castelvetri, who had married his widow, with the title Explicatio
gravissimae quaestionis utrum excommunicatio, quatenus religionem
intelligentes et amplexantes, a sacramentorum usu, propter admissum
facinus arcet, mandato nitatur divino, an excogitata sit ab hominibus. The
work bears the imprint Pesclavii (i.e. Poschiavo in the Grisons) but was
printed by John Wolfe in London, where Castelvetri was staying; the name
of the alleged printer is an anagram of Jacobum Castelvetrum. In the
Stationers’ Register (June 20, 1589) the printing is said to have been
“alowed” by Archbishop Whitgift. It consists of seventy-five Theses,
followed by a Confirmatio in six books, and an appendix of letters to
Erastus by Bullinger and Gualther, showing that his Theses, written in 1568,
had been circulated in manuscript. An English translation of the Theses,
with brief life of Erastus (based on Melchior Adam’s account), was issued
in 1659, entitled The Nullity of Church Censures; it was reprinted as A
Treatise of Excommunication (1682), and, as revised by Robert Lee, D.D.,
charge of Socinianism, founded on his correspondence with Transylvania.
The ban was not removed till 1575, Erastus declaring his firm adhesion to
the doctrine of the Trinity. His position, however, was uncomfortable, and
in 1580 he returned to Basel, where in 1583 he was made professor of
ethics. He died on the 31st of December 1583. He published several pieces
bearing on medicine, astrology and alchemy, and attacking the system of
Paracelsus. His name is permanently associated with a posthumous
publication, written in 1568. Its immediate occasion was the disputation at
Heidelberg (1568) for the doctorate of theology by George Wither or
Withers, an English Puritan (subsequently archdeacon of Colchester),
silenced (1565) at Bury St Edmunds by Archbishop Parker. Withers had
proposed a disputation against vestments, which the university would not
allow; his thesis affirming the excommunicating power of the presbytery
was sustained. Hence the treatise of Erastus. It was published (1589) by
Giacomo Castelvetri, who had married his widow, with the title Explicatio
gravissimae quaestionis utrum excommunicatio, quatenus religionem
intelligentes et amplexantes, a sacramentorum usu, propter admissum
facinus arcet, mandato nitatur divino, an excogitata sit ab hominibus. The
work bears the imprint Pesclavii (i.e. Poschiavo in the Grisons) but was
printed by John Wolfe in London, where Castelvetri was staying; the name
of the alleged printer is an anagram of Jacobum Castelvetrum. In the
Stationers’ Register (June 20, 1589) the printing is said to have been
“alowed” by Archbishop Whitgift. It consists of seventy-five Theses,
followed by a Confirmatio in six books, and an appendix of letters to
Erastus by Bullinger and Gualther, showing that his Theses, written in 1568,
had been circulated in manuscript. An English translation of the Theses,
with brief life of Erastus (based on Melchior Adam’s account), was issued
in 1659, entitled The Nullity of Church Censures; it was reprinted as A
Treatise of Excommunication (1682), and, as revised by Robert Lee, D.D.,
Page 125
in 1844. The aim of the work is to show, on Scriptural grounds, that sins of
professing Christians are to be punished by civil authority, and not by
withholding of sacraments on the part of the clergy. In the Westminster
Assembly a party holding this view included Selden, Lightfoot, Coleman
and Whitelocke, whose speech (1645) is appended to Lee’s version of the
Theses; but the opposite view, after much controversy, was carried,
Lightfoot alone dissenting. The consequent chapter of the Westminster
Confession (“Of Church Censures”) was, however, not ratified by the
English parliament. “Erastianism,” as a by-word, is used to denote the
doctrine of the supremacy of the state in ecclesiastical causes; but the
problem of the relations between church and state is one on which Erastus
nowhere enters. What is known as “Erastianism” would be better connected
with the name of Grotius. The only direct reply made to the Explicatio was
the Tractatus de vera excommunicatione (1590) by Theodore Beza, who
found himself rather savagely attacked in the Confirmatio thesium; e.g.
“Apostolum et Mosen adeoque Deum ipsum audes corrigere.”
See A. Bonnard, Thomas Éraste et la discipline ecclésiastique
(1894); Gass, in Allgemeine deutsche Biog. (1877); G.V. Lechler and
R. Stähelin, in A. Hauck’s Realencyklop. für prot. Theol. u. Kirche
(1898).
(A. Go.*)
ERATOSTHENES OF ALEXANDRIA (c. 276-c. 194 b.c.), Greek
scientific writer, was born at Cyrene. He studied grammar under
Callimachus at Alexandria, and philosophy under the Stoic Ariston and the
professing Christians are to be punished by civil authority, and not by
withholding of sacraments on the part of the clergy. In the Westminster
Assembly a party holding this view included Selden, Lightfoot, Coleman
and Whitelocke, whose speech (1645) is appended to Lee’s version of the
Theses; but the opposite view, after much controversy, was carried,
Lightfoot alone dissenting. The consequent chapter of the Westminster
Confession (“Of Church Censures”) was, however, not ratified by the
English parliament. “Erastianism,” as a by-word, is used to denote the
doctrine of the supremacy of the state in ecclesiastical causes; but the
problem of the relations between church and state is one on which Erastus
nowhere enters. What is known as “Erastianism” would be better connected
with the name of Grotius. The only direct reply made to the Explicatio was
the Tractatus de vera excommunicatione (1590) by Theodore Beza, who
found himself rather savagely attacked in the Confirmatio thesium; e.g.
“Apostolum et Mosen adeoque Deum ipsum audes corrigere.”
See A. Bonnard, Thomas Éraste et la discipline ecclésiastique
(1894); Gass, in Allgemeine deutsche Biog. (1877); G.V. Lechler and
R. Stähelin, in A. Hauck’s Realencyklop. für prot. Theol. u. Kirche
(1898).
(A. Go.*)
ERATOSTHENES OF ALEXANDRIA (c. 276-c. 194 b.c.), Greek
scientific writer, was born at Cyrene. He studied grammar under
Callimachus at Alexandria, and philosophy under the Stoic Ariston and the
Page 126
Academic Arcesilaus at Athens. He returned to Alexandria at the summons
of Ptolemy III. Euergetes, by whom he was appointed chief librarian in
place of Callimachus. He is said to have died of voluntary starvation, being
threatened with total blindness. Eratosthenes was one of the most learned
men of antiquity, and wrote on a great number of subjects. He was the first
to call himself Philologos (in the sense of the “friend of learning”), and the
name Pentathlos was bestowed upon him in honour of his varied
accomplishments. He was also called Beta as being second in all branches
of learning, though not actually first in any. In mathematics he wrote two
books On means (Περὶ μεσοτήτων) which are lost, but appear, from a
remark of Pappus, to have dealt with “loci with reference to means.” He
devised a mechanical construction for two mean proportionals, reproduced
by Pappus and Eutocius (Comm. on Archimedes). His κόσκινον or sieve
(cribrum Eratosthenis) was a device for discovering all prime numbers. He
laid the foundation of mathematical geography in his Geographica, in three
books. His greatest achievement was his measurement of the earth. Being
informed that at Syene (Assuan), on the day of the summer solstice at noon,
a well was lit up through all its depth, so that Syene lay on the tropic, he
measured, at the same hour, the zenith distance of the sun at Alexandria. He
thus found the distance between Syene and Alexandria (known to be 5000
stadia) to correspond to 1⁄50th of a great circle, and so arrived at 250,000
stadia (which he seems subsequently to have corrected to 252,000) as the
circumference of the earth. He is credited by Ptolemy and his commentator
Theon with having found the distance between the tropics to be 11⁄83 rds. of
the meridian circle, which gives 23° 51’ 20″ for the obliquity of the ecliptic.
His astronomical poem Hermes began apparently with the birth and exploits
of Hermes, then passed to the legend of his having ordered the heavens, the
zones and the stars, and gave a history of the latter. His Erigone, of which a
few fragments are also preserved, is sometimes spoken of as a separate
poem, but it may have belonged to the Hermes, which appears also to have
of Ptolemy III. Euergetes, by whom he was appointed chief librarian in
place of Callimachus. He is said to have died of voluntary starvation, being
threatened with total blindness. Eratosthenes was one of the most learned
men of antiquity, and wrote on a great number of subjects. He was the first
to call himself Philologos (in the sense of the “friend of learning”), and the
name Pentathlos was bestowed upon him in honour of his varied
accomplishments. He was also called Beta as being second in all branches
of learning, though not actually first in any. In mathematics he wrote two
books On means (Περὶ μεσοτήτων) which are lost, but appear, from a
remark of Pappus, to have dealt with “loci with reference to means.” He
devised a mechanical construction for two mean proportionals, reproduced
by Pappus and Eutocius (Comm. on Archimedes). His κόσκινον or sieve
(cribrum Eratosthenis) was a device for discovering all prime numbers. He
laid the foundation of mathematical geography in his Geographica, in three
books. His greatest achievement was his measurement of the earth. Being
informed that at Syene (Assuan), on the day of the summer solstice at noon,
a well was lit up through all its depth, so that Syene lay on the tropic, he
measured, at the same hour, the zenith distance of the sun at Alexandria. He
thus found the distance between Syene and Alexandria (known to be 5000
stadia) to correspond to 1⁄50th of a great circle, and so arrived at 250,000
stadia (which he seems subsequently to have corrected to 252,000) as the
circumference of the earth. He is credited by Ptolemy and his commentator
Theon with having found the distance between the tropics to be 11⁄83 rds. of
the meridian circle, which gives 23° 51’ 20″ for the obliquity of the ecliptic.
His astronomical poem Hermes began apparently with the birth and exploits
of Hermes, then passed to the legend of his having ordered the heavens, the
zones and the stars, and gave a history of the latter. His Erigone, of which a
few fragments are also preserved, is sometimes spoken of as a separate
poem, but it may have belonged to the Hermes, which appears also to have
Page 127
been known by other names such as Catalogi. The still extant Catasterismi,
containing the story of certain stars in prose, is probably not by
Eratosthenes.
Eratosthenes was the founder of scientific chronology in his
χρονογραφία in which he endeavoured to fix the dates of the chief literary
and political events from the conquest of Troy. An important work was his
treatise on the old comedy, dealing with theatres and theatrical apparatus
generally, and discussing the works of the principal comic poets
themselves. Works on moral philosophy, history, and a number of letters
were also attributed to him.
There is a complete edition of the fragments of Eratosthenes by
Bernhardy (1822); poetical fragments, Hillier (1872); geographical,
Seidel (1799) and Berger (1880); καταστερισμοι, Schaubach (1795)
and Robert (1878). See Sandys, Hist. Class. Schol. i. (1906).
(T. L. H.)
ERBACH, a town of Germany, in the grand-duchy of Hesse-Darmstadt,
on the Mümling, 22 m. S.E. of Darmstadt. It has cloth mills and ivory-
turning, for which last branch it possesses a technical school. Wool and
cattle fairs are held twice a year. Pop. 2800. The castle contains an
interesting collection of weapons and pictures, and in the chapel are the
coffins of Einhard, the friend and biographer of Charlemagne, and his wife,
Emma.
containing the story of certain stars in prose, is probably not by
Eratosthenes.
Eratosthenes was the founder of scientific chronology in his
χρονογραφία in which he endeavoured to fix the dates of the chief literary
and political events from the conquest of Troy. An important work was his
treatise on the old comedy, dealing with theatres and theatrical apparatus
generally, and discussing the works of the principal comic poets
themselves. Works on moral philosophy, history, and a number of letters
were also attributed to him.
There is a complete edition of the fragments of Eratosthenes by
Bernhardy (1822); poetical fragments, Hillier (1872); geographical,
Seidel (1799) and Berger (1880); καταστερισμοι, Schaubach (1795)
and Robert (1878). See Sandys, Hist. Class. Schol. i. (1906).
(T. L. H.)
ERBACH, a town of Germany, in the grand-duchy of Hesse-Darmstadt,
on the Mümling, 22 m. S.E. of Darmstadt. It has cloth mills and ivory-
turning, for which last branch it possesses a technical school. Wool and
cattle fairs are held twice a year. Pop. 2800. The castle contains an
interesting collection of weapons and pictures, and in the chapel are the
coffins of Einhard, the friend and biographer of Charlemagne, and his wife,
Emma.
Page 128
Erbach has long been the residence of the counts of Erbach, who trace
their descent back to the 12th century, and who held the office of cupbearer
to the electors palatine of the Rhine until 1806. In 1532 the emperor Charles
V. made the county a direct fief of the Empire, on account of the services
rendered by Count Eberhard during the Peasants’ War. Since 1717 the
family has been divided into the three lines of Erbach-Fürstenau, Erbach-
Erbach and Erbach-Schönberg, who rank for precedence, not according to
the age of their descent, but according to the age of the chief of their line. In
1818 the counts of Erbach-Erbach inherited the county of Wartenberg-Roth,
and in 1903 the count of Erbach-Schönberg was granted the title of prince.
The county was mediatized in 1806, and is now incorporated with the
duchy of Hesse-Darmstadt.
See Simon, Die Geschichte der Dynasten und Grafen zu Erbach
(Frankfort, 1858).
ERBIUM (symbol, Er; atomic weight, 165-166), one of the metals of the
rare earths. The first of the rare earth minerals was discovered in 1794 by J.
Gadolin and was named gadolinite from its discoverer. In 1797 Ekeberg
showed that gadolinite contained another rare earth, which was given the
name yttria. Yttria is an exceedingly complex mixture, which has been
decomposed, yielding as an intermediate product terbia. This latter
substance in its turn has been split by J.L. Soret, P.T. Cleve, Lecoq de
Boisbaudran and others into erbia, holmia, thulia and dysprosia, but it is
still doubtful whether any one of these four splitting products is a single
substance. The rare earth metals are found in the minerals gadolinite,
their descent back to the 12th century, and who held the office of cupbearer
to the electors palatine of the Rhine until 1806. In 1532 the emperor Charles
V. made the county a direct fief of the Empire, on account of the services
rendered by Count Eberhard during the Peasants’ War. Since 1717 the
family has been divided into the three lines of Erbach-Fürstenau, Erbach-
Erbach and Erbach-Schönberg, who rank for precedence, not according to
the age of their descent, but according to the age of the chief of their line. In
1818 the counts of Erbach-Erbach inherited the county of Wartenberg-Roth,
and in 1903 the count of Erbach-Schönberg was granted the title of prince.
The county was mediatized in 1806, and is now incorporated with the
duchy of Hesse-Darmstadt.
See Simon, Die Geschichte der Dynasten und Grafen zu Erbach
(Frankfort, 1858).
ERBIUM (symbol, Er; atomic weight, 165-166), one of the metals of the
rare earths. The first of the rare earth minerals was discovered in 1794 by J.
Gadolin and was named gadolinite from its discoverer. In 1797 Ekeberg
showed that gadolinite contained another rare earth, which was given the
name yttria. Yttria is an exceedingly complex mixture, which has been
decomposed, yielding as an intermediate product terbia. This latter
substance in its turn has been split by J.L. Soret, P.T. Cleve, Lecoq de
Boisbaudran and others into erbia, holmia, thulia and dysprosia, but it is
still doubtful whether any one of these four splitting products is a single
substance. The rare earth metals are found in the minerals gadolinite,
Page 129
samarskite, fergusonite, euxenite and cerite. They are separated from the
minerals by converting them into oxalates, which by ignition give the
corresponding oxides. The oxides are then converted into double sulphates
which are separated from each other by repeated fractional crystallization or
by fractional precipitation with ammonia or some other base. Erbium forms
rose-coloured salts and a rose-coloured oxide. The oxide dissolves slowly in
acids; it is not reduced by hydrogen and is infusible. The salts show a
characteristic absorption spectrum.
See J.F. Bahr and R. Bunsen (Ann., 1866, 137, p. 1); A. v. Welsbach
(Monats., 1883, 4, p. 641; 1884, 5, p. 508; 1885, 6, p. 477); P.T. Cleve
(Comptes rendus, 1879, 89, p. 478; 1880, 91, pp. 328, 381; 1882, 95, p.
1225; Bull. de la soc. chim., 1874, 21, p. 196; 1883, 39, p. 287); C.
Marignac (Ann. Chim. phys., 1849 [3] 27, p. 226); B. Brauner
(Monats., 1882, 3, p. 13); W. Crookes (Proc. Roy. Soc., 1886, 40, p.
502); Lecoq de Boisbaudran (Comptes rendus, 1886, 102, p. 1005); A.
Bettendorf (Ann., 1892, 270, p. 376); M. Muthmann (Ber., 1898, 31, p.
1718; 1900, 33, p. 42); G. Krüss (Zeit. f. anorg. Chem., 1893, 3, p.
108).
ERCILLA Y ZÚNIGA, ALONSO DE (1533-1595), Spanish soldier
and poet, was born in Madrid on the 7th of August 1533. In 1548 he was
appointed page to the heir-apparent, afterwards Philip II. In this capacity
Ercilla visited Italy, Germany and the Netherlands, and was present in 1554
at the marriage of his master to Mary of England. Hearing that an
expedition was preparing to subdue the Araucanians of Chile, he joined the
minerals by converting them into oxalates, which by ignition give the
corresponding oxides. The oxides are then converted into double sulphates
which are separated from each other by repeated fractional crystallization or
by fractional precipitation with ammonia or some other base. Erbium forms
rose-coloured salts and a rose-coloured oxide. The oxide dissolves slowly in
acids; it is not reduced by hydrogen and is infusible. The salts show a
characteristic absorption spectrum.
See J.F. Bahr and R. Bunsen (Ann., 1866, 137, p. 1); A. v. Welsbach
(Monats., 1883, 4, p. 641; 1884, 5, p. 508; 1885, 6, p. 477); P.T. Cleve
(Comptes rendus, 1879, 89, p. 478; 1880, 91, pp. 328, 381; 1882, 95, p.
1225; Bull. de la soc. chim., 1874, 21, p. 196; 1883, 39, p. 287); C.
Marignac (Ann. Chim. phys., 1849 [3] 27, p. 226); B. Brauner
(Monats., 1882, 3, p. 13); W. Crookes (Proc. Roy. Soc., 1886, 40, p.
502); Lecoq de Boisbaudran (Comptes rendus, 1886, 102, p. 1005); A.
Bettendorf (Ann., 1892, 270, p. 376); M. Muthmann (Ber., 1898, 31, p.
1718; 1900, 33, p. 42); G. Krüss (Zeit. f. anorg. Chem., 1893, 3, p.
108).
ERCILLA Y ZÚNIGA, ALONSO DE (1533-1595), Spanish soldier
and poet, was born in Madrid on the 7th of August 1533. In 1548 he was
appointed page to the heir-apparent, afterwards Philip II. In this capacity
Ercilla visited Italy, Germany and the Netherlands, and was present in 1554
at the marriage of his master to Mary of England. Hearing that an
expedition was preparing to subdue the Araucanians of Chile, he joined the
Page 130
adventurers. He distinguished himself in the ensuing campaign; but, having
quarrelled with a comrade, he was condemned to death in 1558 by his
general, Garcia Hurtado de Mendoza. The sentence was commuted to
imprisonment, but Ercilla was speedily released and fought at the battle of
Quipeo (14th of December 1558). He returned to Spain in 1562, visited
Italy, France, Germany, Bohemia, and in 1570 married Maria de Bazán, a
lady distantly connected with the Santa Cruz family; in 1571 he was made
knight of the order of Santiago, and in 1578 he was employed by Philip II.
on a mission to Saragossa. He complained of living in poverty but left a
modest fortune, and was obviously disappointed at not being offered the
post of secretary of state. His principal work is La Araucana, a poem based
on the events of the wars in which he had been engaged. It consists of three
parts, of which the first, composed in Chile and published in 1569, is a
versified narrative adhering strictly to historic fact; the second, published in
1578, is encumbered with visions and other romantic machinery; and the
third, which appeared in 1589-1590, contains, in addition to the subject
proper, a variety of episodes mostly irrelevant. This so-called epic lacks
symmetry, and has been over-praised by Cervantes and Voltaire; but it is
written in excellent Spanish, and is full of vivid rhetorical passages. An
analysis of the poem was given by Hayley in his Essay on Epic Poetry
(1782).
quarrelled with a comrade, he was condemned to death in 1558 by his
general, Garcia Hurtado de Mendoza. The sentence was commuted to
imprisonment, but Ercilla was speedily released and fought at the battle of
Quipeo (14th of December 1558). He returned to Spain in 1562, visited
Italy, France, Germany, Bohemia, and in 1570 married Maria de Bazán, a
lady distantly connected with the Santa Cruz family; in 1571 he was made
knight of the order of Santiago, and in 1578 he was employed by Philip II.
on a mission to Saragossa. He complained of living in poverty but left a
modest fortune, and was obviously disappointed at not being offered the
post of secretary of state. His principal work is La Araucana, a poem based
on the events of the wars in which he had been engaged. It consists of three
parts, of which the first, composed in Chile and published in 1569, is a
versified narrative adhering strictly to historic fact; the second, published in
1578, is encumbered with visions and other romantic machinery; and the
third, which appeared in 1589-1590, contains, in addition to the subject
proper, a variety of episodes mostly irrelevant. This so-called epic lacks
symmetry, and has been over-praised by Cervantes and Voltaire; but it is
written in excellent Spanish, and is full of vivid rhetorical passages. An
analysis of the poem was given by Hayley in his Essay on Epic Poetry
(1782).
Page 131
A good biography precedes the Morceaux choisis (Paris, 1900) by
Jean Ducamin.
ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN, the joint names of two French writers
whose collaboration made their work that of, so to speak, one personality.
Émile Erckmann (1822-1899) was born on the 20th of May 1822 at
Phalsbourg, and Louis Gratien Charles Alexandre Chatrian (1826-1890)
on the 18th of December 1826 at Soldatenthal, Lorraine. In 1847 they
began to write together, and continued doing so till 1889. Chatrian died in
1890 at Villemomble near Paris, and Erckmann at Lunéville in 1899. The
list of their publications is a long one, ranging from the Histoires et contes
fantastiques (1849; reprinted from the Démocrate du Rhin), L’Illustre
Docteur Mathéus (1859), Madame Thérèse (1863), L’Ami Fritz (1864),
Histoire d’un conscrit de 1813 (1864), Waterloo (1865), Le Blocus (1867),
Histoire d’un paysan (4 vols., 1868-1870), L’Histoire du plébiscite (1872),
to Le Grand-père Lebigue (1880); besides dramas like Le Juif polonais
(1869) and Les Rantzau (1882). Without any special literary claim, their
stories are distinguished by simplicity and genuine descriptive power,
particularly in the battle scenes and in connexion with Alsatian peasant life.
They are marked by a genuine democratic spirit, and by real patriotism,
which developed after 1870 into hatred of the Germans. The authors
attacked militarism by depicting the horrors of war in the plainest terms.
See also J. Claretie, Erckmann-Chatrian (1883), in the series of
“Célébrités contemporaines.”
Jean Ducamin.
ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN, the joint names of two French writers
whose collaboration made their work that of, so to speak, one personality.
Émile Erckmann (1822-1899) was born on the 20th of May 1822 at
Phalsbourg, and Louis Gratien Charles Alexandre Chatrian (1826-1890)
on the 18th of December 1826 at Soldatenthal, Lorraine. In 1847 they
began to write together, and continued doing so till 1889. Chatrian died in
1890 at Villemomble near Paris, and Erckmann at Lunéville in 1899. The
list of their publications is a long one, ranging from the Histoires et contes
fantastiques (1849; reprinted from the Démocrate du Rhin), L’Illustre
Docteur Mathéus (1859), Madame Thérèse (1863), L’Ami Fritz (1864),
Histoire d’un conscrit de 1813 (1864), Waterloo (1865), Le Blocus (1867),
Histoire d’un paysan (4 vols., 1868-1870), L’Histoire du plébiscite (1872),
to Le Grand-père Lebigue (1880); besides dramas like Le Juif polonais
(1869) and Les Rantzau (1882). Without any special literary claim, their
stories are distinguished by simplicity and genuine descriptive power,
particularly in the battle scenes and in connexion with Alsatian peasant life.
They are marked by a genuine democratic spirit, and by real patriotism,
which developed after 1870 into hatred of the Germans. The authors
attacked militarism by depicting the horrors of war in the plainest terms.
See also J. Claretie, Erckmann-Chatrian (1883), in the series of
“Célébrités contemporaines.”
Page 132
ERDÉLYI, JÁNOS (1814-1868), Hungarian poet and author, was born
in 1814 at Kapos, in the county of Ungvár, and educated at the Protestant
college of Sárospatak. In 1833 he removed to Pest, where he was, in 1839,
elected member of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences. His literary fame
was made by his collection of Hungarian national poems and folk-tales,
Magyar Népköltési Gyüjtemény, Népdalok és Mondák (Pest, 1846-1847).
This work, published by the Kisfaludy Society, was supplemented by a
dissertation upon Hungarian national poetry, afterwards partially translated
into German by Stier (Berlin, 1851). Erdélyi also compiled for the
Kisfaludy Society an extensive collection of Hungarian proverbs—Magyar
Közmondások könyve (Pest, 1851),—and was for some time editor of the
Szépirodalmi Szemle (Review of Polite Literature). In 1848 he was
appointed director of the national theatre at Pest; but after 1849 he resided
at his native town. He died on the 23rd of January 1868. A collection of
folklore was published the year after his death, entitled A Nép Koltészete
népdalok, népmesék és közmondások (Pest, 1869). This work contains 300
national songs, 19 folk-tales and 7362 Hungarian proverbs.
ERDMANN, JOHANN EDUARD (1805-1892), German philosophical
writer, was born at Wolmar in Livonia on the 13th of June 1805. He studied
theology at Dorpat and afterwards at Berlin, where he fell under the
in 1814 at Kapos, in the county of Ungvár, and educated at the Protestant
college of Sárospatak. In 1833 he removed to Pest, where he was, in 1839,
elected member of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences. His literary fame
was made by his collection of Hungarian national poems and folk-tales,
Magyar Népköltési Gyüjtemény, Népdalok és Mondák (Pest, 1846-1847).
This work, published by the Kisfaludy Society, was supplemented by a
dissertation upon Hungarian national poetry, afterwards partially translated
into German by Stier (Berlin, 1851). Erdélyi also compiled for the
Kisfaludy Society an extensive collection of Hungarian proverbs—Magyar
Közmondások könyve (Pest, 1851),—and was for some time editor of the
Szépirodalmi Szemle (Review of Polite Literature). In 1848 he was
appointed director of the national theatre at Pest; but after 1849 he resided
at his native town. He died on the 23rd of January 1868. A collection of
folklore was published the year after his death, entitled A Nép Koltészete
népdalok, népmesék és közmondások (Pest, 1869). This work contains 300
national songs, 19 folk-tales and 7362 Hungarian proverbs.
ERDMANN, JOHANN EDUARD (1805-1892), German philosophical
writer, was born at Wolmar in Livonia on the 13th of June 1805. He studied
theology at Dorpat and afterwards at Berlin, where he fell under the
Page 133
influence of Hegel. From 1829 to 1832 he was a minister of religion in his
native town. Afterwards he devoted himself to philosophy, and qualified in
that subject at Berlin in 1834. In 1836 he was professor-extraordinary at
Halle, became full professor in 1839, and died there on the 12th of June
1892. He published many philosophical text-books and treatises, and a
number of sermons; but his chief claim to remembrance rests on his
elaborate Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophie (2 vols., 1866), the 3rd
edition of which has been translated into English. Erdmann’s special merit
is that he does not rest content with being a mere summarizer of opinions,
but tries to exhibit the history of human thought as a continuous and ever-
developing effort to solve the great speculative problems with which man
has been confronted in all ages. His chief other works were: Leib und Seele
(1837), Grundriss der Psychologie (1840), Grundriss der Logik und
Metaphysik (1841), and Psychologische Briefe (1851).
ERDMANN, OTTO LINNÉ (1804-1869), German chemist, son of Karl
Gottfried Erdmann (1774-1835), the physician who introduced vaccination
into Saxony, was born at Dresden on the 11th of April 1804. In 1820 he
began to attend the medico-chirurgical academy of his native place, and in
1822 he entered the university of Leipzig where in 1827 he became
extraordinary professor, and in 1830 ordinary professor of chemistry. This
office he held until his death, which happened at Leipzig on the 9th of
October 1869. He was particularly successful as a teacher, and the
laboratory established at Leipzig under his direction in 1843 was long
regarded as a model institution. As an investigator he is best known for his
native town. Afterwards he devoted himself to philosophy, and qualified in
that subject at Berlin in 1834. In 1836 he was professor-extraordinary at
Halle, became full professor in 1839, and died there on the 12th of June
1892. He published many philosophical text-books and treatises, and a
number of sermons; but his chief claim to remembrance rests on his
elaborate Grundriss der Geschichte der Philosophie (2 vols., 1866), the 3rd
edition of which has been translated into English. Erdmann’s special merit
is that he does not rest content with being a mere summarizer of opinions,
but tries to exhibit the history of human thought as a continuous and ever-
developing effort to solve the great speculative problems with which man
has been confronted in all ages. His chief other works were: Leib und Seele
(1837), Grundriss der Psychologie (1840), Grundriss der Logik und
Metaphysik (1841), and Psychologische Briefe (1851).
ERDMANN, OTTO LINNÉ (1804-1869), German chemist, son of Karl
Gottfried Erdmann (1774-1835), the physician who introduced vaccination
into Saxony, was born at Dresden on the 11th of April 1804. In 1820 he
began to attend the medico-chirurgical academy of his native place, and in
1822 he entered the university of Leipzig where in 1827 he became
extraordinary professor, and in 1830 ordinary professor of chemistry. This
office he held until his death, which happened at Leipzig on the 9th of
October 1869. He was particularly successful as a teacher, and the
laboratory established at Leipzig under his direction in 1843 was long
regarded as a model institution. As an investigator he is best known for his
Page 134
work on nickel and indigo and other dye-stuffs. With R.F. Marchand (1813-
1850) he also carried out a number of determinations of atomic weights. In
1828, in conjunction with A.F.G. Werther (1815-1869), he founded the
Journal für technische und ökonomische Chemie, which became in 1834 the
Journal für praktische Chemie. He was also the author of Über das Nickel
(1827), Lehrbuch der Chemie (1828), Grundriss der Waarenkunde (1833),
and Über das Studium der Chemie (1861).
EREBUS, in Greek mythology, son (according to Hesiod, Theog. 123) of
Chaos, and father of Aether (upper air) and Hemera (day) by his sister Nyx
(night). The word, which signifies darkness, is in Homer the gloomy
subterranean region through which the departed shades pass into Hades.
The entrance to it was in the extreme west, on the borders of Ocean, in the
mythical land of the Cimmerians. It is to be distinguished from Tartarus, the
place of punishment for the wicked.
ERECH (Uruk in the Babylonian inscriptions; Gr. Orchoë), the Biblical
name of an ancient city of Babylonia, situated E. of the present bed of the
Euphrates, on the line of the ancient Nil canal, in a region of marshes, about
140 m. S.S.E. from Bagdad. It was one of the oldest and most important
cities of Babylonia, and the site of a famous temple, called E-Anna,
1850) he also carried out a number of determinations of atomic weights. In
1828, in conjunction with A.F.G. Werther (1815-1869), he founded the
Journal für technische und ökonomische Chemie, which became in 1834 the
Journal für praktische Chemie. He was also the author of Über das Nickel
(1827), Lehrbuch der Chemie (1828), Grundriss der Waarenkunde (1833),
and Über das Studium der Chemie (1861).
EREBUS, in Greek mythology, son (according to Hesiod, Theog. 123) of
Chaos, and father of Aether (upper air) and Hemera (day) by his sister Nyx
(night). The word, which signifies darkness, is in Homer the gloomy
subterranean region through which the departed shades pass into Hades.
The entrance to it was in the extreme west, on the borders of Ocean, in the
mythical land of the Cimmerians. It is to be distinguished from Tartarus, the
place of punishment for the wicked.
ERECH (Uruk in the Babylonian inscriptions; Gr. Orchoë), the Biblical
name of an ancient city of Babylonia, situated E. of the present bed of the
Euphrates, on the line of the ancient Nil canal, in a region of marshes, about
140 m. S.S.E. from Bagdad. It was one of the oldest and most important
cities of Babylonia, and the site of a famous temple, called E-Anna,
Page 135
dedicated to the worship of Nana, or Ishtar. Erech played a very important
part in the political history of the country from an early time, exercising
hegemony in Babylonia at a period before the time of Sargon. Later it was
prominent in the national struggles of the Babylonians against Elam (2000
b.c. and earlier), in which it suffered severely; recollections of these
conflicts are embodied in the Gilgamesh epic, as it has come down to us
through the library of Assur-bani-pal. Erech enjoyed much distinction in the
later times, as a seat of learning and of the worship of Ishtar, and Assur-
bani-pal drew largely on its literary stores for his library at Nineveh, from
which we derive our principal information concerning ancient Babylonian
literature. The inscriptions found here show that it continued in existence
through the Persian and Seleucid periods. The ruins of the ancient site,
known as Warka, which are among the largest in all Babylonia, forming an
irregular circle nearly 6 m. in circumference, bounded by a wall, still
standing in some places to the height of 40 ft., were explored and partially
excavated by W.K. Loftus in 1850 and 1854. The most conspicuous ruin,
now called Abu-Berdi, “Father of Marsh Grass,” or Buwariye, “reed
matting,” because of the layers of reeds between each twelve courses of
unbaked brick, is the ziggurat (tower) of the ancient temple of E-Anna. It is
about 100 ft. in height, and strikingly resembles in general appearance the
ruins of the ziggurat of the temple of Enlil at Nippur. Second to this in size
was the ruin called Wuswas, a walled quadrangle, including an area of more
than seven and a half acres, within which was an edifice 246 ft. long and
174 ft. wide, elevated on an artificial platform 50 ft. in height. The south-
west façade, still standing in some places to the height of 23 ft., exhibited
an interesting use of half columns, and stepped recesses for purposes of
decoration. In another ruin Loftus found a wall, 30 ft. long, composed
entirely of small yellow terra-cotta nail-headed cones, such as have been
discovered in great numbers, inscribed and uninscribed, used for votive
purposes in connexion with walls at Tello and elsewhere in Babylonia. His
part in the political history of the country from an early time, exercising
hegemony in Babylonia at a period before the time of Sargon. Later it was
prominent in the national struggles of the Babylonians against Elam (2000
b.c. and earlier), in which it suffered severely; recollections of these
conflicts are embodied in the Gilgamesh epic, as it has come down to us
through the library of Assur-bani-pal. Erech enjoyed much distinction in the
later times, as a seat of learning and of the worship of Ishtar, and Assur-
bani-pal drew largely on its literary stores for his library at Nineveh, from
which we derive our principal information concerning ancient Babylonian
literature. The inscriptions found here show that it continued in existence
through the Persian and Seleucid periods. The ruins of the ancient site,
known as Warka, which are among the largest in all Babylonia, forming an
irregular circle nearly 6 m. in circumference, bounded by a wall, still
standing in some places to the height of 40 ft., were explored and partially
excavated by W.K. Loftus in 1850 and 1854. The most conspicuous ruin,
now called Abu-Berdi, “Father of Marsh Grass,” or Buwariye, “reed
matting,” because of the layers of reeds between each twelve courses of
unbaked brick, is the ziggurat (tower) of the ancient temple of E-Anna. It is
about 100 ft. in height, and strikingly resembles in general appearance the
ruins of the ziggurat of the temple of Enlil at Nippur. Second to this in size
was the ruin called Wuswas, a walled quadrangle, including an area of more
than seven and a half acres, within which was an edifice 246 ft. long and
174 ft. wide, elevated on an artificial platform 50 ft. in height. The south-
west façade, still standing in some places to the height of 23 ft., exhibited
an interesting use of half columns, and stepped recesses for purposes of
decoration. In another ruin Loftus found a wall, 30 ft. long, composed
entirely of small yellow terra-cotta nail-headed cones, such as have been
discovered in great numbers, inscribed and uninscribed, used for votive
purposes in connexion with walls at Tello and elsewhere in Babylonia. His
Page 136
excavations being superficial, the Babylonian inscriptions found by him,
about one hundred in all, exclusive of the ancient Ur-Gur bricks from the
temple, belong in general to the neo-Babylonian, Persian and Seleucid
periods. The older remains are buried deep beneath the huge mass of later
debris. Loftus also discovered at Erech, almost everywhere within and
without the walls, great numbers of clay coffins, piled one above another, to
the height of over 30 ft., forming a vast and, on the whole, well-ordered
cemetery belonging to the Persian, Parthian and later occupations of
Babylonia, during which period Erech, like other cities of the south,
evidently became a necropolis for a large extent of country. After Loftus’s
time the mounds were visited by various travellers, but no further
excavations have been conducted. Work on this important part of the site is
attended with very great difficulties, owing to the inaccessible position of
the ruins, the unsettled character of the country, the frequent sand-storms,
and above all, the immense mass of material of later periods which must be
removed before a systematic excavation of the more ancient and interesting
ruins could be undertaken. A curious feature of the Warka neighbourhood is
the existence of conical sand-hills, rising to a considerable height, so
compact as to be almost like stone. These hills extend from Warka
northward as far as Tel Ede.
See W.K. Loftus, Chaldaea and Susiana (1857); J.P. Peters, Nippur
(1897); E. Sachau, Am Euphrat und Tigris (1900). Cf. also Nippur and
authorities there quoted.
(J. P. Pe.)
about one hundred in all, exclusive of the ancient Ur-Gur bricks from the
temple, belong in general to the neo-Babylonian, Persian and Seleucid
periods. The older remains are buried deep beneath the huge mass of later
debris. Loftus also discovered at Erech, almost everywhere within and
without the walls, great numbers of clay coffins, piled one above another, to
the height of over 30 ft., forming a vast and, on the whole, well-ordered
cemetery belonging to the Persian, Parthian and later occupations of
Babylonia, during which period Erech, like other cities of the south,
evidently became a necropolis for a large extent of country. After Loftus’s
time the mounds were visited by various travellers, but no further
excavations have been conducted. Work on this important part of the site is
attended with very great difficulties, owing to the inaccessible position of
the ruins, the unsettled character of the country, the frequent sand-storms,
and above all, the immense mass of material of later periods which must be
removed before a systematic excavation of the more ancient and interesting
ruins could be undertaken. A curious feature of the Warka neighbourhood is
the existence of conical sand-hills, rising to a considerable height, so
compact as to be almost like stone. These hills extend from Warka
northward as far as Tel Ede.
See W.K. Loftus, Chaldaea and Susiana (1857); J.P. Peters, Nippur
(1897); E. Sachau, Am Euphrat und Tigris (1900). Cf. also Nippur and
authorities there quoted.
(J. P. Pe.)
Page 137
ERECHTHEUM, a temple (commonly called after Erechtheus, to
whom a portion of it was dedicated) on the acropolis at Athens, unique in
plan, and in its execution the most refined example of the Ionic order. There
is no clear evidence as to when the building was begun, some placing it
among the temples projected by Pericles, others assigning it to the time
after the peace of Nicias in 421 b.c. The work was interrupted by the stress
of the Peloponnesian War, but in 409 b.c. a commission was appointed to
make a report on the state of the building and to undertake its completion,
which was carried out in the following year.
The peculiar plan of the Erechtheum has given rise to much speculation.
It may be due partly to the natural conformation of the rock and the
differences of level, partly to the necessity of enclosing within a single
building several objects of ancient sanctity, such as the mark of Poseidon’s
trident and the spring that arose from it, the sacred olive tree of Athena, and
the tomb of Cecrops. But there are some features which cannot be so
explained, and which have led Professor W. Dörpfeld and others to believe
that the plan, as we now have it, is a modification or abridgment of the
original design, due to the same conservative influences as led to the
curtailment of the plan of the Propylaea (q.v.).
whom a portion of it was dedicated) on the acropolis at Athens, unique in
plan, and in its execution the most refined example of the Ionic order. There
is no clear evidence as to when the building was begun, some placing it
among the temples projected by Pericles, others assigning it to the time
after the peace of Nicias in 421 b.c. The work was interrupted by the stress
of the Peloponnesian War, but in 409 b.c. a commission was appointed to
make a report on the state of the building and to undertake its completion,
which was carried out in the following year.
The peculiar plan of the Erechtheum has given rise to much speculation.
It may be due partly to the natural conformation of the rock and the
differences of level, partly to the necessity of enclosing within a single
building several objects of ancient sanctity, such as the mark of Poseidon’s
trident and the spring that arose from it, the sacred olive tree of Athena, and
the tomb of Cecrops. But there are some features which cannot be so
explained, and which have led Professor W. Dörpfeld and others to believe
that the plan, as we now have it, is a modification or abridgment of the
original design, due to the same conservative influences as led to the
curtailment of the plan of the Propylaea (q.v.).
Page 138
The building as completed consisted of a temple of the ordinary type,
opening by a door and two windows to the east front, before which stood a
portico of six Ionic columns. This part was the temple of Athena Polias.
Adjoining it on the west was the central chamber, on a lower level; this
chamber was separated by a partition, originally of wood and later of
marble, from the western compartment of the temple, which was of peculiar
construction. The west end was formed by a wall, on which stood four
columns between antae; but the main entrance to this western compartment
was through a large and very ornate doorway on the north; and a large Ionic
portico, consisting of four columns in the front, and one in the return on
each side, was placed in front of this door. At the south end of the western
compartment was a smaller door, with steps leading up to the higher level,
opening by a door and two windows to the east front, before which stood a
portico of six Ionic columns. This part was the temple of Athena Polias.
Adjoining it on the west was the central chamber, on a lower level; this
chamber was separated by a partition, originally of wood and later of
marble, from the western compartment of the temple, which was of peculiar
construction. The west end was formed by a wall, on which stood four
columns between antae; but the main entrance to this western compartment
was through a large and very ornate doorway on the north; and a large Ionic
portico, consisting of four columns in the front, and one in the return on
each side, was placed in front of this door. At the south end of the western
compartment was a smaller door, with steps leading up to the higher level,
Page 139
within a projecting space enclosed by a low wall and covered with a
projecting porch carried by six “maidens” or caryatides. The construction of
the building at this south-western corner shows that there was some sacred
object that had to be bridged over by a huge block of marble; this we know
from inscriptions to have been the Cecropeum or tomb of Cecrops. In the
north portico a square hole in the floor, with a corresponding hole in the
roof above it, must have given access to another sacred object, the mark of
Poseidon’s trident in the rock. The sacred olive tree probably stood just
outside the temple to the west in the Pandroseion. The Ionic order, as used
in this temple, is of the most ornate Attic type. The bases of the columns are
either reeded or decorated with a plait-pattern; the capital has the broad
channel between the volutes subdivided by a carefully-profiled incision;
and the top of the shafts is ornamented by a broad band of palmette or
honeysuckle pattern. A similar band of ornament runs round the top of the
walls outside, and at their base is a reeded torus. The frieze consisted of
white marble figures in relief, affixed to a background of black Eleusinian
stone.
The contents of the Erechtheum are described by Pausanias. It contained
the ancient image of Athena Polias, and three altars, one to Poseidon and
Erechtheus, one to Butes and one to Hephaestus; there were portraits of the
family of the Butadae on the walls. Within it was also the gold lamp of
Callimachus, which burnt for a year without refilling, and had a chimney in
the form of a palm-tree.
The Erechtheum was damaged by a fire, soon after its completion, in 406
b.c., but was repaired early in the following century. The west end appears
to have been damaged in Roman times and to have been replaced by the
attached columns with windows between them which appear in old
drawings and are still partially extant. It was used as a church in Christian
times, and under Turkish rule as the harem of the governor of Athens. Lord
projecting porch carried by six “maidens” or caryatides. The construction of
the building at this south-western corner shows that there was some sacred
object that had to be bridged over by a huge block of marble; this we know
from inscriptions to have been the Cecropeum or tomb of Cecrops. In the
north portico a square hole in the floor, with a corresponding hole in the
roof above it, must have given access to another sacred object, the mark of
Poseidon’s trident in the rock. The sacred olive tree probably stood just
outside the temple to the west in the Pandroseion. The Ionic order, as used
in this temple, is of the most ornate Attic type. The bases of the columns are
either reeded or decorated with a plait-pattern; the capital has the broad
channel between the volutes subdivided by a carefully-profiled incision;
and the top of the shafts is ornamented by a broad band of palmette or
honeysuckle pattern. A similar band of ornament runs round the top of the
walls outside, and at their base is a reeded torus. The frieze consisted of
white marble figures in relief, affixed to a background of black Eleusinian
stone.
The contents of the Erechtheum are described by Pausanias. It contained
the ancient image of Athena Polias, and three altars, one to Poseidon and
Erechtheus, one to Butes and one to Hephaestus; there were portraits of the
family of the Butadae on the walls. Within it was also the gold lamp of
Callimachus, which burnt for a year without refilling, and had a chimney in
the form of a palm-tree.
The Erechtheum was damaged by a fire, soon after its completion, in 406
b.c., but was repaired early in the following century. The west end appears
to have been damaged in Roman times and to have been replaced by the
attached columns with windows between them which appear in old
drawings and are still partially extant. It was used as a church in Christian
times, and under Turkish rule as the harem of the governor of Athens. Lord
Page 140
Elgin carried off to London, about 1801-1803, one of the columns of the
east portico and one of the caryatides; these were replaced later by terra-
cotta casts. During the siege of the Acropolis in 1827, the roof of the north
portico was thrown down and the building was otherwise much damaged. It
was partially rebuilt between 1838 and 1846; the west front was blown
down in a storm in 1852. Since 1900 the project of rebuilding the
Erechtheum as far as possible with the original blocks has again been
undertaken.
See Stuart, Antiquities of Athens; Inwood, The Erechtheum; H.
Forster in Papers of American School at Athens, i. (1882-1883); J.H.
Middleton, Plans and Drawings of Athenian Buildings (1900), pls.
xiv.-xxii.; E.A. Gardner, Ancient Athens, chap. viii.; W. Dörpfeld, “Der
ursprungliche Plan des Erechtheion” in Mitteil. Athen., 1904, p. 101,
taf. 6; G.P. Stevens, “The East Wall of the Erechtheum,” in American
Journ. Arch., 1906, pls. vi.-ix.
(E. Gr.)
ERECHTHEUS, in Greek legend, a mythical king of Athens, originally
identified with Erichthonius, but in later times distinguished from him.
According to Homer, who knows nothing of Erichthonius, he was the son of
Aroura (Earth), brought up by Athena, with whom his story is closely
connected. In the later story, Erichthonius (son of Hephaestus and Atthis or
Athena herself) was handed over by Athena to the three daughters of
Cecrops—Aglauros (or Agraulos), Herse and Pandrosos—in a chest, which
they were forbidden to open. Aglauros and Herse disobeyed the injunction,
east portico and one of the caryatides; these were replaced later by terra-
cotta casts. During the siege of the Acropolis in 1827, the roof of the north
portico was thrown down and the building was otherwise much damaged. It
was partially rebuilt between 1838 and 1846; the west front was blown
down in a storm in 1852. Since 1900 the project of rebuilding the
Erechtheum as far as possible with the original blocks has again been
undertaken.
See Stuart, Antiquities of Athens; Inwood, The Erechtheum; H.
Forster in Papers of American School at Athens, i. (1882-1883); J.H.
Middleton, Plans and Drawings of Athenian Buildings (1900), pls.
xiv.-xxii.; E.A. Gardner, Ancient Athens, chap. viii.; W. Dörpfeld, “Der
ursprungliche Plan des Erechtheion” in Mitteil. Athen., 1904, p. 101,
taf. 6; G.P. Stevens, “The East Wall of the Erechtheum,” in American
Journ. Arch., 1906, pls. vi.-ix.
(E. Gr.)
ERECHTHEUS, in Greek legend, a mythical king of Athens, originally
identified with Erichthonius, but in later times distinguished from him.
According to Homer, who knows nothing of Erichthonius, he was the son of
Aroura (Earth), brought up by Athena, with whom his story is closely
connected. In the later story, Erichthonius (son of Hephaestus and Atthis or
Athena herself) was handed over by Athena to the three daughters of
Cecrops—Aglauros (or Agraulos), Herse and Pandrosos—in a chest, which
they were forbidden to open. Aglauros and Herse disobeyed the injunction,
Page 141
and when they saw the child (which had the form of a snake, or round
which a snake was coiled) they went mad with fright, and threw themselves
from the rock of the Acropolis (or were killed by the snake). Athena herself
then undertook the care of Erichthonius, who, when he grew up, drove out
Amphictyon and took possession of the kingdom of Athens. Here he
established the worship of Athena, instituted the Panathenaea, and built an
Erechtheum. The Erechtheus of later times was supposed to be the grandson
of Erechtheus-Erichthonius, and was also king of Athens. When Athens was
attacked by the Thracian Eumolpus (or by the Eleusinians assisted by
Eumolpus) victory was promised Erechtheus if he sacrificed one of his
daughters. Eumolpus was slain and Erechtheus was victorious, but was
himself killed by Poseidon, the father of Eumolpus, or by a thunderbolt
from Zeus. The contest between Erechtheus and Eumolpus formed the
subject of a lost tragedy by Euripides; Swinburne has utilized the legend in
his Erechtheus. The scene of the opening of the chest is represented on a
Greek vase in the British Museum. The name Erichthonius is connected
with χθών (“earth”) and the representation of him as half-snake, like
Cecrops, indicates that he was regarded as one of the autochthones, the
ancestors of the Athenians who sprung from the soil.
See Apollodorus iii. 14. 15; Euripides, Ion; Ovid, Metam. ii. 553;
Hyginus, Poët. astron. ii. 13; Pausanias i. 2. 5. 8; E. Ermatinger, Die
attische Autochthonensage (1897); article by J.A. Hild in Daremberg
and Saglio’s Dictionnaire des antiquités; B. Powell in Cornell Studies,
xvii. (1906), who identifies Erechtheus, Erichthonius, Poseidon and
Cecrops, all denoting the sacred serpent of Athena, whose cult she first
contested, but then amalgamated with her own. The birth of
Erichthonius (as a corn-spirit) is interpreted by Mannhardt as a
mythical way of describing the growth of the corn, and by J.E.
Harrison (Myths and Monuments of Ancient Athens, xxvii.-xxxvi.) as a
fiction to explain the ceremony performed by the two maidens called
which a snake was coiled) they went mad with fright, and threw themselves
from the rock of the Acropolis (or were killed by the snake). Athena herself
then undertook the care of Erichthonius, who, when he grew up, drove out
Amphictyon and took possession of the kingdom of Athens. Here he
established the worship of Athena, instituted the Panathenaea, and built an
Erechtheum. The Erechtheus of later times was supposed to be the grandson
of Erechtheus-Erichthonius, and was also king of Athens. When Athens was
attacked by the Thracian Eumolpus (or by the Eleusinians assisted by
Eumolpus) victory was promised Erechtheus if he sacrificed one of his
daughters. Eumolpus was slain and Erechtheus was victorious, but was
himself killed by Poseidon, the father of Eumolpus, or by a thunderbolt
from Zeus. The contest between Erechtheus and Eumolpus formed the
subject of a lost tragedy by Euripides; Swinburne has utilized the legend in
his Erechtheus. The scene of the opening of the chest is represented on a
Greek vase in the British Museum. The name Erichthonius is connected
with χθών (“earth”) and the representation of him as half-snake, like
Cecrops, indicates that he was regarded as one of the autochthones, the
ancestors of the Athenians who sprung from the soil.
See Apollodorus iii. 14. 15; Euripides, Ion; Ovid, Metam. ii. 553;
Hyginus, Poët. astron. ii. 13; Pausanias i. 2. 5. 8; E. Ermatinger, Die
attische Autochthonensage (1897); article by J.A. Hild in Daremberg
and Saglio’s Dictionnaire des antiquités; B. Powell in Cornell Studies,
xvii. (1906), who identifies Erechtheus, Erichthonius, Poseidon and
Cecrops, all denoting the sacred serpent of Athena, whose cult she first
contested, but then amalgamated with her own. The birth of
Erichthonius (as a corn-spirit) is interpreted by Mannhardt as a
mythical way of describing the growth of the corn, and by J.E.
Harrison (Myths and Monuments of Ancient Athens, xxvii.-xxxvi.) as a
fiction to explain the ceremony performed by the two maidens called
Page 142
Arrephori. See also Farnell, Cults of the Greek States, i. 270; and
Frazer’s Pausanias, ii. 169.
ERESHKIGAL, also known as Allatu, the name of the chief
Babylonian goddess of the nether-world where the dead are gathered. Her
name signifies “lady of the nether-world.” She is known to us chiefly
through two myths, both symbolizing the change of seasons, but intended
also to illustrate certain doctrines developed in the temple-schools of
Babylonia. One of these myths is the famous story of Ishtar’s descent to
Irkalla or Arālu, as the lower world was called, and her reception by her
sister who presides over it; the other is the story of Nergal’s offence against
Ereshkigal, his banishment to the kingdom controlled by the goddess and
the reconciliation between Nergal and Ereshkigal through the latter’s offer
to have Nergal share the honours of the rule over Irkalla. The story of
Ishtar’s descent is told to illustrate the possibility of an escape from Irkalla,
while the other myth is intended to reconcile the existence of two rulers of
Irkalla—a goddess and a god.
It is evident that it was originally a goddess who was supposed to be in
control of Irkalla, corresponding to Ishtar in control of fertility and
vegetation on earth. Ereshkigal is therefore the sister of Ishtar and from one
point of view her counterpart, the symbol of nature during the non-
productive season of the year. As the doctrine of two kingdoms, one of this
world and one of the world of the dead, becomes crystallized, the
dominions of the two sisters are sharply differentiated from one another.
The addition of Nergal represents the harmonizing tendency to unite with
Frazer’s Pausanias, ii. 169.
ERESHKIGAL, also known as Allatu, the name of the chief
Babylonian goddess of the nether-world where the dead are gathered. Her
name signifies “lady of the nether-world.” She is known to us chiefly
through two myths, both symbolizing the change of seasons, but intended
also to illustrate certain doctrines developed in the temple-schools of
Babylonia. One of these myths is the famous story of Ishtar’s descent to
Irkalla or Arālu, as the lower world was called, and her reception by her
sister who presides over it; the other is the story of Nergal’s offence against
Ereshkigal, his banishment to the kingdom controlled by the goddess and
the reconciliation between Nergal and Ereshkigal through the latter’s offer
to have Nergal share the honours of the rule over Irkalla. The story of
Ishtar’s descent is told to illustrate the possibility of an escape from Irkalla,
while the other myth is intended to reconcile the existence of two rulers of
Irkalla—a goddess and a god.
It is evident that it was originally a goddess who was supposed to be in
control of Irkalla, corresponding to Ishtar in control of fertility and
vegetation on earth. Ereshkigal is therefore the sister of Ishtar and from one
point of view her counterpart, the symbol of nature during the non-
productive season of the year. As the doctrine of two kingdoms, one of this
world and one of the world of the dead, becomes crystallized, the
dominions of the two sisters are sharply differentiated from one another.
The addition of Nergal represents the harmonizing tendency to unite with
Page 143
Ereshkigal as the queen of the nether-world the god who, in his character as
god of war and of pestilence, conveys the living to Irkalla and thus becomes
the one who presides over the dead.
(M. Ja.)
ERETRIA (mod. Aletria), an ancient coast town of Euboea about 15 m.
S.E. of Chalcis, opposite to Oropus. Eretria, like its neighbour Chalcis
(q.v.), early entered upon a commercial and colonizing career. Besides
founding townships in the west and north of Greece, it acquired
dependencies among the Cyclades and joined the great mercantile alliance
of Miletus and Aegina. Since the so-called Lelantine War (7th century b.c.)
against the coming league of Chalcis, it began to be overshadowed by its
rivals. The interference of Eretria in the Ionian revolt (498) brought upon it
the vengeance of the Persians, who captured and destroyed it shortly before
the battle of Marathon (490). The city was soon rebuilt, and as a member of
both the Delian Leagues attached itself by numerous treaties to the
Athenians. The latter, through their general Phocion, rescued it from the
tyrants suborned by Philip of Macedon (354 and 341). Under Macedonian
and Roman rule Eretria fell into insignificance; for a short period under
Mark Antony, the triumvir, it became a possession of Athens. Eretria was
the birthplace of the tragedian Achaeus and of the “Megarian” philosopher
Menedemus.
The modern village, which is sometimes called Nea Psará because the
inhabitants of Psará were transferred there in 1821, is on unhealthy low-
lying ground near the sea. The excavation of the site was carried out by the
god of war and of pestilence, conveys the living to Irkalla and thus becomes
the one who presides over the dead.
(M. Ja.)
ERETRIA (mod. Aletria), an ancient coast town of Euboea about 15 m.
S.E. of Chalcis, opposite to Oropus. Eretria, like its neighbour Chalcis
(q.v.), early entered upon a commercial and colonizing career. Besides
founding townships in the west and north of Greece, it acquired
dependencies among the Cyclades and joined the great mercantile alliance
of Miletus and Aegina. Since the so-called Lelantine War (7th century b.c.)
against the coming league of Chalcis, it began to be overshadowed by its
rivals. The interference of Eretria in the Ionian revolt (498) brought upon it
the vengeance of the Persians, who captured and destroyed it shortly before
the battle of Marathon (490). The city was soon rebuilt, and as a member of
both the Delian Leagues attached itself by numerous treaties to the
Athenians. The latter, through their general Phocion, rescued it from the
tyrants suborned by Philip of Macedon (354 and 341). Under Macedonian
and Roman rule Eretria fell into insignificance; for a short period under
Mark Antony, the triumvir, it became a possession of Athens. Eretria was
the birthplace of the tragedian Achaeus and of the “Megarian” philosopher
Menedemus.
The modern village, which is sometimes called Nea Psará because the
inhabitants of Psará were transferred there in 1821, is on unhealthy low-
lying ground near the sea. The excavation of the site was carried out by the
Page 144
American School of Athens (1890-1895). At the foot of the Acropolis Hill,
where the ground begins to rise, the theatre lies; and though the material of
which this was built is rough, and only seven imperfect rows of seats
remain, a good part of the scena and of the chambers behind it is preserved,
and beneath these there runs a tunnel, which, together with other peculiar
features, has raised interesting questions in connexion with the arrangement
of the Greek theatre, the orchestra being at present on a level about 12 ft.
below that of the rooms in the scena. Near by are the substructions of a
temple of Dionysus and a large altar, and also a gymnasium with
arrangements for bathing. Besides these, in 1900 the substructions of a
temple of Apollo Daphnephoros were unearthed. Both the northern and the
southern side of the hill are flanked by walls, which seem to have reached
the sea, where there was a mole and a harbour; and the wall of the acropolis
itself remains in one part to the height of eight courses.
Authorities.—Strabo x. 447 f.; Herodotus v. 99, vi. 101; Corpus
Inscr. Atticarum, i. 339, iv. (2), pp. 5, 10, 22; H. Heinze, De rebus
Eretriensium (Göttingen, 1869); W.M. Leake, Travels in Northern
Greece (London, 1835), ii. 266, 443; B.V. Head, Historia numorum
(Oxford, 1887), pp. 305-308; Papers of the American School at Athens,
vol. vi.
(E. Gr.)
ERETRIAN SCHOOL OF PHILOSOPHY. This Greek school was the
continuation of the Elian school, which was transferred to Eretria by
Menedemus. It was of small importance, and in the absence of certain
where the ground begins to rise, the theatre lies; and though the material of
which this was built is rough, and only seven imperfect rows of seats
remain, a good part of the scena and of the chambers behind it is preserved,
and beneath these there runs a tunnel, which, together with other peculiar
features, has raised interesting questions in connexion with the arrangement
of the Greek theatre, the orchestra being at present on a level about 12 ft.
below that of the rooms in the scena. Near by are the substructions of a
temple of Dionysus and a large altar, and also a gymnasium with
arrangements for bathing. Besides these, in 1900 the substructions of a
temple of Apollo Daphnephoros were unearthed. Both the northern and the
southern side of the hill are flanked by walls, which seem to have reached
the sea, where there was a mole and a harbour; and the wall of the acropolis
itself remains in one part to the height of eight courses.
Authorities.—Strabo x. 447 f.; Herodotus v. 99, vi. 101; Corpus
Inscr. Atticarum, i. 339, iv. (2), pp. 5, 10, 22; H. Heinze, De rebus
Eretriensium (Göttingen, 1869); W.M. Leake, Travels in Northern
Greece (London, 1835), ii. 266, 443; B.V. Head, Historia numorum
(Oxford, 1887), pp. 305-308; Papers of the American School at Athens,
vol. vi.
(E. Gr.)
ERETRIAN SCHOOL OF PHILOSOPHY. This Greek school was the
continuation of the Elian school, which was transferred to Eretria by
Menedemus. It was of small importance, and in the absence of certain
Page 145
knowledge must be supposed to have adhered to the doctrines of Socrates.
(See Menedemus.)
ERFURT, a city of Germany, in Prussian Saxony, on the Gera, and the
railway Halle-Bebra, about midway between Gotha and Weimar, which are
14 m. distant. Pop. (1875) 48,025; (1905) 100,065. The city, which is
dominated on the west by the two citadels of Petersberg and Cyriaxburg, is
irregularly built, the only feature in its plan, or want of plan, being the
Friedrich Wilhelmsplatz, a broad open space of irregular shape abutting on
the Petersberg. On the south-western side of this square, which contains a
monument to the elector Frederick Charles Joseph of Mainz (1719-1802), is
the Domberg, an eminence on which stand, side by side, the cathedral and
the great church of St Severus with its three spires (14th century). The
churches are approached by a flight of forty-eight stone steps, the grouping
of the whole mass of buildings being exceedingly impressive. The cathedral
(Beatae Mariae Virginis) is one of the finest churches in Germany. It was
begun in the 12th century, but the nave was rebuilt in the 13th in the Gothic
style. The magnificent chancel (1349-1372), with the 14th-century crypt
below, rests on massive substructures, known as the Cavate. The twin
towers are set between the chancel and nave. The cathedral contains,
besides fine 15th-century glass, some very rich portal sculptures and bronze
castings, among others the coronation of the Virgin by Peter Vischer. In one
of its towers is the famous bell, called Maria Gloriosa, which bears the date
1497, and weighs 270 cwt. Besides the cathedral and St Severus, which are
Roman Catholic, Erfurt possesses several very interesting medieval
(See Menedemus.)
ERFURT, a city of Germany, in Prussian Saxony, on the Gera, and the
railway Halle-Bebra, about midway between Gotha and Weimar, which are
14 m. distant. Pop. (1875) 48,025; (1905) 100,065. The city, which is
dominated on the west by the two citadels of Petersberg and Cyriaxburg, is
irregularly built, the only feature in its plan, or want of plan, being the
Friedrich Wilhelmsplatz, a broad open space of irregular shape abutting on
the Petersberg. On the south-western side of this square, which contains a
monument to the elector Frederick Charles Joseph of Mainz (1719-1802), is
the Domberg, an eminence on which stand, side by side, the cathedral and
the great church of St Severus with its three spires (14th century). The
churches are approached by a flight of forty-eight stone steps, the grouping
of the whole mass of buildings being exceedingly impressive. The cathedral
(Beatae Mariae Virginis) is one of the finest churches in Germany. It was
begun in the 12th century, but the nave was rebuilt in the 13th in the Gothic
style. The magnificent chancel (1349-1372), with the 14th-century crypt
below, rests on massive substructures, known as the Cavate. The twin
towers are set between the chancel and nave. The cathedral contains,
besides fine 15th-century glass, some very rich portal sculptures and bronze
castings, among others the coronation of the Virgin by Peter Vischer. In one
of its towers is the famous bell, called Maria Gloriosa, which bears the date
1497, and weighs 270 cwt. Besides the cathedral and St Severus, which are
Roman Catholic, Erfurt possesses several very interesting medieval
Page 146
churches, now Evangelical. Among these may be mentioned the
Predigerkirche, dating from the latter half of the 12th century; the
Reglerkirche, a Romanesque building (restored in 1859) with a 12th-
century tower; and the Barfüsserkirche, a Gothic building containing fine
14th-century monuments. All these were originally monastic churches. Of
the former religious houses there survive a Franciscan convent, with a girls’
school attached, and an Ursuline convent. The Augustinian monastery, in
which Luther lived as a friar, is now used as an orphanage, under the name
of the Martinsstift. The cell of Luther was destroyed by fire in 1872. A
bronze statue of the reformer was erected in the Anger, the chief street of
the town, in 1890. At one time Erfurt had a university, of which the charter
dated from 1392; but it was suppressed in 1816, and its funds devoted to
other purposes, among these being the endowment of an institution founded
in 1758 and now called the royal academy of sciences, and the support of
the royal library, which now contains 60,000 volumes and over 1000
manuscripts. On the W. and S.W. extensive new quarters have grown up
within recent years, e.g. Hirschbrühl. The interior of the town hall (1869-
1875) is adorned with legendary and historical frescoes by Kämpfer and
Peter Janssen. Erfurt possesses also a picture gallery and an antiquarian
collection.
The educational establishments of the town include a gymnasium, a
realgymnasium, a realschule, technical schools for building and handicrafts,
a high-class commercial school, a school of agriculture, and an academy of
music. The most notable industry of Erfurt is the culture of flowers and of
vegetables, which is very extensively carried on. This industry had its origin
in the large gardens attached to the monasteries. It has also important and
growing manufactures of ladies’ mantles, boots and shoes, machines,
furniture, woollen goods, musical instruments, agricultural machinery and
implements, leather, tobacco, chemicals, &c. Brewing, bleaching and
Predigerkirche, dating from the latter half of the 12th century; the
Reglerkirche, a Romanesque building (restored in 1859) with a 12th-
century tower; and the Barfüsserkirche, a Gothic building containing fine
14th-century monuments. All these were originally monastic churches. Of
the former religious houses there survive a Franciscan convent, with a girls’
school attached, and an Ursuline convent. The Augustinian monastery, in
which Luther lived as a friar, is now used as an orphanage, under the name
of the Martinsstift. The cell of Luther was destroyed by fire in 1872. A
bronze statue of the reformer was erected in the Anger, the chief street of
the town, in 1890. At one time Erfurt had a university, of which the charter
dated from 1392; but it was suppressed in 1816, and its funds devoted to
other purposes, among these being the endowment of an institution founded
in 1758 and now called the royal academy of sciences, and the support of
the royal library, which now contains 60,000 volumes and over 1000
manuscripts. On the W. and S.W. extensive new quarters have grown up
within recent years, e.g. Hirschbrühl. The interior of the town hall (1869-
1875) is adorned with legendary and historical frescoes by Kämpfer and
Peter Janssen. Erfurt possesses also a picture gallery and an antiquarian
collection.
The educational establishments of the town include a gymnasium, a
realgymnasium, a realschule, technical schools for building and handicrafts,
a high-class commercial school, a school of agriculture, and an academy of
music. The most notable industry of Erfurt is the culture of flowers and of
vegetables, which is very extensively carried on. This industry had its origin
in the large gardens attached to the monasteries. It has also important and
growing manufactures of ladies’ mantles, boots and shoes, machines,
furniture, woollen goods, musical instruments, agricultural machinery and
implements, leather, tobacco, chemicals, &c. Brewing, bleaching and
Page 147
dyeing are also carried on on a large scale, and there are extensive railway
works and a government rifle factory.
Erfurt (Med. Erpesfurt, Erphorde, Lat. Erfordia) is a town of great
antiquity. Its origin is obscure, but in 741 it was sufficiently important for St
Boniface to found a bishopric here, which was, however, after the
martyrdom of the first bishop, Adolar, in 755, reabsorbed in that of Mainz.
In 805 the place received certain market rights from the emperor
Charlemagne. Later the overlordship was claimed by the archbishops of
Mainz, on the strength of charters granted by the emperor Otto I., and their
authority in Erfurt was maintained by a burgrave and an advocatus, the
office of the latter becoming in the 12th century hereditary in the family of
the counts of Gleichen. In spite of many vicissitudes (from 1109 to 1137,
for instance, the town was subject to the landgraves of Thuringia), and of a
charter granted in 1242 by the emperor Frederick II., the archbishops
succeeded in upholding their claims. In 1255, however, Archbishop Gerhard
I. had to grant the city municipal rights, the burgraviate disappeared, and
Erfurt became practically a free town. Its power was at its height early in
the 15th century, when it joined the Hanseatic League. It had acquired by
force or purchase various countships and other fiefs in the neighbourhood,
and ruled a considerable territory; and its wealth was so great that in 1378 it
established a university, the first in Europe that embraced the four faculties.
By the end of the century, however, its prosperity had sunk owing to the
perpetual feud with Mainz, the internecine war in Saxony, and the
consequent dwindling of trade. By the convention of Amorbach in 1483 the
overlordship of Erfurt was ultimately transferred by the electors of Mainz to
Saxony. The political and religious quarrels of the 16th century still further
depressed the city, in which the reformed religion was established in 1521.
Then came the Thirty Years’ War, during which Erfurt was for a while
occupied by the Swedes. After the peace of Westphalia (1648) the city was
assigned by the emperor to the elector of Mainz, and, on its refusal to
works and a government rifle factory.
Erfurt (Med. Erpesfurt, Erphorde, Lat. Erfordia) is a town of great
antiquity. Its origin is obscure, but in 741 it was sufficiently important for St
Boniface to found a bishopric here, which was, however, after the
martyrdom of the first bishop, Adolar, in 755, reabsorbed in that of Mainz.
In 805 the place received certain market rights from the emperor
Charlemagne. Later the overlordship was claimed by the archbishops of
Mainz, on the strength of charters granted by the emperor Otto I., and their
authority in Erfurt was maintained by a burgrave and an advocatus, the
office of the latter becoming in the 12th century hereditary in the family of
the counts of Gleichen. In spite of many vicissitudes (from 1109 to 1137,
for instance, the town was subject to the landgraves of Thuringia), and of a
charter granted in 1242 by the emperor Frederick II., the archbishops
succeeded in upholding their claims. In 1255, however, Archbishop Gerhard
I. had to grant the city municipal rights, the burgraviate disappeared, and
Erfurt became practically a free town. Its power was at its height early in
the 15th century, when it joined the Hanseatic League. It had acquired by
force or purchase various countships and other fiefs in the neighbourhood,
and ruled a considerable territory; and its wealth was so great that in 1378 it
established a university, the first in Europe that embraced the four faculties.
By the end of the century, however, its prosperity had sunk owing to the
perpetual feud with Mainz, the internecine war in Saxony, and the
consequent dwindling of trade. By the convention of Amorbach in 1483 the
overlordship of Erfurt was ultimately transferred by the electors of Mainz to
Saxony. The political and religious quarrels of the 16th century still further
depressed the city, in which the reformed religion was established in 1521.
Then came the Thirty Years’ War, during which Erfurt was for a while
occupied by the Swedes. After the peace of Westphalia (1648) the city was
assigned by the emperor to the elector of Mainz, and, on its refusal to
Page 148
submit, it was placed under the ban of the Empire (1660). In 1664 it was
captured by the troops of the archbishop of Mainz, and remained in the
possession of the electorate till 1802, when it came into the possession of
Prussia. In 1808 it was the scene of the memorable interview between
Napoleon and the emperor Alexander I. of Russia, at which the kings of
Bavaria, Saxony, Westphalia and Württemberg also assisted, which is
known as the congress of Erfurt. Here in 1850 the parliament of the short-
lived Prussian Northern Union (known as the Erfurt parliament) held its
sittings. In 1902 the 100th anniversary of the city’s incorporation with
Prussia was celebrated.
See W.J.A. von Tettau, Erfurt in seiner Vergangenheit und
Gegenwart (Erfurt, 1880); C. Beyer, Geschichte der Stadt Erfurt
(Erfurt, 1900); and F.W. Kampschulte, Die Universität Erfurt in ihrem
Verhältnisse zu dem Humanismus und der Reformation (1856-1858).
For a detailed bibliography see U. Chevalier, Répertoire des sources.
Topo-bibliographie (Montebéliard, 1894-1899), s.v.
ERGOT, or Spurred Rye, the drug ergota or Secale cornutum (Ger.
Mutterkorn; Fr. seigle ergoté), consisting of the sclerotium (or hard resting
condition) of a fungus, Claviceps purpurea, parasitic on the pistils of many
members of the Grass family, but obtained almost exclusively from rye,
Secale cereale. In the ear of rye that is infected with ergot a species of
fermentation takes place, and there exudes from it a sweet yellowish mucus,
which after a time disappears. The ear loses its starch, and ceases to grow,
and its ovaries become penetrated with the white spongy tissue of the
captured by the troops of the archbishop of Mainz, and remained in the
possession of the electorate till 1802, when it came into the possession of
Prussia. In 1808 it was the scene of the memorable interview between
Napoleon and the emperor Alexander I. of Russia, at which the kings of
Bavaria, Saxony, Westphalia and Württemberg also assisted, which is
known as the congress of Erfurt. Here in 1850 the parliament of the short-
lived Prussian Northern Union (known as the Erfurt parliament) held its
sittings. In 1902 the 100th anniversary of the city’s incorporation with
Prussia was celebrated.
See W.J.A. von Tettau, Erfurt in seiner Vergangenheit und
Gegenwart (Erfurt, 1880); C. Beyer, Geschichte der Stadt Erfurt
(Erfurt, 1900); and F.W. Kampschulte, Die Universität Erfurt in ihrem
Verhältnisse zu dem Humanismus und der Reformation (1856-1858).
For a detailed bibliography see U. Chevalier, Répertoire des sources.
Topo-bibliographie (Montebéliard, 1894-1899), s.v.
ERGOT, or Spurred Rye, the drug ergota or Secale cornutum (Ger.
Mutterkorn; Fr. seigle ergoté), consisting of the sclerotium (or hard resting
condition) of a fungus, Claviceps purpurea, parasitic on the pistils of many
members of the Grass family, but obtained almost exclusively from rye,
Secale cereale. In the ear of rye that is infected with ergot a species of
fermentation takes place, and there exudes from it a sweet yellowish mucus,
which after a time disappears. The ear loses its starch, and ceases to grow,
and its ovaries become penetrated with the white spongy tissue of the
Page 149
mycelium of the fungus which towards the end of the season forms the
sclerotium, in which state the fungus lies dormant through the winter.
The drug consists of grains, usually curved (hence the name, from the O.
Fr. argot, a cock’s spur), which are violet-black or dark-purple externally,
and whitish with a tinge of pink within, are between 1⁄3 and 1½ in. long, and
from 1 to 4 lines broad, and have two lateral furrows, a close fracture, a
disagreeable rancid taste, and a faint, fishy odour, which last becomes more
perceptible when the powder of the drug is mixed with potash solution.
Ergot should be kept in stoppered bottles in order to preserve it from the
attacks of a species of mite, and to prevent the oxidation of its fatty oil.
The extremely complex composition of this drug has been studied in
great detail, and with such important results that instead of giving ergot
itself by the mouth in doses of 20 to 60 grains, it is now possible to obtain
much more rapid and certain results by giving one three-hundredth of a
grain of one of its constituents hypodermically. This constituent is the
alkaloid cornutine, which is the valuable ingredient of the drug. Other
ingredients are a fixed oil, present to the extent of 30%, ergotinic acid, a
glucoside, trimethylamine, which gives the drug its unpleasant odour, and
sphacelinic acid, a non-nitrogenous resinoid body. Of the numerous
preparations only two need be mentioned—the liquid extract (dose 10
minims to 2 drachms or more), and the hypodermic injection. The latter
does not keep well, and the best way of using ergot is to dissolve tablets
obtained from a reputable maker, and containing some of the active
principles, in pure water, the solution being injected subcutaneously.
Ergot has no external action. Given internally it stimulates the intestinal
muscles and may cause diarrhoea. After absorption it slows the pulse by
stimulation of the vagus nerves. It has indeed been asserted that the slow
pulse characteristic of the puerperal period is really due to the common
administration of ergot at that time. This is probably an exaggeration. The
sclerotium, in which state the fungus lies dormant through the winter.
The drug consists of grains, usually curved (hence the name, from the O.
Fr. argot, a cock’s spur), which are violet-black or dark-purple externally,
and whitish with a tinge of pink within, are between 1⁄3 and 1½ in. long, and
from 1 to 4 lines broad, and have two lateral furrows, a close fracture, a
disagreeable rancid taste, and a faint, fishy odour, which last becomes more
perceptible when the powder of the drug is mixed with potash solution.
Ergot should be kept in stoppered bottles in order to preserve it from the
attacks of a species of mite, and to prevent the oxidation of its fatty oil.
The extremely complex composition of this drug has been studied in
great detail, and with such important results that instead of giving ergot
itself by the mouth in doses of 20 to 60 grains, it is now possible to obtain
much more rapid and certain results by giving one three-hundredth of a
grain of one of its constituents hypodermically. This constituent is the
alkaloid cornutine, which is the valuable ingredient of the drug. Other
ingredients are a fixed oil, present to the extent of 30%, ergotinic acid, a
glucoside, trimethylamine, which gives the drug its unpleasant odour, and
sphacelinic acid, a non-nitrogenous resinoid body. Of the numerous
preparations only two need be mentioned—the liquid extract (dose 10
minims to 2 drachms or more), and the hypodermic injection. The latter
does not keep well, and the best way of using ergot is to dissolve tablets
obtained from a reputable maker, and containing some of the active
principles, in pure water, the solution being injected subcutaneously.
Ergot has no external action. Given internally it stimulates the intestinal
muscles and may cause diarrhoea. After absorption it slows the pulse by
stimulation of the vagus nerves. It has indeed been asserted that the slow
pulse characteristic of the puerperal period is really due to the common
administration of ergot at that time. This is probably an exaggeration. The
Page 150
important actions of ergot are on the blood-vessels and the uterus. The drug
greatly raises the blood-pressure by causing extreme contraction of the
arteries. This is mainly due to a direct action on the muscular coats of the
vessels, but is also partly of central origin, since the drug also stimulates the
vaso-motor centre in the medulla oblongata. This action on the vessels is so
marked as to constitute the drug a haemostatic, not only locally but also
remotely. It may arrest bleeding from the nose, for instance, when injected
hypodermically. Nearly all the constituents share in causing this action, but
the sphacelinic acid is probably the most potent. Ergot is the most powerful
known stimulant of the pregnant uterus. The action is a double one. At least
four of its constituents act directly on the muscular fibre of the uterus,
whilst the cornutine acts through the nerves. Of great practical importance
is the fact that the cornutine causes rhythmic contractions such as naturally
occur, whilst the sphacelinic acid produces a tonic contraction of the uterus,
which is unnatural and highly inimical to the life of the foetus. Ergot is used
in therapeutics as a haemostatic, and is very valuable in haemoptysis and
sometimes in haematemesis. But its great use is in obstetrics. The drug
should regularly be given hypodermically, and it is important to note that if
the injection be made immediately under the skin, an abscess, or
considerable discomfort, may ensue. The injection should be intra-
muscular, the needle being boldly plunged into a muscular mass, such as
that of the deltoid or the gluteal region. The indications for the use of ergot
in obstetrics are highly complex and demand detailed treatment. It can only
be said here that the drug should only in the rarest possible cases be given
whilst the child is still in utero. This rule is necessitated by the sphacelinic
acid, which causes an unnatural state of the organ. When it is possible to
obtain pure cornutine, which is unfortunately very expensive, the
precautions necessary in other cases may be abrogated.
Chronic poisoning, or ergotism, used frequently to occur amongst the
poor fed on rye infected with the Claviceps. As it is practically impossible
greatly raises the blood-pressure by causing extreme contraction of the
arteries. This is mainly due to a direct action on the muscular coats of the
vessels, but is also partly of central origin, since the drug also stimulates the
vaso-motor centre in the medulla oblongata. This action on the vessels is so
marked as to constitute the drug a haemostatic, not only locally but also
remotely. It may arrest bleeding from the nose, for instance, when injected
hypodermically. Nearly all the constituents share in causing this action, but
the sphacelinic acid is probably the most potent. Ergot is the most powerful
known stimulant of the pregnant uterus. The action is a double one. At least
four of its constituents act directly on the muscular fibre of the uterus,
whilst the cornutine acts through the nerves. Of great practical importance
is the fact that the cornutine causes rhythmic contractions such as naturally
occur, whilst the sphacelinic acid produces a tonic contraction of the uterus,
which is unnatural and highly inimical to the life of the foetus. Ergot is used
in therapeutics as a haemostatic, and is very valuable in haemoptysis and
sometimes in haematemesis. But its great use is in obstetrics. The drug
should regularly be given hypodermically, and it is important to note that if
the injection be made immediately under the skin, an abscess, or
considerable discomfort, may ensue. The injection should be intra-
muscular, the needle being boldly plunged into a muscular mass, such as
that of the deltoid or the gluteal region. The indications for the use of ergot
in obstetrics are highly complex and demand detailed treatment. It can only
be said here that the drug should only in the rarest possible cases be given
whilst the child is still in utero. This rule is necessitated by the sphacelinic
acid, which causes an unnatural state of the organ. When it is possible to
obtain pure cornutine, which is unfortunately very expensive, the
precautions necessary in other cases may be abrogated.
Chronic poisoning, or ergotism, used frequently to occur amongst the
poor fed on rye infected with the Claviceps. As it is practically impossible
Page 151
to reproduce the symptoms of ergotism nowadays, whether experimentally
in the lower animals, or when the drug is being administered to a human
being for some therapeutic purpose, it is believed that the symptoms of
ergotism were rendered possible only by the semi-starvation which must
have ensued from the use of such rye-bread; for the grain disappears as the
fungus develops. There were two types of ergotism. In the gangrenous form
various parts of the body underwent gangrene as a consequence of the arrest
of blood-supply produced by the action of sphacelinic acid on the arteries.
In the spasmodic form the symptoms were of a nervous character. The
initial indications of the disease were cutaneous itching, tingling and
formication, which gave place to actual loss of cutaneous sensation, first
observed in the extremities. Amblyopia and some loss of hearing also
occurred, as well as mental failure. With weakness of the voluntary muscles
went intermittent spasms which weakened the patient and ultimately led to
death by implication of the respiratory muscles. The last-known “epidemic”
of ergotism occurred in Lorraine and Burgundy in the year 1816.
ERIC XIV. (1533-1577), king of Sweden, was the only son of Gustavus
Vasa and Catherine of Saxe-Lauenburg. The news of his father’s death
reached Eric as he was on the point of embarking for England to press in
person his suit for the hand of Queen Elizabeth. He hastened back to
Stockholm, after burying his father, summoned a Riksdag, which met at
Arboga on the 15th of April 1561, and adopted the royal propositions
known as the Arboga articles, considerably curtailing the authority of the
royal dukes, John and Charles, in their respective provinces. Two months
in the lower animals, or when the drug is being administered to a human
being for some therapeutic purpose, it is believed that the symptoms of
ergotism were rendered possible only by the semi-starvation which must
have ensued from the use of such rye-bread; for the grain disappears as the
fungus develops. There were two types of ergotism. In the gangrenous form
various parts of the body underwent gangrene as a consequence of the arrest
of blood-supply produced by the action of sphacelinic acid on the arteries.
In the spasmodic form the symptoms were of a nervous character. The
initial indications of the disease were cutaneous itching, tingling and
formication, which gave place to actual loss of cutaneous sensation, first
observed in the extremities. Amblyopia and some loss of hearing also
occurred, as well as mental failure. With weakness of the voluntary muscles
went intermittent spasms which weakened the patient and ultimately led to
death by implication of the respiratory muscles. The last-known “epidemic”
of ergotism occurred in Lorraine and Burgundy in the year 1816.
ERIC XIV. (1533-1577), king of Sweden, was the only son of Gustavus
Vasa and Catherine of Saxe-Lauenburg. The news of his father’s death
reached Eric as he was on the point of embarking for England to press in
person his suit for the hand of Queen Elizabeth. He hastened back to
Stockholm, after burying his father, summoned a Riksdag, which met at
Arboga on the 15th of April 1561, and adopted the royal propositions
known as the Arboga articles, considerably curtailing the authority of the
royal dukes, John and Charles, in their respective provinces. Two months
Page 152
later Eric was crowned at Upsala, on which occasion he first introduced the
titles of baron and count into Sweden, by way of attaching to the crown the
higher nobility, these new counts and barons receiving lucrative fiefs
adequate to the maintenance of their new dignities.
From the very beginning of his reign Eric’s morbid fear of the upper
classes drove him to give his absolute confidence to a man of base origin
and bad character, though, it must be admitted, of superior ability. This was
Göran Persson, born about 1530, who had been educated abroad in
Lutheran principles, and after narrowly escaping hanging at the hands of
Gustavus Vasa for some vile action entered the service of his son. This
powerful upstart was the natural enemy of the nobility, who suffered much
at his hands, though it is very difficult to determine whether the initiative in
these prosecutions proceeded from him or his master. Göran was also a
determined opponent of Duke John, with whom Eric in 1563 openly
quarrelled, because John, contrary to the royal orders, had married (Oct. 4,
1562) Catherine, daughter of Sigismund I. of Poland, engaging at the same
time to assist the Polish king to conquer Livonia. This act was a flagrant
breach of that paragraph of the Arboga articles which forbade the royal
dukes to contract any political treaty without the royal assent. An army of
10,000 men was immediately sent by Eric to John’s duchy of Finland, and
John and his consort were seized, brought over to Sweden and detained as
prisoners of state in Gripsholm Castle. But Eric did not stop here. His
suspicion suggested to him that, if his own brother failed him, the loyalty of
the great nobles, especially the members of the ancient Sture family, who
had been notable in Sweden when the Vasas were unknown, could not be
depended upon. The head of the Sture family at this time was Count Svante,
who had married a sister of Gustavus Vasa’s second wife, and had by her a
numerous family, of whom two sons, Nils and Eric, still survived. The dark
tragedy, known as the Sture murders, began with Eric XIV.’s strange
treatment of young Count Nils. In 1566 he was summoned before a newly
titles of baron and count into Sweden, by way of attaching to the crown the
higher nobility, these new counts and barons receiving lucrative fiefs
adequate to the maintenance of their new dignities.
From the very beginning of his reign Eric’s morbid fear of the upper
classes drove him to give his absolute confidence to a man of base origin
and bad character, though, it must be admitted, of superior ability. This was
Göran Persson, born about 1530, who had been educated abroad in
Lutheran principles, and after narrowly escaping hanging at the hands of
Gustavus Vasa for some vile action entered the service of his son. This
powerful upstart was the natural enemy of the nobility, who suffered much
at his hands, though it is very difficult to determine whether the initiative in
these prosecutions proceeded from him or his master. Göran was also a
determined opponent of Duke John, with whom Eric in 1563 openly
quarrelled, because John, contrary to the royal orders, had married (Oct. 4,
1562) Catherine, daughter of Sigismund I. of Poland, engaging at the same
time to assist the Polish king to conquer Livonia. This act was a flagrant
breach of that paragraph of the Arboga articles which forbade the royal
dukes to contract any political treaty without the royal assent. An army of
10,000 men was immediately sent by Eric to John’s duchy of Finland, and
John and his consort were seized, brought over to Sweden and detained as
prisoners of state in Gripsholm Castle. But Eric did not stop here. His
suspicion suggested to him that, if his own brother failed him, the loyalty of
the great nobles, especially the members of the ancient Sture family, who
had been notable in Sweden when the Vasas were unknown, could not be
depended upon. The head of the Sture family at this time was Count Svante,
who had married a sister of Gustavus Vasa’s second wife, and had by her a
numerous family, of whom two sons, Nils and Eric, still survived. The dark
tragedy, known as the Sture murders, began with Eric XIV.’s strange
treatment of young Count Nils. In 1566 he was summoned before a newly
Page 153
erected tribunal and condemned to death for gross neglect of duty, though
not one of the frivolous charges brought against him could be substantiated.
The death penalty was commuted into a punishment worse because more
shameful than death. On the 15th of June 1566 the unfortunate youth,
bruised and bleeding from shocking ill-treatment, was placed upon a
wretched hack, with a crown of straw on his head, and led in derision
through the streets of Stockholm. The following night he was sent a
prisoner to the fortress of Örbyhus. A few days later he was appointed
ambassador extraordinary, and despatched to Lorraine to resume the
negotiations for Eric’s marriage with the princess Renata. Before he
returned, however, Eric had resolved to marry Karin, or Kitty Månsdatter,
the daughter of a common soldier, who had been his mistress since 1565. In
January 1567 Eric extorted a declaration from two of his senators that they
would assist him to punish all who should try to prevent his projected
marriage; and, in the middle of May, a Riksdag was summoned to Upsala to
judge between the king and those of the aristocracy whom he regarded as
his personal enemies. Eric himself arrived at Upsala on the 16th in a
condition of incipient insanity. On the 19th he opened parliament in a
speech which, as he explained, he had to deliver extempore owing to “the
treachery” of his secretary. Two days later Nils Sture arrived at Upsala fresh
from his embassy to Lorraine, and was at once thrown into prison, where
other members of the nobility were already detained. On the following day
Eric murdered Nils in his cell with his own hand, and by his order the other
prisoners were despatched by the royal provost marshal forthwith. These
murders were committed so promptly and secretly that it is doubtful
whether the estates, actually in session at the same place, knew what had
been done when, on the 26th of May, under violent pressure from Göran
Persson, they signed a document declaring that all the accused gentlemen
under detention had acted like traitors, and confirming all sentences already
passed or that might be passed upon them.
not one of the frivolous charges brought against him could be substantiated.
The death penalty was commuted into a punishment worse because more
shameful than death. On the 15th of June 1566 the unfortunate youth,
bruised and bleeding from shocking ill-treatment, was placed upon a
wretched hack, with a crown of straw on his head, and led in derision
through the streets of Stockholm. The following night he was sent a
prisoner to the fortress of Örbyhus. A few days later he was appointed
ambassador extraordinary, and despatched to Lorraine to resume the
negotiations for Eric’s marriage with the princess Renata. Before he
returned, however, Eric had resolved to marry Karin, or Kitty Månsdatter,
the daughter of a common soldier, who had been his mistress since 1565. In
January 1567 Eric extorted a declaration from two of his senators that they
would assist him to punish all who should try to prevent his projected
marriage; and, in the middle of May, a Riksdag was summoned to Upsala to
judge between the king and those of the aristocracy whom he regarded as
his personal enemies. Eric himself arrived at Upsala on the 16th in a
condition of incipient insanity. On the 19th he opened parliament in a
speech which, as he explained, he had to deliver extempore owing to “the
treachery” of his secretary. Two days later Nils Sture arrived at Upsala fresh
from his embassy to Lorraine, and was at once thrown into prison, where
other members of the nobility were already detained. On the following day
Eric murdered Nils in his cell with his own hand, and by his order the other
prisoners were despatched by the royal provost marshal forthwith. These
murders were committed so promptly and secretly that it is doubtful
whether the estates, actually in session at the same place, knew what had
been done when, on the 26th of May, under violent pressure from Göran
Persson, they signed a document declaring that all the accused gentlemen
under detention had acted like traitors, and confirming all sentences already
passed or that might be passed upon them.
Page 154
During the greater part of 1567 Eric was so deranged that a committee of
senators was appointed to govern the kingdom. One of his illusions was that
not he was king but his brother John, whom he now set at liberty. When, at
the beginning of 1568, Eric recovered his reason, a reconciliation was
effected between the king and the duke, on condition that John recognized
the legality of his brother’s marriage with Karin Månsdatter, and her
children as the successors to the throne. A month later, on the 4th of July, he
was solemnly married to Karin at Stockholm by the primate. The next day
Karin was crowned queen of Sweden and her infant son Gustavus
proclaimed prince-royal. Shortly after his marriage Eric issued a circular
ordering a general thanksgiving for his delivery from the assaults of the
devil. This document, in every line of which madness is legible, convinced
most thinking people that Eric was unfit to reign. The royal dukes, John and
Charles, had already taken measures to depose him; and in July the
rebellion broke out in Östergötland. Eric at first offered a stout resistance
and won two victories; but on the 17th of September the dukes stood before
Stockholm, and Eric, after surrendering Göran Persson to the horrible
vengeance of his enemies, himself submitted, and resigned the crown. On
the 30th of September 1568 John III. was proclaimed king by the army and
the nobility; and a Riksdag, summoned to Stockholm, confirmed the choice
and formally deposed Eric on the 25th of January 1569. For the next seven
years the ex-king was a source of the utmost anxiety to the new
government. No fewer than three rebellions, with the object of releasing and
reinstating him, had to be suppressed, and his prison was changed half a
dozen times. On the 10th of March 1575, an assembly of notables, lay and
clerical, at John’s request, pronounced a formal sentence of death upon him.
Two years later, on the 24th of February 1577, he died suddenly in his new
prison at Örbyhus, poisoned, it is said, by his governor, Johan Henriksen.
See Sveriges Historia, vol. iii. (Stockholm, 1880); Robert Nisbet
Bain, Scandinavia, cap. 4-6 (Cambridge, 1905); Eric Tegel, Konung
senators was appointed to govern the kingdom. One of his illusions was that
not he was king but his brother John, whom he now set at liberty. When, at
the beginning of 1568, Eric recovered his reason, a reconciliation was
effected between the king and the duke, on condition that John recognized
the legality of his brother’s marriage with Karin Månsdatter, and her
children as the successors to the throne. A month later, on the 4th of July, he
was solemnly married to Karin at Stockholm by the primate. The next day
Karin was crowned queen of Sweden and her infant son Gustavus
proclaimed prince-royal. Shortly after his marriage Eric issued a circular
ordering a general thanksgiving for his delivery from the assaults of the
devil. This document, in every line of which madness is legible, convinced
most thinking people that Eric was unfit to reign. The royal dukes, John and
Charles, had already taken measures to depose him; and in July the
rebellion broke out in Östergötland. Eric at first offered a stout resistance
and won two victories; but on the 17th of September the dukes stood before
Stockholm, and Eric, after surrendering Göran Persson to the horrible
vengeance of his enemies, himself submitted, and resigned the crown. On
the 30th of September 1568 John III. was proclaimed king by the army and
the nobility; and a Riksdag, summoned to Stockholm, confirmed the choice
and formally deposed Eric on the 25th of January 1569. For the next seven
years the ex-king was a source of the utmost anxiety to the new
government. No fewer than three rebellions, with the object of releasing and
reinstating him, had to be suppressed, and his prison was changed half a
dozen times. On the 10th of March 1575, an assembly of notables, lay and
clerical, at John’s request, pronounced a formal sentence of death upon him.
Two years later, on the 24th of February 1577, he died suddenly in his new
prison at Örbyhus, poisoned, it is said, by his governor, Johan Henriksen.
See Sveriges Historia, vol. iii. (Stockholm, 1880); Robert Nisbet
Bain, Scandinavia, cap. 4-6 (Cambridge, 1905); Eric Tegel, Konung
Page 155
Eriks den XIV. historia (Stockholm, 1751). (R. N. B.)
ERICACEAE, in
botany, a natural order of
plants belonging to the
higher or gamopetalous
division of Dicotyledons.
They are woody plants,
sometimes with a slender
creeping stem as in
bilberry, Vaccinium (fig.
1), or Andromeda (fig. 2),
or forming low bushes as
in the heaths, or larger,
sometimes becoming tree-
like, as in species of
Rhododendron. The
leaves are alternate,
opposite or whorled in
Fig. 1.—Vaccinium vitis-idaea, with leaf and flower,
arrangement, and in their nat. size. 1, Flower of V. myrtillus, cut lengthwise. 2,
Fruit of same.
form and structure show
well-marked adaptation
for life in dry or exposed situations. Thus in the true heaths they are needle-
like, with the margins often rolled back to form a groove or an almost
closed chamber on the under side. In others such as Rhododendron or
ERICACEAE, in
botany, a natural order of
plants belonging to the
higher or gamopetalous
division of Dicotyledons.
They are woody plants,
sometimes with a slender
creeping stem as in
bilberry, Vaccinium (fig.
1), or Andromeda (fig. 2),
or forming low bushes as
in the heaths, or larger,
sometimes becoming tree-
like, as in species of
Rhododendron. The
leaves are alternate,
opposite or whorled in
Fig. 1.—Vaccinium vitis-idaea, with leaf and flower,
arrangement, and in their nat. size. 1, Flower of V. myrtillus, cut lengthwise. 2,
Fruit of same.
form and structure show
well-marked adaptation
for life in dry or exposed situations. Thus in the true heaths they are needle-
like, with the margins often rolled back to form a groove or an almost
closed chamber on the under side. In others such as Rhododendron or
Page 156
Arbutus they are often leathery and evergreen, the strongly cuticularized
upper surface protecting a water-storing tissue situated above the green
layers of the leaf. The flowers are sometimes solitary and axillary or
terminal as in Andromeda, but are generally arranged in racemose
inflorescences at the end of the branches as in Arbutus and Rhododendron,
or on small lateral shoots as in Erica. They are hermaphrodite and generally
regular with parts in 4 or 5, thus: sepals 4 or 5, petals 4 or 5, stamens 8 or
10 in two series, the outer of which is opposite the petals, and carpels 4 or
5. The corolla is usually more or less bell-shaped, and in the heaths persists
in a dry state in the fruit. The petals with the stamens are situated on the
outer edge of a honey-secreting disk. The anthers show a very great variety
in shape, the halves are often more or less free and often appendaged; they
open to allow the escape of the pollen by a terminal pore or slit. The carpels
are united to form a 4- to 5-chambered ovary, which bears a simple
elongated style ending in a capitate stigma; each ovary-chamber contains
one to many ovules attached to a central placenta. The brightly coloured
corolla, the presence of nectar and the scent render the flowers attractive to
insects, and the projection of the stigma beyond the anthers favours
crossing. The fruit is generally a capsule containing many seeds, as in Erica
(fig. 3) or Rhododendron; sometimes a berry as in Arbutus.
upper surface protecting a water-storing tissue situated above the green
layers of the leaf. The flowers are sometimes solitary and axillary or
terminal as in Andromeda, but are generally arranged in racemose
inflorescences at the end of the branches as in Arbutus and Rhododendron,
or on small lateral shoots as in Erica. They are hermaphrodite and generally
regular with parts in 4 or 5, thus: sepals 4 or 5, petals 4 or 5, stamens 8 or
10 in two series, the outer of which is opposite the petals, and carpels 4 or
5. The corolla is usually more or less bell-shaped, and in the heaths persists
in a dry state in the fruit. The petals with the stamens are situated on the
outer edge of a honey-secreting disk. The anthers show a very great variety
in shape, the halves are often more or less free and often appendaged; they
open to allow the escape of the pollen by a terminal pore or slit. The carpels
are united to form a 4- to 5-chambered ovary, which bears a simple
elongated style ending in a capitate stigma; each ovary-chamber contains
one to many ovules attached to a central placenta. The brightly coloured
corolla, the presence of nectar and the scent render the flowers attractive to
insects, and the projection of the stigma beyond the anthers favours
crossing. The fruit is generally a capsule containing many seeds, as in Erica
(fig. 3) or Rhododendron; sometimes a berry as in Arbutus.
Page 157
Fig. 2.—Andromeda Hypnoides, nat. size. 1, Flower; 2, Unripe fruit cut across; 3, Stamen—all
enlarged.
Fig. 3.
enlarged.
Fig. 3.
Page 158
1, Flowering shoot of Erica cinerea, about 4, Capsule showing the loculicidal
1½ nat. size. dehiscence; a few seeds remain
2, Flower cut lengthwise. attached to the central axis.
3, Stamen showing appendages and 5, Diagram of the flower having four
porous dehiscence of anther. sepals, four divisions of the corolla,
eight stamens in two rows, and four
divisions of the pistil.
The order falls into four distinct tribes, which are characterized by the
relative position of the ovary and by the fruit and seed. They are as follows:
—
1. Rhododendron tribe, characterized by capsular fruit, seed with a loose
coat, deciduous petals and anthers without appendages. It consists mainly of
the great genus Rhododendron (in which Azalea is included by recent
botanists), which is chiefly developed in the mountains of eastern Asia,
many species occurring on the Himalayas. Dabeocia, St Dabeoc’s heath,
occurs in Ireland.
2. Arbutus Tribe.—Fruit a berry or capsule, petals deciduous and anthers
with bristle-like appendages, chiefly north temperate to arctic in
distribution. Arbutus Unedo, the strawberry-tree, so called from its large
scarlet berry, is a southern European species which extends into south
Ireland. Arctostaphylos (bearberry) and Andromeda are arctic and alpine
genera occurring in Britain. Epigaea repens is the trailing arbutus or
mayflower of Atlantic America.
3. Vaccinium Tribe.—Ovary inferior, fruit a berry. Extends from the north
temperate zone to the mountains of the tropics. Vaccinium, the largest
genus, has four British species: V. Myrtillus is the bilberry(q.v.), blaeberry
or whortleberry, V. Vitis-Idaea the cowberry, and V. Oxycoccos the cranberry
1½ nat. size. dehiscence; a few seeds remain
2, Flower cut lengthwise. attached to the central axis.
3, Stamen showing appendages and 5, Diagram of the flower having four
porous dehiscence of anther. sepals, four divisions of the corolla,
eight stamens in two rows, and four
divisions of the pistil.
The order falls into four distinct tribes, which are characterized by the
relative position of the ovary and by the fruit and seed. They are as follows:
—
1. Rhododendron tribe, characterized by capsular fruit, seed with a loose
coat, deciduous petals and anthers without appendages. It consists mainly of
the great genus Rhododendron (in which Azalea is included by recent
botanists), which is chiefly developed in the mountains of eastern Asia,
many species occurring on the Himalayas. Dabeocia, St Dabeoc’s heath,
occurs in Ireland.
2. Arbutus Tribe.—Fruit a berry or capsule, petals deciduous and anthers
with bristle-like appendages, chiefly north temperate to arctic in
distribution. Arbutus Unedo, the strawberry-tree, so called from its large
scarlet berry, is a southern European species which extends into south
Ireland. Arctostaphylos (bearberry) and Andromeda are arctic and alpine
genera occurring in Britain. Epigaea repens is the trailing arbutus or
mayflower of Atlantic America.
3. Vaccinium Tribe.—Ovary inferior, fruit a berry. Extends from the north
temperate zone to the mountains of the tropics. Vaccinium, the largest
genus, has four British species: V. Myrtillus is the bilberry(q.v.), blaeberry
or whortleberry, V. Vitis-Idaea the cowberry, and V. Oxycoccos the cranberry
Page 159
(q.v.). This tribe is sometimes regarded as a separate order Vacciniaceae,
distinguished by its inferior ovary.
4. Erica Tribe.—Fruit usually a capsule, seeds round, not winged; corolla
persisting round the ripe fruit; anthers often appendaged. The largest genus
is Erica, the true heath (q.v.), with over 400 species, the great majority of
which are confined to the Cape; others occur on the mountains of tropical
Africa and in Europe and North Africa, especially the Mediterranean
region. E. cinerea (purple heather) and E. Tetralix (cross-leaved heath) are
common British heaths. Calluna is the ling or Scotch heather.
ERICHSEN, SIR JOHN ERIC, Bart. (1818-1896), British surgeon,
born on the 19th of July 1818 at Copenhagen, was the son of Eric Erichsen,
a member of a well-known Danish family. He studied medicine at
University College, London, and at Paris, devoting himself in the early
years of his career to physiology, and lecturing on general anatomy and
physiology at University College hospital. In 1844 he was secretary to the
physiological section of the British Association, and in 1845 he was
awarded the Fothergillian gold medal of the Royal Humane Society for his
essay on asphyxia. In 1848 he was appointed assistant surgeon at University
College hospital, and in 1850 became full surgeon and professor of surgery,
his lectures and clinical teaching being much admired; and in 1875 he
joined the consulting staff. His Science and Art of Surgery (1853) went
through many editions. He rose to be president of the College of Surgeons
in 1880. From 1879 to 1881 he was president of the Royal Medical and
Chirurgical Society. He was created a baronet in 1895, having been for
distinguished by its inferior ovary.
4. Erica Tribe.—Fruit usually a capsule, seeds round, not winged; corolla
persisting round the ripe fruit; anthers often appendaged. The largest genus
is Erica, the true heath (q.v.), with over 400 species, the great majority of
which are confined to the Cape; others occur on the mountains of tropical
Africa and in Europe and North Africa, especially the Mediterranean
region. E. cinerea (purple heather) and E. Tetralix (cross-leaved heath) are
common British heaths. Calluna is the ling or Scotch heather.
ERICHSEN, SIR JOHN ERIC, Bart. (1818-1896), British surgeon,
born on the 19th of July 1818 at Copenhagen, was the son of Eric Erichsen,
a member of a well-known Danish family. He studied medicine at
University College, London, and at Paris, devoting himself in the early
years of his career to physiology, and lecturing on general anatomy and
physiology at University College hospital. In 1844 he was secretary to the
physiological section of the British Association, and in 1845 he was
awarded the Fothergillian gold medal of the Royal Humane Society for his
essay on asphyxia. In 1848 he was appointed assistant surgeon at University
College hospital, and in 1850 became full surgeon and professor of surgery,
his lectures and clinical teaching being much admired; and in 1875 he
joined the consulting staff. His Science and Art of Surgery (1853) went
through many editions. He rose to be president of the College of Surgeons
in 1880. From 1879 to 1881 he was president of the Royal Medical and
Chirurgical Society. He was created a baronet in 1895, having been for
Page 160
some years surgeon-extraordinary to Queen Victoria. As a surgeon his
reputation was world-wide, and he counts (says Sir W. MacCormac in his
volume on the Centenary of the Royal College of Surgeons) “among the
makers of modern surgery.” He was a recognized authority on concussion
of the spine, and was often called to give evidence in court on obscure cases
caused by railway accidents, &c. He died at Folkestone on the 23rd of
September 1896.
ERICHT, LOCH, a lake partly in Inverness-shire and partly in
Perthshire, Scotland, lying between the districts of Badenoch on the N. and
Rannoch on the S. The boundary line is drawn from a point opposite to the
mouth of the Alder, and follows the centre of the longitudinal axis north-
eastwards to 56° 50′ N., where it strikes eastwards to the shore. All of the
lake to the S. and E. of this line belongs to Perthshire, the rest, forming the
major portion, to Inverness-shire. It is a lonely lake, situated in extremely
wild surroundings at a height of 1153 ft. above the sea, being thus the
loftiest lake of large size in the United Kingdom. It is over 14½ m. long,
with a mean breadth of half a mile and over 1 m. at its maximum. Its area
amounts to some 7¼ sq. m., and it receives the drainage of an area of nearly
50½ sq. m. The mean depth is 189 ft., and the maximum 512 ft. It has a
general trend from N.E. to S.W., the head lying 1 m. from Dalwhinnie
station on the Highland railway. It receives many streams, and discharges at
the south-western extremity by the Ericht. Salmon and trout afford good
fishing. The surrounding mountains are lofty and rugged. Ben Alder (3757
ft.) on the west shore is the chief feature of the great Corrour deer forest.
reputation was world-wide, and he counts (says Sir W. MacCormac in his
volume on the Centenary of the Royal College of Surgeons) “among the
makers of modern surgery.” He was a recognized authority on concussion
of the spine, and was often called to give evidence in court on obscure cases
caused by railway accidents, &c. He died at Folkestone on the 23rd of
September 1896.
ERICHT, LOCH, a lake partly in Inverness-shire and partly in
Perthshire, Scotland, lying between the districts of Badenoch on the N. and
Rannoch on the S. The boundary line is drawn from a point opposite to the
mouth of the Alder, and follows the centre of the longitudinal axis north-
eastwards to 56° 50′ N., where it strikes eastwards to the shore. All of the
lake to the S. and E. of this line belongs to Perthshire, the rest, forming the
major portion, to Inverness-shire. It is a lonely lake, situated in extremely
wild surroundings at a height of 1153 ft. above the sea, being thus the
loftiest lake of large size in the United Kingdom. It is over 14½ m. long,
with a mean breadth of half a mile and over 1 m. at its maximum. Its area
amounts to some 7¼ sq. m., and it receives the drainage of an area of nearly
50½ sq. m. The mean depth is 189 ft., and the maximum 512 ft. It has a
general trend from N.E. to S.W., the head lying 1 m. from Dalwhinnie
station on the Highland railway. It receives many streams, and discharges at
the south-western extremity by the Ericht. Salmon and trout afford good
fishing. The surrounding mountains are lofty and rugged. Ben Alder (3757
ft.) on the west shore is the chief feature of the great Corrour deer forest.
Page 161
The only point of interest on the banks is the cavern, near the mouth of the
Alder, in which Prince Charles Edward concealed himself for a time after
the battle of Culloden.
ERICSSON, JOHN (1803-1889), Swedish-American naval engineer,
was born at Langbanshyttan, Wermland, Sweden, on the 31st of July 1803.
He was the second son of Olaf Ericsson, an inspector of mines, who died in
1818. Showing from his earliest years a strong mechanical bent, young
Ericsson, at the age of twelve, was employed as a draughtsman by the
Swedish Canal Company. From 1820 to 1827 he served in the army, where
his drawing and military maps attracted the attention of the king, and he
soon attained the rank of captain. In 1826 he went to London, at first on
leave of absence from his regiment, and in partnership with John
Braithwaite constructed the “Novelty,” a locomotive engine for the
Liverpool & Manchester railway competition at Rainhill in 1829, when the
prize, however, was won by Stephenson’s “Rocket.” The number of
Ericsson’s inventions at this period was very great. Among other things he
worked out a plan for marine engines placed entirely below the water-line.
Such engines were made for the “Victory,” for Captain (afterwards Sir)
John Ross’s voyage to the Arctic regions in 1829, but they did not prove
satisfactory. In 1833 his caloric engine was made public. In 1836 he took
out a patent for a screw-propeller, and though the priority of his invention
could not be maintained, he was afterwards awarded a one-fifth share of the
£20,000 given by the Admiralty for it. At this time Captain Stockton, of the
United States navy, gave an order for a small iron vessel to be built by Laird
Alder, in which Prince Charles Edward concealed himself for a time after
the battle of Culloden.
ERICSSON, JOHN (1803-1889), Swedish-American naval engineer,
was born at Langbanshyttan, Wermland, Sweden, on the 31st of July 1803.
He was the second son of Olaf Ericsson, an inspector of mines, who died in
1818. Showing from his earliest years a strong mechanical bent, young
Ericsson, at the age of twelve, was employed as a draughtsman by the
Swedish Canal Company. From 1820 to 1827 he served in the army, where
his drawing and military maps attracted the attention of the king, and he
soon attained the rank of captain. In 1826 he went to London, at first on
leave of absence from his regiment, and in partnership with John
Braithwaite constructed the “Novelty,” a locomotive engine for the
Liverpool & Manchester railway competition at Rainhill in 1829, when the
prize, however, was won by Stephenson’s “Rocket.” The number of
Ericsson’s inventions at this period was very great. Among other things he
worked out a plan for marine engines placed entirely below the water-line.
Such engines were made for the “Victory,” for Captain (afterwards Sir)
John Ross’s voyage to the Arctic regions in 1829, but they did not prove
satisfactory. In 1833 his caloric engine was made public. In 1836 he took
out a patent for a screw-propeller, and though the priority of his invention
could not be maintained, he was afterwards awarded a one-fifth share of the
£20,000 given by the Admiralty for it. At this time Captain Stockton, of the
United States navy, gave an order for a small iron vessel to be built by Laird
Page 162
of Birkenhead, and to be fitted by Ericsson with engines and screw. This
vessel reached New York in May 1839. A few months later Ericsson
followed his steamer to New York, and there he resided for the rest of his
life, establishing himself as an engineer and a builder of iron ships. In 1848
he was naturalized as a citizen of the United States. He had many
difficulties to contend with, and it was only by slow degrees that he
established his fame and won his way to competence. At his death he seems
to have been worth about £50,000. The provision of defensive armour for
ships of war had long occupied his attention, and he had constructed plans
and a model of a vessel lying low in the water, carrying one heavy gun in a
circular turret mounted on a turntable. In 1854 he sent his plans to the
emperor of the French. Louis Napoleon, however, acting probably on the
advice of Dupuy de Lôme, declined to use them. The American Civil War,
and the report that the Confederates were converting the “Merrimac” into
an ironclad, caused the navy department to invite proposals for the
construction of armoured ships. Among others, Ericsson replied, and as it
was thought that his design might be serviceable in inland waters, the first
armoured turret ship, the “Monitor,” was ordered; she was launched on the
30th of January 1862, and on the 9th of March she fought the celebrated
action with the Confederate ram “Merrimac.” The peculiar circumstances in
which she was built, the great importance of the battle, and the decisive
nature of the result gave the “Monitor” an exaggerated reputation, which
further experience did not confirm. In later years Ericsson devoted himself
to the study of torpedoes and sun motors. He published Solar Investigations
(New York, 1875) and Contributions to the Centennial Exhibition (New
York, 1877). He died in New York on the 8th of March 1889, and in the
following year, on the request of the Swedish government, his body was
sent to Stockholm and thence into Wermland, where, at Filipstad, it was
buried on the 15th of September.
vessel reached New York in May 1839. A few months later Ericsson
followed his steamer to New York, and there he resided for the rest of his
life, establishing himself as an engineer and a builder of iron ships. In 1848
he was naturalized as a citizen of the United States. He had many
difficulties to contend with, and it was only by slow degrees that he
established his fame and won his way to competence. At his death he seems
to have been worth about £50,000. The provision of defensive armour for
ships of war had long occupied his attention, and he had constructed plans
and a model of a vessel lying low in the water, carrying one heavy gun in a
circular turret mounted on a turntable. In 1854 he sent his plans to the
emperor of the French. Louis Napoleon, however, acting probably on the
advice of Dupuy de Lôme, declined to use them. The American Civil War,
and the report that the Confederates were converting the “Merrimac” into
an ironclad, caused the navy department to invite proposals for the
construction of armoured ships. Among others, Ericsson replied, and as it
was thought that his design might be serviceable in inland waters, the first
armoured turret ship, the “Monitor,” was ordered; she was launched on the
30th of January 1862, and on the 9th of March she fought the celebrated
action with the Confederate ram “Merrimac.” The peculiar circumstances in
which she was built, the great importance of the battle, and the decisive
nature of the result gave the “Monitor” an exaggerated reputation, which
further experience did not confirm. In later years Ericsson devoted himself
to the study of torpedoes and sun motors. He published Solar Investigations
(New York, 1875) and Contributions to the Centennial Exhibition (New
York, 1877). He died in New York on the 8th of March 1889, and in the
following year, on the request of the Swedish government, his body was
sent to Stockholm and thence into Wermland, where, at Filipstad, it was
buried on the 15th of September.
Page 163
A Life of Ericsson by William Conant Church was published in New
York in 1890 and in London in 1893.
ERIDANUS, or Fluvius (“the river”), in astronomy, a constellation of
the southern hemisphere, mentioned by Eudoxus (4th century b.c.) and
Aratus (3rd century b.c.); Ptolemy catalogued 34 stars in it. θ Eridani, a fine
double star of magnitudes 3.5 and 5.5, is now of the third magnitude. It is
supposed to be identical with the Achernar of Al-Sufi, who described it as
of the first magnitude; this star has therefore decreased in brilliancy in
historic times. The star ο2 Eridani (numbered 40 by Flamsteed) was
discovered to be a ternary star group by Herschel in 1783; it consists of a
close pair, of magnitudes 9.2 and 10.9, revolving in a period of 180 years,
associated with a star of magnitude 4.5, which is distant from the pair by
82″; these stars have an exceptionally swift proper motion, about 4″ per
annum. Eridanus was the ancient name of the river Po.
ERIDU, one of the oldest religious centres of the Sumerians, described
in the ancient Babylonian records as the “city of the deep.” The special god
of this city was Ea (q.v.), god of the sea and of wisdom, and the prominence
given to this god in the incantation literature of Babylonia and Assyria
suggests not only that many of our magical texts are to be traced ultimately
York in 1890 and in London in 1893.
ERIDANUS, or Fluvius (“the river”), in astronomy, a constellation of
the southern hemisphere, mentioned by Eudoxus (4th century b.c.) and
Aratus (3rd century b.c.); Ptolemy catalogued 34 stars in it. θ Eridani, a fine
double star of magnitudes 3.5 and 5.5, is now of the third magnitude. It is
supposed to be identical with the Achernar of Al-Sufi, who described it as
of the first magnitude; this star has therefore decreased in brilliancy in
historic times. The star ο2 Eridani (numbered 40 by Flamsteed) was
discovered to be a ternary star group by Herschel in 1783; it consists of a
close pair, of magnitudes 9.2 and 10.9, revolving in a period of 180 years,
associated with a star of magnitude 4.5, which is distant from the pair by
82″; these stars have an exceptionally swift proper motion, about 4″ per
annum. Eridanus was the ancient name of the river Po.
ERIDU, one of the oldest religious centres of the Sumerians, described
in the ancient Babylonian records as the “city of the deep.” The special god
of this city was Ea (q.v.), god of the sea and of wisdom, and the prominence
given to this god in the incantation literature of Babylonia and Assyria
suggests not only that many of our magical texts are to be traced ultimately
Page 164
to the temple of Ea at Eridu, but that this side of the Babylonian religion
had its origin in that place. Certain of the most ancient Babylonian myths,
especially that of Adapa, may also be traced back to the shrine of Ea at
Eridu. But while of the first importance in matters of religion, there is no
evidence in Babylonian literature of any special political importance
attaching to Eridu, and certainly at no time within our knowledge did it
exercise hegemony in Babylonia. The site of Eridu was discovered by J.E.
Taylor in 1854, in a ruin then called by the natives Abu-Shahrein, a few
miles south-south-west of Moghair, ancient Ur, nearly in the centre of the
dry bed of an inland sea, a deep valley, 15 m. at its broadest, covered for the
most part with a nitrous incrustation, separated from the alluvial plain about
Moghair by a low, pebbly, sandstone range, called the Hazem, but open
toward the north to the Euphrates and stretching southward to the Khanega
wadi below Suk-esh-Sheiukh. In the rainy season this valley becomes a sea,
flooded by the discharge of the Khanega; in summer the Arabs dig holes
here which supply them with brackish water. The ruins, in which Taylor
conducted brief excavations, consist of a platform of fine sand enclosed by
a sandstone wall, 20 ft. high, the corners toward the cardinal points, on the
N.W. part of which was a pyramidal tower of two stages, constructed of
sun-dried brick, cased with a wall of kiln-burned brick, the whole still
standing to a height of about 70 ft. above the platform. The summit of the
first stage was reached by a staircase on the S.E. side, 15 ft. wide and 70 ft.
long, constructed of polished marble slabs, fastened with copper bolts,
flanked at the foot by two curious columns. An inclined road led up to the
second stage on the N.W. side. Pieces of polished alabaster and marble,
with small pieces of pure gold and gold-headed copper nails, found on and
about the top of the second stage, indicated that a small but richly adorned
sacred chamber, apparently plated within or without in gold, formerly
crowned the top of this structure. Around the whole tower was a pavement
of inscribed baked bricks, resting on a layer of clay 2 ft. thick. On the S.E.
had its origin in that place. Certain of the most ancient Babylonian myths,
especially that of Adapa, may also be traced back to the shrine of Ea at
Eridu. But while of the first importance in matters of religion, there is no
evidence in Babylonian literature of any special political importance
attaching to Eridu, and certainly at no time within our knowledge did it
exercise hegemony in Babylonia. The site of Eridu was discovered by J.E.
Taylor in 1854, in a ruin then called by the natives Abu-Shahrein, a few
miles south-south-west of Moghair, ancient Ur, nearly in the centre of the
dry bed of an inland sea, a deep valley, 15 m. at its broadest, covered for the
most part with a nitrous incrustation, separated from the alluvial plain about
Moghair by a low, pebbly, sandstone range, called the Hazem, but open
toward the north to the Euphrates and stretching southward to the Khanega
wadi below Suk-esh-Sheiukh. In the rainy season this valley becomes a sea,
flooded by the discharge of the Khanega; in summer the Arabs dig holes
here which supply them with brackish water. The ruins, in which Taylor
conducted brief excavations, consist of a platform of fine sand enclosed by
a sandstone wall, 20 ft. high, the corners toward the cardinal points, on the
N.W. part of which was a pyramidal tower of two stages, constructed of
sun-dried brick, cased with a wall of kiln-burned brick, the whole still
standing to a height of about 70 ft. above the platform. The summit of the
first stage was reached by a staircase on the S.E. side, 15 ft. wide and 70 ft.
long, constructed of polished marble slabs, fastened with copper bolts,
flanked at the foot by two curious columns. An inclined road led up to the
second stage on the N.W. side. Pieces of polished alabaster and marble,
with small pieces of pure gold and gold-headed copper nails, found on and
about the top of the second stage, indicated that a small but richly adorned
sacred chamber, apparently plated within or without in gold, formerly
crowned the top of this structure. Around the whole tower was a pavement
of inscribed baked bricks, resting on a layer of clay 2 ft. thick. On the S.E.
Page 165
part of the terrace were the remains of several edifices, containing suites of
rooms. Inscriptions on the bricks identified the site as that of Eridu. Since
Taylor’s time the place has not been visited by any explorer, owing to the
unsafe condition of the neighbourhood; but T.K. Loftus (1854) and J.P.
Peters (1890) both report having seen it from the summit of Moghair. The
latter states that the Arabs at that time called the ruin Nowawis, and
apparently no longer knew the name Abu-Shahrein. Through an error, in
many recent maps and Assyriological publications Eridu is described as
located in the alluvial plain, between the Tigris and the Euphrates. It was, in
fact, an island city in an estuary of the Persian Gulf, stretching up into the
Arabian plateau. Originally “on the shore of the sea,” as the old records
aver, it is now about 120 m. from the head of the Persian Gulf. Calculating
from the present rate of deposit of alluvium at the head of that gulf, Eridu
should have been founded as early as the seventh millennium b.c. It is
mentioned in historical inscriptions from the earliest times onward, as late
as the 6th century b.c. From the evidence of Taylor’s excavations, it would
seem that the site was abandoned about the close of the Babylonian period.
See J.E. Taylor, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, vol. xv. (1855);
F. Delitzsch, Wo lag das Paradies? (1881); J.P. Peters, Nippur (1897);
M. Jastrow, The Religion of Babylonia and Assyria (1898); H.V.
Hilprecht, Excavations in Assyria and Babylonia (1904); L.W. King, A
History of Sumer and Akkad (1910).
(J. P. Pe.)
rooms. Inscriptions on the bricks identified the site as that of Eridu. Since
Taylor’s time the place has not been visited by any explorer, owing to the
unsafe condition of the neighbourhood; but T.K. Loftus (1854) and J.P.
Peters (1890) both report having seen it from the summit of Moghair. The
latter states that the Arabs at that time called the ruin Nowawis, and
apparently no longer knew the name Abu-Shahrein. Through an error, in
many recent maps and Assyriological publications Eridu is described as
located in the alluvial plain, between the Tigris and the Euphrates. It was, in
fact, an island city in an estuary of the Persian Gulf, stretching up into the
Arabian plateau. Originally “on the shore of the sea,” as the old records
aver, it is now about 120 m. from the head of the Persian Gulf. Calculating
from the present rate of deposit of alluvium at the head of that gulf, Eridu
should have been founded as early as the seventh millennium b.c. It is
mentioned in historical inscriptions from the earliest times onward, as late
as the 6th century b.c. From the evidence of Taylor’s excavations, it would
seem that the site was abandoned about the close of the Babylonian period.
See J.E. Taylor, Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, vol. xv. (1855);
F. Delitzsch, Wo lag das Paradies? (1881); J.P. Peters, Nippur (1897);
M. Jastrow, The Religion of Babylonia and Assyria (1898); H.V.
Hilprecht, Excavations in Assyria and Babylonia (1904); L.W. King, A
History of Sumer and Akkad (1910).
(J. P. Pe.)
Page 166
ERIE, the most southerly of the Great Lakes of North America, between
41° 23′ and 42° 53′ N., and 78° 51′ and 83° 28′ W., bounded W. by the state
of Michigan, S. and S.E. by Ohio, Pennsylvania and New York, and N. by
the province of Ontario. It is nearly elliptical, the major axis, 250 m. long,
lying east and west; its greatest breadth is 60 m.; its area about 10,000 sq.
m.; and the total area of its basin 34,412 sq. m. Its elevation above mean
sea-level is 573 ft.; and its surface is nearly 9 ft. below that of Lake Huron,
which discharges into it through St Clair river, Lake St Clair and Detroit
river, and is 327 ft. above that of Lake Ontario, this great difference being
absorbed by the rapids and falls in the Niagara river, which joins the two
lakes. Lake Erie is very shallow, and may be divided into three basins, the
western extending to Point Pelee and including all the islands, containing
about 1200 sq. m., with a comparatively flat bottom at 5 to 6 fathoms; the
main basin, between Point Pelee and the narrows at Long Point, containing
about 6700 sq. m., and having a marked shelving bottom deepening
gradually to 14 fathoms; and the portion east of the narrows, containing
about 2100 sq. m., having a depression 30 fathoms deep just east from Long
Point, with an extensive flat of 11 fathoms depth between it and the main
basin. The Canadian shore is low and flat throughout, the United States
shore is low but bordered by an elevated plateau through which the rivers
have cut deep channels. The lake basin is relatively so small that the rivers
are without importance; Grand river, on the north shore, is the largest
tributary. The flat alluvial soil bordering on the lake is very fertile, and the
climate is well adapted for fruit cultivation. Large quantities of peaches,
grapes and small fruits are grown; the islands in the west end have a climate
much warmer and more equable than the adjoining mainland, and are
practically covered with vineyards. The low clayey or sandy shores are
subject to erosion by waves. In severe storms the water near shore is filled
with sand, which is deposited where the currents are checked around the
ends of jetties in such a way as to form bars out into the lake across
41° 23′ and 42° 53′ N., and 78° 51′ and 83° 28′ W., bounded W. by the state
of Michigan, S. and S.E. by Ohio, Pennsylvania and New York, and N. by
the province of Ontario. It is nearly elliptical, the major axis, 250 m. long,
lying east and west; its greatest breadth is 60 m.; its area about 10,000 sq.
m.; and the total area of its basin 34,412 sq. m. Its elevation above mean
sea-level is 573 ft.; and its surface is nearly 9 ft. below that of Lake Huron,
which discharges into it through St Clair river, Lake St Clair and Detroit
river, and is 327 ft. above that of Lake Ontario, this great difference being
absorbed by the rapids and falls in the Niagara river, which joins the two
lakes. Lake Erie is very shallow, and may be divided into three basins, the
western extending to Point Pelee and including all the islands, containing
about 1200 sq. m., with a comparatively flat bottom at 5 to 6 fathoms; the
main basin, between Point Pelee and the narrows at Long Point, containing
about 6700 sq. m., and having a marked shelving bottom deepening
gradually to 14 fathoms; and the portion east of the narrows, containing
about 2100 sq. m., having a depression 30 fathoms deep just east from Long
Point, with an extensive flat of 11 fathoms depth between it and the main
basin. The Canadian shore is low and flat throughout, the United States
shore is low but bordered by an elevated plateau through which the rivers
have cut deep channels. The lake basin is relatively so small that the rivers
are without importance; Grand river, on the north shore, is the largest
tributary. The flat alluvial soil bordering on the lake is very fertile, and the
climate is well adapted for fruit cultivation. Large quantities of peaches,
grapes and small fruits are grown; the islands in the west end have a climate
much warmer and more equable than the adjoining mainland, and are
practically covered with vineyards. The low clayey or sandy shores are
subject to erosion by waves. In severe storms the water near shore is filled
with sand, which is deposited where the currents are checked around the
ends of jetties in such a way as to form bars out into the lake across
Page 167
improved channels. This shoaling has rendered continuous dredging
necessary at every harbour on the lake west of Erie, Pa. In consequence of
the shallowness of the lake its waters are easily disturbed, making
navigation very rough and dangerous, and causing large fluctuations of
surface. Strong winds are frequent, as nearly every cyclonic depression
traversing North America, either from the westward or the Gulf of Mexico,
passes near enough to Lake Erie to be felt. Westerly gales are more
frequent, and have more effect on the water surface than easterly ones,
lowering the water as much as 7 to 8 ft. at the west end and raising it 5 to 8
ft. at the east end. The worst storms occur in autumn, when the immense
quantity of shipping on the lake makes them specially destructive. There are
no tides, and usually only a slight current towards the outlet, though
powerful currents are temporarily produced by the rapid return of waters
after a storm, and during the height of a westerly gale there is invariably a
reflex current into the west end of the lake. There is an annual fluctuation in
the level of the lake, varying from a minimum of 9 in. to a maximum of 2
ft., the normal low level occurring in February and the high level in
midsummer. Standard high water (of 1838) is 575.11 ft. above mean sea-
level, and the lowest record was 570.8 in November 1895. The harbours
and exits of the lake freeze over, but the body of the lake never freezes
completely.
Ice-breaking car ferries run across the lake all winter. General navigation
opens as a rule in the middle of April and closes in the middle of December.
The volume of traffic is immense, because practically all freight from the
more westerly lakes finds terminal harbours in Lake Erie. Official statistics
of commerce passing through the Detroit river into the lake during the
season of 1906 show that 35,128 vessels, having a net register of
50,673,897 tons, carried 63,805,571 (short) tons of freight, valued at
$662,971,053. The 1175 vessels engaged in this business were valued at
$106,223,000. Over 90% of the whole traffic is in United States ships to
necessary at every harbour on the lake west of Erie, Pa. In consequence of
the shallowness of the lake its waters are easily disturbed, making
navigation very rough and dangerous, and causing large fluctuations of
surface. Strong winds are frequent, as nearly every cyclonic depression
traversing North America, either from the westward or the Gulf of Mexico,
passes near enough to Lake Erie to be felt. Westerly gales are more
frequent, and have more effect on the water surface than easterly ones,
lowering the water as much as 7 to 8 ft. at the west end and raising it 5 to 8
ft. at the east end. The worst storms occur in autumn, when the immense
quantity of shipping on the lake makes them specially destructive. There are
no tides, and usually only a slight current towards the outlet, though
powerful currents are temporarily produced by the rapid return of waters
after a storm, and during the height of a westerly gale there is invariably a
reflex current into the west end of the lake. There is an annual fluctuation in
the level of the lake, varying from a minimum of 9 in. to a maximum of 2
ft., the normal low level occurring in February and the high level in
midsummer. Standard high water (of 1838) is 575.11 ft. above mean sea-
level, and the lowest record was 570.8 in November 1895. The harbours
and exits of the lake freeze over, but the body of the lake never freezes
completely.
Ice-breaking car ferries run across the lake all winter. General navigation
opens as a rule in the middle of April and closes in the middle of December.
The volume of traffic is immense, because practically all freight from the
more westerly lakes finds terminal harbours in Lake Erie. Official statistics
of commerce passing through the Detroit river into the lake during the
season of 1906 show that 35,128 vessels, having a net register of
50,673,897 tons, carried 63,805,571 (short) tons of freight, valued at
$662,971,053. The 1175 vessels engaged in this business were valued at
$106,223,000. Over 90% of the whole traffic is in United States ships to
Page 168
United States ports. Fine passenger steamers run nightly between Buffalo
and Cleveland and Detroit, and there are many shorter passenger routes.
The large traffic on Lake Erie has brought into existence a number of
important harbours on the south shore, nearly all artificially made and
deepened, with entrances between two breakwaters running into the lake at
right angles to the coast line. The principal of these are Toledo, Sandusky,
Huron, Vermilion, Lorain, Cleveland, Fairport, Ashtabula, Conneaut, Erie (a
natural harbour), Dunkirk and Buffalo, Rondeau, Port Stanley, Port
Burwell, Port Dover, Port Maitland and Port Colborne. The Miami and Erie
canal, leading from Maumee river to Cincinnati, 244½ m., with a branch to
Port Jefferson, 14 m., with locks 90 by 15 by 4 ft., connects with Lake Erie
through Toledo. The Erie canal leading from Buffalo to the Hudson river at
Troy, and connecting with Lake Ontario at Oswego, had a capacity for boats
98 ft. long, 17 ft. 10 in. beam, with 6 ft. draught, until in 1907 the State of
New York undertook its deepening to accommodate boats of 1000 tons
capacity. Buffalo from its position at the eastern limit of deep draught lake
navigation is a city of first rate commercial importance. Its harbour is
formed by an artificial breakwater, built parallel with the shore about half a
mile distant from it. It receives practically all the Lake Erie grain shipments
besides large quantities of iron ore, lumber and copper, and is a large
shipping port for coal, principally anthracite. It has over 600 m. of railway
tracks to accommodate lake freights. The Welland canal, 26¾ m. long,
connecting Lake Ontario and Lake Erie, with locks 270 by 45 by 14 ft.,
leaves Lake Erie at Port Colborne, where the Canadian government have
constructed an artificial harbour and elevators for transhipment of grain
from upper lake freighters to lighters of canal capacity.
Fishing operations are carried on extensively in Lake Erie, the fish being
taken with gill nets, seines and pound nets. Each state touching the lake has
its own fishery regulations, which differ amongst themselves as well as
and Cleveland and Detroit, and there are many shorter passenger routes.
The large traffic on Lake Erie has brought into existence a number of
important harbours on the south shore, nearly all artificially made and
deepened, with entrances between two breakwaters running into the lake at
right angles to the coast line. The principal of these are Toledo, Sandusky,
Huron, Vermilion, Lorain, Cleveland, Fairport, Ashtabula, Conneaut, Erie (a
natural harbour), Dunkirk and Buffalo, Rondeau, Port Stanley, Port
Burwell, Port Dover, Port Maitland and Port Colborne. The Miami and Erie
canal, leading from Maumee river to Cincinnati, 244½ m., with a branch to
Port Jefferson, 14 m., with locks 90 by 15 by 4 ft., connects with Lake Erie
through Toledo. The Erie canal leading from Buffalo to the Hudson river at
Troy, and connecting with Lake Ontario at Oswego, had a capacity for boats
98 ft. long, 17 ft. 10 in. beam, with 6 ft. draught, until in 1907 the State of
New York undertook its deepening to accommodate boats of 1000 tons
capacity. Buffalo from its position at the eastern limit of deep draught lake
navigation is a city of first rate commercial importance. Its harbour is
formed by an artificial breakwater, built parallel with the shore about half a
mile distant from it. It receives practically all the Lake Erie grain shipments
besides large quantities of iron ore, lumber and copper, and is a large
shipping port for coal, principally anthracite. It has over 600 m. of railway
tracks to accommodate lake freights. The Welland canal, 26¾ m. long,
connecting Lake Ontario and Lake Erie, with locks 270 by 45 by 14 ft.,
leaves Lake Erie at Port Colborne, where the Canadian government have
constructed an artificial harbour and elevators for transhipment of grain
from upper lake freighters to lighters of canal capacity.
Fishing operations are carried on extensively in Lake Erie, the fish being
taken with gill nets, seines and pound nets. Each state touching the lake has
its own fishery regulations, which differ amongst themselves as well as
Page 169
from those of the Dominion. Both nations maintain a Fishery Protection
Service, and the fisheries are replenished from artificial hatcheries. The
most numerous and valuable fish are the lesser white fish (Coregonus
artedi, Le Sueur), pickerel (Stizostedion vitreum, Walb.), pike (Lucius
lucius, L.), and white fish (Coregonus clupeiformis, Mitchill), in the order
named. The fish caught are estimated to be worth annually $1,000,000.
They are collected in fishing tugs and distributed by rail throughout the
United States and Canada.
Bibliography.—Bulletin No. 17, Survey of Northern and North-
western Lakes, U.S. Lake Survey Office, War Dept. (Detroit, 1907);
U.S. Hydrographic Office, Publication No. 108D, Sailing Directions
for Lake Erie, &c. (Washington, 1902); Sailing Directions for the
Canadian Shore of Lake Erie, Department of Marine and Fisheries
(Ottawa, 1897); J.O. Curwood, The Great Lakes (New York, 1909); E.
Channing and M.F. Lansing, The Great Lakes (New York, 1909).
(W. P. A.)
ERIE, a city, a port of entry, and the county-seat of Erie county,
Pennsylvania, U.S.A., on Lake Erie, 148 m. by rail N. of Pittsburg and near
the N.W. corner of the state. Pop. (1890) 40,634; (1900) 52,733, of whom
11,957 were foreign-born, including 5226 from Germany and 1468 from
Ireland, and 26,797 were of foreign parentage (both parents foreign-born),
including 13,316 of German parentage and 4203 of Irish parentage; (1910
census) 66,525. Erie is served by the New York, Chicago & St Louis, the
Lake Shore & Michigan Southern, the Erie & Pittsburg (Pennsylvania
Service, and the fisheries are replenished from artificial hatcheries. The
most numerous and valuable fish are the lesser white fish (Coregonus
artedi, Le Sueur), pickerel (Stizostedion vitreum, Walb.), pike (Lucius
lucius, L.), and white fish (Coregonus clupeiformis, Mitchill), in the order
named. The fish caught are estimated to be worth annually $1,000,000.
They are collected in fishing tugs and distributed by rail throughout the
United States and Canada.
Bibliography.—Bulletin No. 17, Survey of Northern and North-
western Lakes, U.S. Lake Survey Office, War Dept. (Detroit, 1907);
U.S. Hydrographic Office, Publication No. 108D, Sailing Directions
for Lake Erie, &c. (Washington, 1902); Sailing Directions for the
Canadian Shore of Lake Erie, Department of Marine and Fisheries
(Ottawa, 1897); J.O. Curwood, The Great Lakes (New York, 1909); E.
Channing and M.F. Lansing, The Great Lakes (New York, 1909).
(W. P. A.)
ERIE, a city, a port of entry, and the county-seat of Erie county,
Pennsylvania, U.S.A., on Lake Erie, 148 m. by rail N. of Pittsburg and near
the N.W. corner of the state. Pop. (1890) 40,634; (1900) 52,733, of whom
11,957 were foreign-born, including 5226 from Germany and 1468 from
Ireland, and 26,797 were of foreign parentage (both parents foreign-born),
including 13,316 of German parentage and 4203 of Irish parentage; (1910
census) 66,525. Erie is served by the New York, Chicago & St Louis, the
Lake Shore & Michigan Southern, the Erie & Pittsburg (Pennsylvania
Page 170
Company), the Philadelphia & Erie (Pennsylvania railway), and the
Bessemer & Lake Erie railways, and by steamboat lines to many important
lake ports. The city extends over an area of about 7 sq. m., which for the
most part is quite level and is from 50 to 175 ft. above the lake. Erie has a
fine harbour about 4 m. in length, more than 1 m. in width, and with an
average depth of about 20 ft.; it is nearly enclosed by Presque Isle, a long
narrow strip of land of about 3000 acres from 300 ft. to 1 m. in width, and
the national government has protected its entrance and deepened its channel
by constructing two long breakwaters. Most of the streets of the city are 60
ft. wide—a few are 100 ft.—and nearly all intersect at right angles; they are
paved with brick and asphalt, and many in the residential quarters are
shaded with fine elms and maples. The city has four parks, in one of which
is a soldiers’ and sailors’ monument of granite and bronze, and not far away,
along the shore of lake and bay, are several attractive summer resorts.
Among Erie’s more prominent buildings are the United States government
building, the city hall, the public library, and the county court house. The
city’s charitable institutions consist of two general hospitals, each of which
has a training school for nurses; a municipal hospital, an orphan asylum, a
home for the friendless, two old folks’ homes, and a bureau of charities;
here, also, on a bluff, within a large enclosure and overlooking both lake
and city, is the state soldiers’ and sailors’ home, and near by is a monument
erected to the memory of General Anthony Wayne, who died here on the
15th of December 1796.
Erie is the commercial centre of a large and rich grape-growing and
agricultural district, has an extensive trade with the lake ports and by rail
(chiefly in coal, iron ore, lumber and grain), and is an important
manufacturing centre, among its products being iron, engines, boilers, brass
castings, stoves, car heaters, flour, malt liquors, lumber, planing mill
products, cooperage products, paper and wood pulp, cigars and other
tobacco goods, gas meters, rubber goods, pipe organs, pianos and
Bessemer & Lake Erie railways, and by steamboat lines to many important
lake ports. The city extends over an area of about 7 sq. m., which for the
most part is quite level and is from 50 to 175 ft. above the lake. Erie has a
fine harbour about 4 m. in length, more than 1 m. in width, and with an
average depth of about 20 ft.; it is nearly enclosed by Presque Isle, a long
narrow strip of land of about 3000 acres from 300 ft. to 1 m. in width, and
the national government has protected its entrance and deepened its channel
by constructing two long breakwaters. Most of the streets of the city are 60
ft. wide—a few are 100 ft.—and nearly all intersect at right angles; they are
paved with brick and asphalt, and many in the residential quarters are
shaded with fine elms and maples. The city has four parks, in one of which
is a soldiers’ and sailors’ monument of granite and bronze, and not far away,
along the shore of lake and bay, are several attractive summer resorts.
Among Erie’s more prominent buildings are the United States government
building, the city hall, the public library, and the county court house. The
city’s charitable institutions consist of two general hospitals, each of which
has a training school for nurses; a municipal hospital, an orphan asylum, a
home for the friendless, two old folks’ homes, and a bureau of charities;
here, also, on a bluff, within a large enclosure and overlooking both lake
and city, is the state soldiers’ and sailors’ home, and near by is a monument
erected to the memory of General Anthony Wayne, who died here on the
15th of December 1796.
Erie is the commercial centre of a large and rich grape-growing and
agricultural district, has an extensive trade with the lake ports and by rail
(chiefly in coal, iron ore, lumber and grain), and is an important
manufacturing centre, among its products being iron, engines, boilers, brass
castings, stoves, car heaters, flour, malt liquors, lumber, planing mill
products, cooperage products, paper and wood pulp, cigars and other
tobacco goods, gas meters, rubber goods, pipe organs, pianos and
Page 171
chemicals. In 1905 the city’s factory products were valued at $19,911,567,
the value of foundry and machine-shop products being $6,723,819, of flour
and grist-mill products $1,444,450, and of malt liquors $882,493. The
municipality owns and operates its water-works.
On the site of Erie the French erected Fort Presque Isle in 1753, and
about it founded a village of a few hundred inhabitants. George
Washington, on behalf of the governor of Virginia, came in the same year to
Fort Le Bœuf (on the site of the present Waterford), 20 m. distant, to protest
against the French fortifying this section of country. The protest, however,
was unheeded. The village was abandoned in or before 1758, owing
probably to an epidemic of smallpox, and the fort was abandoned in 1759.
It was occupied by the British in 1760, but on the 22nd of June 1763 this
was one of the several forts captured by the Indians during the Conspiracy
of Pontiac. In 1764 the British regained nominal control and retained it until
1785, when it passed into the possession of the United States. The place
was laid out as a town in 1795; in 1800 it became the county-seat of the
newly-erected county of Erie; it was incorporated as a borough in 1805, the
charter of that year being revised in 1833; and in 1851 it was incorporated
as a city. At Erie were built within less than six months most of the vessels
with which Commodore Oliver H. Perry won his naval victory over the
British off Put-in-Bay on the 10th of September 1813.
ERIGENA, JOHANNES SCOTUS (c. 800-c. 877), medieval
philosopher and theologian. His real name was Johannes Scotus (Scottus) or
John the Scot. The combination Johannes Scotus Erigena has not been
the value of foundry and machine-shop products being $6,723,819, of flour
and grist-mill products $1,444,450, and of malt liquors $882,493. The
municipality owns and operates its water-works.
On the site of Erie the French erected Fort Presque Isle in 1753, and
about it founded a village of a few hundred inhabitants. George
Washington, on behalf of the governor of Virginia, came in the same year to
Fort Le Bœuf (on the site of the present Waterford), 20 m. distant, to protest
against the French fortifying this section of country. The protest, however,
was unheeded. The village was abandoned in or before 1758, owing
probably to an epidemic of smallpox, and the fort was abandoned in 1759.
It was occupied by the British in 1760, but on the 22nd of June 1763 this
was one of the several forts captured by the Indians during the Conspiracy
of Pontiac. In 1764 the British regained nominal control and retained it until
1785, when it passed into the possession of the United States. The place
was laid out as a town in 1795; in 1800 it became the county-seat of the
newly-erected county of Erie; it was incorporated as a borough in 1805, the
charter of that year being revised in 1833; and in 1851 it was incorporated
as a city. At Erie were built within less than six months most of the vessels
with which Commodore Oliver H. Perry won his naval victory over the
British off Put-in-Bay on the 10th of September 1813.
ERIGENA, JOHANNES SCOTUS (c. 800-c. 877), medieval
philosopher and theologian. His real name was Johannes Scotus (Scottus) or
John the Scot. The combination Johannes Scotus Erigena has not been
Page 172
traced earlier than Ussher and Gale; even Gale uses it only in the heading of
the version of St Maximus. The date of Erigena’s birth is very uncertain,
and there is no evidence to show definitely where he was born. The name
Scotus, which has often been taken to imply Scottish origin, really favours
the theory that he was an Irishman according to the then usage of Scotus or
Scotigena. Prudentius, bishop of Troyes, definitely states that he was of
Irish extraction. The pseudonym commonly read Erigena, used by himself
in the titles of his versions of Dionysius the Areopagite, is Ierugena (in later
MSS. Erugena and Eriugena), formed apparently on the analogy of
Graiugena (“Greek-born”), which he applies to St Maximus. There seems
no reason to doubt that Eriugena is connected with Erin, the name for
Ireland, and Ierugena suggests the Greek ἱερός, ἱερὸς, νῆσος being a
common name for Ireland. On the other hand, William of Malmesbury
prefers to read Heruligena, which would make Scotus a Pannonian, while
Bale says he was born at St David’s, Dempster connects him with Ayr, and
Gale with Eriuven in Hereford. Some early writers thought there were two
persons, John Scotus and John Erigena.
Of Erigena’s early life nothing is known. Bale quotes the story that he
travelled in Greece, Italy and Gaul, and studied not only Greek, but also
Arabic and Chaldaean. Since, however, Bale describes him as “ex patricio
genitore natus,” it is a reasonable inference (so R.L. Poole) that Bale
confused him with one John, the son of Patricius, a Spaniard, who tells
much the same story of his own travels. The knowledge of Greek displayed
in Erigena’s works is not such as to compel us to conclude that he had
actually visited Greece. That he had a competent acquaintance with Greek
is manifest from his translations of Dionysius the Areopagite and of
Maximus, from the manner in which he refers to Aristotle, and from his
evident familiarity with Neoplatonist writers and the fathers of the early
church. Roger Bacon, in his severe criticism on the ignorance of Greek
the version of St Maximus. The date of Erigena’s birth is very uncertain,
and there is no evidence to show definitely where he was born. The name
Scotus, which has often been taken to imply Scottish origin, really favours
the theory that he was an Irishman according to the then usage of Scotus or
Scotigena. Prudentius, bishop of Troyes, definitely states that he was of
Irish extraction. The pseudonym commonly read Erigena, used by himself
in the titles of his versions of Dionysius the Areopagite, is Ierugena (in later
MSS. Erugena and Eriugena), formed apparently on the analogy of
Graiugena (“Greek-born”), which he applies to St Maximus. There seems
no reason to doubt that Eriugena is connected with Erin, the name for
Ireland, and Ierugena suggests the Greek ἱερός, ἱερὸς, νῆσος being a
common name for Ireland. On the other hand, William of Malmesbury
prefers to read Heruligena, which would make Scotus a Pannonian, while
Bale says he was born at St David’s, Dempster connects him with Ayr, and
Gale with Eriuven in Hereford. Some early writers thought there were two
persons, John Scotus and John Erigena.
Of Erigena’s early life nothing is known. Bale quotes the story that he
travelled in Greece, Italy and Gaul, and studied not only Greek, but also
Arabic and Chaldaean. Since, however, Bale describes him as “ex patricio
genitore natus,” it is a reasonable inference (so R.L. Poole) that Bale
confused him with one John, the son of Patricius, a Spaniard, who tells
much the same story of his own travels. The knowledge of Greek displayed
in Erigena’s works is not such as to compel us to conclude that he had
actually visited Greece. That he had a competent acquaintance with Greek
is manifest from his translations of Dionysius the Areopagite and of
Maximus, from the manner in which he refers to Aristotle, and from his
evident familiarity with Neoplatonist writers and the fathers of the early
church. Roger Bacon, in his severe criticism on the ignorance of Greek
Page 173
displayed by the most eminent scholastic writers, expressly exempts
Erigena, and ascribes to him a knowledge of Aristotle in the original.
Among other legends which have at various times been attached to
Erigena are that he was invited to France by Charlemagne, and that he was
one of the founders of the university of Paris. The only portion of Erigena’s
life as to which we possess accurate information was that spent at the court
of Charles the Bald. Charles invited him to France soon after his accession
to the throne, probably in the year 843, and placed him at the head of the
court school (schola palatina). The reputation of this school seems to have
increased greatly under Erigena’s leadership, and the philosopher himself
was treated with indulgence by the king. William of Malmesbury’s amusing
story illustrates both the character of Scotus and the position he occupied at
the French court. The king having asked, “Quid distat inter sottum et
Scottum?” Erigena replied, “Mensa tantum.”
The first of the works known to have been written by Erigena during this
period was a treatise on the eucharist, which has not come down to us (by
some it has been identified with a treatise by Ratramnus, De corpore et
sanguine Domini). In it he seems to have advanced the doctrine that the
eucharist was merely symbolical or commemorative, an opinion for which
Berengarius was at a later date censured and condemned. As a part of his
penance Berengarius is said to have been compelled to burn publicly
Erigena’s treatise. So far as we can learn, however, Erigena’s orthodoxy
was not at the time suspected, and a few years later he was selected by
Hincmar, archbishop of Reims, to defend the doctrine of liberty of will
against the extreme predestinarianism of the monk Gottschalk
(Gotteschalchus). The treatise De divina praedestinatione, composed on
this occasion, has been preserved, and from its general tenor one cannot be
surprised that the author’s orthodoxy was at once and vehemently
suspected. Erigena argues the question entirely on speculative grounds, and
Erigena, and ascribes to him a knowledge of Aristotle in the original.
Among other legends which have at various times been attached to
Erigena are that he was invited to France by Charlemagne, and that he was
one of the founders of the university of Paris. The only portion of Erigena’s
life as to which we possess accurate information was that spent at the court
of Charles the Bald. Charles invited him to France soon after his accession
to the throne, probably in the year 843, and placed him at the head of the
court school (schola palatina). The reputation of this school seems to have
increased greatly under Erigena’s leadership, and the philosopher himself
was treated with indulgence by the king. William of Malmesbury’s amusing
story illustrates both the character of Scotus and the position he occupied at
the French court. The king having asked, “Quid distat inter sottum et
Scottum?” Erigena replied, “Mensa tantum.”
The first of the works known to have been written by Erigena during this
period was a treatise on the eucharist, which has not come down to us (by
some it has been identified with a treatise by Ratramnus, De corpore et
sanguine Domini). In it he seems to have advanced the doctrine that the
eucharist was merely symbolical or commemorative, an opinion for which
Berengarius was at a later date censured and condemned. As a part of his
penance Berengarius is said to have been compelled to burn publicly
Erigena’s treatise. So far as we can learn, however, Erigena’s orthodoxy
was not at the time suspected, and a few years later he was selected by
Hincmar, archbishop of Reims, to defend the doctrine of liberty of will
against the extreme predestinarianism of the monk Gottschalk
(Gotteschalchus). The treatise De divina praedestinatione, composed on
this occasion, has been preserved, and from its general tenor one cannot be
surprised that the author’s orthodoxy was at once and vehemently
suspected. Erigena argues the question entirely on speculative grounds, and
Page 174
starts with the bold affirmation that philosophy and religion are
fundamentally one and the same—“Conficitur inde veram esse
philosophiam veram religionem, conversimque veram religionem esse
veram philosophiam.” Even more significant is his handling of authority
and reason, to which we shall presently refer. The work was warmly
assailed by Drepanius Florus, canon of Lyons, and Prudentius, and was
condemned by two councils—that of Valence in 855, and that of Langres in
859. By the former council his arguments were described as Pultes
Scotorum (“Scots porridge”) and commentum diaboli (“an invention of the
devil”).
Erigena’s next work was a Latin translation of Dionysius the Areopagite
(see Dionysius Areopagiticus) undertaken at the request of Charles the
Bald. This also has been preserved, and fragments of a commentary by
Erigena on Dionysius have been discovered in MS. A translation of the
Areopagite’s pantheistical writings was not likely to alter the opinion
already formed as to Erigena’s orthodoxy. Pope Nicholas I. was offended
that the work had not been submitted for approval before being given to the
world, and ordered Charles to send Erigena to Rome, or at least to dismiss
him from his court. There is no evidence, however, that this order was
attended to.
The latter part of his life is involved in total obscurity. The story that in
882 he was invited to Oxford by Alfred the Great, that he laboured there for
many years, became abbot at Malmesbury, and was stabbed to death by his
pupils with their “styles,” is apparently without any satisfactory foundation,
and doubtless refers to some other Johannes. Erigena in all probability
never left France, and Hauréau has advanced some reasons for fixing the
date of his death about 877.
Erigena is the most interesting figure among the middle-age writers. The
freedom of his speculation, and the boldness with which he works out his
fundamentally one and the same—“Conficitur inde veram esse
philosophiam veram religionem, conversimque veram religionem esse
veram philosophiam.” Even more significant is his handling of authority
and reason, to which we shall presently refer. The work was warmly
assailed by Drepanius Florus, canon of Lyons, and Prudentius, and was
condemned by two councils—that of Valence in 855, and that of Langres in
859. By the former council his arguments were described as Pultes
Scotorum (“Scots porridge”) and commentum diaboli (“an invention of the
devil”).
Erigena’s next work was a Latin translation of Dionysius the Areopagite
(see Dionysius Areopagiticus) undertaken at the request of Charles the
Bald. This also has been preserved, and fragments of a commentary by
Erigena on Dionysius have been discovered in MS. A translation of the
Areopagite’s pantheistical writings was not likely to alter the opinion
already formed as to Erigena’s orthodoxy. Pope Nicholas I. was offended
that the work had not been submitted for approval before being given to the
world, and ordered Charles to send Erigena to Rome, or at least to dismiss
him from his court. There is no evidence, however, that this order was
attended to.
The latter part of his life is involved in total obscurity. The story that in
882 he was invited to Oxford by Alfred the Great, that he laboured there for
many years, became abbot at Malmesbury, and was stabbed to death by his
pupils with their “styles,” is apparently without any satisfactory foundation,
and doubtless refers to some other Johannes. Erigena in all probability
never left France, and Hauréau has advanced some reasons for fixing the
date of his death about 877.
Erigena is the most interesting figure among the middle-age writers. The
freedom of his speculation, and the boldness with which he works out his
Page 175
logical or dialectical system of the universe, altogether prevent us from
classing him along with the scholastics properly so called. He marks,
indeed, a stage of transition from the older Platonizing philosophy to the
later and more rigid scholasticism. In no sense whatever can it be affirmed
that with Erigena philosophy is in the service of theology. The above-
quoted assertion as to the substantial identity between philosophy and
religion is indeed repeated almost totidem verbis by many of the later
scholastic writers, but its significance altogether depends upon the selection
of one or other term of the identity as fundamental or primary. Now there is
no possibility of mistaking Erigena’s position: to him philosophy or reason
is first, is primitive; authority or religion is secondary, derived. “Auctoritas
siquidem ex vera ratione processit, ratio vero nequaquam ex auctoritate.
Omnis enim auctoritas, quae vera ratione non approbatur, infirma videtur
esse. Vera autem ratio, quum virtutibus suis rata atque immutabilis munitur,
nullius auctoritatis adstipulatione roborari indiget” (De divisione naturae, i.
71). F.D. Maurice, the only historian of note who declines to ascribe a
rationalizing tendency to Erigena, obscures the question by the manner in
which he states it. He asks his readers, after weighing the evidence
advanced, to determine “whether he (Erigena) used his philosophy to
explain away his theology, or to bring out what he conceived to be the
fullest meaning of it.” These alternatives seem to be wrongly put.
“Explaining away theology” is something wholly foreign to the philosophy
of that age; and even if we accept the alternative that Erigena endeavours
speculatively to bring out the full meaning of theology, we are by no means
driven to the conclusion that he was primarily or principally a theologian.
He does not start with the datum of theology as the completed body of truth,
requiring only elucidation and interpretation; his fundamental thought is
that of the universe, nature, τὸ πᾶν, or God, as the ultimate unity which
works itself out into the rational system of the world. Man and all that
concerns man are but parts of this system, and are to be explained by
classing him along with the scholastics properly so called. He marks,
indeed, a stage of transition from the older Platonizing philosophy to the
later and more rigid scholasticism. In no sense whatever can it be affirmed
that with Erigena philosophy is in the service of theology. The above-
quoted assertion as to the substantial identity between philosophy and
religion is indeed repeated almost totidem verbis by many of the later
scholastic writers, but its significance altogether depends upon the selection
of one or other term of the identity as fundamental or primary. Now there is
no possibility of mistaking Erigena’s position: to him philosophy or reason
is first, is primitive; authority or religion is secondary, derived. “Auctoritas
siquidem ex vera ratione processit, ratio vero nequaquam ex auctoritate.
Omnis enim auctoritas, quae vera ratione non approbatur, infirma videtur
esse. Vera autem ratio, quum virtutibus suis rata atque immutabilis munitur,
nullius auctoritatis adstipulatione roborari indiget” (De divisione naturae, i.
71). F.D. Maurice, the only historian of note who declines to ascribe a
rationalizing tendency to Erigena, obscures the question by the manner in
which he states it. He asks his readers, after weighing the evidence
advanced, to determine “whether he (Erigena) used his philosophy to
explain away his theology, or to bring out what he conceived to be the
fullest meaning of it.” These alternatives seem to be wrongly put.
“Explaining away theology” is something wholly foreign to the philosophy
of that age; and even if we accept the alternative that Erigena endeavours
speculatively to bring out the full meaning of theology, we are by no means
driven to the conclusion that he was primarily or principally a theologian.
He does not start with the datum of theology as the completed body of truth,
requiring only elucidation and interpretation; his fundamental thought is
that of the universe, nature, τὸ πᾶν, or God, as the ultimate unity which
works itself out into the rational system of the world. Man and all that
concerns man are but parts of this system, and are to be explained by
Page 176
reference to it; for explanation or understanding of a thing is determination
of its place in the universal or all. Religion or revelation is one element or
factor in the divine process, a stage or phase of the ultimate rational life.
The highest faculty of man, reason, intellectus, intellectualis visio, is that
which is not content with the individual or partial, but grasps the whole and
thereby comprehends the parts. In this highest effort of reason, which is
indeed God thinking in man, thought and being are at one, the opposition of
being and thought is overcome. When Erigena starts with such propositions,
it is clearly impossible to understand his position and work if we insist on
regarding him as a scholastic, accepting the dogmas of the church as
ultimate data, and endeavouring only to present them in due order and
defend them by argument.
Erigena’s great work, De divisione naturae, which was condemned
by a council at Sens, by Honorius III. (1225), who described it as
“swarming with worms of heretical perversity,” and by Gregory XIII.
in 1585, is arranged in five books. The form of exposition is that of
dialogue; the method of reasoning is the syllogistic. The leading
thoughts are the following. Natura is the name for the universal, the
totality of all things, containing in itself being and non-being. It is the
unity of which all special phenomena are manifestations. But of this
nature there are four distinct classes:—(1) that which creates and is not
created; (2) that which is created and creates; (3) that which is created
and does not create; (4) that which neither is created nor creates. The
first is God as the ground or origin of all things, the last is God as the
final end or goal of all things, that into which the world of created
things ultimately returns. The second and third together compose the
created universe, which is the manifestation of God, God in processu,
Theophania. Thus we distinguish in the divine system beginning,
middle and end; but these three are in essence one—the difference is
only the consequence of our finite comprehension. We are compelled to
of its place in the universal or all. Religion or revelation is one element or
factor in the divine process, a stage or phase of the ultimate rational life.
The highest faculty of man, reason, intellectus, intellectualis visio, is that
which is not content with the individual or partial, but grasps the whole and
thereby comprehends the parts. In this highest effort of reason, which is
indeed God thinking in man, thought and being are at one, the opposition of
being and thought is overcome. When Erigena starts with such propositions,
it is clearly impossible to understand his position and work if we insist on
regarding him as a scholastic, accepting the dogmas of the church as
ultimate data, and endeavouring only to present them in due order and
defend them by argument.
Erigena’s great work, De divisione naturae, which was condemned
by a council at Sens, by Honorius III. (1225), who described it as
“swarming with worms of heretical perversity,” and by Gregory XIII.
in 1585, is arranged in five books. The form of exposition is that of
dialogue; the method of reasoning is the syllogistic. The leading
thoughts are the following. Natura is the name for the universal, the
totality of all things, containing in itself being and non-being. It is the
unity of which all special phenomena are manifestations. But of this
nature there are four distinct classes:—(1) that which creates and is not
created; (2) that which is created and creates; (3) that which is created
and does not create; (4) that which neither is created nor creates. The
first is God as the ground or origin of all things, the last is God as the
final end or goal of all things, that into which the world of created
things ultimately returns. The second and third together compose the
created universe, which is the manifestation of God, God in processu,
Theophania. Thus we distinguish in the divine system beginning,
middle and end; but these three are in essence one—the difference is
only the consequence of our finite comprehension. We are compelled to
Page 177
envisage this eternal process under the form of time, to apply temporal
distinctions to that which is extra- or supra-temporal. The universe of
created things, as we have seen, is twofold:—first, that which is created
and creates—the primordial ideas, archetypes, immutable relations,
divine acts of will, according to which individual things are formed;
second, that which is created and does not create, the world of
individuals, the effects of the primordial causes, without which the
causes have no true being. Created things have no individual or self-
independent existence; they are only in God; and each thing is a
manifestation of the divine, theophania, divina apparitio.
God alone, the uncreated creator of all, has true being. He is the true
universal, all-containing and incomprehensible. The lower cannot
comprehend the higher, and therefore we must say that the existence of
God is above being, above essence; God is above goodness, above
wisdom, above truth. No finite predicates can be applied to him; his
mode of being cannot be determined by any category. True theology is
negative. Nevertheless the world, as the theophania, the revelation of
God, enables us so far to understand the divine essence. We recognize
his being in the being of all things, his wisdom in their orderly
arrangement, his life in their constant motion. Thus God is for us a
Trinity—the Father as substance or being (οὐσία), the Son as wisdom
(δύναμις), the Spirit as life (ἐνέργια). These three are realized in the
universe—the Father as the system of things, the Son as the word, i.e.
the realm of ideas, the Spirit as the life or moving force which
introduces individuality and which ultimately draws back all things
into the divine unity. In man, as the noblest of created things, the
Trinity is seen most perfectly reflected; intellectus (νοῦς), ratio
(λογος) and sensus (διάνοια) make up the threefold thread of his
being. Not in man alone, however, but in all things, God is to be
regarded as realizing himself, as becoming incarnate.
distinctions to that which is extra- or supra-temporal. The universe of
created things, as we have seen, is twofold:—first, that which is created
and creates—the primordial ideas, archetypes, immutable relations,
divine acts of will, according to which individual things are formed;
second, that which is created and does not create, the world of
individuals, the effects of the primordial causes, without which the
causes have no true being. Created things have no individual or self-
independent existence; they are only in God; and each thing is a
manifestation of the divine, theophania, divina apparitio.
God alone, the uncreated creator of all, has true being. He is the true
universal, all-containing and incomprehensible. The lower cannot
comprehend the higher, and therefore we must say that the existence of
God is above being, above essence; God is above goodness, above
wisdom, above truth. No finite predicates can be applied to him; his
mode of being cannot be determined by any category. True theology is
negative. Nevertheless the world, as the theophania, the revelation of
God, enables us so far to understand the divine essence. We recognize
his being in the being of all things, his wisdom in their orderly
arrangement, his life in their constant motion. Thus God is for us a
Trinity—the Father as substance or being (οὐσία), the Son as wisdom
(δύναμις), the Spirit as life (ἐνέργια). These three are realized in the
universe—the Father as the system of things, the Son as the word, i.e.
the realm of ideas, the Spirit as the life or moving force which
introduces individuality and which ultimately draws back all things
into the divine unity. In man, as the noblest of created things, the
Trinity is seen most perfectly reflected; intellectus (νοῦς), ratio
(λογος) and sensus (διάνοια) make up the threefold thread of his
being. Not in man alone, however, but in all things, God is to be
regarded as realizing himself, as becoming incarnate.
Page 178
The infinite essence of God, which may indeed be described as
nihilum (nothing) is that from which all is created, from which all
proceeds or emanates. The first procession or emanation, as above
indicated, is the realm of ideas in the Platonic sense, the word or
wisdom of God. These ideas compose a whole or inseparable unity, but
we are able in a dim way to think of them as a system logically
arranged. Thus the highest idea is that of goodness; things are, only if
they are good; being without well-being is naught. Essence participates
in goodness—that which is good has being, and is therefore to be
regarded as a species of good. Life, again, is a species of essence,
wisdom a species of life, and so on, always descending from genus to
species in a rigorous logical fashion.
The ideas are the eternal causes, which, under the moving influence
of the spirit, manifest themselves in their effects, the individual created
things. Manifestation, however, is part of the being or essence of the
causes, that is to say, if we interpret the expression, God of necessity
manifests himself in the world and is not without the world. Further, as
the causes are eternal, timeless, so creation is eternal, timeless. The
Mosaic account, then, is to be looked upon merely as a mode in which
is faintly shadowed forth what is above finite comprehension. It is
altogether allegorical, and requires to be interpreted. Paradise and the
Fall have no local or temporal being. Man was originally sinless and
without distinction of sex. Only after the introduction of sin did man
lose his spiritual body, and acquire the animal nature with its
distinction of sex. Woman is the impersonation of man’s sensuous and
fallen nature; on the final return to the divine unity, distinction of sex
will vanish, and the spiritual body will be regained.
The most remarkable and at the same time the most obscure portion
of the work is that in which the final return to God is handled.
nihilum (nothing) is that from which all is created, from which all
proceeds or emanates. The first procession or emanation, as above
indicated, is the realm of ideas in the Platonic sense, the word or
wisdom of God. These ideas compose a whole or inseparable unity, but
we are able in a dim way to think of them as a system logically
arranged. Thus the highest idea is that of goodness; things are, only if
they are good; being without well-being is naught. Essence participates
in goodness—that which is good has being, and is therefore to be
regarded as a species of good. Life, again, is a species of essence,
wisdom a species of life, and so on, always descending from genus to
species in a rigorous logical fashion.
The ideas are the eternal causes, which, under the moving influence
of the spirit, manifest themselves in their effects, the individual created
things. Manifestation, however, is part of the being or essence of the
causes, that is to say, if we interpret the expression, God of necessity
manifests himself in the world and is not without the world. Further, as
the causes are eternal, timeless, so creation is eternal, timeless. The
Mosaic account, then, is to be looked upon merely as a mode in which
is faintly shadowed forth what is above finite comprehension. It is
altogether allegorical, and requires to be interpreted. Paradise and the
Fall have no local or temporal being. Man was originally sinless and
without distinction of sex. Only after the introduction of sin did man
lose his spiritual body, and acquire the animal nature with its
distinction of sex. Woman is the impersonation of man’s sensuous and
fallen nature; on the final return to the divine unity, distinction of sex
will vanish, and the spiritual body will be regained.
The most remarkable and at the same time the most obscure portion
of the work is that in which the final return to God is handled.
Page 179
Naturally sin is a necessary preliminary to this redemption, and Erigena
has the greatest difficulty in accounting for the fact of sin. If God is
true being, then sin can have no substantive existence; it cannot be said
that God knows of sin, for to God knowing and being are one. In the
universe of things, as a universe, there can be no sin; there must be
perfect harmony. Sin, in fact, results from the will of the individual
who falsely represents something as good which is not so. This
misdirected will is punished by finding that the objects after which it
thirsts are in truth vanity and emptiness. Hell is not to be regarded as
having local existence; it is the inner state of the sinful will. As the
object of punishment is not the will or the individual himself, but the
misdirection of the will, so the result of punishment is the final
purification and redemption of all. Even the devils shall be saved. All,
however, are not saved at once; the stages of the return to the final
unity, corresponding to the stages in the creative process, are
numerous, and are passed through slowly. The ultimate goal is
deificatio, theosis or resumption into the divine being, when the
individual soul is raised to a full knowledge of God, and where
knowing and being are one. After all have been restored to the divine
unity, there is no further creation. The ultimate unity is that which
neither is created nor creates.
Editions.—There is a complete edition of Erigena’s works in J.P.
Migne’s Patrologiae cursus completus (vol. cxxii.), edited by H.J.
Floss (Paris, 1853). The De divina praedestinatione was published in
Gilbert Mauguin’s Veterum auctorum qui nono saeculo de
praedestinatione et gratia scripserunt opera et fragmenta (Paris,
1650). The commentary (“Expositiones”) on Dionysius’ Hierarchiae
caelestes appeared in the Appendix ad opera edita ab A. Maio (ed. J.
Cozza, Rome, 1871). Of the De divisione naturae, editions have been
published by Thomas Gale (Oxford, 1681); C.B. Schlüter (Münster,
has the greatest difficulty in accounting for the fact of sin. If God is
true being, then sin can have no substantive existence; it cannot be said
that God knows of sin, for to God knowing and being are one. In the
universe of things, as a universe, there can be no sin; there must be
perfect harmony. Sin, in fact, results from the will of the individual
who falsely represents something as good which is not so. This
misdirected will is punished by finding that the objects after which it
thirsts are in truth vanity and emptiness. Hell is not to be regarded as
having local existence; it is the inner state of the sinful will. As the
object of punishment is not the will or the individual himself, but the
misdirection of the will, so the result of punishment is the final
purification and redemption of all. Even the devils shall be saved. All,
however, are not saved at once; the stages of the return to the final
unity, corresponding to the stages in the creative process, are
numerous, and are passed through slowly. The ultimate goal is
deificatio, theosis or resumption into the divine being, when the
individual soul is raised to a full knowledge of God, and where
knowing and being are one. After all have been restored to the divine
unity, there is no further creation. The ultimate unity is that which
neither is created nor creates.
Editions.—There is a complete edition of Erigena’s works in J.P.
Migne’s Patrologiae cursus completus (vol. cxxii.), edited by H.J.
Floss (Paris, 1853). The De divina praedestinatione was published in
Gilbert Mauguin’s Veterum auctorum qui nono saeculo de
praedestinatione et gratia scripserunt opera et fragmenta (Paris,
1650). The commentary (“Expositiones”) on Dionysius’ Hierarchiae
caelestes appeared in the Appendix ad opera edita ab A. Maio (ed. J.
Cozza, Rome, 1871). Of the De divisione naturae, editions have been
published by Thomas Gale (Oxford, 1681); C.B. Schlüter (Münster,
Page 180
1838); and in Floss’s Opera omnia; there is a German translation by
Ludwig Noack, Johannes Scotus Erigena über die Eintheilung der
Natur (3 vols., 1874-1876). Erigena was also the author of some poems
edited by L. Traube in Monumenta Germaniae historica. Poëtae Latini
aevi Carolini, iii. (1896). A commentary on the Opuscula sacra of
Boëtius is attributed to him and edited by E.K. Rand (1906).
Monographs on Erigena’s life and works are numerous; see St René
Taillandier, Scot Érigène et la philosophie scholastique (1843); T.
Christlieb, Leben u. Lehre des Johannes Scotus Erigena (Gotha, 1860);
J.N. Huber, Johannes Scotus Erigena (Munich, 1861); W. Kaulich, Das
speculative System des Johannes Scotus Erigena (Prague, 1860); A.
Stöckl, De Joh. Scoto Erigena (1867); L. Noack, Über Leben und
Schriften des Joh. Scotus Erigena: die Wissenschaft und Bildung seiner
Zeit (Leipzig, 1876); R.L. Poole, Medieval Thought (1884), and article
in Dictionary of National Biography; T. Wotschke, Fichte und Erigena
(Halle, 1896); M. Baumgartner in Wetzer and Welte’s Kirchenlexikon,
x. (1897); Alice Gardner’s Studies in John the Scot (1900); J. Dräseke,
Joh. Scotus Erigena und seine Gewährsmänner (Leipzig, 1902); S.M.
Deutsch in Herzog-Hauck’s Realencyklopädie für protestantische
Theologie, xviii. (1906); J.E. Sandys, Hist. of Classical Scholarship
(1906), pp. 491-495. See also the general works on scholastic
philosophy, especially Hauréau, Stöckl and Kaulich. An admirable
résumé is given by F.D. Maurice, Medieval Phil. pp. 45-79.
(R. Ad.; J. M. M.)
Ludwig Noack, Johannes Scotus Erigena über die Eintheilung der
Natur (3 vols., 1874-1876). Erigena was also the author of some poems
edited by L. Traube in Monumenta Germaniae historica. Poëtae Latini
aevi Carolini, iii. (1896). A commentary on the Opuscula sacra of
Boëtius is attributed to him and edited by E.K. Rand (1906).
Monographs on Erigena’s life and works are numerous; see St René
Taillandier, Scot Érigène et la philosophie scholastique (1843); T.
Christlieb, Leben u. Lehre des Johannes Scotus Erigena (Gotha, 1860);
J.N. Huber, Johannes Scotus Erigena (Munich, 1861); W. Kaulich, Das
speculative System des Johannes Scotus Erigena (Prague, 1860); A.
Stöckl, De Joh. Scoto Erigena (1867); L. Noack, Über Leben und
Schriften des Joh. Scotus Erigena: die Wissenschaft und Bildung seiner
Zeit (Leipzig, 1876); R.L. Poole, Medieval Thought (1884), and article
in Dictionary of National Biography; T. Wotschke, Fichte und Erigena
(Halle, 1896); M. Baumgartner in Wetzer and Welte’s Kirchenlexikon,
x. (1897); Alice Gardner’s Studies in John the Scot (1900); J. Dräseke,
Joh. Scotus Erigena und seine Gewährsmänner (Leipzig, 1902); S.M.
Deutsch in Herzog-Hauck’s Realencyklopädie für protestantische
Theologie, xviii. (1906); J.E. Sandys, Hist. of Classical Scholarship
(1906), pp. 491-495. See also the general works on scholastic
philosophy, especially Hauréau, Stöckl and Kaulich. An admirable
résumé is given by F.D. Maurice, Medieval Phil. pp. 45-79.
(R. Ad.; J. M. M.)
Page 181
ERIGONE, in Greek mythology, daughter of Icarius, the hero of the
Attic deme Icaria. Her father, who had been taught by Dionysus to make
wine, gave some to some shepherds, who became intoxicated. Their
companions, thinking they had been poisoned, killed Icarius and buried him
under a tree on Mount Hymettus (or threw his body into a well). Erigone,
guided by her faithful dog Maera, found his grave, and hanged herself on
the tree. Dionysus sent a plague on the land, and all the maidens of Athens,
in a fit of madness, hanged themselves like Erigone. Icarius, Erigone and
Maera were set among the stars as Boötes (or Arcturus), Virgo and Procyon.
The festival called Aeora (the “swing”) was subsequently instituted to
propitiate Icarius and Erigone. Various small images (in Lat. oscilla) were
suspended on trees and swung backwards and forwards, and offerings of
fruit were made (Hyginus, Fab. 130, Poët. astron. ii. 4; Apollodorus iii. 14).
The story was probably intended to explain the origin of these oscilla, by
which Dionysus, as god of trees (Dendrites), was propitiated, and the
baneful influence of the dog-star averted (see also Oscilla).
ERIN, an ancient name for Ireland. The oldest form of the word is Ériu,
of which Érinn is the dative case. Ériu was itself almost certainly a
contraction from a still more primitive form Iberiu or Iveriu; for when the
name of the island was written in ancient Greek it appeared as Ἰουερνιά
(Ivernia), and in Latin as Iberio, Hiberio or Hibernia, the first syllable of
the word Ériu being thus represented in the classical languages by two
distinct vowel sounds separated by b or v. Of the Latin variants, Iberio is
the form found in the most ancient Irish MSS., such as the Confession of St
Attic deme Icaria. Her father, who had been taught by Dionysus to make
wine, gave some to some shepherds, who became intoxicated. Their
companions, thinking they had been poisoned, killed Icarius and buried him
under a tree on Mount Hymettus (or threw his body into a well). Erigone,
guided by her faithful dog Maera, found his grave, and hanged herself on
the tree. Dionysus sent a plague on the land, and all the maidens of Athens,
in a fit of madness, hanged themselves like Erigone. Icarius, Erigone and
Maera were set among the stars as Boötes (or Arcturus), Virgo and Procyon.
The festival called Aeora (the “swing”) was subsequently instituted to
propitiate Icarius and Erigone. Various small images (in Lat. oscilla) were
suspended on trees and swung backwards and forwards, and offerings of
fruit were made (Hyginus, Fab. 130, Poët. astron. ii. 4; Apollodorus iii. 14).
The story was probably intended to explain the origin of these oscilla, by
which Dionysus, as god of trees (Dendrites), was propitiated, and the
baneful influence of the dog-star averted (see also Oscilla).
ERIN, an ancient name for Ireland. The oldest form of the word is Ériu,
of which Érinn is the dative case. Ériu was itself almost certainly a
contraction from a still more primitive form Iberiu or Iveriu; for when the
name of the island was written in ancient Greek it appeared as Ἰουερνιά
(Ivernia), and in Latin as Iberio, Hiberio or Hibernia, the first syllable of
the word Ériu being thus represented in the classical languages by two
distinct vowel sounds separated by b or v. Of the Latin variants, Iberio is
the form found in the most ancient Irish MSS., such as the Confession of St
Page 182
Patrick, and the same saint’s Epistle to Coroticus. Further evidence to the
same effect is found in the fact that the ancient Breton and Welsh names for
Ireland were Ywerddon or Iverdon. In later Gaelic literature the primitive
form Ériu became the dissyllable Éire; hence the Norsemen called the
island the land of Éire, i.e. Ireland, the latter word being originally
pronounced in three syllables. (See Ireland: Notices of Ireland in Greek
and Roman writers.) Nothing is known as to the meaning of the word in any
of its forms, and Whitley Stokes’s suggestion that it may have been
connected with the Sanskrit avara, meaning “western,” is admittedly no
more than conjecture. There was, indeed, a native Irish legend, worthless
from the standpoint of etymology, to account for the origin of the name.
According to this myth there were three kings of the Dedannans reigning in
Ireland at the coming of the Milesians, named MacColl, MacKecht and
MacGrena. The wife of the first was Eire, and from her the name of the
country was derived. Curiously, Ireland in ancient Erse poetry was often
called “Fodla” or “Bauba,” and these were the wives of the other two kings
in the legend.
ERINNA, Greek poet, contemporary and friend of Sappho, a native of
Rhodes or the adjacent island of Telos, flourished about 600 (according to
Eusebius, 350 b.c.). Although she died at the early age of nineteen, her
poems were among the most famous of her time and considered to rank
with those of Homer. Of her best-known poem, Ἠλακάτη (the Distaff),
written in a mixture of Aeolic and Doric, which contained 300 hexameter
same effect is found in the fact that the ancient Breton and Welsh names for
Ireland were Ywerddon or Iverdon. In later Gaelic literature the primitive
form Ériu became the dissyllable Éire; hence the Norsemen called the
island the land of Éire, i.e. Ireland, the latter word being originally
pronounced in three syllables. (See Ireland: Notices of Ireland in Greek
and Roman writers.) Nothing is known as to the meaning of the word in any
of its forms, and Whitley Stokes’s suggestion that it may have been
connected with the Sanskrit avara, meaning “western,” is admittedly no
more than conjecture. There was, indeed, a native Irish legend, worthless
from the standpoint of etymology, to account for the origin of the name.
According to this myth there were three kings of the Dedannans reigning in
Ireland at the coming of the Milesians, named MacColl, MacKecht and
MacGrena. The wife of the first was Eire, and from her the name of the
country was derived. Curiously, Ireland in ancient Erse poetry was often
called “Fodla” or “Bauba,” and these were the wives of the other two kings
in the legend.
ERINNA, Greek poet, contemporary and friend of Sappho, a native of
Rhodes or the adjacent island of Telos, flourished about 600 (according to
Eusebius, 350 b.c.). Although she died at the early age of nineteen, her
poems were among the most famous of her time and considered to rank
with those of Homer. Of her best-known poem, Ἠλακάτη (the Distaff),
written in a mixture of Aeolic and Doric, which contained 300 hexameter
Page 183
lines, only 4 lines are now extant. Three epigrams in the Palatine anthology,
also ascribed to her, probably belong to a later date.
The fragments have been edited (with those of Alcaeus) by J.
Pellegrino (1894).
ERINYES (Lat. Furiae), in Greek mythology, the avenging deities,
properly the angry goddesses or goddesses of the curse pronounced upon
evil-doers. According to Hesiod (Theog. 185) they were the daughters of
Earth, and sprang from the blood of the mutilated Uranus; in Aeschylus
(Eum. 321) they are the daughters of Night, in Sophocles (O.C. 40) of
Darkness and Earth. Sometimes one Erinys is mentioned, sometimes
several; Euripides first spoke of them as three in number, to whom later
Alexandrian writers gave the names Alecto (unceasing in anger), Tisiphone
(avenger of murder), Megaera (jealous). Their home is the world below,
whence they ascend to earth to pursue the wicked. They punish all offences
against the laws of human society, such as perjury, violation of the rites of
hospitality, and, above all, the murder of relations. But they are not without
benevolent and beneficent attributes. When the sinner has expiated his
crime they are ready to forgive. Thus, their persecution of Orestes ceases
after his acquittal by the Areopagus. It is said that on this occasion they
were first called Eumenides (“the kindly”), a euphemistic variant of their
real name. At Athens, however, where they had a sanctuary at the foot of the
Areopagus hill and a sacred grove at Colonus, their regular name was
Semnae (venerable). Black sheep were sacrificed to them during the night
by the light of torches. A festival was held in their honour every year,
also ascribed to her, probably belong to a later date.
The fragments have been edited (with those of Alcaeus) by J.
Pellegrino (1894).
ERINYES (Lat. Furiae), in Greek mythology, the avenging deities,
properly the angry goddesses or goddesses of the curse pronounced upon
evil-doers. According to Hesiod (Theog. 185) they were the daughters of
Earth, and sprang from the blood of the mutilated Uranus; in Aeschylus
(Eum. 321) they are the daughters of Night, in Sophocles (O.C. 40) of
Darkness and Earth. Sometimes one Erinys is mentioned, sometimes
several; Euripides first spoke of them as three in number, to whom later
Alexandrian writers gave the names Alecto (unceasing in anger), Tisiphone
(avenger of murder), Megaera (jealous). Their home is the world below,
whence they ascend to earth to pursue the wicked. They punish all offences
against the laws of human society, such as perjury, violation of the rites of
hospitality, and, above all, the murder of relations. But they are not without
benevolent and beneficent attributes. When the sinner has expiated his
crime they are ready to forgive. Thus, their persecution of Orestes ceases
after his acquittal by the Areopagus. It is said that on this occasion they
were first called Eumenides (“the kindly”), a euphemistic variant of their
real name. At Athens, however, where they had a sanctuary at the foot of the
Areopagus hill and a sacred grove at Colonus, their regular name was
Semnae (venerable). Black sheep were sacrificed to them during the night
by the light of torches. A festival was held in their honour every year,
Page 184
superintended by a special priesthood, at which the offerings consisted of
milk and honey mixed with water, but no wine. In Aeschylus, the Erinyes
are represented as awful, Gorgon-like women, wearing long black robes,
with snaky locks, bloodshot eyes and claw-like nails. Later, they are winged
maidens of serious aspect, in the garb of huntresses, with snakes or torches
in their hair, carrying scourges, torches or sickles. The identification of
Erinyes with Sanskrit Saranyu, the swift-speeding storm cloud, is rejected
by modern etymologists; according to M. Bréal, the Erinyes are the
personification of the formula of imprecation (ἀρά), while E. Rohde sees in
them the spirits of the dead, the angry souls of murdered men.
See C.O. Müller, Dissertations on the Eumenides of Aeschylus, (Eng.
tr., 1835); A. Rosenberg, Die Erinyen (1874); J.E. Harrison,
Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion (1903); and Journal of
Hellenic Studies, xix. p. 205, according to whom the Erinyes were
primarily local ancestral ghosts, potent for good or evil after death,
earth genii, originally conceived as embodied in the form of snakes,
whose primitive haunt and sanctuary was the omphalos at Delphi; E.
Rohde, Psyche (1903); A. Rapp in Roscher’s Lexikon der Mythologie,
and J.A. Hild in Daremberg and Saglio’s Dictionnaire des antiquités,
s.v. Furiae.
ERIPHYLE, in Greek mythology, sister of Adrastus and wife of
Amphiaraus. Having been bribed by Polyneices with the necklace of
Harmonia, she persuaded her husband to take part in the expedition of the
Seven against Thebes, although he knew it would prove fatal to him. Before
milk and honey mixed with water, but no wine. In Aeschylus, the Erinyes
are represented as awful, Gorgon-like women, wearing long black robes,
with snaky locks, bloodshot eyes and claw-like nails. Later, they are winged
maidens of serious aspect, in the garb of huntresses, with snakes or torches
in their hair, carrying scourges, torches or sickles. The identification of
Erinyes with Sanskrit Saranyu, the swift-speeding storm cloud, is rejected
by modern etymologists; according to M. Bréal, the Erinyes are the
personification of the formula of imprecation (ἀρά), while E. Rohde sees in
them the spirits of the dead, the angry souls of murdered men.
See C.O. Müller, Dissertations on the Eumenides of Aeschylus, (Eng.
tr., 1835); A. Rosenberg, Die Erinyen (1874); J.E. Harrison,
Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion (1903); and Journal of
Hellenic Studies, xix. p. 205, according to whom the Erinyes were
primarily local ancestral ghosts, potent for good or evil after death,
earth genii, originally conceived as embodied in the form of snakes,
whose primitive haunt and sanctuary was the omphalos at Delphi; E.
Rohde, Psyche (1903); A. Rapp in Roscher’s Lexikon der Mythologie,
and J.A. Hild in Daremberg and Saglio’s Dictionnaire des antiquités,
s.v. Furiae.
ERIPHYLE, in Greek mythology, sister of Adrastus and wife of
Amphiaraus. Having been bribed by Polyneices with the necklace of
Harmonia, she persuaded her husband to take part in the expedition of the
Seven against Thebes, although he knew it would prove fatal to him. Before
Page 185
setting out, the seer charged his sons to slay their mother as soon as they
heard of his death. The attack on Thebes was repulsed, and during the flight
the earth opened and swallowed up Amphiaraus together with his chariot.
His son Alcmaeon, as he had been bidden, slew his mother, and was driven
from place to place by the Erinyes, seeking purification and a new home
(Apollodorus iii. 6. 7).
ERIS, in Greek mythology, a sister of the war-god Ares (Homer, Iliad, iv.
440), and in the Hesiodic theogony (225) a daughter of Night. In the later
legends of the Trojan War, Eris, not having been invited to the marriage
festival of Peleus and Thetis, flings a golden apple (the “apple of discord”)
among the guests, to be given to the most beautiful. The claims of the three
deities Hera, Aphrodite and Athena are decided by Paris in favour of
Aphrodite, who as a reward assists him to gain possession of Helen
(Hyginus, Fab. 92; Lucian, Charidemus, 17). Hesiod also mentions (W. and
D. 24) a beneficent Eris, the personification of honourable rivalry. In Virgil
(Aeneid, viii. 702) and other Roman poets Eris is represented by Discordia.
ERITH, an urban district in the north-western parliamentary division of
Kent, England, 14 m. E. by S. of London, on the South Eastern & Chatham
railway. Pop. (1891) 13,414; (1901) 25,296. It lies on the south bank of the
heard of his death. The attack on Thebes was repulsed, and during the flight
the earth opened and swallowed up Amphiaraus together with his chariot.
His son Alcmaeon, as he had been bidden, slew his mother, and was driven
from place to place by the Erinyes, seeking purification and a new home
(Apollodorus iii. 6. 7).
ERIS, in Greek mythology, a sister of the war-god Ares (Homer, Iliad, iv.
440), and in the Hesiodic theogony (225) a daughter of Night. In the later
legends of the Trojan War, Eris, not having been invited to the marriage
festival of Peleus and Thetis, flings a golden apple (the “apple of discord”)
among the guests, to be given to the most beautiful. The claims of the three
deities Hera, Aphrodite and Athena are decided by Paris in favour of
Aphrodite, who as a reward assists him to gain possession of Helen
(Hyginus, Fab. 92; Lucian, Charidemus, 17). Hesiod also mentions (W. and
D. 24) a beneficent Eris, the personification of honourable rivalry. In Virgil
(Aeneid, viii. 702) and other Roman poets Eris is represented by Discordia.
ERITH, an urban district in the north-western parliamentary division of
Kent, England, 14 m. E. by S. of London, on the South Eastern & Chatham
railway. Pop. (1891) 13,414; (1901) 25,296. It lies on the south bank of the
Page 186
Thames and extends up the hills above the shore, many villas having been
erected on the higher ground. The park of a former seat, Belvedere, was
thus built over (c. 1860), and the mansion became a home for disabled
seamen. The church of St John the Baptist, though largely altered by
modern restoration, retains Early English to Perpendicular portions, and
some early monuments and brasses. Erith has large engineering and gun
factories, and in the neighbourhood are gunpowder, oil, glue and manure
works. The southern outfall works of the London main drainage system are
at Crossness in the neighbouring lowland called Plumstead Marshes. Erith
is the headquarters of several yacht clubs. Erith, the name of which is
commonly derived from A.S. Ærra-hythe (old haven), was anciently a
borough, and was granted a market and fairs in 1313. Down to the close of
the 17th century it was of some importance as a naval station.
ERITREA, an Italian colony on the African coast of the Red Sea. It
extends from Ras Kasar, a cape 110 m. S. of Suakin, in 18° 2′ N., as far as
Ras Dumeira (12° 42′ N.), in the Strait of Bab-el-Mandeb, a coast-line of
about 650 m. The colony is bounded inland by the Anglo-Egyptian Sudan,
Abyssinia and French Somaliland. It consists of the coast lands lying
between the capes named and of part of the northern portion of the
Abyssinian plateau. The total area is about 60,000 sq. m. The population is
approximately 450,000, of which, exclusive of soldiers, not more than 3000
are whites.
The land frontier starting from Ras Kasar runs in a south-westerly
direction until in about 14° 15′ N., 36° 35′ E. it reaches the river Setit, some
erected on the higher ground. The park of a former seat, Belvedere, was
thus built over (c. 1860), and the mansion became a home for disabled
seamen. The church of St John the Baptist, though largely altered by
modern restoration, retains Early English to Perpendicular portions, and
some early monuments and brasses. Erith has large engineering and gun
factories, and in the neighbourhood are gunpowder, oil, glue and manure
works. The southern outfall works of the London main drainage system are
at Crossness in the neighbouring lowland called Plumstead Marshes. Erith
is the headquarters of several yacht clubs. Erith, the name of which is
commonly derived from A.S. Ærra-hythe (old haven), was anciently a
borough, and was granted a market and fairs in 1313. Down to the close of
the 17th century it was of some importance as a naval station.
ERITREA, an Italian colony on the African coast of the Red Sea. It
extends from Ras Kasar, a cape 110 m. S. of Suakin, in 18° 2′ N., as far as
Ras Dumeira (12° 42′ N.), in the Strait of Bab-el-Mandeb, a coast-line of
about 650 m. The colony is bounded inland by the Anglo-Egyptian Sudan,
Abyssinia and French Somaliland. It consists of the coast lands lying
between the capes named and of part of the northern portion of the
Abyssinian plateau. The total area is about 60,000 sq. m. The population is
approximately 450,000, of which, exclusive of soldiers, not more than 3000
are whites.
The land frontier starting from Ras Kasar runs in a south-westerly
direction until in about 14° 15′ N., 36° 35′ E. it reaches the river Setit, some
Page 187
distance above the junction of that stream with the Atbara. This, the farthest
point inland, is 198 m. S.W. of Massawa. The frontier now turns east,
following for a short distance the course of the river Setit; thence it strikes
north-easterly to the Mareb, and from 38° E. follows that river and its
tributaries the Belesa and Muna, until within 42 m. of the sea directly south
of Annesley Bay. At this point the frontier turns south and east, crossing the
Afar or Danakil country at a distance of 60 kilometres (37.28 m.) from the
coast-line. About 12° 20′ N. the French possessions in Somaliland are
reached. Here the frontier turns N.E. and so continues until the coast of the
Red Sea is again reached at a point south of the town of Raheita. In the
southern part of the colony are small sultanates, such as those of Aussa and
Raheita, which are under Italian protection. The Dahlak archipelago and
other groups of islands along the coast belong to Eritrea.
Physical Features.—The coast-line is of coral formation and is, in
the neighbourhood of Massawa, thickly studded with small islands.
The chief indentations are Annesley Bay, immediately south of
Massawa, and Assab Bay in the south. The colony consists of two
widely differing regions. The northern division is part of the
Abyssinian highlands. The southern division, part of the Afar or
Danakil country, includes all the territory of the colony south of
Annesley Bay. These two regions are connected by a narrow strip of
land behind Annesley Bay, where the Abyssinian hills approach close
to the sea. From this bay the coast-line trends S.E. so that at Tajura Bay
the distance between the Abyssinian hills and the sea is over 200 m.
The Afar country is part of the East African rift-valley, and in the
southern parts of the valley its surface is diversified by ranges of hills,
frequently volcanic, and by lakes. The plains, however, extend over
large areas, they are generally arid and are often covered with mimosa
trees which form a kind of jungle called by the natives khala. The
torrents which descend from the Abyssinian plateau usually fail to
point inland, is 198 m. S.W. of Massawa. The frontier now turns east,
following for a short distance the course of the river Setit; thence it strikes
north-easterly to the Mareb, and from 38° E. follows that river and its
tributaries the Belesa and Muna, until within 42 m. of the sea directly south
of Annesley Bay. At this point the frontier turns south and east, crossing the
Afar or Danakil country at a distance of 60 kilometres (37.28 m.) from the
coast-line. About 12° 20′ N. the French possessions in Somaliland are
reached. Here the frontier turns N.E. and so continues until the coast of the
Red Sea is again reached at a point south of the town of Raheita. In the
southern part of the colony are small sultanates, such as those of Aussa and
Raheita, which are under Italian protection. The Dahlak archipelago and
other groups of islands along the coast belong to Eritrea.
Physical Features.—The coast-line is of coral formation and is, in
the neighbourhood of Massawa, thickly studded with small islands.
The chief indentations are Annesley Bay, immediately south of
Massawa, and Assab Bay in the south. The colony consists of two
widely differing regions. The northern division is part of the
Abyssinian highlands. The southern division, part of the Afar or
Danakil country, includes all the territory of the colony south of
Annesley Bay. These two regions are connected by a narrow strip of
land behind Annesley Bay, where the Abyssinian hills approach close
to the sea. From this bay the coast-line trends S.E. so that at Tajura Bay
the distance between the Abyssinian hills and the sea is over 200 m.
The Afar country is part of the East African rift-valley, and in the
southern parts of the valley its surface is diversified by ranges of hills,
frequently volcanic, and by lakes. The plains, however, extend over
large areas, they are generally arid and are often covered with mimosa
trees which form a kind of jungle called by the natives khala. The
torrents which descend from the Abyssinian plateau usually fail to
Page 188
reach the sea. They are mostly bordered by dense vegetation; in the dry
season water is found in pools in the river beds or can be obtained by
digging. The principal rivers enter and are lost in one or other of two
salt plains or basins, that of Asali in the north and that of Aussa in the
south. The Hawash flows through the Aussa country in a N.E.
direction, but is lost in lakes Abbebad and Aussa (see Abyssinia). The
Raguali and other rivers drain into the Asali basin. This basin, like that
of Aussa, is in places 200 ft. below sea-level. On the west the Asali
basin reaches to the Abyssinian foot-hills; in its southern part is the
small lake Alelbad. The eastern edge of the basin is formed by a ridge
of gypsum and on its margin grow palms. In parts the salt lies thick on
the plain, which then has the appearance of a lake frozen over. South of
Lake Alelbad is a volcano called Artali or Erta-alé (“the smoky”), and
farther to the S.E., in about 13° 15′ N., is the peak of Afdera, which
was in eruption in June 1907. The hills, 1000 to 4000 ft. in height,
which run more or less parallel to and a few miles from the coast,
include the volcano of Dubbi (reported active in 1861), some 30 m. S.
of the port of Edd (Eddi). In 14° 52′ N., 39° 53′ E. and near the
northern end of the zone of depression the volcano of Alid (2985 ft.)
rises from the trough. Its chief crest forms an elongated ring and
encloses a crater over half a mile in diameter and with walls 350 ft.
high. North and south of Alid extends a vast lava field. Dubbi and Alid
are in Italian territory; the greater part of Afar belongs to Abyssinia.
At Annesley Bay the narrow coast plain is succeeded by foothills
separated by small valleys through which flow innumerable streams.
From these hills the ascent to the plateau which constitutes northern
Eritrea is very steep. This tableland, which has a general elevation of
about 6500 ft., is fairly fertile despite a desert region—Sheb—to the
S.E. of Keren. It is characterized by rich, well-watered valleys, verdant
plains and flat-topped hills with steep sides, running in ranges or
season water is found in pools in the river beds or can be obtained by
digging. The principal rivers enter and are lost in one or other of two
salt plains or basins, that of Asali in the north and that of Aussa in the
south. The Hawash flows through the Aussa country in a N.E.
direction, but is lost in lakes Abbebad and Aussa (see Abyssinia). The
Raguali and other rivers drain into the Asali basin. This basin, like that
of Aussa, is in places 200 ft. below sea-level. On the west the Asali
basin reaches to the Abyssinian foot-hills; in its southern part is the
small lake Alelbad. The eastern edge of the basin is formed by a ridge
of gypsum and on its margin grow palms. In parts the salt lies thick on
the plain, which then has the appearance of a lake frozen over. South of
Lake Alelbad is a volcano called Artali or Erta-alé (“the smoky”), and
farther to the S.E., in about 13° 15′ N., is the peak of Afdera, which
was in eruption in June 1907. The hills, 1000 to 4000 ft. in height,
which run more or less parallel to and a few miles from the coast,
include the volcano of Dubbi (reported active in 1861), some 30 m. S.
of the port of Edd (Eddi). In 14° 52′ N., 39° 53′ E. and near the
northern end of the zone of depression the volcano of Alid (2985 ft.)
rises from the trough. Its chief crest forms an elongated ring and
encloses a crater over half a mile in diameter and with walls 350 ft.
high. North and south of Alid extends a vast lava field. Dubbi and Alid
are in Italian territory; the greater part of Afar belongs to Abyssinia.
At Annesley Bay the narrow coast plain is succeeded by foothills
separated by small valleys through which flow innumerable streams.
From these hills the ascent to the plateau which constitutes northern
Eritrea is very steep. This tableland, which has a general elevation of
about 6500 ft., is fairly fertile despite a desert region—Sheb—to the
S.E. of Keren. It is characterized by rich, well-watered valleys, verdant
plains and flat-topped hills with steep sides, running in ranges or
Page 189
isolated. The highest hills in Eritrean territory rise to about 10,000 ft.
The plateau is known by various names, the region directly west of
Massawa being called Hamasen. To the west and north the plateau
sinks in terraces to the plains of the Sudan, and eastward falls more
abruptly to the Red Sea, the coast plain, known as the Samhar,
consisting of sandy country covered with mimosa and, along the khors,
with a somewhat richer vegetation.
The colony contains no navigable streams. For a short distance the
Setit (known in its upper course as the Takazze), a tributary of the
Atbara, forms the frontier, as does also in its upper course the Gash or
Mareb (see Abyssinia). The Mareb, often dry in summer, in the floods
is a large and impassable river. Both the Setit and Mareb have a general
westerly course across the Abyssinian plateau. The Baraka (otherwise
Barka) and Anseba rise in the Hamasen plateau near Asmara within a
short distance of each other. The Baraka flows west and then north; the
Anseba, which has a more easterly course, also flows northward and
joins the Baraka a little N. of 17° N. A few miles below the confluence
the Baraka leaves Italian territory. It is (as is the Anseba) an
intermittent stream. After heavy rain it discharges some of its water
into the Red Sea north of Tokar. The whole of the hill country north of
Asmara belongs to the drainage area of the Baraka or Anseba. Of the
numerous streams which, north of the Danakil country, run direct from
the hills to the Red Sea, the Hadas may be mentioned, as along the
valley of that stream is one of the most frequented routes to the
tableland. The Hadas, in time of flood, reaches the ocean near Adulis in
Annesley Bay.
Climate.—The climate in different parts of the colony varies greatly.
Three distinct climatic zones are found:—(1) that of the coastlands,
including altitudes up to 1650 ft., (2) that of the escarpments and
The plateau is known by various names, the region directly west of
Massawa being called Hamasen. To the west and north the plateau
sinks in terraces to the plains of the Sudan, and eastward falls more
abruptly to the Red Sea, the coast plain, known as the Samhar,
consisting of sandy country covered with mimosa and, along the khors,
with a somewhat richer vegetation.
The colony contains no navigable streams. For a short distance the
Setit (known in its upper course as the Takazze), a tributary of the
Atbara, forms the frontier, as does also in its upper course the Gash or
Mareb (see Abyssinia). The Mareb, often dry in summer, in the floods
is a large and impassable river. Both the Setit and Mareb have a general
westerly course across the Abyssinian plateau. The Baraka (otherwise
Barka) and Anseba rise in the Hamasen plateau near Asmara within a
short distance of each other. The Baraka flows west and then north; the
Anseba, which has a more easterly course, also flows northward and
joins the Baraka a little N. of 17° N. A few miles below the confluence
the Baraka leaves Italian territory. It is (as is the Anseba) an
intermittent stream. After heavy rain it discharges some of its water
into the Red Sea north of Tokar. The whole of the hill country north of
Asmara belongs to the drainage area of the Baraka or Anseba. Of the
numerous streams which, north of the Danakil country, run direct from
the hills to the Red Sea, the Hadas may be mentioned, as along the
valley of that stream is one of the most frequented routes to the
tableland. The Hadas, in time of flood, reaches the ocean near Adulis in
Annesley Bay.
Climate.—The climate in different parts of the colony varies greatly.
Three distinct climatic zones are found:—(1) that of the coastlands,
including altitudes up to 1650 ft., (2) that of the escarpments and
Page 190
valleys, and (3) that of the high plateau and alpine summits. In the
coast zone the heat and humidity are excessive during most of the year,
June, September and October being the hottest months. Rains occur
between November and April, during which time the temperature is
lower. In this zone malarial fevers prevail in winter. The heat is greatest
at Massawa, where the mean temperature averages 88° F., but where, in
summer, the thermometer often rises to 120° F. in the shade. In the
second zone the climate is more temperate and there is considerable
variation in temperature owing to nocturnal radiation. This zone falls
within the régime of the summer monsoon rains, while those districts
adjoining the coast zone enjoy also winter rains. August is the most
rainy and May the hottest month. On the high plateau, i.e. the third
zone, the climate is generally moderately cool. Slight rain falls in the
spring and abundant monsoon rains from June to September. The heat
is greatest in the dry season, November to April. Above 8500 ft. the
climate becomes sub-alpine in character.
Flora and Fauna.—In the low country the flora differs little from
that of tropical Africa generally, whilst on the plateau the vegetation is
characteristic of the temperate zone. The olive tree grows on the high
plateau and covers the flanks of the hills to within 3000 ft. of sea-level.
The sycamore-fig tree grows to enormous proportions in parts of the
plateau. Lower down durra, maize and bultuc grow in profusion. In the
northern part of the colony, especially along the Khor Baraka, the dom
palm flourishes. The fauna includes, in the low country, the lion,
panther, elephant, camel, and antelope of numerous species. On the
plateau the fauna is that of Abyssinia (q.v.).
Inhabitants.—The inhabitants of the plains and foothills are for the
most part semi-nomad shepherds, living on durra and milk. In the north
these people are largely of Arab or Hamitic stock, such as the Beni-
coast zone the heat and humidity are excessive during most of the year,
June, September and October being the hottest months. Rains occur
between November and April, during which time the temperature is
lower. In this zone malarial fevers prevail in winter. The heat is greatest
at Massawa, where the mean temperature averages 88° F., but where, in
summer, the thermometer often rises to 120° F. in the shade. In the
second zone the climate is more temperate and there is considerable
variation in temperature owing to nocturnal radiation. This zone falls
within the régime of the summer monsoon rains, while those districts
adjoining the coast zone enjoy also winter rains. August is the most
rainy and May the hottest month. On the high plateau, i.e. the third
zone, the climate is generally moderately cool. Slight rain falls in the
spring and abundant monsoon rains from June to September. The heat
is greatest in the dry season, November to April. Above 8500 ft. the
climate becomes sub-alpine in character.
Flora and Fauna.—In the low country the flora differs little from
that of tropical Africa generally, whilst on the plateau the vegetation is
characteristic of the temperate zone. The olive tree grows on the high
plateau and covers the flanks of the hills to within 3000 ft. of sea-level.
The sycamore-fig tree grows to enormous proportions in parts of the
plateau. Lower down durra, maize and bultuc grow in profusion. In the
northern part of the colony, especially along the Khor Baraka, the dom
palm flourishes. The fauna includes, in the low country, the lion,
panther, elephant, camel, and antelope of numerous species. On the
plateau the fauna is that of Abyssinia (q.v.).
Inhabitants.—The inhabitants of the plains and foothills are for the
most part semi-nomad shepherds, living on durra and milk. In the north
these people are largely of Arab or Hamitic stock, such as the Beni-
Page 191
Amer, but include various negro tribes. Afar and Somali form the
population of the southern regions. The inhabitants of the plateau are
Abyssinians. The nomads are Mussulmans and are, as a rule, docile and
pacific, though the Danakils are given to occasional raiding. The
Abyssinians are more warlike, but they have settled down under Italian
rule. Among the native industries are mat-weaving, cotton-weaving,
silver-working and rudimentary iron and leather working. (See Afars;
Somaliland and Abyssinia.)
Towns.—The principal places on the coast are Massawa (q.v.), pop.
about 10,000, the chief seaport of the colony, Assab, chief town of the
Danakil region, to which converges the trade from Abyssinia across the
Aussa country, and Zula (q.v.), identified with the ancient Adulis. The
chief town in the interior is Asmara (q.v.), the capital of the colony and
under the Abyssinians capital of the province of Hamasen, and
favourite headquarters of Ras Alula (see below and also Abyssinia). It
is situated 7800 ft. above the sea, and has something of the aspect of a
European town. Keren, 50 m. N.W. of Asmara, is the centre for a
district (Bogos) fertilized by the upper course of the Anseba; Agordat,
on the river Baraka, on the road from Keren to Kassala, is the centre of
the Beni-Amer, Algheden and Sabderat tribes; Mogolo, on the lower
Mareb, is the rendezvous of the Baria and Baza tribes. Towards
Abyssinia the chief towns are Saganeiti (capital of the Okulé-Kusai
province), Godofelassi and Adi-Ugri, the two latter situated in the
fertile plain of the Seraé; Adiquala, on the edge of the Mareb gorge;
and Arrasa, the centre of the districts constituting the province of Deki-
Tesfa.
Agriculture and Trade.—The nomads of the plains possess large
herds of cattle and camels. The low country is almost entirely pastoral
and unsuited for the cultivation of crops. On the other hand almost all
population of the southern regions. The inhabitants of the plateau are
Abyssinians. The nomads are Mussulmans and are, as a rule, docile and
pacific, though the Danakils are given to occasional raiding. The
Abyssinians are more warlike, but they have settled down under Italian
rule. Among the native industries are mat-weaving, cotton-weaving,
silver-working and rudimentary iron and leather working. (See Afars;
Somaliland and Abyssinia.)
Towns.—The principal places on the coast are Massawa (q.v.), pop.
about 10,000, the chief seaport of the colony, Assab, chief town of the
Danakil region, to which converges the trade from Abyssinia across the
Aussa country, and Zula (q.v.), identified with the ancient Adulis. The
chief town in the interior is Asmara (q.v.), the capital of the colony and
under the Abyssinians capital of the province of Hamasen, and
favourite headquarters of Ras Alula (see below and also Abyssinia). It
is situated 7800 ft. above the sea, and has something of the aspect of a
European town. Keren, 50 m. N.W. of Asmara, is the centre for a
district (Bogos) fertilized by the upper course of the Anseba; Agordat,
on the river Baraka, on the road from Keren to Kassala, is the centre of
the Beni-Amer, Algheden and Sabderat tribes; Mogolo, on the lower
Mareb, is the rendezvous of the Baria and Baza tribes. Towards
Abyssinia the chief towns are Saganeiti (capital of the Okulé-Kusai
province), Godofelassi and Adi-Ugri, the two latter situated in the
fertile plain of the Seraé; Adiquala, on the edge of the Mareb gorge;
and Arrasa, the centre of the districts constituting the province of Deki-
Tesfa.
Agriculture and Trade.—The nomads of the plains possess large
herds of cattle and camels. The low country is almost entirely pastoral
and unsuited for the cultivation of crops. On the other hand almost all
Page 192
European cereals flourish in the intermediate zone and on the high
plateau, and the Abyssinian is a good agriculturist and understands
irrigation. Numbers of emigrants from Italy possess farms on the
plateau. Experiments in the cultivation of coffee, tobacco and cotton
have given good results in the intermediate zone. Besides camels and
oxen, sheep and goats are numerous, and meat, hides and butter are
articles of local trade. Hides are the principal export (about £50,000 a
year). Wax, gum, coffee and ivory are also exported. Pearl fishing is
carried on at Massawa and the Dahlak islands. The annual value of the
fisheries is about £40,000 (pearls £10,000, mother of pearl £30,000).
Gold mines are worked near Asmara. Salt, obtained from the salt lakes
in the Aussa and Danakil countries, is a valuable article of commerce.
Cotton goods are the chief imports. There is a little trade with northern
Abyssinia, but it is undeveloped. For the five years 1901-1905 the
average value of the external trade was £456,000 per annum. The
imports more than doubled the exports.
Communications.—A railway, 65 m. long, connects Massawa with
Asmara. An extension of the line is planned from Asmara to Sabderat
and Kassala. The whole territory is crossed by camel and mule paths
between the sea and the high plateau, and between the various centres
of population. Every valley that brings water to the Red Sea has a route
leading to the high plateau. The great arteries, however, number three,
which, starting from Massawa by way of Asmara, run, two to
Abyssinia, and one to Kassala and Khartum. They are all more or less
practicable for carts, and are flanked by a good telegraph line as long
as they lie in Italian territory. There are also two caravan routes from
Assab Bay, across the Danakil country to southern Abyssinia. The
northern leads by a comparatively easy ascent to Yejju, the more
southern follows the valley of the Hawash. A telegraph line 500 m.
long connects Massawa with Adis Ababa via Asmara. Massawa is also
plateau, and the Abyssinian is a good agriculturist and understands
irrigation. Numbers of emigrants from Italy possess farms on the
plateau. Experiments in the cultivation of coffee, tobacco and cotton
have given good results in the intermediate zone. Besides camels and
oxen, sheep and goats are numerous, and meat, hides and butter are
articles of local trade. Hides are the principal export (about £50,000 a
year). Wax, gum, coffee and ivory are also exported. Pearl fishing is
carried on at Massawa and the Dahlak islands. The annual value of the
fisheries is about £40,000 (pearls £10,000, mother of pearl £30,000).
Gold mines are worked near Asmara. Salt, obtained from the salt lakes
in the Aussa and Danakil countries, is a valuable article of commerce.
Cotton goods are the chief imports. There is a little trade with northern
Abyssinia, but it is undeveloped. For the five years 1901-1905 the
average value of the external trade was £456,000 per annum. The
imports more than doubled the exports.
Communications.—A railway, 65 m. long, connects Massawa with
Asmara. An extension of the line is planned from Asmara to Sabderat
and Kassala. The whole territory is crossed by camel and mule paths
between the sea and the high plateau, and between the various centres
of population. Every valley that brings water to the Red Sea has a route
leading to the high plateau. The great arteries, however, number three,
which, starting from Massawa by way of Asmara, run, two to
Abyssinia, and one to Kassala and Khartum. They are all more or less
practicable for carts, and are flanked by a good telegraph line as long
as they lie in Italian territory. There are also two caravan routes from
Assab Bay, across the Danakil country to southern Abyssinia. The
northern leads by a comparatively easy ascent to Yejju, the more
southern follows the valley of the Hawash. A telegraph line 500 m.
long connects Massawa with Adis Ababa via Asmara. Massawa is also
Page 193
telegraphically connected with the outside world by a cable to Perim
via Assab. There is regular steamship communication with Italy.
Administration.—Eritrea is administered by a civil governor
responsible to the ministry of foreign affairs at Rome. It is divided into
six provinces, each governed by a regional commissioner. Some tracts
of frontier territory are detached from the various regions and entrusted
to political residents, as, for instance, on the Sudan frontier and also on
the Abyssinian boundary, where strict surveillance is necessary to
repress raiding incursions from Tigré, and where the chief intelligence
department is established. The six regions or principal provinces are:—
Asmara, which includes Hamasen and other small districts; Keren,
which comprises the high territories to the north of Asmara, i.e. the
Bogos country; Massawa, extending over all the tribes between the
high plateau and the sea from the Hababs to the Danakil; Assab, which
extends from Edd to Raheita; Okulé-Kusai, the plateau country S.E. of
Asmara; Seraé, including Deki-Tesfa, the country S.W. of Asmara. The
regional commissioners and the political residents act either by means
of the village headmen (Shum or Chicca), by the chiefs of districts in
the few localities where villages are still organized in districts, or by
the headmen of tribes, and by the councils of the elders wherever these
remain.
Revenue is derived from customs duties, direct taxation and tribute
paid by the nomad tribes. The local revenue, which for the period
1897-1907 was about £100,000 a year, is supplemented by grants from
Italy, the total cost of the administration being about £400,000 yearly.
Nearly half the expenditure is on the military force maintained.
Justice.—Civil justice for natives is administered, in the first
instance, by the headmen of villages, provinces, tribes, or by councils
of notables (Shumagalle); in appeal, by the residents and regional
via Assab. There is regular steamship communication with Italy.
Administration.—Eritrea is administered by a civil governor
responsible to the ministry of foreign affairs at Rome. It is divided into
six provinces, each governed by a regional commissioner. Some tracts
of frontier territory are detached from the various regions and entrusted
to political residents, as, for instance, on the Sudan frontier and also on
the Abyssinian boundary, where strict surveillance is necessary to
repress raiding incursions from Tigré, and where the chief intelligence
department is established. The six regions or principal provinces are:—
Asmara, which includes Hamasen and other small districts; Keren,
which comprises the high territories to the north of Asmara, i.e. the
Bogos country; Massawa, extending over all the tribes between the
high plateau and the sea from the Hababs to the Danakil; Assab, which
extends from Edd to Raheita; Okulé-Kusai, the plateau country S.E. of
Asmara; Seraé, including Deki-Tesfa, the country S.W. of Asmara. The
regional commissioners and the political residents act either by means
of the village headmen (Shum or Chicca), by the chiefs of districts in
the few localities where villages are still organized in districts, or by
the headmen of tribes, and by the councils of the elders wherever these
remain.
Revenue is derived from customs duties, direct taxation and tribute
paid by the nomad tribes. The local revenue, which for the period
1897-1907 was about £100,000 a year, is supplemented by grants from
Italy, the total cost of the administration being about £400,000 yearly.
Nearly half the expenditure is on the military force maintained.
Justice.—Civil justice for natives is administered, in the first
instance, by the headmen of villages, provinces, tribes, or by councils
of notables (Shumagalle); in appeal, by the residents and regional
Page 194
tribunals, and, in the last instance, by the colonial court of appeal.
Europeans are entirely under Italian jurisdiction. Penal justice is
administered by Italian judges only. An administrative tribunal settles,
without appeal, questions of tribute, disputes concerning family, village
or tribal landmarks, as well as suits involving the colonial government.
The civil laws for the natives are those established by local usage.
Europeans are answerable to the Italian civil code. Penal laws are the
same as in Italy, except where modified by local usages. Appeal to the
Rome court of cassation is admitted against all penal and civil
sentences.
Defence.—Defence is entrusted to a corps of colonial troops, partly
Italian and partly native; to a militia (milizia mobile) formed by natives
who have already served in the colonial corps; and to the chitet or
general levy which, in time of war, places all male able-bodied
inhabitants under arms. The regional commissioners and political
residents have at their disposal some hundreds of irregular paid soldiers
under native chiefs. In war time these irregulars form part of the
colonial corps, but in time of peace serve as frontier police. The
colonial corps, about 5000 strong, garrisons the chief places of
strategic importance, such as Asmara, Keren and Saganeiti. The
irregular troops, on foot, or mounted on camels, number about 1000
men. The militia consists of 3500 men of all arms, and is intended in
time of war to reinforce the various divisions of the colonial corps. The
chitet yields between 3000 and 4000 men, to be employed on the lines
of communication or in caravan service. All these troops are intended
to ward off a first attack, so as to allow time for the arrival of
reinforcements from Italy. The customs and political surveillance along
the coast is entrusted, afloat, to the Massawa naval station, and, ashore,
to a coastguard company 400 strong stationed at Meder, with
detachments at Assab, Massawa, Raheita, Edd and Taclai.
Europeans are entirely under Italian jurisdiction. Penal justice is
administered by Italian judges only. An administrative tribunal settles,
without appeal, questions of tribute, disputes concerning family, village
or tribal landmarks, as well as suits involving the colonial government.
The civil laws for the natives are those established by local usage.
Europeans are answerable to the Italian civil code. Penal laws are the
same as in Italy, except where modified by local usages. Appeal to the
Rome court of cassation is admitted against all penal and civil
sentences.
Defence.—Defence is entrusted to a corps of colonial troops, partly
Italian and partly native; to a militia (milizia mobile) formed by natives
who have already served in the colonial corps; and to the chitet or
general levy which, in time of war, places all male able-bodied
inhabitants under arms. The regional commissioners and political
residents have at their disposal some hundreds of irregular paid soldiers
under native chiefs. In war time these irregulars form part of the
colonial corps, but in time of peace serve as frontier police. The
colonial corps, about 5000 strong, garrisons the chief places of
strategic importance, such as Asmara, Keren and Saganeiti. The
irregular troops, on foot, or mounted on camels, number about 1000
men. The militia consists of 3500 men of all arms, and is intended in
time of war to reinforce the various divisions of the colonial corps. The
chitet yields between 3000 and 4000 men, to be employed on the lines
of communication or in caravan service. All these troops are intended
to ward off a first attack, so as to allow time for the arrival of
reinforcements from Italy. The customs and political surveillance along
the coast is entrusted, afloat, to the Massawa naval station, and, ashore,
to a coastguard company 400 strong stationed at Meder, with
detachments at Assab, Massawa, Raheita, Edd and Taclai.
Page 195
History.—Traces of the ancient Eritrean civilization are scarce. During
the prosperous periods of ancient Egypt, Egyptian squadrons asserted their
rule over the west Red Sea coast, and under the Ptolemies the port of
Golden Berenice (Adulis?) was an Egyptian fortress, afterwards abandoned.
During the early years of the Roman empire, Eritrea formed part of an
important independent state—that of the Axumites (Assamites). At the end
of the reign of Nero, and perhaps even earlier, the king of the Axumites
ruled over the Red Sea coast from Suakin to the strait of Bab-el-Mandeb,
and traded constantly with Egypt. This potentate called himself “king of
kings,” commanded an army and a fleet, coined money, adopted Greek as
the official language, and lived on good terms with the Roman empire. The
Axumites belonged originally to the Hamitic race, but the immigration of
the Himyaritic tribes of southern Arabia speedily imposed a new language
and civilization. Therefore the ancient Abyssinian language, Geez, and its
living dialects, Amharic and Tigrina, are Semitic, although modified by the
influence of the old Hamitic Agau or Agao. Adulis (Adovlis), slightly to the
north of Zula (q.v.), was the chief Axumite port. From Adulis started the
main road, which led across the high plateau to the capital Axomis (Axum).
Along the road are still to be seen vestiges of cities and inscribed
monuments, such as the Himyaritic inscriptions on the high plateau of
Kohait, the six obelisks with a Saban inscription at Toconda, and an obelisk
with an inscription at Amba Sait. Other monuments exist elsewhere, as well
as coins of the Axumite period with Greek and Ethiopian inscriptions. After
the rise of the Ethiopian empire the history of Eritrea is bound up with that
of Ethiopia, but not so entirely as to be completely fused. The documents of
the Portuguese expedition of the 16th century and other Ethiopian records
show that all the country north of the Mareb enjoyed relative autonomy
under a vassal of the Ethiopian emperor.
Michael, counsellor of Solomon, who was king of the country north of
the Mareb, usurped the throne of Solomon during the reign of the Emperor
the prosperous periods of ancient Egypt, Egyptian squadrons asserted their
rule over the west Red Sea coast, and under the Ptolemies the port of
Golden Berenice (Adulis?) was an Egyptian fortress, afterwards abandoned.
During the early years of the Roman empire, Eritrea formed part of an
important independent state—that of the Axumites (Assamites). At the end
of the reign of Nero, and perhaps even earlier, the king of the Axumites
ruled over the Red Sea coast from Suakin to the strait of Bab-el-Mandeb,
and traded constantly with Egypt. This potentate called himself “king of
kings,” commanded an army and a fleet, coined money, adopted Greek as
the official language, and lived on good terms with the Roman empire. The
Axumites belonged originally to the Hamitic race, but the immigration of
the Himyaritic tribes of southern Arabia speedily imposed a new language
and civilization. Therefore the ancient Abyssinian language, Geez, and its
living dialects, Amharic and Tigrina, are Semitic, although modified by the
influence of the old Hamitic Agau or Agao. Adulis (Adovlis), slightly to the
north of Zula (q.v.), was the chief Axumite port. From Adulis started the
main road, which led across the high plateau to the capital Axomis (Axum).
Along the road are still to be seen vestiges of cities and inscribed
monuments, such as the Himyaritic inscriptions on the high plateau of
Kohait, the six obelisks with a Saban inscription at Toconda, and an obelisk
with an inscription at Amba Sait. Other monuments exist elsewhere, as well
as coins of the Axumite period with Greek and Ethiopian inscriptions. After
the rise of the Ethiopian empire the history of Eritrea is bound up with that
of Ethiopia, but not so entirely as to be completely fused. The documents of
the Portuguese expedition of the 16th century and other Ethiopian records
show that all the country north of the Mareb enjoyed relative autonomy
under a vassal of the Ethiopian emperor.
Michael, counsellor of Solomon, who was king of the country north of
the Mareb, usurped the throne of Solomon during the reign of the Emperor
Page 196
Atzié Jasu II. (1729-1753), and, after proclaiming himself ras of Tigré and
“protector of the empire,” ceded the North Mareb country to an enemy of
the rightful dynasty. Hence a long struggle between the dispossessed family
and the occupants of the North Mareb throne. The coast regions had
meantime passed from the control of the Abyssinians. In the 16th century
the Turks made themselves masters of Zula, Massawa, &c., and these places
were never recovered by the Abyssinians. In 1865 Massawa and the
neighbouring coast was acquired by Egypt, the khedive Ismail entertaining
projects for connecting the port by railway with the Nile. The Egyptians
took advantage of civil war in Abyssinia to seize Keren and the Bogos
country in 18721, an action against which the negus Johannes (King John),
newly come to the throne, did not at the time protest. In 1875 and 1876 the
Egyptians, who sought to increase their conquests, were defeated by the
Abyssinians at Gundet and Gura. Walad Michael, the hereditary ruler of
Bogos, fought as ally of King John at Gundet and of the Egyptians at Gura.
For two years Walad Michael continued to harass the border, but in
December 1878 he submitted to King John, by whose orders he was (Sept.
1879) imprisoned upon an amba, or flat-topped mountain, whence he only
succeeded in escaping in 1890. In 1879 his territory was given by King
John to Ras Alula, who retained it until, in August 1889, the Italians
occupied Asmara (see Abyssinia: History).
An Egyptian garrison remained at Keren in the Bogos country until 1884,
when in consequence of the revolt of the Mahdi it was withdrawn, Bogos
being occupied by Abyssinia on the 12th of September of that year. On the
5th of February 1885 an Italian force, with the approval of Great Britain,
occupied Massawa, the Egyptian garrison returning to Egypt. This
occupation led to wars with Abyssinia and finally to the establishment of
the colony in its present limits. The history of the Italian-Abyssinian
relations is fully told in the articles Italy and Abyssinia (history sections).
“protector of the empire,” ceded the North Mareb country to an enemy of
the rightful dynasty. Hence a long struggle between the dispossessed family
and the occupants of the North Mareb throne. The coast regions had
meantime passed from the control of the Abyssinians. In the 16th century
the Turks made themselves masters of Zula, Massawa, &c., and these places
were never recovered by the Abyssinians. In 1865 Massawa and the
neighbouring coast was acquired by Egypt, the khedive Ismail entertaining
projects for connecting the port by railway with the Nile. The Egyptians
took advantage of civil war in Abyssinia to seize Keren and the Bogos
country in 18721, an action against which the negus Johannes (King John),
newly come to the throne, did not at the time protest. In 1875 and 1876 the
Egyptians, who sought to increase their conquests, were defeated by the
Abyssinians at Gundet and Gura. Walad Michael, the hereditary ruler of
Bogos, fought as ally of King John at Gundet and of the Egyptians at Gura.
For two years Walad Michael continued to harass the border, but in
December 1878 he submitted to King John, by whose orders he was (Sept.
1879) imprisoned upon an amba, or flat-topped mountain, whence he only
succeeded in escaping in 1890. In 1879 his territory was given by King
John to Ras Alula, who retained it until, in August 1889, the Italians
occupied Asmara (see Abyssinia: History).
An Egyptian garrison remained at Keren in the Bogos country until 1884,
when in consequence of the revolt of the Mahdi it was withdrawn, Bogos
being occupied by Abyssinia on the 12th of September of that year. On the
5th of February 1885 an Italian force, with the approval of Great Britain,
occupied Massawa, the Egyptian garrison returning to Egypt. This
occupation led to wars with Abyssinia and finally to the establishment of
the colony in its present limits. The history of the Italian-Abyssinian
relations is fully told in the articles Italy and Abyssinia (history sections).
Page 197
It was not, however, at Massawa that Italy first obtained a foothold in
eastern Africa. The completion of the Suez Canal led Italy as well as Great
Britain and France to seek territorial rights on the Red Sea coasts. The
purchase of Assab and the neighbouring region for £1880, from the sultan
Berehan of Raheita for use as a coaling station by the Italian Rubattino
Steamship Company, in March 1870, formed the nucleus of Italy’s colonial
possessions. This purchase was protested against by Egypt, Turkey and
Great Britain; the last named power being willing to recognize an Italian
commercial settlement, but nothing more. (The Indian government viewed
the establishment of the Italians on the new highway to the East with a good
deal of ill-humour.) Eventually, the British opposition being overcome and
that of Egypt and Turkey disregarded, Assab, by a decree of the 5th of July
1882, was declared an Italian colony. Between 1883 and 1888 various
treaties were concluded with the sultan of Aussa ceding the Danakil coast to
Italy and recognizing an Italian protectorate over the whole of his country—
through which passes the trade route from Assab Bay to Shoa.
On the 1st of January 1890 the various Italian possessions on the coast of
the Red Sea were united by royal decree into one province under the title of
the Colony of Eritrea—so named after the Erythraeum Mare of the Romans.
At first the government of the colony was purely military, but after the
defeat of the Italians by the Abyssinians at Adowa, the administration was
placed upon a civil basis (1898-1900). The frontiers were further defined by
a French-Italian convention (24th of January 1900) fixing the frontier
between French Somaliland and the Italian possessions at Raheita, and also
by various agreements with Great Britain and Abyssinia. A tripartite
agreement between Italy, Abyssinia and Great Britain, dated the 15th of
May 1902, placed the territory of the Kanama tribe, on the north bank of the
Setit, within Eritrea. A convention of the 16th of May 1908 settled the
Abyssinian-Eritrean frontier in the Afar country, the boundary being fixed
at 60 kilometres from the coast. The task of reconstructing the
eastern Africa. The completion of the Suez Canal led Italy as well as Great
Britain and France to seek territorial rights on the Red Sea coasts. The
purchase of Assab and the neighbouring region for £1880, from the sultan
Berehan of Raheita for use as a coaling station by the Italian Rubattino
Steamship Company, in March 1870, formed the nucleus of Italy’s colonial
possessions. This purchase was protested against by Egypt, Turkey and
Great Britain; the last named power being willing to recognize an Italian
commercial settlement, but nothing more. (The Indian government viewed
the establishment of the Italians on the new highway to the East with a good
deal of ill-humour.) Eventually, the British opposition being overcome and
that of Egypt and Turkey disregarded, Assab, by a decree of the 5th of July
1882, was declared an Italian colony. Between 1883 and 1888 various
treaties were concluded with the sultan of Aussa ceding the Danakil coast to
Italy and recognizing an Italian protectorate over the whole of his country—
through which passes the trade route from Assab Bay to Shoa.
On the 1st of January 1890 the various Italian possessions on the coast of
the Red Sea were united by royal decree into one province under the title of
the Colony of Eritrea—so named after the Erythraeum Mare of the Romans.
At first the government of the colony was purely military, but after the
defeat of the Italians by the Abyssinians at Adowa, the administration was
placed upon a civil basis (1898-1900). The frontiers were further defined by
a French-Italian convention (24th of January 1900) fixing the frontier
between French Somaliland and the Italian possessions at Raheita, and also
by various agreements with Great Britain and Abyssinia. A tripartite
agreement between Italy, Abyssinia and Great Britain, dated the 15th of
May 1902, placed the territory of the Kanama tribe, on the north bank of the
Setit, within Eritrea. A convention of the 16th of May 1908 settled the
Abyssinian-Eritrean frontier in the Afar country, the boundary being fixed
at 60 kilometres from the coast. The task of reconstructing the
Page 198
administration on a civil basis and of developing the commerce of the
colony was entrusted to Signor F. Martini, who was governor for nine years
(1898-1906). Under civil rule the colony made steady though somewhat
slow progress.
Authorities.—See B. Melli, La Colonia Eritrea dalle sue origini al
anno 1901 (Parma, 1901); G.B. Penne, Per l’Italia Africana. Studio
critico (Rome, 1906); R. Perini, Di qua dal Marèb (Florence, 1905), a
monograph on the Asmara zone; F. Martini, Nell’ Africa Italiana (3rd
ed., Milan, 1891); A.B. Wylde, Modern Abyssinia, chaps. v.-ix.
(London, 1901); E.D. Schoenfeld, Erythräa und der ägyptische Sudân,
chaps. i.-xii. (Berlin, 1904); Luigi Chiala, La Spedizione di Massana
(Turin, 1888); Abyssinian Green Books published at intervals in 1895
and 1896, covering the period from 1870 to the end of the Italo-
Abyssinian War; Vico Mantegazza, La Guerra in Africa (Florence,
1896); General Baratieri, Memorie d’Africa (Rome, 1898); C. de la
Jonquière, Les Italiens en Érythrée (Paris, 1897); G.F.H. Berkeley, The
Campaign of Adowa (London, 1902). For orography and geology see
an article by P. Verri in Boll. Soc. geog. italiana, 1909, and for climate
an article in Rivista coloniale (1906), by A. Tancredi. A. Allori
compiled a Piccolo Dizionario eritreo, italiano-arabo-amarico (Milan,
1895).
For Afar consult W. Munzinger, “A Journey through the Afar
Country” in Journ. Royal Geog. Soc. for 1869; V. Bottego, “Nella Terra
dei Danakil,” in Boll. Soc. Geog. Italiana, 1892; Count C. Rossini, “Al
Rágali” in L’Espl. Comm. of Milan, 1903-1904; and articles by G.
Dainelli and O. Marinelli in the Riv. Geog. Italiana of Florence for
1906-1908, dealing with the volcanic regions.
Bibliographies will be found in G. Fumagalli’s Bibliografia Etiopica
(Milan, 1893) and in the Riv. Geog. Italiana for 1907.
colony was entrusted to Signor F. Martini, who was governor for nine years
(1898-1906). Under civil rule the colony made steady though somewhat
slow progress.
Authorities.—See B. Melli, La Colonia Eritrea dalle sue origini al
anno 1901 (Parma, 1901); G.B. Penne, Per l’Italia Africana. Studio
critico (Rome, 1906); R. Perini, Di qua dal Marèb (Florence, 1905), a
monograph on the Asmara zone; F. Martini, Nell’ Africa Italiana (3rd
ed., Milan, 1891); A.B. Wylde, Modern Abyssinia, chaps. v.-ix.
(London, 1901); E.D. Schoenfeld, Erythräa und der ägyptische Sudân,
chaps. i.-xii. (Berlin, 1904); Luigi Chiala, La Spedizione di Massana
(Turin, 1888); Abyssinian Green Books published at intervals in 1895
and 1896, covering the period from 1870 to the end of the Italo-
Abyssinian War; Vico Mantegazza, La Guerra in Africa (Florence,
1896); General Baratieri, Memorie d’Africa (Rome, 1898); C. de la
Jonquière, Les Italiens en Érythrée (Paris, 1897); G.F.H. Berkeley, The
Campaign of Adowa (London, 1902). For orography and geology see
an article by P. Verri in Boll. Soc. geog. italiana, 1909, and for climate
an article in Rivista coloniale (1906), by A. Tancredi. A. Allori
compiled a Piccolo Dizionario eritreo, italiano-arabo-amarico (Milan,
1895).
For Afar consult W. Munzinger, “A Journey through the Afar
Country” in Journ. Royal Geog. Soc. for 1869; V. Bottego, “Nella Terra
dei Danakil,” in Boll. Soc. Geog. Italiana, 1892; Count C. Rossini, “Al
Rágali” in L’Espl. Comm. of Milan, 1903-1904; and articles by G.
Dainelli and O. Marinelli in the Riv. Geog. Italiana of Florence for
1906-1908, dealing with the volcanic regions.
Bibliographies will be found in G. Fumagalli’s Bibliografia Etiopica
(Milan, 1893) and in the Riv. Geog. Italiana for 1907.
Page 199
1 During the Second Empire unsuccessful efforts were made by France to obtain a Red
Sea port and a foothold in northern Abyssinia. (See Somaliland: French.)
ERIVAN, a government of Russia, Transcaucasia, having the province of
Kars on the W., the government of Tiflis on the N., that of Elisavetpol on
the N. and E., and Persia and Turkish Armenia on the S. It occupies the top
of an immense plateau (6000-8000 ft.). Continuous chains of mountains are
met with only on its borders, and in the E., but the whole surface is thickly
set with short ridges and isolated mountains of volcanic origin, of which
Alagöz (14,440 ft.) and Ararat (16,925 ft.) are the most conspicuous and the
most important. Both must have been active in Tertiary times. Lake Gok-
cha (540 sq. m.) is encircled by such volcanoes, and the neighbourhood of
Alexandropol is a “volcanic amphitheatre,” being entirely buried under
volcanic deposits. The same is true of the slopes leading down to the river
Aras; and the valley of the upper Aras is a stony desert, watered only by
irrigation, which is carried on with great difficulty owing to the character of
the soil. The government is drained by the Aras, which forms the boundary
with Persia and flows with great velocity down its stony bed, the fall being
17-22 ft. per mile in its upper course, and 9 ft. at Ordubad, where it quits
the government, while lower down it again increases to 23 ft. Many of the
small lakes, filling volcanic craters, are of great depth. Timber is very
scarce. A variety of useful minerals exists, but only rock-salt is obtained, at
Nakhichevan and Kulp. The climate is extremely varied, the following
being the average temperatures and mean annual rainfall at Alexandropol
(alt. 5078 ft.) and Aralykh (2755 ft.) respectively: year 42°, January 12°,
July 65°, mean rainfall 16.2 in.; and year 53°, January 20.5°, July 79°,
Sea port and a foothold in northern Abyssinia. (See Somaliland: French.)
ERIVAN, a government of Russia, Transcaucasia, having the province of
Kars on the W., the government of Tiflis on the N., that of Elisavetpol on
the N. and E., and Persia and Turkish Armenia on the S. It occupies the top
of an immense plateau (6000-8000 ft.). Continuous chains of mountains are
met with only on its borders, and in the E., but the whole surface is thickly
set with short ridges and isolated mountains of volcanic origin, of which
Alagöz (14,440 ft.) and Ararat (16,925 ft.) are the most conspicuous and the
most important. Both must have been active in Tertiary times. Lake Gok-
cha (540 sq. m.) is encircled by such volcanoes, and the neighbourhood of
Alexandropol is a “volcanic amphitheatre,” being entirely buried under
volcanic deposits. The same is true of the slopes leading down to the river
Aras; and the valley of the upper Aras is a stony desert, watered only by
irrigation, which is carried on with great difficulty owing to the character of
the soil. The government is drained by the Aras, which forms the boundary
with Persia and flows with great velocity down its stony bed, the fall being
17-22 ft. per mile in its upper course, and 9 ft. at Ordubad, where it quits
the government, while lower down it again increases to 23 ft. Many of the
small lakes, filling volcanic craters, are of great depth. Timber is very
scarce. A variety of useful minerals exists, but only rock-salt is obtained, at
Nakhichevan and Kulp. The climate is extremely varied, the following
being the average temperatures and mean annual rainfall at Alexandropol
(alt. 5078 ft.) and Aralykh (2755 ft.) respectively: year 42°, January 12°,
July 65°, mean rainfall 16.2 in.; and year 53°, January 20.5°, July 79°,
Page 200
rainfall 6.3 in. The population numbered 829,578 in 1897 (only 375,086
women), of whom 82,278 lived in the towns. An estimate in 1906 gave a
total of 909,100. They consist chiefly of Armenians (441,000), Tatars
(40%), Kurds (49,389), with Russians, Greeks and Tates. Most of the
Armenians belong to the Gregorian (Christian) Church, and only 4020 to
the Armenian Catholic Church. The Tatars are mostly Shiite Mussulmans,
only 27,596 being Sunnites; 7772 belong to the peculiar faith of the Yezids.
While barley only can be grown on the high parts of the plateau, cotton,
mulberry, vines and all sorts of fruit are cultivated in the valley of the Aras.
Cattle-breeding is extensively carried on; camels also are bred, and leeches
are collected out of the swamps and exported to Persia. Industry is in its
infancy, but cottons, carpets, and felt goods are made in the villages. A
considerable trade is carried on with Persia, but trade with Asia Minor is
declining. The government is divided into seven districts—Erivan,
Alexandropol, Echmiadzin (chief town, Vagarshapat), Nakhichevan,
Novobayazet, Surmali (chief town, Igdyr), and Sharur-daralagöz (chief
town, Norashen). The principal towns are Erivan (see below), Alexandropol
(32,018 inhabitants in 1897), Novobayazet (8507), Nakhichevan (8845),
and Vagarshapat (3400).
ERIVAN, or Irwan, in Persian, Rewan, a town of Russia, capital of the
government of the same name, situated in 40° 14′ N., 44° 38′ E., 234 m. by
rail S.S.W. of Tiflis, on the Zanga river, from which a great number of
irrigation canals are drawn. Altitude, 3170 ft. Pop. (1873) 11,938; (1897)
29,033. The old Persian portion of the town consists mainly of narrow
women), of whom 82,278 lived in the towns. An estimate in 1906 gave a
total of 909,100. They consist chiefly of Armenians (441,000), Tatars
(40%), Kurds (49,389), with Russians, Greeks and Tates. Most of the
Armenians belong to the Gregorian (Christian) Church, and only 4020 to
the Armenian Catholic Church. The Tatars are mostly Shiite Mussulmans,
only 27,596 being Sunnites; 7772 belong to the peculiar faith of the Yezids.
While barley only can be grown on the high parts of the plateau, cotton,
mulberry, vines and all sorts of fruit are cultivated in the valley of the Aras.
Cattle-breeding is extensively carried on; camels also are bred, and leeches
are collected out of the swamps and exported to Persia. Industry is in its
infancy, but cottons, carpets, and felt goods are made in the villages. A
considerable trade is carried on with Persia, but trade with Asia Minor is
declining. The government is divided into seven districts—Erivan,
Alexandropol, Echmiadzin (chief town, Vagarshapat), Nakhichevan,
Novobayazet, Surmali (chief town, Igdyr), and Sharur-daralagöz (chief
town, Norashen). The principal towns are Erivan (see below), Alexandropol
(32,018 inhabitants in 1897), Novobayazet (8507), Nakhichevan (8845),
and Vagarshapat (3400).
ERIVAN, or Irwan, in Persian, Rewan, a town of Russia, capital of the
government of the same name, situated in 40° 14′ N., 44° 38′ E., 234 m. by
rail S.S.W. of Tiflis, on the Zanga river, from which a great number of
irrigation canals are drawn. Altitude, 3170 ft. Pop. (1873) 11,938; (1897)
29,033. The old Persian portion of the town consists mainly of narrow
Page 201
crooked lanes enclosed by mud walls, which effectually conceal the houses,
and the modern Russian portion is laid out in long ill-paved streets. On a
steep rock, rising about 600 ft. above the river, stand the ruins of the 16th-
century Turkish fortress, containing part of the palace of the former Persian
governors, a handsome but greatly dilapidated mosque, a modern Greek
church and a cannon foundry. One chamber, called the Hall of the Sardar,
bears witness to former splendour in its decorations. The finest building in
the city is the mosque of Hussein Ali Khan, familiarly known as the Blue
Mosque from the colour of the enamelled tiles with which it is richly
encased. At the mosque of Zal Khan a passion play is performed yearly
illustrative of the assassination of Hussein, the son of Ali. Erivan is an
Armenian episcopal see, and has a theological seminary. The only
manufactures are a little cotton cloth, leather, earthenware and blacksmiths’
work. The fruits of the district are noted for their excellence—especially the
grapes, apples, apricots and melons. Armenians, Persians and Tatars are the
principal elements in the population, besides some Russians and Greeks.
The town fell into the power of the Turks in 1582, was taken by the
Persians under Shah Abbas in 1604, besieged by the Turks for four months
in 1615, and reconquered by the Persians under Nadir Shah in the 18th
century. In 1780 it was successfully defended against Heraclius, prince of
Georgia; and in 1804 it resisted the Russians. At length in 1827 Paskevich
took the fortress by storm, and in the following year the town and
government were ceded to Russia by the peace of Turkman-chai. A Tatar
poem in celebration of the event has been preserved by the Austrian poet,
Bodenstedt, in his Tausend und ein Tage im Orient (1850).
and the modern Russian portion is laid out in long ill-paved streets. On a
steep rock, rising about 600 ft. above the river, stand the ruins of the 16th-
century Turkish fortress, containing part of the palace of the former Persian
governors, a handsome but greatly dilapidated mosque, a modern Greek
church and a cannon foundry. One chamber, called the Hall of the Sardar,
bears witness to former splendour in its decorations. The finest building in
the city is the mosque of Hussein Ali Khan, familiarly known as the Blue
Mosque from the colour of the enamelled tiles with which it is richly
encased. At the mosque of Zal Khan a passion play is performed yearly
illustrative of the assassination of Hussein, the son of Ali. Erivan is an
Armenian episcopal see, and has a theological seminary. The only
manufactures are a little cotton cloth, leather, earthenware and blacksmiths’
work. The fruits of the district are noted for their excellence—especially the
grapes, apples, apricots and melons. Armenians, Persians and Tatars are the
principal elements in the population, besides some Russians and Greeks.
The town fell into the power of the Turks in 1582, was taken by the
Persians under Shah Abbas in 1604, besieged by the Turks for four months
in 1615, and reconquered by the Persians under Nadir Shah in the 18th
century. In 1780 it was successfully defended against Heraclius, prince of
Georgia; and in 1804 it resisted the Russians. At length in 1827 Paskevich
took the fortress by storm, and in the following year the town and
government were ceded to Russia by the peace of Turkman-chai. A Tatar
poem in celebration of the event has been preserved by the Austrian poet,
Bodenstedt, in his Tausend und ein Tage im Orient (1850).
Page 202
ERLANGEN, a town of Germany, in the kingdom of Bavaria, on a
fertile plain, at the confluence of the Schwabach and the Regnitz, 11 m.
N.W. of Nuremberg, on the railway from Munich to Bamberg. Pop. (1905)
23,720. It is divided into an old and a new town, the latter consisting of
wide, straight and well-built streets. The market place is a fine square. Upon
it stand the town-hall and the former palace of the margraves of Bayreuth,
now the main building of the university. The latter was founded by the
margrave Frederick (d. 1763), who, in 1742, established a university at
Bayreuth, but in 1743 removed it to Erlangen. A statue of the founder,
erected in 1843 by King Louis I. of Bavaria, stands in the centre of the
square and faces the university buildings. The university has faculties of
philosophy, law, medicine and Protestant theology. Connected with it are a
library of over 200,000 volumes, geological, anatomical and mineralogical
institutions, a hospital, several clinical establishments, laboratories and a
botanical garden. Among the churches of the town (six Protestant and one
Roman Catholic), only the new town church, with a spire 220 ft. high, is
remarkable. The chief industries of Erlangen are spinning and weaving, and
the manufacture of glass, paper, brushes and gloves. The brewing industry
is also important, the beer of Erlangen being famous throughout Germany
and large quantities being exported.
Erlangen owes the foundation of its prosperity chiefly to the French
Protestant refugees who settled here on the revocation of the edict of Nantes
and introduced various manufactures. In 1017 the place was transferred
from the bishopric of Würzburg to that of Bamberg; in 1361 it was sold to
the king of Bohemia. It became a town in 1398 and passed into the hands of
the Hohenzollerns, burgraves of Nuremberg, in 1416. There for nearly three
centuries it was the property of the margraves of Bayreuth, being ceded
with the rest of Bayreuth to Prussia in 1791. In 1810 it came into the
possession of Bavaria. Erlangen was for many years the residence of the
fertile plain, at the confluence of the Schwabach and the Regnitz, 11 m.
N.W. of Nuremberg, on the railway from Munich to Bamberg. Pop. (1905)
23,720. It is divided into an old and a new town, the latter consisting of
wide, straight and well-built streets. The market place is a fine square. Upon
it stand the town-hall and the former palace of the margraves of Bayreuth,
now the main building of the university. The latter was founded by the
margrave Frederick (d. 1763), who, in 1742, established a university at
Bayreuth, but in 1743 removed it to Erlangen. A statue of the founder,
erected in 1843 by King Louis I. of Bavaria, stands in the centre of the
square and faces the university buildings. The university has faculties of
philosophy, law, medicine and Protestant theology. Connected with it are a
library of over 200,000 volumes, geological, anatomical and mineralogical
institutions, a hospital, several clinical establishments, laboratories and a
botanical garden. Among the churches of the town (six Protestant and one
Roman Catholic), only the new town church, with a spire 220 ft. high, is
remarkable. The chief industries of Erlangen are spinning and weaving, and
the manufacture of glass, paper, brushes and gloves. The brewing industry
is also important, the beer of Erlangen being famous throughout Germany
and large quantities being exported.
Erlangen owes the foundation of its prosperity chiefly to the French
Protestant refugees who settled here on the revocation of the edict of Nantes
and introduced various manufactures. In 1017 the place was transferred
from the bishopric of Würzburg to that of Bamberg; in 1361 it was sold to
the king of Bohemia. It became a town in 1398 and passed into the hands of
the Hohenzollerns, burgraves of Nuremberg, in 1416. There for nearly three
centuries it was the property of the margraves of Bayreuth, being ceded
with the rest of Bayreuth to Prussia in 1791. In 1810 it came into the
possession of Bavaria. Erlangen was for many years the residence of the
Page 203
poet Friedrich Rückert, and of the philosophers Johann Gottlieb Fichte and
Friedrich Wilhelm von Schnelling.
See Stein and Müller, Die Geschichte von Erlangen (1898).
ERLE, SIR WILLIAM (1793-1880), English lawyer and judge, was
born at Fifehead-Magdalen, Dorset, on the 1st of October 1793, and was
educated at Winchester and at New College, Oxford. Having been called to
the bar at the Middle Temple in 1819 he went the western circuit, became
counsel to the Bank of England, sat in parliament from 1837 to 1841 for the
city of Oxford, and, although of opposite politics to Lord Lyndhurst, was
made by him a judge of the common pleas in 1845. He was transferred to
the queen’s bench in the following year, and in 1859 came back to the
common pleas as chief justice upon the promotion of Sir Alexander
Cockburn. He retired in 1866, receiving the highest eulogiums for the
ability and impartiality with which he had discharged the judicial office. He
died at his estate at Bramshott, Hampshire, on the 28th of January 1880,
and a monument without his name but in his memory (sometimes
erroneously supposed to mark the place where an old gibbet was) stands on
the top of Hindhead.
See E. Manson, Builders of our Law (1904).
Friedrich Wilhelm von Schnelling.
See Stein and Müller, Die Geschichte von Erlangen (1898).
ERLE, SIR WILLIAM (1793-1880), English lawyer and judge, was
born at Fifehead-Magdalen, Dorset, on the 1st of October 1793, and was
educated at Winchester and at New College, Oxford. Having been called to
the bar at the Middle Temple in 1819 he went the western circuit, became
counsel to the Bank of England, sat in parliament from 1837 to 1841 for the
city of Oxford, and, although of opposite politics to Lord Lyndhurst, was
made by him a judge of the common pleas in 1845. He was transferred to
the queen’s bench in the following year, and in 1859 came back to the
common pleas as chief justice upon the promotion of Sir Alexander
Cockburn. He retired in 1866, receiving the highest eulogiums for the
ability and impartiality with which he had discharged the judicial office. He
died at his estate at Bramshott, Hampshire, on the 28th of January 1880,
and a monument without his name but in his memory (sometimes
erroneously supposed to mark the place where an old gibbet was) stands on
the top of Hindhead.
See E. Manson, Builders of our Law (1904).
Page 204
ERLKÖNIG, or Erl-King, a mythical character in modern German
literature, represented as a gigantic bearded man with a golden crown and
trailing garments, who carries children away to that undiscovered country
where he himself abides. There is no such personage in ancient German
mythology, and the name is linguistically nothing more than the
perpetuation of a blunder. It first appeared in Herder’s Stimmen der Völker
(1778), where it is used in the translation of the Danish song of the Elf-
King’s Daughter as equivalent to the Danish ellerkonge, or ellekonge, that
is, elverkonge, the king of the elves; and the true German word would have
been Elbkönig or Elbenkönig, afterwards used under the modified form of
Elfenkönig by Wieland in his Oberon (1780). Herder was probably misled
by the fact that the Danish word elle signifies not only elf, but also alder
tree (Ger. Erle). His mistake at any rate has been perpetuated by both
English and French translators, who speak of a “king of the alders,” “un roi
des aunes,” and find an explanation of the myth in the tree-worship of early
times, or in the vapoury emanations that hang like weird phantoms round
the alder trees at night. The legend was adopted by Goethe as the subject of
one of his finest ballads, rendered familiar to English readers by the
translations of Lewis and Sir Walter Scott; and since then it has been treated
as a musical theme by Reichardt and Schubert.
ERMAN, PAUL (1764-1851), German physicist, was born in Berlin on
the 29th of February 1764. He was the son of the historian Jean Pierre
Erman (1735-1814), author of Histoire des réfugiés. He became teacher of
science successively at the French gymnasium in Berlin, and at the military
literature, represented as a gigantic bearded man with a golden crown and
trailing garments, who carries children away to that undiscovered country
where he himself abides. There is no such personage in ancient German
mythology, and the name is linguistically nothing more than the
perpetuation of a blunder. It first appeared in Herder’s Stimmen der Völker
(1778), where it is used in the translation of the Danish song of the Elf-
King’s Daughter as equivalent to the Danish ellerkonge, or ellekonge, that
is, elverkonge, the king of the elves; and the true German word would have
been Elbkönig or Elbenkönig, afterwards used under the modified form of
Elfenkönig by Wieland in his Oberon (1780). Herder was probably misled
by the fact that the Danish word elle signifies not only elf, but also alder
tree (Ger. Erle). His mistake at any rate has been perpetuated by both
English and French translators, who speak of a “king of the alders,” “un roi
des aunes,” and find an explanation of the myth in the tree-worship of early
times, or in the vapoury emanations that hang like weird phantoms round
the alder trees at night. The legend was adopted by Goethe as the subject of
one of his finest ballads, rendered familiar to English readers by the
translations of Lewis and Sir Walter Scott; and since then it has been treated
as a musical theme by Reichardt and Schubert.
ERMAN, PAUL (1764-1851), German physicist, was born in Berlin on
the 29th of February 1764. He was the son of the historian Jean Pierre
Erman (1735-1814), author of Histoire des réfugiés. He became teacher of
science successively at the French gymnasium in Berlin, and at the military
Page 205
academy, and on the foundation of the university of Berlin in 1810 he was
chosen professor of physics. He died at Berlin on the 11th of October 1851.
His work was mainly concerned with electricity and magnetism, though he
also made some contributions to optics and physiology. His son, Georg
Adolf Erman (1806-1877), was born in Berlin on the 12th of May 1806,
and after studying natural science at Berlin and Königsberg, spent from
1828 to 1830 in a journey round the world, an account of which he
published in Reise um die Erde durch Nordasien und die beiden Ozeane
(1833-1848). The magnetic observations he made during his travels were
utilized by C.F. Gauss in his theory of terrestrial magnetism. He was
appointed professor of physics at Berlin in 1839, and died there on the 12th
of July 1877. From 1841 to 1865 he edited the Archiv für wissenschaftliche
Kunde von Russland, and in 1874 he published, with H.J.R. Petersen, Die
Grundlagen der Gauss’schen Theorie und die Erscheinungen des
Erdmagnetismus im Jahre 1829.
His son Johann Peter Adolf Erman (1854- ), a famous Egyptologist,
was born in Berlin on the 31st of October 1854. Educated at Leipzig and
Berlin, he became extraordinary professor in 1883 and ordinary professor in
1892 of Egyptology in the university of Berlin, and in 1885 he was
appointed director of the Egyptian department of the royal museum. For an
account of the Egyptological work of Erman and his school, see Egypt:
Language.
ERMANARIC (fl. 350-376), king of the East Goths, belonged to the
Amali family, and was the son of Achiulf. His name occurs as Ermanaricus
chosen professor of physics. He died at Berlin on the 11th of October 1851.
His work was mainly concerned with electricity and magnetism, though he
also made some contributions to optics and physiology. His son, Georg
Adolf Erman (1806-1877), was born in Berlin on the 12th of May 1806,
and after studying natural science at Berlin and Königsberg, spent from
1828 to 1830 in a journey round the world, an account of which he
published in Reise um die Erde durch Nordasien und die beiden Ozeane
(1833-1848). The magnetic observations he made during his travels were
utilized by C.F. Gauss in his theory of terrestrial magnetism. He was
appointed professor of physics at Berlin in 1839, and died there on the 12th
of July 1877. From 1841 to 1865 he edited the Archiv für wissenschaftliche
Kunde von Russland, and in 1874 he published, with H.J.R. Petersen, Die
Grundlagen der Gauss’schen Theorie und die Erscheinungen des
Erdmagnetismus im Jahre 1829.
His son Johann Peter Adolf Erman (1854- ), a famous Egyptologist,
was born in Berlin on the 31st of October 1854. Educated at Leipzig and
Berlin, he became extraordinary professor in 1883 and ordinary professor in
1892 of Egyptology in the university of Berlin, and in 1885 he was
appointed director of the Egyptian department of the royal museum. For an
account of the Egyptological work of Erman and his school, see Egypt:
Language.
ERMANARIC (fl. 350-376), king of the East Goths, belonged to the
Amali family, and was the son of Achiulf. His name occurs as Ermanaricus
Page 206
(Jordanes), Aírmanareiks (Gothic), Eormenríc (A. Sax.), Jörmunrek
(Norse), Ermenrîch (M.H. German). Ermanaric built up for himself a vast
kingdom, which eventually extended from the Danube to the Baltic and
from the Don to the Theiss. He drove the Vandals out of Dacia, compelled
the allegiance of the neighbouring tribes of West Goths, procured the
submission of the Herules, of many Slav and Finnish tribes, and even of the
Esthonians on the shores of the Gulf of Bothnia. In his later days the west
Goths threw off his yoke, and, on the invasion of the Huns, rather than
witness the downfall of his kingdom he is said by Ammianus Marcellinus to
have committed suicide. His fate early became the centre of popular
tradition, which found its way into the narrative of Jordanes or Jornandes
(De rebus geticis, chap. 24), who compared him to Alexander the Great and
certainly exaggerated the extent of his kingdom. He is there said to have
caused a certain Sunilda or Sanielh to be torn asunder by wild horses on
account of her husband’s traitorous conduct. Her brothers Sarus and
Ammius sought to avenge her. They succeeded in wounding, not in killing
the Gothic king, whose death supervened in his one hundred and tenth year
from the joint effects of his wound and fear of the Hunnish invasion. This is
evidently a paraphrase of popular story which sought to supply plausible
reasons for Ermanaric’s end. In German legend Ermanaric became the
typical cruel tyrant, and references to his crimes abound in German epic and
in Anglo-Saxon poetry. He is made to replace Odoacer as the enemy of
Dietrich of Bern, his nephew, and his history is related in the Norse Vilkina
or Thidrekssagà, which chiefly embodies German tradition. His evil genius,
Sifka, Sibicho or Bicci, brings about the death of his three sons. The
Harlungs, Imbrecke and Fritile,1 are his nephews, whom he has strangled
for the sake of their treasure, the Brîsingo meni. Sonhild or Svanhild
becomes the wife of Ermanaric, and the motive for her murder is replaced
by an accusation of adultery between Svanhild and her stepson. The story
was already connected with the Nibelungen when it found its way to the
(Norse), Ermenrîch (M.H. German). Ermanaric built up for himself a vast
kingdom, which eventually extended from the Danube to the Baltic and
from the Don to the Theiss. He drove the Vandals out of Dacia, compelled
the allegiance of the neighbouring tribes of West Goths, procured the
submission of the Herules, of many Slav and Finnish tribes, and even of the
Esthonians on the shores of the Gulf of Bothnia. In his later days the west
Goths threw off his yoke, and, on the invasion of the Huns, rather than
witness the downfall of his kingdom he is said by Ammianus Marcellinus to
have committed suicide. His fate early became the centre of popular
tradition, which found its way into the narrative of Jordanes or Jornandes
(De rebus geticis, chap. 24), who compared him to Alexander the Great and
certainly exaggerated the extent of his kingdom. He is there said to have
caused a certain Sunilda or Sanielh to be torn asunder by wild horses on
account of her husband’s traitorous conduct. Her brothers Sarus and
Ammius sought to avenge her. They succeeded in wounding, not in killing
the Gothic king, whose death supervened in his one hundred and tenth year
from the joint effects of his wound and fear of the Hunnish invasion. This is
evidently a paraphrase of popular story which sought to supply plausible
reasons for Ermanaric’s end. In German legend Ermanaric became the
typical cruel tyrant, and references to his crimes abound in German epic and
in Anglo-Saxon poetry. He is made to replace Odoacer as the enemy of
Dietrich of Bern, his nephew, and his history is related in the Norse Vilkina
or Thidrekssagà, which chiefly embodies German tradition. His evil genius,
Sifka, Sibicho or Bicci, brings about the death of his three sons. The
Harlungs, Imbrecke and Fritile,1 are his nephews, whom he has strangled
for the sake of their treasure, the Brîsingo meni. Sonhild or Svanhild
becomes the wife of Ermanaric, and the motive for her murder is replaced
by an accusation of adultery between Svanhild and her stepson. The story
was already connected with the Nibelungen when it found its way to the
Page 207
Scandinavian north by way of Germany. In the Völsunga Saga Svanhild is
the daughter of Sigurd and Gudrun. She is given in marriage to the Gothic
king Jörmunrek (Ermanaric), who sends his son Randver as proxy wooer in
company of Bicci, the evil counsellor. Randver is persuaded by Bicci to
take his father’s bride for himself. Randver is hanged and Svanhild
trampled to death by horses in the gate of the castle. Gudrun eggs on Sörli
and Hamdir or Hamtheow, her two sons by her third husband, Jonakr the
Hun, to avenge their sister. On the way they slay their half-brother Erp,
whom they suspect of lukewarmness in the cause; arrived in the hall of
Ermanaric they make a great slaughter of the Goths, and hew off the hands
and feet of Ermanaric, but they themselves are slain with stones. The tale is
told with variations by Saxo Grammaticus (Historia Danica, ed. Müller, p.
408, &c.), and in the Icelandic poems, the Lay of Hamtheow, Gudrun’s
Chain of Woe, and in the prose Edda.
the daughter of Sigurd and Gudrun. She is given in marriage to the Gothic
king Jörmunrek (Ermanaric), who sends his son Randver as proxy wooer in
company of Bicci, the evil counsellor. Randver is persuaded by Bicci to
take his father’s bride for himself. Randver is hanged and Svanhild
trampled to death by horses in the gate of the castle. Gudrun eggs on Sörli
and Hamdir or Hamtheow, her two sons by her third husband, Jonakr the
Hun, to avenge their sister. On the way they slay their half-brother Erp,
whom they suspect of lukewarmness in the cause; arrived in the hall of
Ermanaric they make a great slaughter of the Goths, and hew off the hands
and feet of Ermanaric, but they themselves are slain with stones. The tale is
told with variations by Saxo Grammaticus (Historia Danica, ed. Müller, p.
408, &c.), and in the Icelandic poems, the Lay of Hamtheow, Gudrun’s
Chain of Woe, and in the prose Edda.
Page 208
Bibliography.—W. Grimm, in Die deutsche Heldensage (2nd ed.,
Berlin, 1867), quotes the account given by Jordanes, references in
Beowulf, in the Wanderer’s Song, Exeter Book, in Parcival, in
Dietrichs Flucht, the account given in the Quedlinburg Chronicle, by
Ekkehard in the Chronicon Urspergense, by Saxo Grammaticus, &c.
See also Vigfússon and Powell, Corpus poëticum boreale, vol. i.
(Oxford, 1883), and H. Symons, “Die deutsche Heldensage” in Paul’s
Grundriss d. german. Phil. vol. iii. (Strassburg, 1900).
1 Emerka and Fridla (Beowulf, Quedlingburg Chron.), Aki and Etgard (Vilkina Saga).
In the original myth the Harlungs, who are not to be confused with the Hartung brothers,
were sent to bring home Sūryā, the bride of the sky-god, Irmintiu.
ERMELAND, or Ermland (Varmia), a district of Germany, in East
Prussia, extending from the Frisches Haff, a bay in the Baltic, inland
towards the Polish frontier. It is a well-wooded sandy tract of country, has
an area of about 1650 sq. m., a population of 240,000, and is divided into
the districts of Braunsberg, Heilsberg, Rössel and Allenstein.
Ermeland was originally one of the eleven districts of old Prussia and
was occupied by the Teutonic Knights (Deutscher Orden), being made in
1250 one of the four bishoprics of the country under their sway. The bishop
of Ermeland shortly afterwards declared himself independent of the order,
and became a prince of the Empire. In 1466 Ermeland, together with West
Prussia, was by the peace of Thorn attached to the crown of Poland, and the
bishop had a seat in the Polish senate. In 1772 it was again incorporated
Berlin, 1867), quotes the account given by Jordanes, references in
Beowulf, in the Wanderer’s Song, Exeter Book, in Parcival, in
Dietrichs Flucht, the account given in the Quedlinburg Chronicle, by
Ekkehard in the Chronicon Urspergense, by Saxo Grammaticus, &c.
See also Vigfússon and Powell, Corpus poëticum boreale, vol. i.
(Oxford, 1883), and H. Symons, “Die deutsche Heldensage” in Paul’s
Grundriss d. german. Phil. vol. iii. (Strassburg, 1900).
1 Emerka and Fridla (Beowulf, Quedlingburg Chron.), Aki and Etgard (Vilkina Saga).
In the original myth the Harlungs, who are not to be confused with the Hartung brothers,
were sent to bring home Sūryā, the bride of the sky-god, Irmintiu.
ERMELAND, or Ermland (Varmia), a district of Germany, in East
Prussia, extending from the Frisches Haff, a bay in the Baltic, inland
towards the Polish frontier. It is a well-wooded sandy tract of country, has
an area of about 1650 sq. m., a population of 240,000, and is divided into
the districts of Braunsberg, Heilsberg, Rössel and Allenstein.
Ermeland was originally one of the eleven districts of old Prussia and
was occupied by the Teutonic Knights (Deutscher Orden), being made in
1250 one of the four bishoprics of the country under their sway. The bishop
of Ermeland shortly afterwards declared himself independent of the order,
and became a prince of the Empire. In 1466 Ermeland, together with West
Prussia, was by the peace of Thorn attached to the crown of Poland, and the
bishop had a seat in the Polish senate. In 1772 it was again incorporated
Page 209
with Prussia. Among the bishops of the see, which still exists, with its seat
in Frauenberg, may be mentioned Aeneas Sylvius Piccolomini, afterwards
Pope Pius II., and Cardinal Stanislaus Hosius (1504-1579), the founder of
the Jesuit college in Braunsberg.
See Hipler, Literaturgeschichte des Bisthums Ermeland (Braunsberg,
1873); the Monumenta historiae Warmiensis (Mainz, 1860-1864, and
Braunsberg, 1866-1872, 4 vols.); and Buchholz, Abriss einer
Geschichte des Ermlands (Braunsberg, 1903.)
ERMELO, a district and town of the Transvaal. The district lies in the
south-east of the province and is traversed by the Drakensberg. In it are
Lake Chrissie, the only true lake in the country, and the sources of the Vaal,
Olifants, Komati, and Usuto rivers, which rise within 30 m. of one another.
The region has a general elevation of about 5500 ft. and is fine agricultural
and pastoral country, besides containing valuable minerals, including coal
and gold. Ermelo town, pop. (1904) 1451, is by rail 175 m. S.E. of
Johannesburg, and 74 m. S.S.W. of Machadodorp on the Pretoria-Delagoa
Bay railway. A government experimental farm, with some 1000 acres of
plantations, is maintained here.
in Frauenberg, may be mentioned Aeneas Sylvius Piccolomini, afterwards
Pope Pius II., and Cardinal Stanislaus Hosius (1504-1579), the founder of
the Jesuit college in Braunsberg.
See Hipler, Literaturgeschichte des Bisthums Ermeland (Braunsberg,
1873); the Monumenta historiae Warmiensis (Mainz, 1860-1864, and
Braunsberg, 1866-1872, 4 vols.); and Buchholz, Abriss einer
Geschichte des Ermlands (Braunsberg, 1903.)
ERMELO, a district and town of the Transvaal. The district lies in the
south-east of the province and is traversed by the Drakensberg. In it are
Lake Chrissie, the only true lake in the country, and the sources of the Vaal,
Olifants, Komati, and Usuto rivers, which rise within 30 m. of one another.
The region has a general elevation of about 5500 ft. and is fine agricultural
and pastoral country, besides containing valuable minerals, including coal
and gold. Ermelo town, pop. (1904) 1451, is by rail 175 m. S.E. of
Johannesburg, and 74 m. S.S.W. of Machadodorp on the Pretoria-Delagoa
Bay railway. A government experimental farm, with some 1000 acres of
plantations, is maintained here.
Page 210
ERMINE, an alternative
name for the stoat (Putorius
ermineus), apparently
applicable in its proper sense
only when the animal is in its
white winter coat. This
animal measures 10 in. in
length exclusive of the tail,
which is about 4 in. long, and
becomes bushy towards the
Ermine or Stoat (Putorius ermineus).
point. The fur in summer is
reddish brown above and white beneath, changing in the winter of northern
latitudes to snowy whiteness, except at the tip of the tail, which at all
seasons is black. In Scottish specimens this change in winter is complete,
but in those found in the southern districts of England it is usually only
partial, the ermine presenting during winter a piebald appearance. The white
colour is evidently protective, enabling the animals to elude the
observations of their enemies, and to steal unobserved on their prey. It also
retains heat better than a dark covering, and may thus serve to maintain an
equable temperature at all seasons within the body. The colour change
seems to be due to phagocytes devouring the pigment-bodies of the hair,
and not to a moult.
The species is a native of the temperate and subarctic zones of the Old
World, and is represented in America by a form which can scarcely be
regarded as specifically distinct. It inhabits thickets and stony places, and
frequently makes use of the deserted burrows of moles and other
underground mammals. Exceedingly sanguinary in disposition, and agile in
its movements, it feeds principally on rats, water-rats and rabbits, which it
pursues with pertinacity and boldness, hence the name stoat, signifying
bold, by which it is commonly known. It takes readily to water, and will
name for the stoat (Putorius
ermineus), apparently
applicable in its proper sense
only when the animal is in its
white winter coat. This
animal measures 10 in. in
length exclusive of the tail,
which is about 4 in. long, and
becomes bushy towards the
Ermine or Stoat (Putorius ermineus).
point. The fur in summer is
reddish brown above and white beneath, changing in the winter of northern
latitudes to snowy whiteness, except at the tip of the tail, which at all
seasons is black. In Scottish specimens this change in winter is complete,
but in those found in the southern districts of England it is usually only
partial, the ermine presenting during winter a piebald appearance. The white
colour is evidently protective, enabling the animals to elude the
observations of their enemies, and to steal unobserved on their prey. It also
retains heat better than a dark covering, and may thus serve to maintain an
equable temperature at all seasons within the body. The colour change
seems to be due to phagocytes devouring the pigment-bodies of the hair,
and not to a moult.
The species is a native of the temperate and subarctic zones of the Old
World, and is represented in America by a form which can scarcely be
regarded as specifically distinct. It inhabits thickets and stony places, and
frequently makes use of the deserted burrows of moles and other
underground mammals. Exceedingly sanguinary in disposition, and agile in
its movements, it feeds principally on rats, water-rats and rabbits, which it
pursues with pertinacity and boldness, hence the name stoat, signifying
bold, by which it is commonly known. It takes readily to water, and will
Page 211
even climb trees in pursuit of prey. It is particularly destructive to poultry
and game, and has often been known to attack hares, fixing itself to the
throat of its victim, and defying all the efforts of the latter to disengage it.
The female brings forth five young ones about the beginning of summer.
The winter coat of the ermine forms one of the most valuable of
commercial furs, and is imported in enormous quantities from Norway,
Sweden, Russia and Siberia. It is largely used for muffs and tippets, and as
a trimming for state robes, the jet black points of the tails being inserted at
regular intervals as an ornament. In the reign of Edward III. the wearing of
ermine was restricted to members of the royal family; but it now enters into
almost all state robes, the rank and position of the wearer being in many
cases indicated by the presence or absence, and the disposition, of the black
spots. (See also Fur.)
ERMINE STREET. Documents and writers of the 11th and succeeding
centuries occasionally mention four “royal roads” in Britain—Icknield
Street, Erning or Ermine Street, Watling Street and Foss Way—as standing
apart from all other existing roads and enjoying the special protection of the
king. Unfortunately these authorities are not at all agreed as to their precise
course; the roads themselves do not occur as specially privileged in actual
legal or other practice, and it is likely that the category of Four Roads is the
invention of a lawyer or an antiquary. The names are, however, attested to
some extent by early charters which name them among other roads, as
boundaries. From these charters we know that Icknield Street ran along the
Berkshire downs and the Chilterns, that Ermine Street ran more or less due
and game, and has often been known to attack hares, fixing itself to the
throat of its victim, and defying all the efforts of the latter to disengage it.
The female brings forth five young ones about the beginning of summer.
The winter coat of the ermine forms one of the most valuable of
commercial furs, and is imported in enormous quantities from Norway,
Sweden, Russia and Siberia. It is largely used for muffs and tippets, and as
a trimming for state robes, the jet black points of the tails being inserted at
regular intervals as an ornament. In the reign of Edward III. the wearing of
ermine was restricted to members of the royal family; but it now enters into
almost all state robes, the rank and position of the wearer being in many
cases indicated by the presence or absence, and the disposition, of the black
spots. (See also Fur.)
ERMINE STREET. Documents and writers of the 11th and succeeding
centuries occasionally mention four “royal roads” in Britain—Icknield
Street, Erning or Ermine Street, Watling Street and Foss Way—as standing
apart from all other existing roads and enjoying the special protection of the
king. Unfortunately these authorities are not at all agreed as to their precise
course; the roads themselves do not occur as specially privileged in actual
legal or other practice, and it is likely that the category of Four Roads is the
invention of a lawyer or an antiquary. The names are, however, attested to
some extent by early charters which name them among other roads, as
boundaries. From these charters we know that Icknield Street ran along the
Berkshire downs and the Chilterns, that Ermine Street ran more or less due
Page 212
north through Huntingdonshire, that Watling Street ran north-west across
the midlands from London to Shrewsbury, and Foss diagonally to it from
Lincoln or Leicester to Bath and mid-Somerset. This evidence only proves
the existence of these roads in Saxon and Norman days. But they all seem
to be much older. Icknield Street is probably a prehistoric ridgeway along
the downs, utilized perhaps by the Romans near its eastern end, but in
general not Roman. Ermine Street coincides with part of a line of Roman
roads leading north from London through Huntingdon to Lincoln. This line
is followed by the Old North Road through Cheshunt, Buntingford,
Royston, and Huntingdon to Castor near Peterborough; and thence it can be
traced through lanes and byways past Ancaster to Lincoln. Watling Street is
the Roman highway from London by St Alban’s (Verulamium) to Wroxeter
near Shrewsbury (Viroconium). Foss is the Roman highway from Lincoln
to Bath and Exeter. Hence it has been supposed, and is still frequently
alleged, that the Four Roads were the principal highways of Roman Britain.
This, however, is not the case. Icknield Street is not Roman and the three
roads which follow Roman lines, Ermine Street, Watling Street, and Foss,
held no peculiar position in the Romano-British road system (see Britain:
Roman). In later times, the names Ermine Street, Icknield Street and
Watling Street have been applied to other roads of Roman or supposed
Roman origin. This, however, is wholly the work of Elizabethan or
subsequent antiquaries and deserves no credence.
The derivations of the four names are unknown. Icknield, Ermine and
Watling may be from English personal names; Foss, originally Fos, seems
to be the Lat. fossa in its occasional medieval sense of a bank of upcast
earth or stones, such as the agger of a road.
(F. J. H.)
the midlands from London to Shrewsbury, and Foss diagonally to it from
Lincoln or Leicester to Bath and mid-Somerset. This evidence only proves
the existence of these roads in Saxon and Norman days. But they all seem
to be much older. Icknield Street is probably a prehistoric ridgeway along
the downs, utilized perhaps by the Romans near its eastern end, but in
general not Roman. Ermine Street coincides with part of a line of Roman
roads leading north from London through Huntingdon to Lincoln. This line
is followed by the Old North Road through Cheshunt, Buntingford,
Royston, and Huntingdon to Castor near Peterborough; and thence it can be
traced through lanes and byways past Ancaster to Lincoln. Watling Street is
the Roman highway from London by St Alban’s (Verulamium) to Wroxeter
near Shrewsbury (Viroconium). Foss is the Roman highway from Lincoln
to Bath and Exeter. Hence it has been supposed, and is still frequently
alleged, that the Four Roads were the principal highways of Roman Britain.
This, however, is not the case. Icknield Street is not Roman and the three
roads which follow Roman lines, Ermine Street, Watling Street, and Foss,
held no peculiar position in the Romano-British road system (see Britain:
Roman). In later times, the names Ermine Street, Icknield Street and
Watling Street have been applied to other roads of Roman or supposed
Roman origin. This, however, is wholly the work of Elizabethan or
subsequent antiquaries and deserves no credence.
The derivations of the four names are unknown. Icknield, Ermine and
Watling may be from English personal names; Foss, originally Fos, seems
to be the Lat. fossa in its occasional medieval sense of a bank of upcast
earth or stones, such as the agger of a road.
(F. J. H.)
Page 213
ERMOLDUS NIGELLUS, or Ermold the Black, was a monk of
Aquitaine, who accompanied King Pippin, son of the emperor Louis I., on a
campaign into Brittany in 824. Subsequently he was banished from Pippin’s
court on a charge of inciting the king against his father, and retired to
Strassburg, where he sought to regain the emperor’s favour by writing a
poem on his life and deeds. About 830 he obtained his recall, and has been
identified with Hermoldus, who appears as Pippin’s chancellor in 838.
Ermoldus was a cultured man with a knowledge of the Latin poets, and this
poem, In honorem Hludovici imperatoris, has some historical value. It
consists of four books and deals with the life and exploits of Louis from
781 to 826. He also wrote two poems in imitation of Ovid, which were
addressed to Pippin.
His writings are published in the Monumenta Germaniae historica,
Scriptores, Band 2 (Hanover, 1826 fol.); by J.P. Migne in the
Patrologia Latina, tome 105 (Paris, 1844); and by E. Dümmler in the
Poëtae Latini aevi Carolini, Band 2 (Berlin, 1881-1884). See W.O.
Henkel, Über den historischen Werth der Gedichte des Ermoldus
Nigellus (Eilenburg, 1876); W. Wattenbach, Deutschlands
Geschichtsquellen, Band 1 (Berlin, 1904); and A. Potthast, Bibliotheca
historica, pp. 430-431 (Berlin, 1896).
ERNE, the name of a river and two lakes in the north-west of Ireland.
The river rises in Lough Gowna, county Longford, 214 ft. above sea-level,
flows north through Lough Oughter with a serpentine course and a direction
generally northward, and then broadens into the Upper Lough Erne, a
Aquitaine, who accompanied King Pippin, son of the emperor Louis I., on a
campaign into Brittany in 824. Subsequently he was banished from Pippin’s
court on a charge of inciting the king against his father, and retired to
Strassburg, where he sought to regain the emperor’s favour by writing a
poem on his life and deeds. About 830 he obtained his recall, and has been
identified with Hermoldus, who appears as Pippin’s chancellor in 838.
Ermoldus was a cultured man with a knowledge of the Latin poets, and this
poem, In honorem Hludovici imperatoris, has some historical value. It
consists of four books and deals with the life and exploits of Louis from
781 to 826. He also wrote two poems in imitation of Ovid, which were
addressed to Pippin.
His writings are published in the Monumenta Germaniae historica,
Scriptores, Band 2 (Hanover, 1826 fol.); by J.P. Migne in the
Patrologia Latina, tome 105 (Paris, 1844); and by E. Dümmler in the
Poëtae Latini aevi Carolini, Band 2 (Berlin, 1881-1884). See W.O.
Henkel, Über den historischen Werth der Gedichte des Ermoldus
Nigellus (Eilenburg, 1876); W. Wattenbach, Deutschlands
Geschichtsquellen, Band 1 (Berlin, 1904); and A. Potthast, Bibliotheca
historica, pp. 430-431 (Berlin, 1896).
ERNE, the name of a river and two lakes in the north-west of Ireland.
The river rises in Lough Gowna, county Longford, 214 ft. above sea-level,
flows north through Lough Oughter with a serpentine course and a direction
generally northward, and then broadens into the Upper Lough Erne, a
Page 214
shallow irregular sheet of water 13 m. long, so beset with islands as to
present the appearance of a number of water-channels ramifying through
the land. The river then winds past the town of Enniskillen on its island, and
enters Lough Erne, a beautiful lake nearly 18 m. long and 5 m. in extreme
width, containing many islands, but less closely covered with them than the
upper lough. One of them, Devenish, is celebrated for its antiquarian
remains (see Enniskillen). The river then runs westward to Donegal Bay,
forming a fine fall at Ballyshannon (q.v.). Lough Erne contains trout and
pike. These waters admit of navigation by small steamers, but little trade is
carried on. The area of the Erne basin, which includes a vast number of
small loughs, is about 1600 sq. m., and it covers part of the counties Cavan,
Longford, Leitrim, Fermanagh and Donegal. The length of the Erne valley
is about 70 m.
ERNEST I. [Ernst Anton Karl Ludwig], duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha
(1784-1844), was the son of Francis, duke of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld, and
was born on the 2nd of January 1784. At the time of his father’s death (9th
of December 1806) the duchy of Coburg was occupied by Napoleon as
conquered territory, and Ernest did not come into his inheritance till after
the peace of Tilsit (July 1807). Owing to the part he had played in assisting
the Prussians at the battle of Auerstädt he continued out of favour with
Napoleon, and he threw himself with vigour into the war of liberation
against the French. After the battle of Leipzig he was given the command of
the V. army corps and reduced Mainz by blockade; he also commanded the
Saxon troops during the campaign of 1815. By the congress of Vienna he
present the appearance of a number of water-channels ramifying through
the land. The river then winds past the town of Enniskillen on its island, and
enters Lough Erne, a beautiful lake nearly 18 m. long and 5 m. in extreme
width, containing many islands, but less closely covered with them than the
upper lough. One of them, Devenish, is celebrated for its antiquarian
remains (see Enniskillen). The river then runs westward to Donegal Bay,
forming a fine fall at Ballyshannon (q.v.). Lough Erne contains trout and
pike. These waters admit of navigation by small steamers, but little trade is
carried on. The area of the Erne basin, which includes a vast number of
small loughs, is about 1600 sq. m., and it covers part of the counties Cavan,
Longford, Leitrim, Fermanagh and Donegal. The length of the Erne valley
is about 70 m.
ERNEST I. [Ernst Anton Karl Ludwig], duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha
(1784-1844), was the son of Francis, duke of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld, and
was born on the 2nd of January 1784. At the time of his father’s death (9th
of December 1806) the duchy of Coburg was occupied by Napoleon as
conquered territory, and Ernest did not come into his inheritance till after
the peace of Tilsit (July 1807). Owing to the part he had played in assisting
the Prussians at the battle of Auerstädt he continued out of favour with
Napoleon, and he threw himself with vigour into the war of liberation
against the French. After the battle of Leipzig he was given the command of
the V. army corps and reduced Mainz by blockade; he also commanded the
Saxon troops during the campaign of 1815. By the congress of Vienna he
Page 215
was rewarded with the principality of Lichtenberg on the left bank of the
Rhine, which received a slight augmentation after the second peace of Paris.
These territories he sold to Prussia in 1834. In 1826, in the division of the
territories of the duchy of Saxe-Gotha which followed the death of its last
duke (February 1825), he received the duchy of Gotha, ceding that of
Saalfeld to the duke of Meiningen; and he now exchanged his style of
Ernest III. of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld for that of Ernest I. of Saxe-Coburg-
Gotha. In 1821 he had given a constitution to Coburg, but he did not
interfere with the traditional system of estates at Gotha. He died on the 29th
of January 1844.
Duke Ernest, who was not only a good soldier and keen sportsman, but
an enlightened patron of the arts and sciences, did much for the economic,
educational and constitutional development of his territories; and his advice
always carried great weight in the councils of the other German sovereigns.
It was, however, for the splendid international position attained by the
house of Coburg under him that his reign is chiefly distinguished. His
younger brother Leopold (q.v.) became king of the Belgians; his brother
Ferdinand (b. 1785) married the wealthy princess Antoinette von Kohary
(1816) and was the father of the duchess of Nemours and of the future King
Ferdinand of Portugal. Of his sisters, Antoinette (1779-1824) married Duke
Alexander of Württemberg; Juliane [Alexandra Feodorovna] (1781-1860)
married the Russian cesarevich Constantine, from whom she was, however,
divorced in 1820; and Victoria (1786-1861), wife of Edward Augustus,
duke of Kent, became the mother of Queen Victoria. Duke Ernest was twice
married: (1) in 1817 to Louise, daughter of Duke Augustus of Saxe-Gotha,
whom he finally divorced in 1826; (2) in 1831 to Maria, daughter of Duke
Alexander of Württemberg. Of his sons, by his first wife, Ernest succeeded
him in the duchy, and Albert married Queen Victoria.
Rhine, which received a slight augmentation after the second peace of Paris.
These territories he sold to Prussia in 1834. In 1826, in the division of the
territories of the duchy of Saxe-Gotha which followed the death of its last
duke (February 1825), he received the duchy of Gotha, ceding that of
Saalfeld to the duke of Meiningen; and he now exchanged his style of
Ernest III. of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld for that of Ernest I. of Saxe-Coburg-
Gotha. In 1821 he had given a constitution to Coburg, but he did not
interfere with the traditional system of estates at Gotha. He died on the 29th
of January 1844.
Duke Ernest, who was not only a good soldier and keen sportsman, but
an enlightened patron of the arts and sciences, did much for the economic,
educational and constitutional development of his territories; and his advice
always carried great weight in the councils of the other German sovereigns.
It was, however, for the splendid international position attained by the
house of Coburg under him that his reign is chiefly distinguished. His
younger brother Leopold (q.v.) became king of the Belgians; his brother
Ferdinand (b. 1785) married the wealthy princess Antoinette von Kohary
(1816) and was the father of the duchess of Nemours and of the future King
Ferdinand of Portugal. Of his sisters, Antoinette (1779-1824) married Duke
Alexander of Württemberg; Juliane [Alexandra Feodorovna] (1781-1860)
married the Russian cesarevich Constantine, from whom she was, however,
divorced in 1820; and Victoria (1786-1861), wife of Edward Augustus,
duke of Kent, became the mother of Queen Victoria. Duke Ernest was twice
married: (1) in 1817 to Louise, daughter of Duke Augustus of Saxe-Gotha,
whom he finally divorced in 1826; (2) in 1831 to Maria, daughter of Duke
Alexander of Württemberg. Of his sons, by his first wife, Ernest succeeded
him in the duchy, and Albert married Queen Victoria.
Page 216
ERNEST II., duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha (1818-1893), was born at
Coburg on the 21st of June 1818, being the eldest son of Duke Ernest I. He
enjoyed a varied education; he studied at the university of Bonn with his
brother Albert; his military training he received in the Saxon army. The
widespread connexions of his family opened to him many courts of Europe,
and after he became of age he travelled much. The position of his uncle
Leopold, who was king of the Belgians, and especially the marriage of his
brother Albert to the queen of England, his cousin, gave him peculiar
opportunities for becoming acquainted with the political problems of
Europe. In 1840-1841 he undertook a journey to Spain and Portugal; in the
latter country another cousin, Ferdinand, was king-consort. In 1844 he
succeeded his father. His own character and the influence of the king of the
Belgians made him one of the most Liberal princes in Germany. He was
able to bring to a satisfactory conclusion disputes with the Coburg estates.
He passed through the ordeal of the revolution of 1848 with little trouble,
for he anticipated the demands of the people of Gotha for a reform, and in
1852 introduced a new constitution by which the administration of his two
duchies was assimilated in many points. The government of his small
dominions did not afford sufficient scope for his restless and versatile
ambition; his desire to play a great part in German affairs was probably
increased by the feeling that, though he was the head of his house, he was to
some extent overshadowed by the younger branches of the family which
ruled in Belgium, England and Portugal. He was one of the foremost
supporters of every attempt made to reform the German constitution and
bring about the unity of Germany. He took a warm interest in the
proceedings of the Frankfort parliament, and it was often said, probably
without reason, that he hoped to be chosen emperor himself. However that
may be, he strongly urged the king of Prussia to accept that position when it
was offered him in 1849; he took a very prominent part in the complicated
negotiations of the following year, and it was at his suggestion that a
Coburg on the 21st of June 1818, being the eldest son of Duke Ernest I. He
enjoyed a varied education; he studied at the university of Bonn with his
brother Albert; his military training he received in the Saxon army. The
widespread connexions of his family opened to him many courts of Europe,
and after he became of age he travelled much. The position of his uncle
Leopold, who was king of the Belgians, and especially the marriage of his
brother Albert to the queen of England, his cousin, gave him peculiar
opportunities for becoming acquainted with the political problems of
Europe. In 1840-1841 he undertook a journey to Spain and Portugal; in the
latter country another cousin, Ferdinand, was king-consort. In 1844 he
succeeded his father. His own character and the influence of the king of the
Belgians made him one of the most Liberal princes in Germany. He was
able to bring to a satisfactory conclusion disputes with the Coburg estates.
He passed through the ordeal of the revolution of 1848 with little trouble,
for he anticipated the demands of the people of Gotha for a reform, and in
1852 introduced a new constitution by which the administration of his two
duchies was assimilated in many points. The government of his small
dominions did not afford sufficient scope for his restless and versatile
ambition; his desire to play a great part in German affairs was probably
increased by the feeling that, though he was the head of his house, he was to
some extent overshadowed by the younger branches of the family which
ruled in Belgium, England and Portugal. He was one of the foremost
supporters of every attempt made to reform the German constitution and
bring about the unity of Germany. He took a warm interest in the
proceedings of the Frankfort parliament, and it was often said, probably
without reason, that he hoped to be chosen emperor himself. However that
may be, he strongly urged the king of Prussia to accept that position when it
was offered him in 1849; he took a very prominent part in the complicated
negotiations of the following year, and it was at his suggestion that a
Page 217
congress of princes met at Berlin in 1850. He highly valued the
opportunities which this and similar meetings gave him for exercising
political influence, and he would have felt most at home as a member of a
permanent council of the German princes.
Ambitious also of military distinction, and sympathizing with the rising
of the people of Schleswig-Holstein against the Danes in 1849, Ernest
accepted a command in the federal army. In the engagement of Eckernförde
in April 1849 the troops under his orders succeeded in capturing two Danish
frigates, a remarkable feat of which he was justly proud. His greatest
services to Germany were performed during the years of reaction which
followed; almost alone among the German princes he remained faithful to
the Liberal and National ideals, and he allowed his dominions to be used as
an asylum by the writers and politicians who had to leave Prussia and
Saxony. The reactionary parties looked on him with great suspicion, and it
was at this time that he formed a friendship with Gustav Freytag, the
celebrated novelist, whom he protected when the Prussian government
demanded his arrest. His connexion with the English court gave him a
position of much influence, but no one was more purely German in his
feelings and opinions. The marriage of his niece Victoria with Frederick, the
heir to the Prussian throne, strengthened his connexion with Prussia, but
caused the Conservative party to look with increased suspicion on the
Coburg influence. He was the first German prince to visit Napoleon III.,
and was present when Orsini made his celebrated attempt on the emperor’s
life. After 1860 he became the chief patron and protector of the National
Verein; he encouraged the newly-formed rifle clubs, and notwithstanding
the strong disapproval of his fellow-monarchs, allowed his court to become
the centre of the rising national agitation. Still a warm adherent of Prussia,
in 1862 he set an example to the other princes by voluntarily making an
agreement by which his troops were placed in war under the command of
the king of Prussia. Like all the other Nationalists, he was much
opportunities which this and similar meetings gave him for exercising
political influence, and he would have felt most at home as a member of a
permanent council of the German princes.
Ambitious also of military distinction, and sympathizing with the rising
of the people of Schleswig-Holstein against the Danes in 1849, Ernest
accepted a command in the federal army. In the engagement of Eckernförde
in April 1849 the troops under his orders succeeded in capturing two Danish
frigates, a remarkable feat of which he was justly proud. His greatest
services to Germany were performed during the years of reaction which
followed; almost alone among the German princes he remained faithful to
the Liberal and National ideals, and he allowed his dominions to be used as
an asylum by the writers and politicians who had to leave Prussia and
Saxony. The reactionary parties looked on him with great suspicion, and it
was at this time that he formed a friendship with Gustav Freytag, the
celebrated novelist, whom he protected when the Prussian government
demanded his arrest. His connexion with the English court gave him a
position of much influence, but no one was more purely German in his
feelings and opinions. The marriage of his niece Victoria with Frederick, the
heir to the Prussian throne, strengthened his connexion with Prussia, but
caused the Conservative party to look with increased suspicion on the
Coburg influence. He was the first German prince to visit Napoleon III.,
and was present when Orsini made his celebrated attempt on the emperor’s
life. After 1860 he became the chief patron and protector of the National
Verein; he encouraged the newly-formed rifle clubs, and notwithstanding
the strong disapproval of his fellow-monarchs, allowed his court to become
the centre of the rising national agitation. Still a warm adherent of Prussia,
in 1862 he set an example to the other princes by voluntarily making an
agreement by which his troops were placed in war under the command of
the king of Prussia. Like all the other Nationalists, he was much
Page 218
embarrassed by the policy of Bismarck, and the democratic opinions of the
Coburg court, which were shared by the crown prince Frederick, were a
serious embarrassment to that minister. The opposition became more
accentuated when the duke allowed his dominions to be used as the
headquarters of the agitation in favour of Frederick, duke of Augustenburg,
who claimed the duchies of Schleswig and Holstein, and it was at this time
that Bismarck is reported to have said that if Frederick the Great had been
alive the duke would have been in the fortress of Spandau. In 1863 he was
present at the Fürstentag in Frankfort, and from this time was in more
frequent communication with the Austrian court, where his cousin
Alexander, Count Mensdorff, was minister. However, when war broke out
in 1866, he at once placed his troops at the disposition of Prussia; Bismarck
had in an important letter explained to him his policy and tactics. He was
personally concerned in one of the most interesting events of the war; for
the Hanoverian army, in its attempt to march south and join the Bavarians,
had to pass through Thuringia, and the battle of Langensalza was fought in
the immediate neighbourhood of Gotha. His troops took part in the battle,
which ended in the rout of the Prussians, the duke, who was not present
during the fight, in vain attempting to stop it. He bore an important share in
the negotiations before and after the battle, and his action at this time has
been the subject of much controversy, for it was suggested that while he
offered to mediate he really acted as a partisan of Prussia. For his services
to Prussia he received as a present the forest of Schmalkalden. He was with
the Prussian headquarters in Bohemia during the latter part of the war.
With the year 1866 the political rôle which Ernest had played ended. The
result was perhaps not quite equal to his expectations, but it must be
remembered how difficult was the position of the minor German princes;
and he quoted with great satisfaction the words used in 1871 by the emperor
William at Versailles, that “to him in no small degree was due the
establishment of the empire.” He was a man of varied tastes, a good
Coburg court, which were shared by the crown prince Frederick, were a
serious embarrassment to that minister. The opposition became more
accentuated when the duke allowed his dominions to be used as the
headquarters of the agitation in favour of Frederick, duke of Augustenburg,
who claimed the duchies of Schleswig and Holstein, and it was at this time
that Bismarck is reported to have said that if Frederick the Great had been
alive the duke would have been in the fortress of Spandau. In 1863 he was
present at the Fürstentag in Frankfort, and from this time was in more
frequent communication with the Austrian court, where his cousin
Alexander, Count Mensdorff, was minister. However, when war broke out
in 1866, he at once placed his troops at the disposition of Prussia; Bismarck
had in an important letter explained to him his policy and tactics. He was
personally concerned in one of the most interesting events of the war; for
the Hanoverian army, in its attempt to march south and join the Bavarians,
had to pass through Thuringia, and the battle of Langensalza was fought in
the immediate neighbourhood of Gotha. His troops took part in the battle,
which ended in the rout of the Prussians, the duke, who was not present
during the fight, in vain attempting to stop it. He bore an important share in
the negotiations before and after the battle, and his action at this time has
been the subject of much controversy, for it was suggested that while he
offered to mediate he really acted as a partisan of Prussia. For his services
to Prussia he received as a present the forest of Schmalkalden. He was with
the Prussian headquarters in Bohemia during the latter part of the war.
With the year 1866 the political rôle which Ernest had played ended. The
result was perhaps not quite equal to his expectations, but it must be
remembered how difficult was the position of the minor German princes;
and he quoted with great satisfaction the words used in 1871 by the emperor
William at Versailles, that “to him in no small degree was due the
establishment of the empire.” He was a man of varied tastes, a good
Page 219
musician—he composed several operas and songs—and a keen sportsman,
a quality in which he differed from his brother. Notwithstanding his
Liberalism, he had a great regard for the dignity of his rank and family, and
in his support of constitutional government would never have sacrificed the
essential prerogatives of sovereignty. He died at Reinhardsbrunn on the
22nd of August 1893. In 1842 the duke married Alexandrine, daughter of
the grandduke of Baden; there were no children by this marriage and the
succession to Saxe-Coburg-Gotha passed therefore to the children of his
younger brother Albert. By Albert’s marriage contract the duchy could not
be held together with the English crown; thus his eldest son, afterwards
Edward VII., was passed over and it came to his second son, Alfred, duke of
Edinburgh (1844-1900). When Alfred died without sons in July 1900 the
succession to the duchy passed to a younger brother Arthur, duke of
Connaught; but the duke and his son, Arthur, passed on their claim to
Charles Edward, duke of Albany (b. 1884), who became duke of Saxe-
Coburg-Gotha in succession to his uncle Alfred. In 1905 Charles Edward
married Victoria Adelaide (b. 1885), princess of Schleswig-Holstein, by
whom he has a son John Leopold (b. 1906).
Duke Ernest was something of a writer. He brought out an account of the
travels in Egypt and Abyssinia which he undertook in 1862 as Reise des
Herzogs Ernst von Sachsen-Koburg-Gotha nach Ägypten (Leipzig, 1864);
and he published his memoirs, Aus meinem Leben und aus meiner Zeit
(Berlin, 1887-1889). This work is in three volumes and contains much
valuable information on a most critical period of German history; there is
an English translation by P. Andreae (1888-1890).
See also Sir T. Martin, Life of H.R.H. the Prince Consort (1875-
1880); Hon. C. Grey, Early Years of the Prince Consort (1867); A.
Ohorn, Herzog Ernst II., ein Lebensbild (Leipzig, 1894); and E.
a quality in which he differed from his brother. Notwithstanding his
Liberalism, he had a great regard for the dignity of his rank and family, and
in his support of constitutional government would never have sacrificed the
essential prerogatives of sovereignty. He died at Reinhardsbrunn on the
22nd of August 1893. In 1842 the duke married Alexandrine, daughter of
the grandduke of Baden; there were no children by this marriage and the
succession to Saxe-Coburg-Gotha passed therefore to the children of his
younger brother Albert. By Albert’s marriage contract the duchy could not
be held together with the English crown; thus his eldest son, afterwards
Edward VII., was passed over and it came to his second son, Alfred, duke of
Edinburgh (1844-1900). When Alfred died without sons in July 1900 the
succession to the duchy passed to a younger brother Arthur, duke of
Connaught; but the duke and his son, Arthur, passed on their claim to
Charles Edward, duke of Albany (b. 1884), who became duke of Saxe-
Coburg-Gotha in succession to his uncle Alfred. In 1905 Charles Edward
married Victoria Adelaide (b. 1885), princess of Schleswig-Holstein, by
whom he has a son John Leopold (b. 1906).
Duke Ernest was something of a writer. He brought out an account of the
travels in Egypt and Abyssinia which he undertook in 1862 as Reise des
Herzogs Ernst von Sachsen-Koburg-Gotha nach Ägypten (Leipzig, 1864);
and he published his memoirs, Aus meinem Leben und aus meiner Zeit
(Berlin, 1887-1889). This work is in three volumes and contains much
valuable information on a most critical period of German history; there is
an English translation by P. Andreae (1888-1890).
See also Sir T. Martin, Life of H.R.H. the Prince Consort (1875-
1880); Hon. C. Grey, Early Years of the Prince Consort (1867); A.
Ohorn, Herzog Ernst II., ein Lebensbild (Leipzig, 1894); and E.
Page 220
Tempeltey, Herzog Ernst von Koburg und das Jahr 1866 (Berlin,
1898). (J. W. He.)
ERNEST AUGUSTUS (1771-1851), king of Hanover and duke of
Cumberland, fifth son of the English king George III., was born at Kew on
the 5th of June 1771. Having studied at the university of Göttingen, he
entered the Hanoverian army, serving as a leader of cavalry when war broke
out between Great Britain and France in 1793, and winning a reputation for
bravery. He lost the sight of one eye at the battle of Tournai in May 1794,
and when Hanover withdrew from the war in 1795 he returned to England,
being made lieutenant-general in the British army in 1799. In the same year
he was created duke of Cumberland and Teviotdale and granted an
allowance of £12,000 a year, after which he held several lucrative military
positions in England, and began to attend the sittings of the House of Lords
and to take part in political life. A stanch Tory, the duke objected to all
proposals of reform, especially to the granting of any relief to the Roman
Catholics, and had great influence with his brother the prince regent,
afterwards King George IV., in addition to being often consulted by the
Tory leaders. In 1810 he was severely injured by an assassin, probably his
valet Sellis, who was found dead; and subsequently two men were
imprisoned for asserting that the duke had murdered his valet. Recovering
from his wounds, Cumberland again proceeded to the seat of war; and
having been made a British field-marshal, was in command of the
Hanoverian army during the campaigns of 1813 and 1814, being present,
although not in action, at the battle of Leipzig. In May 1815 Ernest married
1898). (J. W. He.)
ERNEST AUGUSTUS (1771-1851), king of Hanover and duke of
Cumberland, fifth son of the English king George III., was born at Kew on
the 5th of June 1771. Having studied at the university of Göttingen, he
entered the Hanoverian army, serving as a leader of cavalry when war broke
out between Great Britain and France in 1793, and winning a reputation for
bravery. He lost the sight of one eye at the battle of Tournai in May 1794,
and when Hanover withdrew from the war in 1795 he returned to England,
being made lieutenant-general in the British army in 1799. In the same year
he was created duke of Cumberland and Teviotdale and granted an
allowance of £12,000 a year, after which he held several lucrative military
positions in England, and began to attend the sittings of the House of Lords
and to take part in political life. A stanch Tory, the duke objected to all
proposals of reform, especially to the granting of any relief to the Roman
Catholics, and had great influence with his brother the prince regent,
afterwards King George IV., in addition to being often consulted by the
Tory leaders. In 1810 he was severely injured by an assassin, probably his
valet Sellis, who was found dead; and subsequently two men were
imprisoned for asserting that the duke had murdered his valet. Recovering
from his wounds, Cumberland again proceeded to the seat of war; and
having been made a British field-marshal, was in command of the
Hanoverian army during the campaigns of 1813 and 1814, being present,
although not in action, at the battle of Leipzig. In May 1815 Ernest married
Page 221
his cousin, Frederica (1778-1841), daughter of Charles II. duke of
Mecklenburg-Strelitz and widow of Frederick, prince of Solms-Braunfels, a
union which was very repugnant to his mother Queen Charlotte, and was
disliked in England, where the duke’s strong Toryism had made him
unpopular. Parliament refused to increase his allowance from £18,000, to
which it had been raised in 1804, to £24,000 a year, and indignant at the
treatment he received the duke spent some years in Berlin. Returning to
England after the accession of George IV. in 1820, his political power was
again considerable, while deaths in the royal family made it likely that he
would succeed to the throne. Although his personal influence with the
sovereign ceased upon the death of George IV. in 1830, the duke continued
to oppose all measures for the extension of civil and religious liberty,
including the Reform Bill of 1832; and his unpopularity was augmented by
suspicions that he had favoured the formation of Orange lodges in the army.
When William IV. died in June 1837, the crowns of Great Britain and
Hanover were separated; and Ernest, as the nearest male heir of the late
king, became king of Hanover. At once cancelling the constitution which
William had given to his kingdom in 1833, he acted as an absolute
monarch, and the constitution which he sanctioned in 1840 was permeated
with his own illiberal ideas. In German politics he was vigilant and active,
and mindful of the material interests of his country. His reign, however, was
a stormy one, and serious trouble between king and people had arisen when
he died at Herrenhausen on the 18th of November 1851 (see Hanover:
History). In spite of his arbitrary rule and his reactionary ideas the king was
popular among his subjects, and his statue in Hanover bears the words
“Dem Landes Vater sein treues Volk.” Ernest, who is generally regarded as
the ablest of the sons of George III., left an only child, George, who
succeeded him as king of Hanover.
See C.A. Wilkinson, Reminiscences of the Court and Times of King
Ernest of Hanover (London, 1886); von Malortie, König Ernst August
Mecklenburg-Strelitz and widow of Frederick, prince of Solms-Braunfels, a
union which was very repugnant to his mother Queen Charlotte, and was
disliked in England, where the duke’s strong Toryism had made him
unpopular. Parliament refused to increase his allowance from £18,000, to
which it had been raised in 1804, to £24,000 a year, and indignant at the
treatment he received the duke spent some years in Berlin. Returning to
England after the accession of George IV. in 1820, his political power was
again considerable, while deaths in the royal family made it likely that he
would succeed to the throne. Although his personal influence with the
sovereign ceased upon the death of George IV. in 1830, the duke continued
to oppose all measures for the extension of civil and religious liberty,
including the Reform Bill of 1832; and his unpopularity was augmented by
suspicions that he had favoured the formation of Orange lodges in the army.
When William IV. died in June 1837, the crowns of Great Britain and
Hanover were separated; and Ernest, as the nearest male heir of the late
king, became king of Hanover. At once cancelling the constitution which
William had given to his kingdom in 1833, he acted as an absolute
monarch, and the constitution which he sanctioned in 1840 was permeated
with his own illiberal ideas. In German politics he was vigilant and active,
and mindful of the material interests of his country. His reign, however, was
a stormy one, and serious trouble between king and people had arisen when
he died at Herrenhausen on the 18th of November 1851 (see Hanover:
History). In spite of his arbitrary rule and his reactionary ideas the king was
popular among his subjects, and his statue in Hanover bears the words
“Dem Landes Vater sein treues Volk.” Ernest, who is generally regarded as
the ablest of the sons of George III., left an only child, George, who
succeeded him as king of Hanover.
See C.A. Wilkinson, Reminiscences of the Court and Times of King
Ernest of Hanover (London, 1886); von Malortie, König Ernst August
Page 222
(Hanover, 1861); and the various histories of Great Britain and
Hanover for the period.
ERNESTI, JOHANN AUGUST (1707-1781), German theologian and
philologist, was born on the 4th of August 1707, at Tennstädt in Thuringia,
of which place his father was pastor, besides being superintendent of the
electoral dioceses of Thuringia, Salz and Sangerhausen. At the age of
sixteen he was sent to the celebrated Saxon cloister school of Pforta
(Schulpforta). At twenty he entered the university of Wittenberg, and
studied afterwards at the university of Leipzig. In 1730 he was made master
in the faculty of philosophy. In the following year he accepted the office of
conrector in the Thomas school of Leipzig, of which J.M. Gesner was then
rector, an office to which Ernesti succeeded in 1734. He was, in 1742,
named professor extraordinarius of ancient literature in the university of
Leipzig, and in 1756 professor ordinarius of rhetoric. In the same year he
received the degree of doctor of theology, and in 1759 was appointed
professor ordinarius in the faculty of theology. Through his learning and his
manner of discussion, he co-operated with S.J. Baumgarten of Halle (1706-
1757) in disengaging the current dogmatic theology from its many
scholastic and mystical excrescences, and thus paved a way for a revolution
in theology. He died, after a short illness, in his seventy-sixth year, on the
11th of September 1781.
It is perhaps as much from the impulse which Ernesti gave to sacred and
profane criticism in Germany, as from the intrinsic excellence of his own
works in either department, that he must derive his reputation as a
Hanover for the period.
ERNESTI, JOHANN AUGUST (1707-1781), German theologian and
philologist, was born on the 4th of August 1707, at Tennstädt in Thuringia,
of which place his father was pastor, besides being superintendent of the
electoral dioceses of Thuringia, Salz and Sangerhausen. At the age of
sixteen he was sent to the celebrated Saxon cloister school of Pforta
(Schulpforta). At twenty he entered the university of Wittenberg, and
studied afterwards at the university of Leipzig. In 1730 he was made master
in the faculty of philosophy. In the following year he accepted the office of
conrector in the Thomas school of Leipzig, of which J.M. Gesner was then
rector, an office to which Ernesti succeeded in 1734. He was, in 1742,
named professor extraordinarius of ancient literature in the university of
Leipzig, and in 1756 professor ordinarius of rhetoric. In the same year he
received the degree of doctor of theology, and in 1759 was appointed
professor ordinarius in the faculty of theology. Through his learning and his
manner of discussion, he co-operated with S.J. Baumgarten of Halle (1706-
1757) in disengaging the current dogmatic theology from its many
scholastic and mystical excrescences, and thus paved a way for a revolution
in theology. He died, after a short illness, in his seventy-sixth year, on the
11th of September 1781.
It is perhaps as much from the impulse which Ernesti gave to sacred and
profane criticism in Germany, as from the intrinsic excellence of his own
works in either department, that he must derive his reputation as a
Page 223
philologist or theologian. With J.S. Semler he co-operated in the revolution
of Lutheran theology, and in conjunction with Gesner he instituted a new
school in ancient literature. He detected grammatical niceties in Latin, in
regard to the consecution of tenses which had escaped preceding critics. His
canons are, however, not without exceptions. As an editor of the Greek
classics, Ernesti hardly deserves to be named beside his Dutch
contemporaries, Tiberius Hemsterhuis (1685-1766), L.C. Valckenaer (1715-
1785), David Ruhnken (1723-1798), or his colleague J.J. Reiske (1716-
1774). The higher criticism was not even attempted by Ernesti. But to him
and to Gesner is due the credit of having formed, by discipline and by
example, philologists greater than themselves, and of having kindled the
national enthusiasm for ancient learning. It is chiefly in hermeneutics that
Ernesti has any claim to eminence as a theologian. But here his merits are
distinguished, and, at the period when his Institutio Interpretis N. T. was
published (1761), almost peculiar to himself. In it we find the principles of
a general interpretation, formed without the assistance of any particular
philosophy, but consisting of observations and rules which, though already
enunciated, and applied in the criticism of the profane writers, had never
rigorously been employed in biblical exegesis. He was, in fact, the founder
of the grammatico-historical school. He admits in the sacred writings as in
the classics only one acceptation, and that the grammatical, convertible into
and the same with the logical and historical. Consequently he censures the
opinion of those who in the illustration of the Scriptures refer everything to
the illumination of the Holy Spirit, as well as that of others who,
disregarding all knowledge of the languages, would explain words by
things. The “analogy of faith,” as a rule of interpretation, he greatly limits,
and teaches that it can never afford of itself the explanation of words, but
only determine the choice among their possible meanings. At the same time
he seems unconscious of any inconsistency between the doctrine of the
of Lutheran theology, and in conjunction with Gesner he instituted a new
school in ancient literature. He detected grammatical niceties in Latin, in
regard to the consecution of tenses which had escaped preceding critics. His
canons are, however, not without exceptions. As an editor of the Greek
classics, Ernesti hardly deserves to be named beside his Dutch
contemporaries, Tiberius Hemsterhuis (1685-1766), L.C. Valckenaer (1715-
1785), David Ruhnken (1723-1798), or his colleague J.J. Reiske (1716-
1774). The higher criticism was not even attempted by Ernesti. But to him
and to Gesner is due the credit of having formed, by discipline and by
example, philologists greater than themselves, and of having kindled the
national enthusiasm for ancient learning. It is chiefly in hermeneutics that
Ernesti has any claim to eminence as a theologian. But here his merits are
distinguished, and, at the period when his Institutio Interpretis N. T. was
published (1761), almost peculiar to himself. In it we find the principles of
a general interpretation, formed without the assistance of any particular
philosophy, but consisting of observations and rules which, though already
enunciated, and applied in the criticism of the profane writers, had never
rigorously been employed in biblical exegesis. He was, in fact, the founder
of the grammatico-historical school. He admits in the sacred writings as in
the classics only one acceptation, and that the grammatical, convertible into
and the same with the logical and historical. Consequently he censures the
opinion of those who in the illustration of the Scriptures refer everything to
the illumination of the Holy Spirit, as well as that of others who,
disregarding all knowledge of the languages, would explain words by
things. The “analogy of faith,” as a rule of interpretation, he greatly limits,
and teaches that it can never afford of itself the explanation of words, but
only determine the choice among their possible meanings. At the same time
he seems unconscious of any inconsistency between the doctrine of the
Page 224
inspiration of the Bible as usually received and his principles of
hermeneutics.
Among his works the more important are:—I. In classical literature:
Initia doctrinae Solidioris (1736), many subsequent editions; Initia
rhetorica (1730); editions, mostly annotated, of Xenophon’s
Memorabilia (1737), Cicero (1737-1739), Suetonius (1748), Tacitus
(1752), the Clouds of Aristophanes (1754), Homer (1759-1764),
Callimachus (1761), Polybius (1764), as well as of the Quaestura of
Corradus, the Greek lexicon of Hedericus, and the Bibliotheca Latina
of Fabricius (unfinished); Archaeologia litteraria (1768), new and
improved edition by Martini (1790); Horatius Tursellinus De particulis
(1769). II. In sacred literature: Antimuratorius sive confutatio
disputationis Muratorianae de rebus liturgicis (1755-1758); Neue
theologische Bibliothek, vols. i. to x. (1760-1769); Institutio interpretis
Nov. Test. (3rd ed., 1775); Neueste theologische Bibliothek, vols. i. to x.
(1771-1775). Besides these, he published more than a hundred smaller
works, many of which have been collected in the three following
publications:—Opuscula oratoria (1762, 2nd ed., 1767); Opuscula
philologica et critica (1764, 2nd ed., 1776); Opuscula theologica
(1773). See Herzog-Hauck, Realencyklopädie; J.E. Sandys, Hist. of
Class. Schol. iii. (1908).
ERNESTI, JOHANN CHRISTIAN GOTTLIEB (1756-1802), German
classical scholar, was born at Arnstadt, Thuringia, and studied under his
uncle, J.A. Ernesti, at the university of Leipzig. On the 5th of June, 1782, he
hermeneutics.
Among his works the more important are:—I. In classical literature:
Initia doctrinae Solidioris (1736), many subsequent editions; Initia
rhetorica (1730); editions, mostly annotated, of Xenophon’s
Memorabilia (1737), Cicero (1737-1739), Suetonius (1748), Tacitus
(1752), the Clouds of Aristophanes (1754), Homer (1759-1764),
Callimachus (1761), Polybius (1764), as well as of the Quaestura of
Corradus, the Greek lexicon of Hedericus, and the Bibliotheca Latina
of Fabricius (unfinished); Archaeologia litteraria (1768), new and
improved edition by Martini (1790); Horatius Tursellinus De particulis
(1769). II. In sacred literature: Antimuratorius sive confutatio
disputationis Muratorianae de rebus liturgicis (1755-1758); Neue
theologische Bibliothek, vols. i. to x. (1760-1769); Institutio interpretis
Nov. Test. (3rd ed., 1775); Neueste theologische Bibliothek, vols. i. to x.
(1771-1775). Besides these, he published more than a hundred smaller
works, many of which have been collected in the three following
publications:—Opuscula oratoria (1762, 2nd ed., 1767); Opuscula
philologica et critica (1764, 2nd ed., 1776); Opuscula theologica
(1773). See Herzog-Hauck, Realencyklopädie; J.E. Sandys, Hist. of
Class. Schol. iii. (1908).
ERNESTI, JOHANN CHRISTIAN GOTTLIEB (1756-1802), German
classical scholar, was born at Arnstadt, Thuringia, and studied under his
uncle, J.A. Ernesti, at the university of Leipzig. On the 5th of June, 1782, he
Page 225
was made supplementary professor of philosophy at his own university; and
on the death of his cousin August Wilhelm in 1801 he was for five months
professor of rhetoric. He died on the 5th of June of the following year.
His principal works are:—Editions of Aesop’s Fabulae (1781); of
the Glossae sacrae of Hesychius (1785) and Suidas and Phavorinus
(1786); and of Silius Italicus Punica (1791-1792); Lexicon
Technologiae Graecorum rhetoricae (1795); Lexicon technologiae
Latinorum rhetoricae (1797), and Cicero’s Geist und Kunst (1799-
1802).
ERNST, HEINRICH WILHELM (1814-1865), German violinist and
composer, was born at Brünn, in Moravia, in 1814. He was educated at the
Conservatorium of Vienna, studying the violin under Joseph Böhm and
Joseph Mayseder, and composition under Ignaz von Seyfried. At the age of
sixteen he made a concert tour in south Germany, which established his
reputation as a violinist of the highest promise. In 1832 he went to Paris,
where he lived for several years. During this period he formed an intimacy
with Stephen Heller, which resulted in their charming joint compositions—
the Pensées fugitives for piano and violin. In 1843 he paid his first visit to
London. The impression which he then made as a violinist was more than
confirmed in the following year, when his rare powers were recognized by
the musical public. Thenceforward he visited England nearly every year,
until his health broke down owing to long-continued neuralgia of a most
severe kind. The last seven years of his life were spent in retirement, chiefly
at Nice, where he died on the 8th of October 1865. As a violinist Ernst was
on the death of his cousin August Wilhelm in 1801 he was for five months
professor of rhetoric. He died on the 5th of June of the following year.
His principal works are:—Editions of Aesop’s Fabulae (1781); of
the Glossae sacrae of Hesychius (1785) and Suidas and Phavorinus
(1786); and of Silius Italicus Punica (1791-1792); Lexicon
Technologiae Graecorum rhetoricae (1795); Lexicon technologiae
Latinorum rhetoricae (1797), and Cicero’s Geist und Kunst (1799-
1802).
ERNST, HEINRICH WILHELM (1814-1865), German violinist and
composer, was born at Brünn, in Moravia, in 1814. He was educated at the
Conservatorium of Vienna, studying the violin under Joseph Böhm and
Joseph Mayseder, and composition under Ignaz von Seyfried. At the age of
sixteen he made a concert tour in south Germany, which established his
reputation as a violinist of the highest promise. In 1832 he went to Paris,
where he lived for several years. During this period he formed an intimacy
with Stephen Heller, which resulted in their charming joint compositions—
the Pensées fugitives for piano and violin. In 1843 he paid his first visit to
London. The impression which he then made as a violinist was more than
confirmed in the following year, when his rare powers were recognized by
the musical public. Thenceforward he visited England nearly every year,
until his health broke down owing to long-continued neuralgia of a most
severe kind. The last seven years of his life were spent in retirement, chiefly
at Nice, where he died on the 8th of October 1865. As a violinist Ernst was
Page 226
distinguished by his almost unrivalled executive power, loftiness of
conception, and intensely passionate expression. As a composer he wrote
chiefly for his own instrument, and his Elegie and Otello Fantasia rank
among the most treasured works for the violin.
ERODE, a town of British India, in the Coimbatore district of Madras,
situated on the right bank of the river Cauvery, which is here crossed by an
iron railway girder bridge of 22 spans. Pop. (1901) 15,529. Here the South
Indian railway joins the South-Western line of the Madras railway, 243 m.
from Madras. There are exports of cotton and saltpetre; and the town has a
steam cotton press.
EROS, a minor planet discovered by Witt at Berlin on the 14th of August
1898, and, so far as yet known, unique in that its perihelion lies far within
the orbit of Mars.
conception, and intensely passionate expression. As a composer he wrote
chiefly for his own instrument, and his Elegie and Otello Fantasia rank
among the most treasured works for the violin.
ERODE, a town of British India, in the Coimbatore district of Madras,
situated on the right bank of the river Cauvery, which is here crossed by an
iron railway girder bridge of 22 spans. Pop. (1901) 15,529. Here the South
Indian railway joins the South-Western line of the Madras railway, 243 m.
from Madras. There are exports of cotton and saltpetre; and the town has a
steam cotton press.
EROS, a minor planet discovered by Witt at Berlin on the 14th of August
1898, and, so far as yet known, unique in that its perihelion lies far within
the orbit of Mars.
Page 227
EROS, in Greek mythology, the god of love. He is not mentioned in
Homer; in Hesiod (Theog. 120) he is one of the oldest and the most
beautiful of the gods, whose power neither gods nor men can resist. He also
evolves order and harmony out of Chaos by uniting the separated elements.
This cosmic Eros, who in Orphic cosmogony sprang from the world-egg
which Chronos, or Time, laid in the bosom of Chaos, and which is the
origin of all created beings, degenerated in later mythology into the
capricious god of sexual passion, the son of Aphrodite and Zeus, Ares or
Hermes. He is commonly represented as a mischievous boy, the tormentor
of gods and men, even his own mother not being proof against his attacks.
His brother is Anteros, the god of mutual love, who punishes those who do
not return the love of others, without which Eros could not thrive; he is
sometimes described as the opponent of Eros. The chief associates of Eros
are Pothos and Himeros (Longing and Desire), Peitho (Persuasion), the
Muses and the Graces; he himself is in constant attendance on Aphrodite.
Later writers (Euripides being the first) assumed the existence of a number
of Erotes (like the Roman Amores and Cupidines) with similar attributes.
According to the philosophers, Eros was not only the god of sexual love,
but also of the loyal and devoted friendship of men; hence the Theban
“Sacred Band” was devoted to him, and the Cretans and Spartans offered
sacrifice to him before going into battle (Athenaeus xiii. p. 561). In
Alexandrian poetry Eros is at one time the powerful god who conquers all,
at another the elfish god of love. For the Roman adaptation of Eros see
Cupid, and for the later legend of Cupid and Psyche see Psyche.
In art Eros is represented as a beautiful youth or a winged child. His
attributes are the bow and arrows and a burning torch. The rose, the hare,
the cock and the goat are frequently associated with him. The most
celebrated statue of him was at Thespiae, the work of Praxiteles. Other
famous representations are the Vatican torso and Eros trying his bow (in the
Capitoline museum).
Homer; in Hesiod (Theog. 120) he is one of the oldest and the most
beautiful of the gods, whose power neither gods nor men can resist. He also
evolves order and harmony out of Chaos by uniting the separated elements.
This cosmic Eros, who in Orphic cosmogony sprang from the world-egg
which Chronos, or Time, laid in the bosom of Chaos, and which is the
origin of all created beings, degenerated in later mythology into the
capricious god of sexual passion, the son of Aphrodite and Zeus, Ares or
Hermes. He is commonly represented as a mischievous boy, the tormentor
of gods and men, even his own mother not being proof against his attacks.
His brother is Anteros, the god of mutual love, who punishes those who do
not return the love of others, without which Eros could not thrive; he is
sometimes described as the opponent of Eros. The chief associates of Eros
are Pothos and Himeros (Longing and Desire), Peitho (Persuasion), the
Muses and the Graces; he himself is in constant attendance on Aphrodite.
Later writers (Euripides being the first) assumed the existence of a number
of Erotes (like the Roman Amores and Cupidines) with similar attributes.
According to the philosophers, Eros was not only the god of sexual love,
but also of the loyal and devoted friendship of men; hence the Theban
“Sacred Band” was devoted to him, and the Cretans and Spartans offered
sacrifice to him before going into battle (Athenaeus xiii. p. 561). In
Alexandrian poetry Eros is at one time the powerful god who conquers all,
at another the elfish god of love. For the Roman adaptation of Eros see
Cupid, and for the later legend of Cupid and Psyche see Psyche.
In art Eros is represented as a beautiful youth or a winged child. His
attributes are the bow and arrows and a burning torch. The rose, the hare,
the cock and the goat are frequently associated with him. The most
celebrated statue of him was at Thespiae, the work of Praxiteles. Other
famous representations are the Vatican torso and Eros trying his bow (in the
Capitoline museum).
Page 228
See J.E. Harrison, Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion
(1903); G.F. Schömann, De Cupidine Cosmogonico (1852); E.
Gerhard, Über den Gott Eros (1850); articles in Roscher’s Lexikon der
Mythologie, Daremberg and Saglio’s Dictionnaire des antiquités, and
Pauly-Wissowa’s Realencyclopädie.
ERPENIUS (original name van Erpe), THOMAS (1584-1624), Dutch
Orientalist, was born at Gorcum, in Holland, on the 11th of September
1584. After completing his early education at Leiden, he entered the
university of that city, and in 1608 took the degree of master of arts. By the
advice of Scaliger he studied Oriental languages whilst taking his course of
theology. He afterwards travelled in England, France, Italy and Germany,
forming connexions with learned men, and availing himself of the
information which they communicated. During his stay at Paris he
contracted a friendship with Casaubon, which lasted during his life, and
also took lessons in Arabic from an Egyptian, Joseph Barbatus, otherwise
called Abu-dakni. At Venice he perfected himself in the Turkish, Persic and
Ethiopic languages. After a long absence, Erpenius returned to his own
country in 1612, and on the 10th of February 1613 he was appointed
professor of Arabic and other Oriental languages, Hebrew excepted, in the
university of Leiden. Soon after his settlement at Leiden, animated by the
example of Savary de Brèves, who had established an Arabic press at Paris
at his own charge, he caused new Arabic characters to be cut at a great
expense, and erected a press in his own house. In 1619 the curators of the
university of Leiden instituted a second chair of Hebrew in his favour. In
(1903); G.F. Schömann, De Cupidine Cosmogonico (1852); E.
Gerhard, Über den Gott Eros (1850); articles in Roscher’s Lexikon der
Mythologie, Daremberg and Saglio’s Dictionnaire des antiquités, and
Pauly-Wissowa’s Realencyclopädie.
ERPENIUS (original name van Erpe), THOMAS (1584-1624), Dutch
Orientalist, was born at Gorcum, in Holland, on the 11th of September
1584. After completing his early education at Leiden, he entered the
university of that city, and in 1608 took the degree of master of arts. By the
advice of Scaliger he studied Oriental languages whilst taking his course of
theology. He afterwards travelled in England, France, Italy and Germany,
forming connexions with learned men, and availing himself of the
information which they communicated. During his stay at Paris he
contracted a friendship with Casaubon, which lasted during his life, and
also took lessons in Arabic from an Egyptian, Joseph Barbatus, otherwise
called Abu-dakni. At Venice he perfected himself in the Turkish, Persic and
Ethiopic languages. After a long absence, Erpenius returned to his own
country in 1612, and on the 10th of February 1613 he was appointed
professor of Arabic and other Oriental languages, Hebrew excepted, in the
university of Leiden. Soon after his settlement at Leiden, animated by the
example of Savary de Brèves, who had established an Arabic press at Paris
at his own charge, he caused new Arabic characters to be cut at a great
expense, and erected a press in his own house. In 1619 the curators of the
university of Leiden instituted a second chair of Hebrew in his favour. In
Page 229
1620 he was sent by the States of Holland to induce Pierre Dumoulin or
André Rivet to settle in that country; and after a second journey he was
successful in inducing Rivet to comply with their request. Some time after
the return of Erpenius, the states appointed him their interpreter; and in this
capacity he had the duty imposed upon him of translating and replying to
the different letters of the Moslem princes of Asia and Africa. His
reputation had now spread throughout all Europe, and several princes, the
kings of England and Spain, and the archbishop of Seville made him the
most flattering offers; but he constantly refused to leave his native country.
He was preparing an edition of the Koran with a Latin translation and notes,
and was projecting an Oriental library, when he died prematurely on the
13th of November 1624.
Among his works may be mentioned his Grammatica Arabica,
published originally in 1613 and often reprinted; Rudimenta linguae
Arabicae (1620); Grammatica Ebraea generalis (1621); Grammatica
Chaldaica et Syria (1628); and an edition of Elmacin’s History of the
Saracens.
ERROLL (or Errol), FRANCIS HAY, 9th Earl of (d. 1631), Scottish
nobleman, was the son of Andrew, 8th earl, and of Lady Jean Hay, daughter
of William, 6th earl. The date of his birth is unrecorded, but he succeeded to
the earldom (cr. 1453) in 1585, was early converted to Roman Catholicism,
and as the associate of Huntly joined in the Spanish conspiracies against the
throne of Elizabeth. A letter written by him, declaring his allegiance to the
king of Spain, having been intercepted and sent by Elizabeth to James in
André Rivet to settle in that country; and after a second journey he was
successful in inducing Rivet to comply with their request. Some time after
the return of Erpenius, the states appointed him their interpreter; and in this
capacity he had the duty imposed upon him of translating and replying to
the different letters of the Moslem princes of Asia and Africa. His
reputation had now spread throughout all Europe, and several princes, the
kings of England and Spain, and the archbishop of Seville made him the
most flattering offers; but he constantly refused to leave his native country.
He was preparing an edition of the Koran with a Latin translation and notes,
and was projecting an Oriental library, when he died prematurely on the
13th of November 1624.
Among his works may be mentioned his Grammatica Arabica,
published originally in 1613 and often reprinted; Rudimenta linguae
Arabicae (1620); Grammatica Ebraea generalis (1621); Grammatica
Chaldaica et Syria (1628); and an edition of Elmacin’s History of the
Saracens.
ERROLL (or Errol), FRANCIS HAY, 9th Earl of (d. 1631), Scottish
nobleman, was the son of Andrew, 8th earl, and of Lady Jean Hay, daughter
of William, 6th earl. The date of his birth is unrecorded, but he succeeded to
the earldom (cr. 1453) in 1585, was early converted to Roman Catholicism,
and as the associate of Huntly joined in the Spanish conspiracies against the
throne of Elizabeth. A letter written by him, declaring his allegiance to the
king of Spain, having been intercepted and sent by Elizabeth to James in
Page 230
February 1589, he was declared a rebel by the council. He engaged with
Huntly and Crawford in a rebellion in the north of Scotland, but their forces
surrendered at Aberdeen on the arrival of the king in April; and in July
Erroll gave himself up to James, who leniently refrained from exacting any
penalty. In September of the same year he entered into a personal bond with
Huntly for mutual assistance; and in 1590 displeased the king by marrying,
in spite of his prohibition, Lady Elizabeth Douglas, daughter of the earl of
Morton. He was imprisoned on suspicion of complicity in the attempt made
by Gray and Bothwell to surprise the king at Falkland in June 1592; and
though he obtained his release, he was again proclaimed a rebel on account
of the discovery of his signature to two of the “Spanish Blanks,” unwritten
sheets subscribed with the names of the chief conspirators in a plot for a
Spanish invasion of Scotland, to be filled up later with the terms of the
projected treaty. After a failure to apprehend him in March 1593, Erroll and
his companions were sentenced to abjure Romanism or leave the kingdom;
and on their non-compliance were in 1594 declared traitors. On the 3rd of
October they defeated at Glenlivet a force sent against them under Argyll;
though Erroll himself was severely wounded, and Slains Castle, his seat,
razed to the ground. The rebel lords left Scotland in 1595, and Erroll, on
report of his further conspiracies abroad, was arrested by the states of
Zealand, but was afterwards allowed to escape. He returned to Scotland
secretly in 1596, and on the 20th of June 1597 abjured Romanism and made
his peace with the Kirk. He enjoyed the favour of the king, and in 1602 was
appointed a commissioner to negotiate the union with England. His
relations with the Kirk, however, were not so amicable. The reality of his
conversion was disputed, and on the 21st of May 1608 he was confined to
the city of Perth “for the better resolution of his doubts,” being
subsequently declared an obstinate “papist,” excommunicated, deprived of
his estate, and imprisoned at Dumbarton; and after some further vacillation
was finally released in May 1611. Lord Erroll died on the 16th of July 1631,
Huntly and Crawford in a rebellion in the north of Scotland, but their forces
surrendered at Aberdeen on the arrival of the king in April; and in July
Erroll gave himself up to James, who leniently refrained from exacting any
penalty. In September of the same year he entered into a personal bond with
Huntly for mutual assistance; and in 1590 displeased the king by marrying,
in spite of his prohibition, Lady Elizabeth Douglas, daughter of the earl of
Morton. He was imprisoned on suspicion of complicity in the attempt made
by Gray and Bothwell to surprise the king at Falkland in June 1592; and
though he obtained his release, he was again proclaimed a rebel on account
of the discovery of his signature to two of the “Spanish Blanks,” unwritten
sheets subscribed with the names of the chief conspirators in a plot for a
Spanish invasion of Scotland, to be filled up later with the terms of the
projected treaty. After a failure to apprehend him in March 1593, Erroll and
his companions were sentenced to abjure Romanism or leave the kingdom;
and on their non-compliance were in 1594 declared traitors. On the 3rd of
October they defeated at Glenlivet a force sent against them under Argyll;
though Erroll himself was severely wounded, and Slains Castle, his seat,
razed to the ground. The rebel lords left Scotland in 1595, and Erroll, on
report of his further conspiracies abroad, was arrested by the states of
Zealand, but was afterwards allowed to escape. He returned to Scotland
secretly in 1596, and on the 20th of June 1597 abjured Romanism and made
his peace with the Kirk. He enjoyed the favour of the king, and in 1602 was
appointed a commissioner to negotiate the union with England. His
relations with the Kirk, however, were not so amicable. The reality of his
conversion was disputed, and on the 21st of May 1608 he was confined to
the city of Perth “for the better resolution of his doubts,” being
subsequently declared an obstinate “papist,” excommunicated, deprived of
his estate, and imprisoned at Dumbarton; and after some further vacillation
was finally released in May 1611. Lord Erroll died on the 16th of July 1631,
Page 231
and was buried in the church of Slains. He married (1) Anne, daughter of
John, 4th earl of Atholl; (2) Margaret, daughter of the regent Murray; and
(3) Elizabeth, daughter of William, 6th earl of Morton. By his third wife he
had several children, of whom his eldest son, William, succeeded him. The
dispute which began in his lifetime concerning the hereditary office of lord
high constable between the families of Erroll and of the Earl Marischal was
settled finally in favour of the former; thus establishing the precedence
enjoyed by the earls of Erroll next after the royal family over all other
subjects in Scotland.
See The Erroll Papers (Spalding Club Miscellany, vol. ii. 211);
Andrew Lang, Hist. of Scotland, vol. ii.; Hist. MSS. Comm. MSS. of
Earl of Mar and Kellie; D. Calderwood’s Hist. of the Church of
Scotland; John Spalding’s Memorials (Spalding Club, 1850); Collected
Essays of T.G. Law, ed. by P.H. Brown (1904); Treason and Plot, by
M.A.S. Hume (1901).
ERROR (Lat. error, from errare, to wander, to err), a mistake, a
departure or deviation from what is true, exact or right. For the legal
process by which a judgment could be reversed on the ground of error,
known as a “writ of error,” see Writ and Appeal. The words “error
excepted” or “errors and omissions excepted” (contracted to “E.E.” “E. &
O.E.”), are frequently placed at the end of a statement of account or an
invoice, so that the accounting party may reserve the right to correct any
errors or omissions which may be subsequently discovered, or make further
claims in respect of them. In mathematics, “error” is the deviation of an
John, 4th earl of Atholl; (2) Margaret, daughter of the regent Murray; and
(3) Elizabeth, daughter of William, 6th earl of Morton. By his third wife he
had several children, of whom his eldest son, William, succeeded him. The
dispute which began in his lifetime concerning the hereditary office of lord
high constable between the families of Erroll and of the Earl Marischal was
settled finally in favour of the former; thus establishing the precedence
enjoyed by the earls of Erroll next after the royal family over all other
subjects in Scotland.
See The Erroll Papers (Spalding Club Miscellany, vol. ii. 211);
Andrew Lang, Hist. of Scotland, vol. ii.; Hist. MSS. Comm. MSS. of
Earl of Mar and Kellie; D. Calderwood’s Hist. of the Church of
Scotland; John Spalding’s Memorials (Spalding Club, 1850); Collected
Essays of T.G. Law, ed. by P.H. Brown (1904); Treason and Plot, by
M.A.S. Hume (1901).
ERROR (Lat. error, from errare, to wander, to err), a mistake, a
departure or deviation from what is true, exact or right. For the legal
process by which a judgment could be reversed on the ground of error,
known as a “writ of error,” see Writ and Appeal. The words “error
excepted” or “errors and omissions excepted” (contracted to “E.E.” “E. &
O.E.”), are frequently placed at the end of a statement of account or an
invoice, so that the accounting party may reserve the right to correct any
errors or omissions which may be subsequently discovered, or make further
claims in respect of them. In mathematics, “error” is the deviation of an
Page 232
observed or calculated quantity from its true value. The calculus of errors
leads to the formulation of the “law of error,” which is an analytical
expression of the most probably true value of a series of discordant values
(see Probability).
ERSCH, JOHANN SAMUEL (1766-1828), the founder of German
bibliography, was born at Grossglogau, in Silesia, on the 23rd of June 1766.
In 1785 he entered the university of Halle with the view of studying
theology; but soon his whole attention became engrossed by history,
bibliography and geography. At Halle he made the acquaintance of J.E.
Fabri, professor of geography; and when the latter was made professor of
history and statistics at Jena, Ersch accompanied him thither, and aided him
in the preparation of several works. In 1788 he published the Verzeichnis
aller anonymischen Schriften, as a supplement to the 4th edition of
Meusel’s Gelehrtes Deutschland. The researches required for this work
suggested to him the preparation of a Repertorium über die allgemeinen
deutschen Journale und andere periodische Sammlungen für
Erdbeschreibung, Geschichte, und die damit verwandten Wissenschaften
(Lemgo, 1790-1792). The fame which this publication acquired him led to
his being engaged by Schütz and Hufeland to prepare an Allgemeines
Repertorium der Literatur, published in 8 vols. (Jena and Weimar, 1793-
1809), which condensed the literary productions of 15 years (1785-1800),
and included an account not merely of the books published during that
period, but also of articles in periodicals and magazines, and even of the
criticisms to which each book had been subjected. While engaged in this
leads to the formulation of the “law of error,” which is an analytical
expression of the most probably true value of a series of discordant values
(see Probability).
ERSCH, JOHANN SAMUEL (1766-1828), the founder of German
bibliography, was born at Grossglogau, in Silesia, on the 23rd of June 1766.
In 1785 he entered the university of Halle with the view of studying
theology; but soon his whole attention became engrossed by history,
bibliography and geography. At Halle he made the acquaintance of J.E.
Fabri, professor of geography; and when the latter was made professor of
history and statistics at Jena, Ersch accompanied him thither, and aided him
in the preparation of several works. In 1788 he published the Verzeichnis
aller anonymischen Schriften, as a supplement to the 4th edition of
Meusel’s Gelehrtes Deutschland. The researches required for this work
suggested to him the preparation of a Repertorium über die allgemeinen
deutschen Journale und andere periodische Sammlungen für
Erdbeschreibung, Geschichte, und die damit verwandten Wissenschaften
(Lemgo, 1790-1792). The fame which this publication acquired him led to
his being engaged by Schütz and Hufeland to prepare an Allgemeines
Repertorium der Literatur, published in 8 vols. (Jena and Weimar, 1793-
1809), which condensed the literary productions of 15 years (1785-1800),
and included an account not merely of the books published during that
period, but also of articles in periodicals and magazines, and even of the
criticisms to which each book had been subjected. While engaged in this
Page 233
great work he also projected La France littéraire, which was published at
Hamburg in 5 vols., from 1797 to 1806. In 1795 he went to Hamburg to edit
the Neue Hamburger Zeitung, founded by Victor Klopstock, brother of the
poet, but returned in 1800 to Jena to take active part in the Allgemeine
Literaturzeitung. He also obtained in the same year the office of librarian in
the university, and in 1802 was made professor of philosophy. In 1803 he
accepted the chair of geography and statistics at Halle, and in 1808 was
made principal librarian. He here projected a Handbuch der deutschen
Literatur seit der Mitte des 18. Jahrh. bis auf die neueste Zeit (Leipzig,
1812-1814) and, along with Johann Gottfried Gruber (q.v.), the Allgemeine
Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste (Leipzig, 1818 ffg.) which he
continued as far as the 21st volume. The accuracy and thoroughness of this
monumental encyclopaedia make it still an indispensable book of reference.
Ersch died at Halle on the 16th of January 1828.
ERSKINE, EBENEZER (1680-1754), Scottish divine, the chief founder
of the Secession Church (formed of dissenters from the Church of
Scotland), was born on the 22nd of June 1680, most probably at Dryburgh,
Berwickshire. His father, Henry Erskine, who was at one time minister at
Cornhill, Durham, was ejected in 1662 by the Act of Uniformity, and, after
suffering some years’ imprisonment, was after the Revolution appointed to
the parish of Chirnside, Berwickshire. After studying at the university of
Edinburgh, Ebenezer became minister of Portmoak, Kinross-shire. There he
remained for twenty-eight years, after which, in the autumn of 1731, he was
translated to the West Church, Stirling. Some time before this, he, along
Hamburg in 5 vols., from 1797 to 1806. In 1795 he went to Hamburg to edit
the Neue Hamburger Zeitung, founded by Victor Klopstock, brother of the
poet, but returned in 1800 to Jena to take active part in the Allgemeine
Literaturzeitung. He also obtained in the same year the office of librarian in
the university, and in 1802 was made professor of philosophy. In 1803 he
accepted the chair of geography and statistics at Halle, and in 1808 was
made principal librarian. He here projected a Handbuch der deutschen
Literatur seit der Mitte des 18. Jahrh. bis auf die neueste Zeit (Leipzig,
1812-1814) and, along with Johann Gottfried Gruber (q.v.), the Allgemeine
Encyklopädie der Wissenschaften und Künste (Leipzig, 1818 ffg.) which he
continued as far as the 21st volume. The accuracy and thoroughness of this
monumental encyclopaedia make it still an indispensable book of reference.
Ersch died at Halle on the 16th of January 1828.
ERSKINE, EBENEZER (1680-1754), Scottish divine, the chief founder
of the Secession Church (formed of dissenters from the Church of
Scotland), was born on the 22nd of June 1680, most probably at Dryburgh,
Berwickshire. His father, Henry Erskine, who was at one time minister at
Cornhill, Durham, was ejected in 1662 by the Act of Uniformity, and, after
suffering some years’ imprisonment, was after the Revolution appointed to
the parish of Chirnside, Berwickshire. After studying at the university of
Edinburgh, Ebenezer became minister of Portmoak, Kinross-shire. There he
remained for twenty-eight years, after which, in the autumn of 1731, he was
translated to the West Church, Stirling. Some time before this, he, along
Page 234
with some other ministers, was “rebuked and admonished,” by the general
assembly, for defending the doctrines contained in the Marrow of Modern
Divinity (see Boston, Thomas). A sermon which he preached on lay
patronage before the synod of Perth in 1733 furnished new grounds of
accusation, and he was compelled to shield himself from rebuke by
appealing to the general assembly. Here, however, the sentence of the synod
was confirmed, and after many fruitless attempts to obtain a hearing, he,
along with William Wilson of Perth, Alexander Moncrieff of Abernethy and
James Fisher of Kinclaven, was suspended from the ministry by the
commission in November of that year. Against this sentence they protested,
and constituted themselves into a separate church court, under the name of
the associate presbytery. In 1739 they were again summoned before the
assembly, and in their corporate capacity declined to acknowledge the
authority of the church, and were deposed in the following year. They
received numerous accessions to their communion, and remained in
harmony with each other till 1747, when a division took place in regard to
the nature of the oath administered to burgesses. Erskine joined with the
“burgher” section, and became their professor of theology. He continued
also to preach to a numerous congregation in Stirling till his death, which
took place on the 2nd of June 1754. Erskine was a very popular preacher,
and a man of considerable force of character; he acted throughout on
principle with honesty and courage. The burgher and anti-burgher sections
of the Secession Church were reunited in 1820, and in 1847 they united
with the relief synod in forming the United Presbyterian Church.
Erskine’s published works consist chiefly of sermons. His Life and
Diary, edited by the Rev. Donald Fraser, was published in 1840. His
Works were published in 1785.
assembly, for defending the doctrines contained in the Marrow of Modern
Divinity (see Boston, Thomas). A sermon which he preached on lay
patronage before the synod of Perth in 1733 furnished new grounds of
accusation, and he was compelled to shield himself from rebuke by
appealing to the general assembly. Here, however, the sentence of the synod
was confirmed, and after many fruitless attempts to obtain a hearing, he,
along with William Wilson of Perth, Alexander Moncrieff of Abernethy and
James Fisher of Kinclaven, was suspended from the ministry by the
commission in November of that year. Against this sentence they protested,
and constituted themselves into a separate church court, under the name of
the associate presbytery. In 1739 they were again summoned before the
assembly, and in their corporate capacity declined to acknowledge the
authority of the church, and were deposed in the following year. They
received numerous accessions to their communion, and remained in
harmony with each other till 1747, when a division took place in regard to
the nature of the oath administered to burgesses. Erskine joined with the
“burgher” section, and became their professor of theology. He continued
also to preach to a numerous congregation in Stirling till his death, which
took place on the 2nd of June 1754. Erskine was a very popular preacher,
and a man of considerable force of character; he acted throughout on
principle with honesty and courage. The burgher and anti-burgher sections
of the Secession Church were reunited in 1820, and in 1847 they united
with the relief synod in forming the United Presbyterian Church.
Erskine’s published works consist chiefly of sermons. His Life and
Diary, edited by the Rev. Donald Fraser, was published in 1840. His
Works were published in 1785.
Page 235
ERSKINE, HENRY (1746-1817), lord advocate of Scotland, the second
son of Henry David, 10th earl of Buchan and brother of the lord chancellor
Erskine, was born in Edinburgh on the 1st of November 1746. He was
educated at the universities of St Andrews, Glasgow and Edinburgh, and
was admitted a member of the faculty of advocates in 1768. His reputation
as a clever and fluent speaker was first made in the debates of the general
assembly, of which he had been early elected an elder. In 1783 he was
appointed to the office of lord advocate, which he held during the brief
coalition ministry of Fox and North. In 1785 he was elected dean of the
faculty of advocates, and was re-elected annually till 1796, when his
conduct in moving a series of resolutions at a public meeting, condemning
the government’s sedition and treason bills, brought on him the opposition
of the ministerial party, and he was deposed in favour of Robert Dundas. On
the formation of the Grenville ministry in 1806 he again became lord
advocate and was returned to parliament for the Haddington burghs, which
he exchanged at the general election of the same year for the Dumfries
burghs. His tenure of the lord advocateship ended in March 1807 on the
downfall of the ministry. In 1811 he gave up his practice at the bar and
retired to his country residence of Almondel, in Linlithgowshire, where he
died on the 8th of October 1817.
His eldest son, Henry David (1783-1857), succeeded as 12th earl of
Buchan on his uncle’s death in 1829.
Erskine’s reputation will survive as the finest and most eloquent orator of
his day at the Scottish bar; added to a charming forensic style was a most
captivating wit, which, as Lord Jeffrey said, was “all argument, and each of
his delightful illustrations a material step in his reasoning.” Erskine was
also the author of some poems, of which the best known is “The Emigrant”
(1783).
See Lieut.-Col. A. Fergusson’s Henry Erskine (1882).
son of Henry David, 10th earl of Buchan and brother of the lord chancellor
Erskine, was born in Edinburgh on the 1st of November 1746. He was
educated at the universities of St Andrews, Glasgow and Edinburgh, and
was admitted a member of the faculty of advocates in 1768. His reputation
as a clever and fluent speaker was first made in the debates of the general
assembly, of which he had been early elected an elder. In 1783 he was
appointed to the office of lord advocate, which he held during the brief
coalition ministry of Fox and North. In 1785 he was elected dean of the
faculty of advocates, and was re-elected annually till 1796, when his
conduct in moving a series of resolutions at a public meeting, condemning
the government’s sedition and treason bills, brought on him the opposition
of the ministerial party, and he was deposed in favour of Robert Dundas. On
the formation of the Grenville ministry in 1806 he again became lord
advocate and was returned to parliament for the Haddington burghs, which
he exchanged at the general election of the same year for the Dumfries
burghs. His tenure of the lord advocateship ended in March 1807 on the
downfall of the ministry. In 1811 he gave up his practice at the bar and
retired to his country residence of Almondel, in Linlithgowshire, where he
died on the 8th of October 1817.
His eldest son, Henry David (1783-1857), succeeded as 12th earl of
Buchan on his uncle’s death in 1829.
Erskine’s reputation will survive as the finest and most eloquent orator of
his day at the Scottish bar; added to a charming forensic style was a most
captivating wit, which, as Lord Jeffrey said, was “all argument, and each of
his delightful illustrations a material step in his reasoning.” Erskine was
also the author of some poems, of which the best known is “The Emigrant”
(1783).
See Lieut.-Col. A. Fergusson’s Henry Erskine (1882).
Page 236
ERSKINE, JOHN (1721-1803), Scottish divine, son of John Erskine of
Carnock, was born on the 2nd of June 1721. He studied law for a time after
completing his course in arts at the university of Edinburgh, but was
eventually licensed to preach in 1743; and was successively parish minister
of Kirkintilloch, near Glasgow, Culross, in Fifeshire (1753), New Greyfriars
church in Edinburgh (1758), and Old Greyfriars church in 1768, where he
became the colleague of Principal Robertson, the historian. Here he
remained until his death, which took place on the 19th of January 1803. Dr
Erskine’s writings consist chiefly of controversial pamphlets on theological
subjects. His sermons are clear, vigorous expositions of a moderate
Calvinism, in which metaphysical argument and practical morality are
happily blended. In church politics he was the leader of the evangelical
party; and was much beloved for his high character and amiability.
For his life and works see Sir H. Moncreiff Wellwood, Life and
Writings of J. Erskine, D.D. (Edinburgh, 1818).
ERSKINE, JOHN, of Carnock (1695-1768), Scottish jurist, son of
Lieut.-Colonel John Erskine, was born in 1695. He was admitted a member
of the faculty of advocates in 1719. Although he never enjoyed much
practice at the bar, he acquired a high reputation as a sound and learned
Carnock, was born on the 2nd of June 1721. He studied law for a time after
completing his course in arts at the university of Edinburgh, but was
eventually licensed to preach in 1743; and was successively parish minister
of Kirkintilloch, near Glasgow, Culross, in Fifeshire (1753), New Greyfriars
church in Edinburgh (1758), and Old Greyfriars church in 1768, where he
became the colleague of Principal Robertson, the historian. Here he
remained until his death, which took place on the 19th of January 1803. Dr
Erskine’s writings consist chiefly of controversial pamphlets on theological
subjects. His sermons are clear, vigorous expositions of a moderate
Calvinism, in which metaphysical argument and practical morality are
happily blended. In church politics he was the leader of the evangelical
party; and was much beloved for his high character and amiability.
For his life and works see Sir H. Moncreiff Wellwood, Life and
Writings of J. Erskine, D.D. (Edinburgh, 1818).
ERSKINE, JOHN, of Carnock (1695-1768), Scottish jurist, son of
Lieut.-Colonel John Erskine, was born in 1695. He was admitted a member
of the faculty of advocates in 1719. Although he never enjoyed much
practice at the bar, he acquired a high reputation as a sound and learned
Page 237
lawyer, and in 1737 was appointed professor of Scots law in the university
of Edinburgh. In 1754 he published his Principles of the Law of Scotland.
He retired from his chair in 1765; and during the remainder of his
uneventful life he occupied himself with the preparation of his great work,
the Institutes of the Law of Scotland, which he did not live to publish. He
died at Cardross, Perthshire, on the 1st of March 1768.
Erskine’s Institutes, although not exhibiting the grasp of principle which
distinguished his great predecessor Lord Stair, is so conspicuous for
learning, accuracy and sound good sense, that it has always been esteemed
of the highest authority on the law of Scotland. The first edition appeared in
1773 and it has been many times reprinted. The Principles, although
published first, is substantially an abridgment of the larger work, and is in
some respects superior to it, being more concise and direct. It retains its
place as the text-book on Scots law, and is frequently being re-edited.
ERSKINE, JOHN, of Dun (1509-1591), Scottish reformer, the son of
Sir John Erskine, laird of Dun, was born in 1509, and was educated at
King’s College, Aberdeen. At the age of twenty-one Erskine was the cause
—probably by accident—of a priest’s death, and was forced to go abroad,
where he came under the influence of the new learning. It was through his
agency that Greek was first taught in Scotland by Petrus de Marsiliers at
Montrose. This fact counted for much in the progress of the Reformation.
Erskine was also drawn towards the new faith, being a close friend of
George Wishart, the reformer, from whose fate he was saved by his wealth
and influence, and of John Knox, whose advice openly to discountenance
of Edinburgh. In 1754 he published his Principles of the Law of Scotland.
He retired from his chair in 1765; and during the remainder of his
uneventful life he occupied himself with the preparation of his great work,
the Institutes of the Law of Scotland, which he did not live to publish. He
died at Cardross, Perthshire, on the 1st of March 1768.
Erskine’s Institutes, although not exhibiting the grasp of principle which
distinguished his great predecessor Lord Stair, is so conspicuous for
learning, accuracy and sound good sense, that it has always been esteemed
of the highest authority on the law of Scotland. The first edition appeared in
1773 and it has been many times reprinted. The Principles, although
published first, is substantially an abridgment of the larger work, and is in
some respects superior to it, being more concise and direct. It retains its
place as the text-book on Scots law, and is frequently being re-edited.
ERSKINE, JOHN, of Dun (1509-1591), Scottish reformer, the son of
Sir John Erskine, laird of Dun, was born in 1509, and was educated at
King’s College, Aberdeen. At the age of twenty-one Erskine was the cause
—probably by accident—of a priest’s death, and was forced to go abroad,
where he came under the influence of the new learning. It was through his
agency that Greek was first taught in Scotland by Petrus de Marsiliers at
Montrose. This fact counted for much in the progress of the Reformation.
Erskine was also drawn towards the new faith, being a close friend of
George Wishart, the reformer, from whose fate he was saved by his wealth
and influence, and of John Knox, whose advice openly to discountenance
Page 238
the mass was given in the lodgings of the laird of Dun. In the stormy
controversies of the time of Mary Stuart and James VI. Erskine was a
conspicuous figure and a moderating influence. He was able to soothe the
queen when her feelings had been outraged by Knox’s denunciations—
being a man “most gentill of nature”—and frequently acted as mediator
both between the catholic and reforming parties, and among the reformers
themselves. In 1560 he was appointed—though a layman—superintendent
of the reformed church of Scotland for Angus and Mearns, and in 1572 he
gave his assent to the modified episcopacy proposed by Morton at the Leith
convention. Though never himself ordained, he was held in such high
esteem by the leaders of the church as to be more than once elected
moderator of the general assembly (first in 1564), and he was amongst
those who in 1578 drew up the Second Book of Discipline. From 1579 he
was a member of the king’s council. He died in 1591. Erskine owed his
peculiar influence among the Scottish reformers to the union—rare in those
days—of steadfast convictions with a conciliatory manner; Queen Mary
described him as “a mild and sweet-natured man, with true honesty and
uprightness.”
See the “Dun Papers” in the Spalding Club Miscellany, vol. iv.
(1849), and the article by T.F. Henderson in the Dict. Nat. Biog.
ERSKINE, RALPH (1685-1752), Scottish divine, brother of Ebenezer
Erskine (q.v.), was born on the 18th of March 1685. After studying at the
university of Edinburgh, he was in 1711 ordained assistant minister at
Dunfermline. He homologated the protests which his brother laid on the
controversies of the time of Mary Stuart and James VI. Erskine was a
conspicuous figure and a moderating influence. He was able to soothe the
queen when her feelings had been outraged by Knox’s denunciations—
being a man “most gentill of nature”—and frequently acted as mediator
both between the catholic and reforming parties, and among the reformers
themselves. In 1560 he was appointed—though a layman—superintendent
of the reformed church of Scotland for Angus and Mearns, and in 1572 he
gave his assent to the modified episcopacy proposed by Morton at the Leith
convention. Though never himself ordained, he was held in such high
esteem by the leaders of the church as to be more than once elected
moderator of the general assembly (first in 1564), and he was amongst
those who in 1578 drew up the Second Book of Discipline. From 1579 he
was a member of the king’s council. He died in 1591. Erskine owed his
peculiar influence among the Scottish reformers to the union—rare in those
days—of steadfast convictions with a conciliatory manner; Queen Mary
described him as “a mild and sweet-natured man, with true honesty and
uprightness.”
See the “Dun Papers” in the Spalding Club Miscellany, vol. iv.
(1849), and the article by T.F. Henderson in the Dict. Nat. Biog.
ERSKINE, RALPH (1685-1752), Scottish divine, brother of Ebenezer
Erskine (q.v.), was born on the 18th of March 1685. After studying at the
university of Edinburgh, he was in 1711 ordained assistant minister at
Dunfermline. He homologated the protests which his brother laid on the
Page 239
table of the assembly after being rebuked for his synod sermon, but he did
not formally withdraw from the establishment till 1737. He was also
present, though not as a member, at the first meeting of the associate
presbytery. When the severance took place on account of the oath
administered to burgesses, he adhered, along with his brother, to the burgher
section. He died after a short illness on the 6th of November 1752.
His works consist of sermons, poetical paraphrases and gospel
sonnets. The Gospel Sonnets have frequently appeared separately. His
Life and Diary, edited by the Rev. D. Fraser, was published in 1842.
ERSKINE, THOMAS, of Linlathen (1788-1870), Scottish theologian,
youngest son of David Erskine, writer to the signet in Edinburgh, and of
Anne Graham, of the Grahams of Airth, was born on the 13th of October
1788. He was a descendant of John, 1st or 6th earl of Mar, regent of
Scotland in the reign of James VI., a grandson of Colonel John Erskine of
Carnock. After being educated at the high school of Edinburgh and at
Durham, he attended the literary and law classes at the university of
Edinburgh, and becoming in 1810 a member of the Edinburgh faculty of
advocates, he for some time enjoyed the intimate acquaintance of
Cockburn, Jeffrey, Scott and other distinguished men whose talent then lent
lustre to the Scottish bar. In 1816 he succeeded to the family estate of
Linlathen, near Dundee, and devoted himself to theology. The writings of
Erskine, especially his published letters, are distinguished by a graceful
style, and possess originality and interest. His theological views have a
considerable similarity to those of Frederick Denison Maurice, who
not formally withdraw from the establishment till 1737. He was also
present, though not as a member, at the first meeting of the associate
presbytery. When the severance took place on account of the oath
administered to burgesses, he adhered, along with his brother, to the burgher
section. He died after a short illness on the 6th of November 1752.
His works consist of sermons, poetical paraphrases and gospel
sonnets. The Gospel Sonnets have frequently appeared separately. His
Life and Diary, edited by the Rev. D. Fraser, was published in 1842.
ERSKINE, THOMAS, of Linlathen (1788-1870), Scottish theologian,
youngest son of David Erskine, writer to the signet in Edinburgh, and of
Anne Graham, of the Grahams of Airth, was born on the 13th of October
1788. He was a descendant of John, 1st or 6th earl of Mar, regent of
Scotland in the reign of James VI., a grandson of Colonel John Erskine of
Carnock. After being educated at the high school of Edinburgh and at
Durham, he attended the literary and law classes at the university of
Edinburgh, and becoming in 1810 a member of the Edinburgh faculty of
advocates, he for some time enjoyed the intimate acquaintance of
Cockburn, Jeffrey, Scott and other distinguished men whose talent then lent
lustre to the Scottish bar. In 1816 he succeeded to the family estate of
Linlathen, near Dundee, and devoted himself to theology. The writings of
Erskine, especially his published letters, are distinguished by a graceful
style, and possess originality and interest. His theological views have a
considerable similarity to those of Frederick Denison Maurice, who
Page 240
acknowledges having been indebted to him for his first true conception of
the meaning of Christ’s sacrifice. Erskine had little interest in the “historical
criticism” of Christianity, and regarded as the only proper criterion of its
truth its conformity or nonconformity with man’s spiritual nature, and its
adaptability or non-adaptability to man’s spiritual needs. He considered the
incarnation of Christ as the necessary manifestation to man of an eternal
sonship in the divine nature, apart from which those filial qualities which
God demands from man could have no sanction; by faith as used in
Scripture he understood to be meant a certain moral or spiritual activity or
energy which virtually implied salvation, because it implied the existence of
a principle of spiritual life possessed of an immortal power. This faith, he
believed, could be properly awakened only by the manifestation, through
Christ, of love as the law of life, and as identical with an eternal
righteousness which it was God’s purpose to bestow on every individual
soul. As an interpreter of the mystical side of Calvinism and of the
psychological conditions which correspond with the doctrines of grace
Erskine is unrivalled. During the last thirty-three years of his life Erskine
ceased from literary work. Among his friends were Madame Vernet, the
duchess de Broglie, the younger Mdme de Stael, M. Vinet of Lausanne,
Edward Irving, Frederick D. Maurice, Dean Stanley, Bishop Ewing, Dr
John Brown and Thomas Carlyle. His wide influence was due to his high
character and unassuming earnestness. He died at Edinburgh on the 20th of
March 1870.
His principal works are Remarks on the Internal Evidence for the
Truth of Revealed Religion (1820), an Essay on Faith (1822), and the
Unconditional Freeness of the Gospel (1828). These have all passed
through several editions, and have also been translated into French. He
is also the author of the Brazen Serpent (1831), the Doctrine of
Election (1839), several “Introductory Essays” to editions of Christian
Authors, and a posthumous work entitled Spiritual Order and Other
the meaning of Christ’s sacrifice. Erskine had little interest in the “historical
criticism” of Christianity, and regarded as the only proper criterion of its
truth its conformity or nonconformity with man’s spiritual nature, and its
adaptability or non-adaptability to man’s spiritual needs. He considered the
incarnation of Christ as the necessary manifestation to man of an eternal
sonship in the divine nature, apart from which those filial qualities which
God demands from man could have no sanction; by faith as used in
Scripture he understood to be meant a certain moral or spiritual activity or
energy which virtually implied salvation, because it implied the existence of
a principle of spiritual life possessed of an immortal power. This faith, he
believed, could be properly awakened only by the manifestation, through
Christ, of love as the law of life, and as identical with an eternal
righteousness which it was God’s purpose to bestow on every individual
soul. As an interpreter of the mystical side of Calvinism and of the
psychological conditions which correspond with the doctrines of grace
Erskine is unrivalled. During the last thirty-three years of his life Erskine
ceased from literary work. Among his friends were Madame Vernet, the
duchess de Broglie, the younger Mdme de Stael, M. Vinet of Lausanne,
Edward Irving, Frederick D. Maurice, Dean Stanley, Bishop Ewing, Dr
John Brown and Thomas Carlyle. His wide influence was due to his high
character and unassuming earnestness. He died at Edinburgh on the 20th of
March 1870.
His principal works are Remarks on the Internal Evidence for the
Truth of Revealed Religion (1820), an Essay on Faith (1822), and the
Unconditional Freeness of the Gospel (1828). These have all passed
through several editions, and have also been translated into French. He
is also the author of the Brazen Serpent (1831), the Doctrine of
Election (1839), several “Introductory Essays” to editions of Christian
Authors, and a posthumous work entitled Spiritual Order and Other
Page 241
Papers (1871). Two vols. of his letters, edited by William Hanna, D.D.,
with reminiscences by Dean Stanley and Principal Shairp, appeared in
1877.
ERSKINE, THOMAS ERSKINE, 1st Baron (1750-1823), lord
chancellor of England, was the third and youngest son of Henry David, 10th
earl of Buchan, and was born in Edinburgh on the 10th of January 1750.
From an early age he showed a strong desire to enter one of the learned
professions; but his father, owing to his straitened circumstances, was
unable to do more than give him a good school education at the high school
of Edinburgh and the grammar school of St Andrews. In 1764 he was sent
as a midshipman on board the “Tartar,” but on finding, when he returned to
this country after four years’ absence in North America and the West Indies,
that there was little immediate chance of his rank of acting lieutenant being
confirmed, he quitted the service and entered the army, purchasing a
commission in the 1st Royals with the meagre patrimony which had been
left to him. But promotion here was as slow as in the navy; while in 1770 he
had added greatly to his difficulties by marrying the daughter of Daniel
Moore, M.P. for Marlow, an excellent wife, but as poor as himself.
However, an accidental visit to an assize court in the town in which he was
quartered, and an interview with Lord Mansfield, the presiding judge,
confirmed his resolve to quit the army for the law. Accordingly on the 26th
of April 1775 he was admitted a student of Lincoln’s Inn. He also on the
13th of January following entered himself as a gentleman commoner on the
with reminiscences by Dean Stanley and Principal Shairp, appeared in
1877.
ERSKINE, THOMAS ERSKINE, 1st Baron (1750-1823), lord
chancellor of England, was the third and youngest son of Henry David, 10th
earl of Buchan, and was born in Edinburgh on the 10th of January 1750.
From an early age he showed a strong desire to enter one of the learned
professions; but his father, owing to his straitened circumstances, was
unable to do more than give him a good school education at the high school
of Edinburgh and the grammar school of St Andrews. In 1764 he was sent
as a midshipman on board the “Tartar,” but on finding, when he returned to
this country after four years’ absence in North America and the West Indies,
that there was little immediate chance of his rank of acting lieutenant being
confirmed, he quitted the service and entered the army, purchasing a
commission in the 1st Royals with the meagre patrimony which had been
left to him. But promotion here was as slow as in the navy; while in 1770 he
had added greatly to his difficulties by marrying the daughter of Daniel
Moore, M.P. for Marlow, an excellent wife, but as poor as himself.
However, an accidental visit to an assize court in the town in which he was
quartered, and an interview with Lord Mansfield, the presiding judge,
confirmed his resolve to quit the army for the law. Accordingly on the 26th
of April 1775 he was admitted a student of Lincoln’s Inn. He also on the
13th of January following entered himself as a gentleman commoner on the
Page 242
books of Trinity College, Cambridge, but merely that by graduating he
might be called two years earlier.
He read in the chambers of Francis Buller (afterwards Mr Justice Buller)
and George (afterwards Baron) Wood, and was called to the bar on the 3rd
of July 1778. His success was immediate and brilliant. An accident was the
means of giving him his first case, Rex v. Baillie, in which he appeared for
Captain Thomas Baillie, the lieutenant-governor of Greenwich hospital,
who had published a pamphlet animadverting in severe terms upon the
abuses which Lord Sandwich, the first lord of the admiralty, had introduced
into the management of the hospital, and against whom a rule had been
obtained from the court of king’s bench to show cause why a criminal
information for libel should not be filed. Erskine was the junior of five
counsel; and it was his good fortune that the prolixity of his leaders
consumed the whole of the first day, thereby giving the advantage of
starting afresh next morning. He made use of this opportunity to deliver a
speech of wonderful eloquence, skill and courage, which captivated both
the audience and the court. The rule was discharged, and Erskine’s fortune
was made. He received, it is said, thirty retainers before he left the court. In
1781 he delivered another remarkable speech, in defence of Lord George
Gordon—a speech which gave the death-blow to the doctrine of
constructive treason. In 1783, when the Coalition ministry came into power,
he was returned to parliament as member for Portsmouth. His first speech in
the House of Commons was a failure; and he never in parliamentary debate
possessed anything like the influence he had at the bar. He lost his seat at
the dissolution in the following year, and remained out of parliament until
1790, when he was again returned for Portsmouth. But his success at the bar
continued unimpaired. In 1783 he received a patent of precedence. His first
special retainer was in defence of Dr W.D. Shipley, dean of St Asaph, who
was tried in 1784 at Shrewsbury for seditious libel—a defence to which was
due the passing of the Libel Act 1792, laying down the principle that it is
might be called two years earlier.
He read in the chambers of Francis Buller (afterwards Mr Justice Buller)
and George (afterwards Baron) Wood, and was called to the bar on the 3rd
of July 1778. His success was immediate and brilliant. An accident was the
means of giving him his first case, Rex v. Baillie, in which he appeared for
Captain Thomas Baillie, the lieutenant-governor of Greenwich hospital,
who had published a pamphlet animadverting in severe terms upon the
abuses which Lord Sandwich, the first lord of the admiralty, had introduced
into the management of the hospital, and against whom a rule had been
obtained from the court of king’s bench to show cause why a criminal
information for libel should not be filed. Erskine was the junior of five
counsel; and it was his good fortune that the prolixity of his leaders
consumed the whole of the first day, thereby giving the advantage of
starting afresh next morning. He made use of this opportunity to deliver a
speech of wonderful eloquence, skill and courage, which captivated both
the audience and the court. The rule was discharged, and Erskine’s fortune
was made. He received, it is said, thirty retainers before he left the court. In
1781 he delivered another remarkable speech, in defence of Lord George
Gordon—a speech which gave the death-blow to the doctrine of
constructive treason. In 1783, when the Coalition ministry came into power,
he was returned to parliament as member for Portsmouth. His first speech in
the House of Commons was a failure; and he never in parliamentary debate
possessed anything like the influence he had at the bar. He lost his seat at
the dissolution in the following year, and remained out of parliament until
1790, when he was again returned for Portsmouth. But his success at the bar
continued unimpaired. In 1783 he received a patent of precedence. His first
special retainer was in defence of Dr W.D. Shipley, dean of St Asaph, who
was tried in 1784 at Shrewsbury for seditious libel—a defence to which was
due the passing of the Libel Act 1792, laying down the principle that it is
Page 243
for the jury, and not for the judge to decide the question whether or no a
publication is a libel. In 1789 he was counsel for John Stockdale, a
bookseller, who was charged with seditious libel in publishing a pamphlet
in favour of Warren Hastings, whose trial was then proceeding; and his
speech on this occasion, probably his greatest effort, is a consummate
specimen of the art of addressing a jury. Three years afterwards he brought
down the opposition alike of friends and foes by defending Thomas Paine,
author of The Rights of Man—holding that an advocate has no right, by
refusing a brief, to convert himself into a judge. As a consequence he lost
the office of attorney-general to the prince of Wales, to which he had been
appointed in 1786; the prince, however, subsequently made amends by
making him his chancellor. Among Erskine’s later speeches may be
mentioned those for Horne Tooke and the other advocates of parliamentary
reform, and that for James Hadfield, who was accused of shooting at the
king. On the accession of the Grenville ministry in 1806 he was made lord
chancellor, an office for which his training had in no way prepared him, but
which he fortunately held only during the short period his party was in
power. Of the remainder of his life it would be well if nothing could be said.
Occasionally speaking in parliament, and hoping that he might return to
office should the prince become regent, he gradually degenerated into a
state of useless idleness. Never conspicuous for prudence, he aggravated his
increasing poverty by an unfortunate second marriage.
His first wife had died in 1805, and he married at Gretna Green a Miss
Mary Buck. The date of this marriage is not definitely known. Once only—
in his conduct in the case of Queen Caroline—does he recall his former
self. He died at Almondell, Linlithgowshire, on the 17th of November 1823,
of pneumonia, caught on the voyage to Scotland.
Erskine’s great forensic reputation was, to a certain extent, a concomitant
of the numerous political trials of the day, but it was also due to his
publication is a libel. In 1789 he was counsel for John Stockdale, a
bookseller, who was charged with seditious libel in publishing a pamphlet
in favour of Warren Hastings, whose trial was then proceeding; and his
speech on this occasion, probably his greatest effort, is a consummate
specimen of the art of addressing a jury. Three years afterwards he brought
down the opposition alike of friends and foes by defending Thomas Paine,
author of The Rights of Man—holding that an advocate has no right, by
refusing a brief, to convert himself into a judge. As a consequence he lost
the office of attorney-general to the prince of Wales, to which he had been
appointed in 1786; the prince, however, subsequently made amends by
making him his chancellor. Among Erskine’s later speeches may be
mentioned those for Horne Tooke and the other advocates of parliamentary
reform, and that for James Hadfield, who was accused of shooting at the
king. On the accession of the Grenville ministry in 1806 he was made lord
chancellor, an office for which his training had in no way prepared him, but
which he fortunately held only during the short period his party was in
power. Of the remainder of his life it would be well if nothing could be said.
Occasionally speaking in parliament, and hoping that he might return to
office should the prince become regent, he gradually degenerated into a
state of useless idleness. Never conspicuous for prudence, he aggravated his
increasing poverty by an unfortunate second marriage.
His first wife had died in 1805, and he married at Gretna Green a Miss
Mary Buck. The date of this marriage is not definitely known. Once only—
in his conduct in the case of Queen Caroline—does he recall his former
self. He died at Almondell, Linlithgowshire, on the 17th of November 1823,
of pneumonia, caught on the voyage to Scotland.
Erskine’s great forensic reputation was, to a certain extent, a concomitant
of the numerous political trials of the day, but it was also due to his
Page 244
impassioned eloquence and undaunted courage, which so often carried
audience and jury and even the court along with him. As a judge he did not
succeed; and it has been questioned whether under any circumstances he
could have succeeded. For the office of chancellor he was plainly unfit. As
a lawyer he was well read, but by no means profound. His strength lay in
the keenness of his reasoning faculty, in his dexterity and the ability with
which he disentangled complicated masses of evidence, and above all in his
unrivalled power of fixing and commanding the attention of juries. To no
department of knowledge but law had he applied himself systematically,
with the single exception of English literature, of which he acquired a
thorough mastery in early life, at intervals of leisure in college, on board
ship, or in the army. Vanity is said to have been his ruling personal
characteristic; but those who knew him, while they admit the fault, say that
in him it never took an offensive form, even in old age, while the singular
grace and attractiveness of his manner endeared him to all with whom he
came in contact.
By his first wife he had four sons and four daughters. His eldest son,
David Montagu (1776-1855), was a well-known diplomatist; his second
son, Henry David (1786-1859), was dean of Ripon; and his third son,
Thomas (1788-1864), became a judge of the court of common pleas. By his
second wife he had one son, born in 1821.
In 1772 Erskine published Observations on the Prevailing Abuses in
the British Army, a pamphlet which had a large circulation, and in later
life, Armata, an imitation of Gulliver’s Travels. His most noted
speeches have repeatedly appeared in a collected form. See Campbell’s
Lives of the Chancellors; Moore’s Diaries; Fergusson’s Henry Erskine
(1882); Dumerit’s Henry Erskine, a Study (Paris, 1883); Lord
Brougham’s Memoir, prefixed to Erskine’s Speeches (1847); Romilly’s
Memoirs; the Croker Papers; Lord Holland’s Memoirs.
audience and jury and even the court along with him. As a judge he did not
succeed; and it has been questioned whether under any circumstances he
could have succeeded. For the office of chancellor he was plainly unfit. As
a lawyer he was well read, but by no means profound. His strength lay in
the keenness of his reasoning faculty, in his dexterity and the ability with
which he disentangled complicated masses of evidence, and above all in his
unrivalled power of fixing and commanding the attention of juries. To no
department of knowledge but law had he applied himself systematically,
with the single exception of English literature, of which he acquired a
thorough mastery in early life, at intervals of leisure in college, on board
ship, or in the army. Vanity is said to have been his ruling personal
characteristic; but those who knew him, while they admit the fault, say that
in him it never took an offensive form, even in old age, while the singular
grace and attractiveness of his manner endeared him to all with whom he
came in contact.
By his first wife he had four sons and four daughters. His eldest son,
David Montagu (1776-1855), was a well-known diplomatist; his second
son, Henry David (1786-1859), was dean of Ripon; and his third son,
Thomas (1788-1864), became a judge of the court of common pleas. By his
second wife he had one son, born in 1821.
In 1772 Erskine published Observations on the Prevailing Abuses in
the British Army, a pamphlet which had a large circulation, and in later
life, Armata, an imitation of Gulliver’s Travels. His most noted
speeches have repeatedly appeared in a collected form. See Campbell’s
Lives of the Chancellors; Moore’s Diaries; Fergusson’s Henry Erskine
(1882); Dumerit’s Henry Erskine, a Study (Paris, 1883); Lord
Brougham’s Memoir, prefixed to Erskine’s Speeches (1847); Romilly’s
Memoirs; the Croker Papers; Lord Holland’s Memoirs.
Page 245
ERUBESCITE, a native copper-iron sulphide, Cu5FeS4, of importance
as an ore of copper. It crystallizes in the cubic system, the usual form being
that of interpenetrating cubes twinned on an octahedral plane. The faces are
usually curved and rough, and the crystals confusedly aggregated together.
Compact and granular masses are of more frequent occurrence. The colour
on a freshly fractured surface is bronzy or coppery, but in moist air this
rapidly tarnishes with iridescent blue and red colours; hence the names
purple copper ore, variegated copper ore (Ger. Buntkupfererz), horse-flesh
ore, and erubescite (from the Lat. erubescere, “to grow red”). The lustre is
metallic, and the streak greyish-black; hardness 3; sp. gr. 5.0. Bornite (after
Baron Ignaz von Born, b. 1742, d. 1791) is a name in common use for this
mineral, and it predates erubescite, the name given by J.D. Dana in 1850,
but afterwards rejected by him; French authors use the name phillipsite,
after the English mineralogist, R. Phillips, who analysed the mineral; both
these earlier names had, however, been previously used for other minerals.
Owing to the frequent presence of mechanically admixed chalcopyrite
and chalcocite, the published analyses of erubescite show wide variations,
the copper, for example, varying from 50 to 70%. Even the best Cornish
crystals enclose a nucleus of chalcopyrite (CuFeS2), and an analysis of
these made in 1839 led to the long-accepted formula Cu3FeS3. Recently,
B.J. Harrington has analysed carefully selected material and obtained the
formula Cu5FeS4.
Erubescite occurs in copper-bearing veins, and has been mined as an ore
of copper at Redruth in Cornwall, Montecatini in the province of Pisa,
Tuscany, Bristol in Connecticut, Acton in Canada, and other localities in
as an ore of copper. It crystallizes in the cubic system, the usual form being
that of interpenetrating cubes twinned on an octahedral plane. The faces are
usually curved and rough, and the crystals confusedly aggregated together.
Compact and granular masses are of more frequent occurrence. The colour
on a freshly fractured surface is bronzy or coppery, but in moist air this
rapidly tarnishes with iridescent blue and red colours; hence the names
purple copper ore, variegated copper ore (Ger. Buntkupfererz), horse-flesh
ore, and erubescite (from the Lat. erubescere, “to grow red”). The lustre is
metallic, and the streak greyish-black; hardness 3; sp. gr. 5.0. Bornite (after
Baron Ignaz von Born, b. 1742, d. 1791) is a name in common use for this
mineral, and it predates erubescite, the name given by J.D. Dana in 1850,
but afterwards rejected by him; French authors use the name phillipsite,
after the English mineralogist, R. Phillips, who analysed the mineral; both
these earlier names had, however, been previously used for other minerals.
Owing to the frequent presence of mechanically admixed chalcopyrite
and chalcocite, the published analyses of erubescite show wide variations,
the copper, for example, varying from 50 to 70%. Even the best Cornish
crystals enclose a nucleus of chalcopyrite (CuFeS2), and an analysis of
these made in 1839 led to the long-accepted formula Cu3FeS3. Recently,
B.J. Harrington has analysed carefully selected material and obtained the
formula Cu5FeS4.
Erubescite occurs in copper-bearing veins, and has been mined as an ore
of copper at Redruth in Cornwall, Montecatini in the province of Pisa,
Tuscany, Bristol in Connecticut, Acton in Canada, and other localities in
Page 246
North America. The best crystallized specimens are from the Carn Brea
mine and other copper mines in the neighbourhood of Redruth, and from
Bristol in Connecticut. Recently a few large isolated crystals with the form
of icositetrahedra have been found with calcite and albite in a gold-vein on
Frossnitz-Alpe in the Gross-Venediger, Tirol.
(L. J. S.)
ERYSIPELAS (a Greek word, probably derived from ἐρυθρός, red, and
πέλλα, skin)—synonyms, the Rose, St Anthony’s Fire—an acute contagious
disease, characterized by a special inflammation of the skin, caused by a
streptococcus. Erysipelas is endemic in most countries, and epidemic at
certain seasons, particularly the spring of the year. The poison is not very
virulent, but it certainly can be conveyed by bedding and the clothes of a
third person. Two varieties are occasionally described, a traumatic and an
idiopathic, but the disease seems to depend in all cases upon the existence
of a wound or abrasion. In the so-called idiopathic variety, of which facial
erysipelas is the best known, the point of entry is probably an abrasion by
the lachrymal duct.
When the erysipelas is of moderate character there is simply a redness of
the integument, which feels somewhat hard and thickened, and upon which
there often appear small vesications. This redness, though at first
circumscribed, tends to spread and affect the neighbouring sound skin, until
an entire limb or a large area of the body may become involved in the
inflammatory process. There is usually considerable pain, with heat and
tingling in the affected part. As the disease advances the portions of skin
mine and other copper mines in the neighbourhood of Redruth, and from
Bristol in Connecticut. Recently a few large isolated crystals with the form
of icositetrahedra have been found with calcite and albite in a gold-vein on
Frossnitz-Alpe in the Gross-Venediger, Tirol.
(L. J. S.)
ERYSIPELAS (a Greek word, probably derived from ἐρυθρός, red, and
πέλλα, skin)—synonyms, the Rose, St Anthony’s Fire—an acute contagious
disease, characterized by a special inflammation of the skin, caused by a
streptococcus. Erysipelas is endemic in most countries, and epidemic at
certain seasons, particularly the spring of the year. The poison is not very
virulent, but it certainly can be conveyed by bedding and the clothes of a
third person. Two varieties are occasionally described, a traumatic and an
idiopathic, but the disease seems to depend in all cases upon the existence
of a wound or abrasion. In the so-called idiopathic variety, of which facial
erysipelas is the best known, the point of entry is probably an abrasion by
the lachrymal duct.
When the erysipelas is of moderate character there is simply a redness of
the integument, which feels somewhat hard and thickened, and upon which
there often appear small vesications. This redness, though at first
circumscribed, tends to spread and affect the neighbouring sound skin, until
an entire limb or a large area of the body may become involved in the
inflammatory process. There is usually considerable pain, with heat and
tingling in the affected part. As the disease advances the portions of skin
Page 247
first attacked become less inflamed, and exhibit a yellowish appearance,
which is followed by slight desquamation of the cuticle. The inflammation
in general gradually disappears. Sometimes, however, it breaks out again,
and passes over the area originally affected the second time. But besides the
skin, the subjacent tissues may become involved in the inflammation, and
give rise to the formation of pus. This is termed phlegmonous erysipelas,
and is much more apt to occur in connexion with the traumatic variety of
the disease. Occasionally the affected parts become gangrenous. Certain
complications are apt to arise in erysipelas affecting the surface of the body,
particularly inflammation of serous membranes, such as the pericardium or
pleura.
Erysipelas of the face usually begins with symptoms of general illness,
the patient feeling languid, drowsy and sick, while frequently there is a
distinct rigor followed with fever. Sore throat is sometimes felt, but in
general the first indication of the local affection is a red and painful spot at
the side of the nose or on one of the cheeks or ears. Occasionally it would
appear that the inflammation begins in the throat, and reaches the face
through the nasal fossae. The redness gradually spreads over the whole
surface of the face, and is accompanied with swelling, which in the lax
tissues of the cheeks and eyelids is so great that the features soon become
obliterated and the countenance wears a hideous expression. Advancing
over the scalp, the disease may invade the neck and pass on to the trunk, but
in general the inflammation remains confined to the face and head. While
the disease progresses, besides the pain, tenderness and heat of the affected
parts, the constitutional symptoms are very severe. The temperature rises
often to 105° or higher, remains high for four or five days, and then falls by
crisis. Delirium is a frequent accompaniment. The attack in general lasts for
a week or ten days, during which the inflammation subsides in the parts of
the skin first attacked, while it spreads onwards in other directions, and
which is followed by slight desquamation of the cuticle. The inflammation
in general gradually disappears. Sometimes, however, it breaks out again,
and passes over the area originally affected the second time. But besides the
skin, the subjacent tissues may become involved in the inflammation, and
give rise to the formation of pus. This is termed phlegmonous erysipelas,
and is much more apt to occur in connexion with the traumatic variety of
the disease. Occasionally the affected parts become gangrenous. Certain
complications are apt to arise in erysipelas affecting the surface of the body,
particularly inflammation of serous membranes, such as the pericardium or
pleura.
Erysipelas of the face usually begins with symptoms of general illness,
the patient feeling languid, drowsy and sick, while frequently there is a
distinct rigor followed with fever. Sore throat is sometimes felt, but in
general the first indication of the local affection is a red and painful spot at
the side of the nose or on one of the cheeks or ears. Occasionally it would
appear that the inflammation begins in the throat, and reaches the face
through the nasal fossae. The redness gradually spreads over the whole
surface of the face, and is accompanied with swelling, which in the lax
tissues of the cheeks and eyelids is so great that the features soon become
obliterated and the countenance wears a hideous expression. Advancing
over the scalp, the disease may invade the neck and pass on to the trunk, but
in general the inflammation remains confined to the face and head. While
the disease progresses, besides the pain, tenderness and heat of the affected
parts, the constitutional symptoms are very severe. The temperature rises
often to 105° or higher, remains high for four or five days, and then falls by
crisis. Delirium is a frequent accompaniment. The attack in general lasts for
a week or ten days, during which the inflammation subsides in the parts of
the skin first attacked, while it spreads onwards in other directions, and
Page 248
after it has passed away there is, as already observed, some slight
desquamation of the cuticle.
Although in general the termination is favourable, serious and
occasionally fatal results follow from inflammation of the membranes of
the brain, and in some rare instances sudden death has occurred from
suffocation arising from oedema glottidis, the inflammatory action having
spread into and extensively involved the throat. One attack of this disease,
so far from protecting from, appears rather to predispose to others. It is
sometimes a complication in certain forms of exhausting disease, such as
phthisis or typhoid fever, and is then to be regarded as of serious import. A
very fatal form occasionally attacks new-born infants, particularly in the
first four weeks of their lives. In epidemics of puerperal fever this form of
erysipelas has been specially found to prevail.
The treatment of erysipelas is best conducted on the expectant system.
The disease in most instances tends to a favourable termination; and beyond
attention to the condition of the stomach and bowels, which may require the
use of some gentle laxative, little is necessary in the way of medicine. The
employment of preparations of iron in large doses is strongly recommended
by many physicians. But the chief point is the administration of abundant
nourishment in a light and digestible form. Of the many local applications
which may be employed, hot fomentations will be found among the most
soothing. Dusting the affected part with powdered starch, and wrapping it in
cotton wadding, is also of use.
In the case of phlegmonous erysipelas complicating wounds, free
incisions into the part are necessary.
desquamation of the cuticle.
Although in general the termination is favourable, serious and
occasionally fatal results follow from inflammation of the membranes of
the brain, and in some rare instances sudden death has occurred from
suffocation arising from oedema glottidis, the inflammatory action having
spread into and extensively involved the throat. One attack of this disease,
so far from protecting from, appears rather to predispose to others. It is
sometimes a complication in certain forms of exhausting disease, such as
phthisis or typhoid fever, and is then to be regarded as of serious import. A
very fatal form occasionally attacks new-born infants, particularly in the
first four weeks of their lives. In epidemics of puerperal fever this form of
erysipelas has been specially found to prevail.
The treatment of erysipelas is best conducted on the expectant system.
The disease in most instances tends to a favourable termination; and beyond
attention to the condition of the stomach and bowels, which may require the
use of some gentle laxative, little is necessary in the way of medicine. The
employment of preparations of iron in large doses is strongly recommended
by many physicians. But the chief point is the administration of abundant
nourishment in a light and digestible form. Of the many local applications
which may be employed, hot fomentations will be found among the most
soothing. Dusting the affected part with powdered starch, and wrapping it in
cotton wadding, is also of use.
In the case of phlegmonous erysipelas complicating wounds, free
incisions into the part are necessary.
Page 249
ERYTHRAE [mod. Litri], one of the Ionian cities of Asia Minor,
situated on a small peninsula stretching into the Bay of Erythrae, at an equal
distance from the mountains Mimas and Corycus, and directly opposite the
island of Chios. In the peninsula excellent wine was produced. The town
was said to have been founded by Ionians under Knopos, son of Codrus.
Never a large city, it sent only eight ships to the battle of Lade. The
Erythraeans owned for a considerable time the supremacy of Athens, but
towards the close of the Peloponnesian war they threw off their allegiance
to that city. After the battle of Cnidus, however, they received Conon, and
paid him honours in an inscription, still extant. Erythrae was the birthplace
of two prophetesses—one of whom, Sibylla, is mentioned by Strabo as
living in the early period of the city; the other, Athenais, lived in the time of
Alexander the Great. The ruins include well-preserved Hellenistic walls
with towers, of which five are still visible. The acropolis (280 ft.) has the
theatre on its N. slope, and eastwards lie many remains of Byzantine
buildings. Modern Litri is a considerable place and port, extending from the
ancient harbour to the acropolis. The smaller coasting steamers call, and
there is an active trade with Chios and Smyrna.
ERYTHRITE, the name given to (1) a mineral composed of a hydrated
cobalt arsenate, and (2) in chemistry, a tetrahydric alcohol. (1) The mineral
erythrite has the formula Co3(AsO4)2·8H2O, and crystallizes in the
monoclinic system and is isomorphous with vivianite. It sometimes occurs
as beautiful radially-arranged groups of blade-shaped crystals with a bright
crimson colour and brilliant lustre. On exposure to light the colour and
situated on a small peninsula stretching into the Bay of Erythrae, at an equal
distance from the mountains Mimas and Corycus, and directly opposite the
island of Chios. In the peninsula excellent wine was produced. The town
was said to have been founded by Ionians under Knopos, son of Codrus.
Never a large city, it sent only eight ships to the battle of Lade. The
Erythraeans owned for a considerable time the supremacy of Athens, but
towards the close of the Peloponnesian war they threw off their allegiance
to that city. After the battle of Cnidus, however, they received Conon, and
paid him honours in an inscription, still extant. Erythrae was the birthplace
of two prophetesses—one of whom, Sibylla, is mentioned by Strabo as
living in the early period of the city; the other, Athenais, lived in the time of
Alexander the Great. The ruins include well-preserved Hellenistic walls
with towers, of which five are still visible. The acropolis (280 ft.) has the
theatre on its N. slope, and eastwards lie many remains of Byzantine
buildings. Modern Litri is a considerable place and port, extending from the
ancient harbour to the acropolis. The smaller coasting steamers call, and
there is an active trade with Chios and Smyrna.
ERYTHRITE, the name given to (1) a mineral composed of a hydrated
cobalt arsenate, and (2) in chemistry, a tetrahydric alcohol. (1) The mineral
erythrite has the formula Co3(AsO4)2·8H2O, and crystallizes in the
monoclinic system and is isomorphous with vivianite. It sometimes occurs
as beautiful radially-arranged groups of blade-shaped crystals with a bright
crimson colour and brilliant lustre. On exposure to light the colour and
Page 250
lustre deteriorate. There is a perfect cleavage parallel to the plane of
symmetry, on which the lustre is pearly. Cleavage flakes are soft (H = 2),
sectile and flexible; specific gravity 2.95. The mineral is, however, more
often found as an earthy encrustation with a peach-blossom colour, and in
this form was early (1727) known as cobalt-bloom (Ger. Kobaltblüthe). The
name erythrite, from ἐρυθρός, “red,” was given by F.S. Beudant in 1382.
Erythrite occurs as a product of alteration of smaltite (CoAs2) and other
cobaltiferous arsenides. The finest crystallized specimens are from
Schneeberg in Saxony. The earthy variety has been found in Thuringia and
Cornwall and some other places. (2) The alcohol erythrite has the
constitutional formula HO·H2C·CH(OH)·CH(OH)·CH2OH; it is also
known as erythrol, erythroglucin and phycite. It corresponds to tartaric acid,
and, like this substance, it occurs in four stereo-isomeric forms. The
internally compensated modification, i-erythrite, corresponding to
mesotartaric acid, occurs free in the algae Protococcus vulgaris, and as the
orsellinate, erythrin, C4H6(OH)2(O·C8H7O3)2, in many lichens and algae,
especially Roccella montagnei. It has a sweet taste, melts at 126°, and boils
at 330°. Careful oxidation with dilute nitric acid gives erythrose or tetrose,
which is probably a mixture of a trioxyaldehyde and trioxyketone.
Energetic oxidation gives erythritic acid and mesotartaric acid. i-Erythrite
and the racemic mixture of the dextro and laevo varieties were synthesized
by Griner in 1893 from divinyl.
ERZERUM, or Arzrum (Arm. Garin), the chief town of an important
vilayet of the same name in Asiatic Turkey. It is a military station and a
symmetry, on which the lustre is pearly. Cleavage flakes are soft (H = 2),
sectile and flexible; specific gravity 2.95. The mineral is, however, more
often found as an earthy encrustation with a peach-blossom colour, and in
this form was early (1727) known as cobalt-bloom (Ger. Kobaltblüthe). The
name erythrite, from ἐρυθρός, “red,” was given by F.S. Beudant in 1382.
Erythrite occurs as a product of alteration of smaltite (CoAs2) and other
cobaltiferous arsenides. The finest crystallized specimens are from
Schneeberg in Saxony. The earthy variety has been found in Thuringia and
Cornwall and some other places. (2) The alcohol erythrite has the
constitutional formula HO·H2C·CH(OH)·CH(OH)·CH2OH; it is also
known as erythrol, erythroglucin and phycite. It corresponds to tartaric acid,
and, like this substance, it occurs in four stereo-isomeric forms. The
internally compensated modification, i-erythrite, corresponding to
mesotartaric acid, occurs free in the algae Protococcus vulgaris, and as the
orsellinate, erythrin, C4H6(OH)2(O·C8H7O3)2, in many lichens and algae,
especially Roccella montagnei. It has a sweet taste, melts at 126°, and boils
at 330°. Careful oxidation with dilute nitric acid gives erythrose or tetrose,
which is probably a mixture of a trioxyaldehyde and trioxyketone.
Energetic oxidation gives erythritic acid and mesotartaric acid. i-Erythrite
and the racemic mixture of the dextro and laevo varieties were synthesized
by Griner in 1893 from divinyl.
ERZERUM, or Arzrum (Arm. Garin), the chief town of an important
vilayet of the same name in Asiatic Turkey. It is a military station and a
Page 251
fortress of considerable strategical value, closing the roads from Kars, Olti
and other parts of the frontier. Several important routes from Trebizond and
various parts of Anatolia converge towards it from the west. It is situated at
the eastern end of an open bare plain, 30 m. long and about 12 wide,
bordered by steep, rounded mountains and traversed by the Kara Su, or
western Euphrates, which has its source in the Dumlu Dagh a few miles
north of that town, which lies at an elevation of 6250 ft. above sea-level,
while the near hills rise to 10,000 ft. The scenery in the neighbourhood is
striking, lofty bare mountains being varied by open plains and long valleys
dotted with villages. Just east of the town is the broad ridge of the
Deveboyun (“Camel’s Neck”), across which the road passes to Kars. To the
south is the Palanduken range, from which emerge numerous streams,
supplying the town with excellent water. In the plain to the north the Kara
Su traverses extensive marshes which afford good wildfowl-shooting in the
spring.
The town is surrounded by an earthen enceinte or rampart with some
forts on the hills just above it, and others on the Deveboyun ridge facing
east, the whole forming a position of considerable strength. The old walls
and the citadel have disappeared. Inside the ramparts the town lies rather
cramped, with narrow, crooked streets, badly drained and dirty; the houses
are generally built of dark grey volcanic stone with flat roofs, the general
aspect, owing to the absence of trees, being somewhat gloomy. The water-
supply from Palanduken is distributed by wooden pipes to numerous public
fountains. The town has a population of about 43,000, including about
10,000 Armenians, 2000 Persians and a few Jews. It has a garrison in peace
of about 5000 men. It is the seat of the British consulate for Kurdistan, and
there are other European consulates besides an American mission with
schools. The great altitude accounts for very severe winter cold,
occasionally 10° to 25° below zero F., accompanied by blizzards (tipi)
and other parts of the frontier. Several important routes from Trebizond and
various parts of Anatolia converge towards it from the west. It is situated at
the eastern end of an open bare plain, 30 m. long and about 12 wide,
bordered by steep, rounded mountains and traversed by the Kara Su, or
western Euphrates, which has its source in the Dumlu Dagh a few miles
north of that town, which lies at an elevation of 6250 ft. above sea-level,
while the near hills rise to 10,000 ft. The scenery in the neighbourhood is
striking, lofty bare mountains being varied by open plains and long valleys
dotted with villages. Just east of the town is the broad ridge of the
Deveboyun (“Camel’s Neck”), across which the road passes to Kars. To the
south is the Palanduken range, from which emerge numerous streams,
supplying the town with excellent water. In the plain to the north the Kara
Su traverses extensive marshes which afford good wildfowl-shooting in the
spring.
The town is surrounded by an earthen enceinte or rampart with some
forts on the hills just above it, and others on the Deveboyun ridge facing
east, the whole forming a position of considerable strength. The old walls
and the citadel have disappeared. Inside the ramparts the town lies rather
cramped, with narrow, crooked streets, badly drained and dirty; the houses
are generally built of dark grey volcanic stone with flat roofs, the general
aspect, owing to the absence of trees, being somewhat gloomy. The water-
supply from Palanduken is distributed by wooden pipes to numerous public
fountains. The town has a population of about 43,000, including about
10,000 Armenians, 2000 Persians and a few Jews. It has a garrison in peace
of about 5000 men. It is the seat of the British consulate for Kurdistan, and
there are other European consulates besides an American mission with
schools. The great altitude accounts for very severe winter cold,
occasionally 10° to 25° below zero F., accompanied by blizzards (tipi)
Page 252
sometimes fatal to travellers overtaken by them. The summer heat is
moderate (59° to 77°).
There are several well-built mosques (none older than the 16th century),
public baths, and several good khans. There are Armenian and Catholic
churches, but the most beautiful building is a medresse erected in the 12th
century by the Seljuks, with ornamental doorway and two graceful minarets
known as the Chifte Minare.
Situated on the main road from Trebizond into north-west Persia, the
town has always a large caravan traffic, principally of camels, but since the
improvement of communications in Russia this has declined. A good
carriage-road leads to the coast at Trebizond, the journey being made in five
or six days. There are also roads to Kars, Bayazid, Erzingan and Kharput.
Blacksmiths’ and coppersmiths’ work is better here than in most Turkish
towns; horse-shoes and brasswork are also famous. There are several
tanneries, and Turkish boots and saddles are largely made. Jerked beef
(pasdirma) is also prepared in large quantities for winter use. The plain
produces wheat, barley, millet and vegetables. Wood fuel is scarce, the
present supply being from the Tortum district, whence surface coal and
lignite are also brought; but the usual fuel is tezek or dried cow-dung. The
bazaars are of no great interest. Good Persian carpets and similar goods can
be obtained.
Erzerum is a town of great antiquity, and has been identified with the
Armenian Garin Kalakh, the Arabic Kalikale, and the Byzantine
Theodosiopolis of the 5th century, when it was a frontier fortress of the
empire—hence its name Erzen-er-Rum. It was captured by the Seljuks in
1201, when it was an important city, and it fell into Turkish possession in
1517. In July 1829 it was captured by the Russian general Paskevich, and
the occupation continued until the peace of Adrianople (September 1829).
The town was unsuccessfully attacked by the Russians on the 9th of
moderate (59° to 77°).
There are several well-built mosques (none older than the 16th century),
public baths, and several good khans. There are Armenian and Catholic
churches, but the most beautiful building is a medresse erected in the 12th
century by the Seljuks, with ornamental doorway and two graceful minarets
known as the Chifte Minare.
Situated on the main road from Trebizond into north-west Persia, the
town has always a large caravan traffic, principally of camels, but since the
improvement of communications in Russia this has declined. A good
carriage-road leads to the coast at Trebizond, the journey being made in five
or six days. There are also roads to Kars, Bayazid, Erzingan and Kharput.
Blacksmiths’ and coppersmiths’ work is better here than in most Turkish
towns; horse-shoes and brasswork are also famous. There are several
tanneries, and Turkish boots and saddles are largely made. Jerked beef
(pasdirma) is also prepared in large quantities for winter use. The plain
produces wheat, barley, millet and vegetables. Wood fuel is scarce, the
present supply being from the Tortum district, whence surface coal and
lignite are also brought; but the usual fuel is tezek or dried cow-dung. The
bazaars are of no great interest. Good Persian carpets and similar goods can
be obtained.
Erzerum is a town of great antiquity, and has been identified with the
Armenian Garin Kalakh, the Arabic Kalikale, and the Byzantine
Theodosiopolis of the 5th century, when it was a frontier fortress of the
empire—hence its name Erzen-er-Rum. It was captured by the Seljuks in
1201, when it was an important city, and it fell into Turkish possession in
1517. In July 1829 it was captured by the Russian general Paskevich, and
the occupation continued until the peace of Adrianople (September 1829).
The town was unsuccessfully attacked by the Russians on the 9th of
Page 253
November 1877 after a victory gained by them a short time previously on
the Deveboyun heights; it was occupied by them during the armistice (7th
of February 1878) and restored to Turkey after the treaty of Berlin. In 1859
a severe earthquake destroyed much of the town, and another in November
1901 caused much damage.
The Erzerum vilayet extends from the Persian frontier at Bayazid, all
along the Russian frontier and westward into Anatolia at Baiburt and
Erzingan. It is divided into the three sanjaks of Bayazid, Erzerum, and
Erzingan. It includes the highest portion of the Armenian plateau, and
consists of bare undulating uplands varied by lofty ranges. The deep gorges
of the Chorokh and Tortum streams north of the town alone have a different
appearance, being well wooded in places. Both arms of the Euphrates have
their rise in this country as well as the Aras (Araxes) and the Chorokh
(Acampsis). It is an agricultural country with few industries. Besides
forests, iron, salt, sulphur and other mineral springs are found. Some of the
coal and lignite mines in Tortum have been recently worked to supply fuel
for Erzerum. The population is largely Armenian and Kurd with some Turks
(Moslems 500,000, Christians 140,000).
(C. W. W.; F. R. M.)
ERZGEBIRGE, a mountain chain of Germany, extending in a W.S.W.
direction from the Elbe to the Elstergebirge along the frontier between
Saxony and Bohemia. Its length from E.N.E. to W.S.W. is about 80 m., and
its average breadth about 25 m. The southern declivity is generally steep
and rugged, forming in some places an almost perpendicular wall of the
the Deveboyun heights; it was occupied by them during the armistice (7th
of February 1878) and restored to Turkey after the treaty of Berlin. In 1859
a severe earthquake destroyed much of the town, and another in November
1901 caused much damage.
The Erzerum vilayet extends from the Persian frontier at Bayazid, all
along the Russian frontier and westward into Anatolia at Baiburt and
Erzingan. It is divided into the three sanjaks of Bayazid, Erzerum, and
Erzingan. It includes the highest portion of the Armenian plateau, and
consists of bare undulating uplands varied by lofty ranges. The deep gorges
of the Chorokh and Tortum streams north of the town alone have a different
appearance, being well wooded in places. Both arms of the Euphrates have
their rise in this country as well as the Aras (Araxes) and the Chorokh
(Acampsis). It is an agricultural country with few industries. Besides
forests, iron, salt, sulphur and other mineral springs are found. Some of the
coal and lignite mines in Tortum have been recently worked to supply fuel
for Erzerum. The population is largely Armenian and Kurd with some Turks
(Moslems 500,000, Christians 140,000).
(C. W. W.; F. R. M.)
ERZGEBIRGE, a mountain chain of Germany, extending in a W.S.W.
direction from the Elbe to the Elstergebirge along the frontier between
Saxony and Bohemia. Its length from E.N.E. to W.S.W. is about 80 m., and
its average breadth about 25 m. The southern declivity is generally steep
and rugged, forming in some places an almost perpendicular wall of the
Page 254
height of from 2000 to 2500 ft.; while the northern, divided at intervals into
valleys, sometimes of great fertility and sometimes wildly romantic, slopes
gradually towards the great plain of northern Germany. The central part of
the chain forms a plateau of an average height of more than 3000 ft. At the
extremities of this plateau are situated the highest summits of the range:—in
the south-east the Keilberg (4080 ft.); in the north-east the Fichtelberg
(3980 ft.); and in the south-west the Spitzberg (3650 ft.). Between the
Keilberg and the Fichtelberg, at the height of about 3300 ft., is situated
Gottesgab, the highest town in Bohemia. Geologically, the Erzgebirge range
consists mainly of gneiss, mica and phyllite. As its name (Ore Mountains)
indicates, it is famous for its mineral ores. These are chiefly silver and lead,
the layers of both of which are very extensive, tin, nickel, copper and iron.
Gold is found in several places, and some arsenic, antimony, bismuth,
manganese, mercury and sulphur. The Erzgebirge is celebrated for its lace
manufactures, introduced by Barbara Uttmann in 1541, embroideries, silk-
weaving and toys. The climate is in winter inclement in the higher
elevations, and, as the snow lies deep until the spring, the range is largely
frequented by devotees of winter sport, ski, toboganning, &c. In summer
the air is bracing, and many climatic health resorts have sprung into
existence, among which may be mentioned Kipsdorf, Bärenfels and
Oberwiesenthal. Communication with the Erzgebirge is provided by
numerous lines of railway, some, such as that from Freiberg to Brüx, that
from Chemnitz to Komotau, and that from Zwickau to Carlsbad, crossing
the range, while various local lines serve the higher valleys.
The Elstergebirge, a range some 16 m. in length, in which the Weisse
Elster has its source, runs S.W. from the Erzgebirge to the Fichtelgebirge
and attains a height of 2630 ft.
See Grohmann, Das Obererzgebirge und seine Städte (1903), and
Schurtz, Die Pässe des Erzgebirges (1891); also Daniel, Deutschland,
valleys, sometimes of great fertility and sometimes wildly romantic, slopes
gradually towards the great plain of northern Germany. The central part of
the chain forms a plateau of an average height of more than 3000 ft. At the
extremities of this plateau are situated the highest summits of the range:—in
the south-east the Keilberg (4080 ft.); in the north-east the Fichtelberg
(3980 ft.); and in the south-west the Spitzberg (3650 ft.). Between the
Keilberg and the Fichtelberg, at the height of about 3300 ft., is situated
Gottesgab, the highest town in Bohemia. Geologically, the Erzgebirge range
consists mainly of gneiss, mica and phyllite. As its name (Ore Mountains)
indicates, it is famous for its mineral ores. These are chiefly silver and lead,
the layers of both of which are very extensive, tin, nickel, copper and iron.
Gold is found in several places, and some arsenic, antimony, bismuth,
manganese, mercury and sulphur. The Erzgebirge is celebrated for its lace
manufactures, introduced by Barbara Uttmann in 1541, embroideries, silk-
weaving and toys. The climate is in winter inclement in the higher
elevations, and, as the snow lies deep until the spring, the range is largely
frequented by devotees of winter sport, ski, toboganning, &c. In summer
the air is bracing, and many climatic health resorts have sprung into
existence, among which may be mentioned Kipsdorf, Bärenfels and
Oberwiesenthal. Communication with the Erzgebirge is provided by
numerous lines of railway, some, such as that from Freiberg to Brüx, that
from Chemnitz to Komotau, and that from Zwickau to Carlsbad, crossing
the range, while various local lines serve the higher valleys.
The Elstergebirge, a range some 16 m. in length, in which the Weisse
Elster has its source, runs S.W. from the Erzgebirge to the Fichtelgebirge
and attains a height of 2630 ft.
See Grohmann, Das Obererzgebirge und seine Städte (1903), and
Schurtz, Die Pässe des Erzgebirges (1891); also Daniel, Deutschland,
Page 255
vol. ii., and Gebauer, Länder und Völkerkunde, vol. i.
ERZINGAN, or Erzinjan (Arsinga of the middle ages), the chief town of
a sanjak in the Erzerum vilayet of Asiatic Turkey. It is the headquarters of
the IV. army corps, being a place of some military importance, with large
barracks and military factories. It is situated at an altitude of 3900 ft., near
the western end of a rich well-watered plain through which runs the Kara
Su or western Euphrates. It is surrounded by orchards and gardens, and is
about a mile from the right bank of the river, which here runs in two wide
channels crossed by bridges. One wide street traverses the town from east to
west, but the others are narrow, unpaved and dirty, except near the new
government buildings and the large modern mosque of Hajji Izzet Pasha to
the north, which are the only buildings of note. The principal barracks,
military hospital and clothing factory are at Karateluk on the plain and
along the foot-hills to the north 3 m. off, one recent addition to the business
buildings having electric power and modern British machinery; some older
barracks and a military tannery and boot factory being in the town. The
population numbers about 15,000, of whom about half are Armenians living
in a separate quarter. The principal industries are the manufacture of silk
and cotton and of copper dishes and utensils. The climate is hot in summer
but moderate in winter. A carriage-road leads to Trebizond, and other roads
to Sivas, Karahissar, Erzerum and Kharput. The plain, almost surrounded
by lofty mountains, is highly productive with many villages on it and the
border hills. Wheat, fruit, vines and cotton are largely grown, and cattle and
sheep are bred. Water is everywhere abundant, and there are iron and hot
ERZINGAN, or Erzinjan (Arsinga of the middle ages), the chief town of
a sanjak in the Erzerum vilayet of Asiatic Turkey. It is the headquarters of
the IV. army corps, being a place of some military importance, with large
barracks and military factories. It is situated at an altitude of 3900 ft., near
the western end of a rich well-watered plain through which runs the Kara
Su or western Euphrates. It is surrounded by orchards and gardens, and is
about a mile from the right bank of the river, which here runs in two wide
channels crossed by bridges. One wide street traverses the town from east to
west, but the others are narrow, unpaved and dirty, except near the new
government buildings and the large modern mosque of Hajji Izzet Pasha to
the north, which are the only buildings of note. The principal barracks,
military hospital and clothing factory are at Karateluk on the plain and
along the foot-hills to the north 3 m. off, one recent addition to the business
buildings having electric power and modern British machinery; some older
barracks and a military tannery and boot factory being in the town. The
population numbers about 15,000, of whom about half are Armenians living
in a separate quarter. The principal industries are the manufacture of silk
and cotton and of copper dishes and utensils. The climate is hot in summer
but moderate in winter. A carriage-road leads to Trebizond, and other roads
to Sivas, Karahissar, Erzerum and Kharput. The plain, almost surrounded
by lofty mountains, is highly productive with many villages on it and the
border hills. Wheat, fruit, vines and cotton are largely grown, and cattle and
sheep are bred. Water is everywhere abundant, and there are iron and hot
Page 256
sulphur springs. The battle in which the sultan of Rum (1243) was defeated
by the Mongols took place on the plain, and the celebrated Armenian
monastery of St Gregory, “the Illuminator,” lies on the hills 11 m. S.W. of
the town.
Erzingan occupies the site of an early town in which was a temple of
Anaitis. It was an important place in the 4th century when St Gregory lived
in it. The district passed from the Byzantines to the Seljuks after the defeat
of Romanus, 1071, and from the latter to the Mongols in 1243. After having
been held by Mongols, Tatars and Turkomans, it was added to the Osmanli
empire by Mahommed II. in 1473. In 1784 the town was almost destroyed
by an earthquake.
(C. W. W.; F. R. M.)
ESAR-HADDON [Assur-akhi-iddina, “Assur has given a brother”],
Assyrian king, son of Sennacherib; before his accession to the throne he had
also borne another name, Assur-etil-ilani-yukin-abla. At the time of his
father’s murder (the 20th of Tebet, 681 b.c.) he was commanding the
Assyrian army in a war against Ararat. The conspirators, after holding
Nineveh for 42 days, had been compelled to fly northward and invoke the
aid of the king of Ararat. On the 12th of Iyyar (680 b.c.) a decisive battle
was fought near Malatia, in which the veterans of Assyria won the day, and
at the close of it saluted Esar-haddon as king. He returned to Nineveh, and
on the 8th of Sivan was crowned king. A good general, Esar-haddon was
also an able and conciliatory administrator. His first act was to crush a
rebellion among the Chaldaeans in the south of Babylonia and then to
by the Mongols took place on the plain, and the celebrated Armenian
monastery of St Gregory, “the Illuminator,” lies on the hills 11 m. S.W. of
the town.
Erzingan occupies the site of an early town in which was a temple of
Anaitis. It was an important place in the 4th century when St Gregory lived
in it. The district passed from the Byzantines to the Seljuks after the defeat
of Romanus, 1071, and from the latter to the Mongols in 1243. After having
been held by Mongols, Tatars and Turkomans, it was added to the Osmanli
empire by Mahommed II. in 1473. In 1784 the town was almost destroyed
by an earthquake.
(C. W. W.; F. R. M.)
ESAR-HADDON [Assur-akhi-iddina, “Assur has given a brother”],
Assyrian king, son of Sennacherib; before his accession to the throne he had
also borne another name, Assur-etil-ilani-yukin-abla. At the time of his
father’s murder (the 20th of Tebet, 681 b.c.) he was commanding the
Assyrian army in a war against Ararat. The conspirators, after holding
Nineveh for 42 days, had been compelled to fly northward and invoke the
aid of the king of Ararat. On the 12th of Iyyar (680 b.c.) a decisive battle
was fought near Malatia, in which the veterans of Assyria won the day, and
at the close of it saluted Esar-haddon as king. He returned to Nineveh, and
on the 8th of Sivan was crowned king. A good general, Esar-haddon was
also an able and conciliatory administrator. His first act was to crush a
rebellion among the Chaldaeans in the south of Babylonia and then to
Page 257
restore Babylon, the sacred city of the West, which had been destroyed by
his father. The walls and temple of Bel were rebuilt, its gods brought back,
and after his right to rule had been solemnly acknowledged by the
Babylonian priesthood Esar-haddon made Babylon his second capital. A
year or two later Media was invaded and Median chiefs came to Nineveh to
offer homage to their conqueror. He now turned to Palestine, where the
rebellion of Abdi-milkutti of Zidon was suppressed, its leader beheaded,
and a new Zidon built out of the ruins of the older city (676-675 b.c.). All
Palestine now submitted to Assyria, and 12 Syrian and 10 Cyprian princes
(including Manasseh of Judah) came to pay him homage and supply him
with materials for his palace at Nineveh. But a more formidable enemy had
appeared on the Assyrian frontier (676 b.c.). The Cimmerii (see Scythia)
under Teuspa poured into Asia Minor; they were, however, overthrown in
Cilicia, and the Cilician mountaineers who had joined them were severely
punished. It was next necessary to secure the southern frontier of the
empire. Esar-haddon accordingly marched into the heart of Arabia, to a
distance of about 900 m., across a burning and waterless desert, and struck
terror into the Arabian tribes. At last he was free to complete the policy of
his predecessors by conquering Egypt, which alone remained to threaten
Assyrian dominion in the West. Baal of Tyre had transferred his allegiance
from Esar-haddon to the Egyptian king Tirhaka and opened to the latter the
coast road of Palestine; leaving a force, therefore, to invest Tyre, Esar-
haddon led the main body of the Assyrian troops into Egypt on the 5th of
Adar, 673 b.c. The desert was crossed with the help of the Arabian sheikh.
Egypt seems to have submitted to the invader and was divided into twenty
satrapies. Another campaign, however, was needed before it could be finally
subdued. In 670 b.c. Esar-haddon drove the Egyptian forces before him in
15 days (from the 3rd to the 18th of Tammuz) all the way from the frontier
to Memphis, thrice defeating them with heavy loss and wounding Tirhaka
himself. Three days after Memphis fell, and this was soon afterwards
his father. The walls and temple of Bel were rebuilt, its gods brought back,
and after his right to rule had been solemnly acknowledged by the
Babylonian priesthood Esar-haddon made Babylon his second capital. A
year or two later Media was invaded and Median chiefs came to Nineveh to
offer homage to their conqueror. He now turned to Palestine, where the
rebellion of Abdi-milkutti of Zidon was suppressed, its leader beheaded,
and a new Zidon built out of the ruins of the older city (676-675 b.c.). All
Palestine now submitted to Assyria, and 12 Syrian and 10 Cyprian princes
(including Manasseh of Judah) came to pay him homage and supply him
with materials for his palace at Nineveh. But a more formidable enemy had
appeared on the Assyrian frontier (676 b.c.). The Cimmerii (see Scythia)
under Teuspa poured into Asia Minor; they were, however, overthrown in
Cilicia, and the Cilician mountaineers who had joined them were severely
punished. It was next necessary to secure the southern frontier of the
empire. Esar-haddon accordingly marched into the heart of Arabia, to a
distance of about 900 m., across a burning and waterless desert, and struck
terror into the Arabian tribes. At last he was free to complete the policy of
his predecessors by conquering Egypt, which alone remained to threaten
Assyrian dominion in the West. Baal of Tyre had transferred his allegiance
from Esar-haddon to the Egyptian king Tirhaka and opened to the latter the
coast road of Palestine; leaving a force, therefore, to invest Tyre, Esar-
haddon led the main body of the Assyrian troops into Egypt on the 5th of
Adar, 673 b.c. The desert was crossed with the help of the Arabian sheikh.
Egypt seems to have submitted to the invader and was divided into twenty
satrapies. Another campaign, however, was needed before it could be finally
subdued. In 670 b.c. Esar-haddon drove the Egyptian forces before him in
15 days (from the 3rd to the 18th of Tammuz) all the way from the frontier
to Memphis, thrice defeating them with heavy loss and wounding Tirhaka
himself. Three days after Memphis fell, and this was soon afterwards
Page 258
followed by the surrender of Tyre and its king. In 668 b.c. Egypt again
revolted, and while on the march to reduce it Esar-haddon fell ill and died
on the 10th of Marchesvan. His empire was divided between his two sons
Assur-bani-pal and Samas-sum-yukin, Assur-bani-pal receiving Assyria and
his brother Babylonia, an arrangement, however, which did not prove to be
a success. Esar-haddon was the builder of a palace at Nineveh as well as of
one which he erected at Calah for Assur-bani-pal.
Authorities.—E.A.W. Budge, History of Esarhaddon (1880); E.
Schrader, Keilinschriftliche Bibliothek, ii. (1889) (Abel and Winckler in
ii. pp. 120-153); G. Maspero, Passing of the Empires, pp. 345 sqq.; F.
von Luschan, “Ausgrabungen in Sendschirli,” i. (Mitteilungen aus den
orientalischen Sammlungen, 1893).
(A. H. S.)
ESAU, the son of Isaac and Rebecca, in the Bible, and the elder twin
brother of Jacob. He was so called because he was red (admōnī) and hairy
when he was born, and the name Edom (red) was given to him when he
sold his birthright to Jacob for a meal of red lentil pottage (Gen. xxv. 21-
34). Another story of the manner in which Jacob obtained the superiority is
related in Gen. xxvii. Here the younger brother impersonated the elder, and
succeeded in deceiving his blind father by imitating the hairiness of his
brother. He thus gained the blessing intended for the first-born, and Esau,
on hearing how he had been forestalled, vowed to kill him. Jacob
accordingly fled to his mother’s relatives, and on his return, many years
later, peace was restored between them (xxxii. sq.). These primitive stories
revolted, and while on the march to reduce it Esar-haddon fell ill and died
on the 10th of Marchesvan. His empire was divided between his two sons
Assur-bani-pal and Samas-sum-yukin, Assur-bani-pal receiving Assyria and
his brother Babylonia, an arrangement, however, which did not prove to be
a success. Esar-haddon was the builder of a palace at Nineveh as well as of
one which he erected at Calah for Assur-bani-pal.
Authorities.—E.A.W. Budge, History of Esarhaddon (1880); E.
Schrader, Keilinschriftliche Bibliothek, ii. (1889) (Abel and Winckler in
ii. pp. 120-153); G. Maspero, Passing of the Empires, pp. 345 sqq.; F.
von Luschan, “Ausgrabungen in Sendschirli,” i. (Mitteilungen aus den
orientalischen Sammlungen, 1893).
(A. H. S.)
ESAU, the son of Isaac and Rebecca, in the Bible, and the elder twin
brother of Jacob. He was so called because he was red (admōnī) and hairy
when he was born, and the name Edom (red) was given to him when he
sold his birthright to Jacob for a meal of red lentil pottage (Gen. xxv. 21-
34). Another story of the manner in which Jacob obtained the superiority is
related in Gen. xxvii. Here the younger brother impersonated the elder, and
succeeded in deceiving his blind father by imitating the hairiness of his
brother. He thus gained the blessing intended for the first-born, and Esau,
on hearing how he had been forestalled, vowed to kill him. Jacob
accordingly fled to his mother’s relatives, and on his return, many years
later, peace was restored between them (xxxii. sq.). These primitive stories
Page 259
of the relations between the eponymous heads of the Edomites and
Israelites are due to the older (Judaean) sources; the late notices of the
Priestly school (see Genesis) preserve a different account of the parting of
the two (Gen. xxxvi. 6-8), and lay great stress upon Esau’s marriages with
the Canaanites of the land, unions which were viewed (from the writer’s
standpoint) with great aversion (Gen. xxvi. 34 sq., xxvii. 46). For “Esau” as
a designation of the Edomites, cf. Jer. xlix. 8, Obad. vv. 6, 8, and on their
history, see Edom.
Esau’s characteristic hairiness (Gen. xxv. 25, xxvii. 11) has given
rise to the suggestion that his name is properly ‘ēshav, from a root
corresponding to the Arab. ‘athiya, to have thick or matted hair. Mt
Seir, too, where he resided, etymologically suggests a “shaggy”
mountain-land. According to Hommel (Sud-arab. Chrestom. p. 39 sq.)
the name Esau has S. Arabian analogies. On the possible identity of the
name with Usoos, the Phoenician demi-god (Philo of Byblus, ap.
Eusebius, Praep. Evang. i. 10), see Cheyne, Encyc. Bib. col. 1333;
Lagrange, Études sur les religions sémitiques, p. 416 (Paris, 1905); Ed.
Meyer, Israeliten, 278 sq. (and, on general questions, ib. 128 sq., 329
sqq.).
(S. A. C.)
ESBJERG, a seaport of Denmark in the amt (county) of Ribe, 18 m.
from the German frontier on the west coast of Jutland. It has railway
communication with the east and north of Jutland, and with Germany. It
was granted municipal rights in 1900, having grown with astonishing
Israelites are due to the older (Judaean) sources; the late notices of the
Priestly school (see Genesis) preserve a different account of the parting of
the two (Gen. xxxvi. 6-8), and lay great stress upon Esau’s marriages with
the Canaanites of the land, unions which were viewed (from the writer’s
standpoint) with great aversion (Gen. xxvi. 34 sq., xxvii. 46). For “Esau” as
a designation of the Edomites, cf. Jer. xlix. 8, Obad. vv. 6, 8, and on their
history, see Edom.
Esau’s characteristic hairiness (Gen. xxv. 25, xxvii. 11) has given
rise to the suggestion that his name is properly ‘ēshav, from a root
corresponding to the Arab. ‘athiya, to have thick or matted hair. Mt
Seir, too, where he resided, etymologically suggests a “shaggy”
mountain-land. According to Hommel (Sud-arab. Chrestom. p. 39 sq.)
the name Esau has S. Arabian analogies. On the possible identity of the
name with Usoos, the Phoenician demi-god (Philo of Byblus, ap.
Eusebius, Praep. Evang. i. 10), see Cheyne, Encyc. Bib. col. 1333;
Lagrange, Études sur les religions sémitiques, p. 416 (Paris, 1905); Ed.
Meyer, Israeliten, 278 sq. (and, on general questions, ib. 128 sq., 329
sqq.).
(S. A. C.)
ESBJERG, a seaport of Denmark in the amt (county) of Ribe, 18 m.
from the German frontier on the west coast of Jutland. It has railway
communication with the east and north of Jutland, and with Germany. It
was granted municipal rights in 1900, having grown with astonishing
Page 260
rapidity from 13 inhabitants in 1868 to 13,355 in 1901. This growth it owes
to the construction of a large harbour in 1868-1888. It is the principal outlet
westward for S. Jutland; exports pork and meat, butter, eggs, fish, cattle and
sheep, skins, lard and agricultural seeds, and has regular communication
with Harwich and Grimsby in England. Three miles S.E. is Nordby on the
island of Fanö, the northernmost of the North Frisian chain. It is an arid
bank of heathland and dunes, but both Nordby and Sönderho in the south
are frequented as seaside resorts. The former has a school of navigation.
The fisheries are valuable.
ESCANABA, a city and the county-seat of Delta county, Michigan,
U.S.A., on Little Bay de Noquette, an inlet of Green Bay, about 60 m. S. of
Marquette. Pop. (1890) 6808; (1900) 9549, of whom 3214 were foreign-
born; (1910 census) 13,194. It is served by the Chicago & North-Western
and the Escanaba & Lake Superior railways. It is built on a picturesque
promontory which separates the waters of Green Bay from Little Bay de
Noquette, and its delightful summer climate, wild landscape scenery and
facilities for boating and trout fishing make it a popular summer resort.
Escanaba has a water front of 8 m., and is an important centre for the
shipment of iron-ore, for which eight large and well-equipped docks are
provided—there is an ore-crushing plant here; considerable quantities of
lumber and fish are also shipped, and furniture, flooring (especially of
maple) and wooden ware (butter-dishes and clothes-pins) are manufactured.
There is a large tie-preserving plant here. Good water power is supplied by
to the construction of a large harbour in 1868-1888. It is the principal outlet
westward for S. Jutland; exports pork and meat, butter, eggs, fish, cattle and
sheep, skins, lard and agricultural seeds, and has regular communication
with Harwich and Grimsby in England. Three miles S.E. is Nordby on the
island of Fanö, the northernmost of the North Frisian chain. It is an arid
bank of heathland and dunes, but both Nordby and Sönderho in the south
are frequented as seaside resorts. The former has a school of navigation.
The fisheries are valuable.
ESCANABA, a city and the county-seat of Delta county, Michigan,
U.S.A., on Little Bay de Noquette, an inlet of Green Bay, about 60 m. S. of
Marquette. Pop. (1890) 6808; (1900) 9549, of whom 3214 were foreign-
born; (1910 census) 13,194. It is served by the Chicago & North-Western
and the Escanaba & Lake Superior railways. It is built on a picturesque
promontory which separates the waters of Green Bay from Little Bay de
Noquette, and its delightful summer climate, wild landscape scenery and
facilities for boating and trout fishing make it a popular summer resort.
Escanaba has a water front of 8 m., and is an important centre for the
shipment of iron-ore, for which eight large and well-equipped docks are
provided—there is an ore-crushing plant here; considerable quantities of
lumber and fish are also shipped, and furniture, flooring (especially of
maple) and wooden ware (butter-dishes and clothes-pins) are manufactured.
There is a large tie-preserving plant here. Good water power is supplied by
Page 261
the Escanaba river. Escanaba was settled in 1863, was incorporated as a
village in 1883, and was first chartered as a city in the same year.
ESCAPE (in mid. Eng. eschape or escape, from the O. Fr. eschapper,
modern échapper, and escaper, low Lat. escapium, from ex, out of, and
cappa, cape, cloak; cf. for the sense development the Gr. ἐκδύεσθαι,
literally to put off one’s clothes, hence to slip out of, get away), a verb
meaning to get away from, especially from impending danger or harm, to
avoid capture, to regain one’s liberty after capture. As a substantive,
“escape,” in law, is the regaining of liberty by one in custody contrary to
due process of law. Such escape may be by force, if out of prison it is
generally known as “prison-breach” or “prison-breaking,” or by the
voluntary or negligent act of the custodian. Where the escape is caused by
the force or fraud of others it is termed “rescue” (q.v.). “Escape” is used in
botany of a cultivated plant found growing wild. The word is also used of a
means of escape, e.g. “fire-escape,” and of a loss or leakage of gas, current
of electricity or water.
ESCHATOLOGY (Gr. ἔσχατος, last, and λόγος, science; the “doctrine
of last things”), a theological term derived from the New Testament phrases
“the last day” (ἐν τῇ ἐσχάτῃ ἡμέρᾳ, John vi. 39), “the last times” (ἐπ᾽
village in 1883, and was first chartered as a city in the same year.
ESCAPE (in mid. Eng. eschape or escape, from the O. Fr. eschapper,
modern échapper, and escaper, low Lat. escapium, from ex, out of, and
cappa, cape, cloak; cf. for the sense development the Gr. ἐκδύεσθαι,
literally to put off one’s clothes, hence to slip out of, get away), a verb
meaning to get away from, especially from impending danger or harm, to
avoid capture, to regain one’s liberty after capture. As a substantive,
“escape,” in law, is the regaining of liberty by one in custody contrary to
due process of law. Such escape may be by force, if out of prison it is
generally known as “prison-breach” or “prison-breaking,” or by the
voluntary or negligent act of the custodian. Where the escape is caused by
the force or fraud of others it is termed “rescue” (q.v.). “Escape” is used in
botany of a cultivated plant found growing wild. The word is also used of a
means of escape, e.g. “fire-escape,” and of a loss or leakage of gas, current
of electricity or water.
ESCHATOLOGY (Gr. ἔσχατος, last, and λόγος, science; the “doctrine
of last things”), a theological term derived from the New Testament phrases
“the last day” (ἐν τῇ ἐσχάτῃ ἡμέρᾳ, John vi. 39), “the last times” (ἐπ᾽
Page 262
ἐσχάτων τῶν χρόνων, 1 Peter i. 20), “the last-state” (τὰ ἔσχατα, Matt.
xii. 45), a conception taken over from ancient prophecy (Is. ii. 2; Mal. iv. 1).
It was the common belief in the apostolic age that the second advent of
Christ was near, and would give the divine completion to the world’s
history. The use of the term, however, has been extended so as to include all
that is taught in the Scriptures about the future life of the individual as well
as the final destiny of the world. The reasons for the belief in a life after
death are discussed in the article Immortality. The present article, after a
brief glance at the conceptions of the future of the individual or the world
found in other religions, will deal with the teaching of the Old and New
Testaments, the Jewish and the Christian Church regarding the hereafter.
There is a bewildering variety in the views of the future life and world
held by different peoples. The future life may be conceived as simply a
continuation of the present life in its essential features, although under
conditions more or less favourable. It may also be thought of as retributive,
as a reversal of present conditions so that the miserable are comforted, and
the prosperous laid low, or as a reward or punishment for good or evil
desert here. Personal identity may be absorbed, as in the transmigration of
souls, or it may even be denied, while the good or bad result of one life is
held to determine the weal or woe of another. The scene of the future life
may be thought of on earth, in some distant part of it, or above the earth, in
the sky, sun, moon or stars, or beneath the earth. The abodes of bliss and the
places of torment may be distinguished, or one last dwelling-place may be
affirmed for all the dead. Sometimes the good find their abiding home with
the gods; sometimes a number of heavens of varying degrees of blessedness
is recognized (see F.B. Jevons, An Introduction to the History of Religion,
chs. xxi. and xxii., 1902; and J.A. MacCulloch’s Comparative Theology,
xiv., 1902).
xii. 45), a conception taken over from ancient prophecy (Is. ii. 2; Mal. iv. 1).
It was the common belief in the apostolic age that the second advent of
Christ was near, and would give the divine completion to the world’s
history. The use of the term, however, has been extended so as to include all
that is taught in the Scriptures about the future life of the individual as well
as the final destiny of the world. The reasons for the belief in a life after
death are discussed in the article Immortality. The present article, after a
brief glance at the conceptions of the future of the individual or the world
found in other religions, will deal with the teaching of the Old and New
Testaments, the Jewish and the Christian Church regarding the hereafter.
There is a bewildering variety in the views of the future life and world
held by different peoples. The future life may be conceived as simply a
continuation of the present life in its essential features, although under
conditions more or less favourable. It may also be thought of as retributive,
as a reversal of present conditions so that the miserable are comforted, and
the prosperous laid low, or as a reward or punishment for good or evil
desert here. Personal identity may be absorbed, as in the transmigration of
souls, or it may even be denied, while the good or bad result of one life is
held to determine the weal or woe of another. The scene of the future life
may be thought of on earth, in some distant part of it, or above the earth, in
the sky, sun, moon or stars, or beneath the earth. The abodes of bliss and the
places of torment may be distinguished, or one last dwelling-place may be
affirmed for all the dead. Sometimes the good find their abiding home with
the gods; sometimes a number of heavens of varying degrees of blessedness
is recognized (see F.B. Jevons, An Introduction to the History of Religion,
chs. xxi. and xxii., 1902; and J.A. MacCulloch’s Comparative Theology,
xiv., 1902).
Page 263
(1) Confucius, though unwilling to discuss any questions concerning the
dead, by approving ancestor-worship recognized a future life. (2) Taoism
promises immortality as the reward of merit. (3) The Book of the Dead—a
guide-book for the departed on his long journey in the
Eastern Religions. unseen world to the abode of the blessed—shows the
attention the Egyptian religion gave to the state of the
dead. (4) Although the Babylonian religion presents a very gloomy view of
the world of the dead, it is not without a few faint glimpses of a hope that a
few mortals at least may gain deliverance from the dread doom. (5) A
characteristic feature of Indian thought is the transmigration of the soul
from one mode of life to another, the physical condition of each being
determined by the moral and religious character of the preceding. But
deliverance from this cycle of existences, which is conceived as misery, is
promised by means of speculation and asceticism. Denying the continuance
of the soul, Buddhism affirmed a continuity of moral consequences
(Karma), each successive life being determined by the total moral result of
the preceding life. Its doctrine of salvation was a guide to, if not absolute
non-existence, yet cessation of all consciousness of existence (Nirvana).
Later Buddhism has, however, a doctrine of many heavens and hells. (6) In
Zoroastrianism not only was continuance of life recognized, but a strict
retribution was taught. Heaven and hell were very clearly distinguished, and
each soul according to its works passed to the one or to the other. But this
faith did not concern itself only with the future lot of the individual soul. It
was also interested in the close of the world’s history, and taught a decisive,
final victory of Ormuzd over Ahriman, of the forces of good over the forces
of evil. It is not at all improbable that Jewish eschatology in its later
developments was powerfully influenced by the Persian faith. (7)
Mahommedanism reproduces and exaggerates the lower features of popular
Jewish and Christian eschatology (see the separate articles on these
religions).
dead, by approving ancestor-worship recognized a future life. (2) Taoism
promises immortality as the reward of merit. (3) The Book of the Dead—a
guide-book for the departed on his long journey in the
Eastern Religions. unseen world to the abode of the blessed—shows the
attention the Egyptian religion gave to the state of the
dead. (4) Although the Babylonian religion presents a very gloomy view of
the world of the dead, it is not without a few faint glimpses of a hope that a
few mortals at least may gain deliverance from the dread doom. (5) A
characteristic feature of Indian thought is the transmigration of the soul
from one mode of life to another, the physical condition of each being
determined by the moral and religious character of the preceding. But
deliverance from this cycle of existences, which is conceived as misery, is
promised by means of speculation and asceticism. Denying the continuance
of the soul, Buddhism affirmed a continuity of moral consequences
(Karma), each successive life being determined by the total moral result of
the preceding life. Its doctrine of salvation was a guide to, if not absolute
non-existence, yet cessation of all consciousness of existence (Nirvana).
Later Buddhism has, however, a doctrine of many heavens and hells. (6) In
Zoroastrianism not only was continuance of life recognized, but a strict
retribution was taught. Heaven and hell were very clearly distinguished, and
each soul according to its works passed to the one or to the other. But this
faith did not concern itself only with the future lot of the individual soul. It
was also interested in the close of the world’s history, and taught a decisive,
final victory of Ormuzd over Ahriman, of the forces of good over the forces
of evil. It is not at all improbable that Jewish eschatology in its later
developments was powerfully influenced by the Persian faith. (7)
Mahommedanism reproduces and exaggerates the lower features of popular
Jewish and Christian eschatology (see the separate articles on these
religions).
Page 264
In the Old Testament we can trace the gradual development of an ever
more definite doctrine of “the final condition of man and the world.” This is
regarded as the last stage in a moral process, a redemptive purpose of God.
The eschatology of the Old Testament is thus closely
Old Testament. connected with, but not limited by, Messianic hope, as
there are eschatological teachings that are not Messianic.
As the Old Testament revelation is concerned primarily with the elect
nation, and only secondarily (in the later writings) with the individual
persons composing it, we follow the order of importance as well as of time
in dealing first with the people. The universalism which marks the promise
to the seed of the woman (Gen. iii. 15) appears also in the blessing of Noah
(ix. 25). In the promise to Abraham (xii. 3) this universal good is directly
related to God’s particular purpose for His chosen people; so also in the
blessing of Jacob (xlix.) and of Moses (Deut. xxxiii.). David’s last words (2
Sam. xxiii.) blend together his desire that his family should retain the
kingship, and his aspiration for a kingdom of righteousness on earth. The
conception of the “Day of the Lord” is frequent and prominent in the
prophets, and the sense given to the phrase by the people and by the
prophets throws into bold relief the contrast between popular beliefs and the
prophetic faith. The people simply expected deliverance from their miseries
and burdens by the intervention of Yahweh, because He had chosen Israel
for His people. The prophets had an ethical conception of Yahweh; the sin
of His own people and of other nations called for His intervention in
judgment as the moral ruler of the world. But judgment they conceived as
preparing for redemption. The day of the Lord is always an eschatological
conception, as the term is applied to the final and universal judgment, and
not to any less decisive intervention of God in the course of human history.
In the pre-exilic prophets the judgment of God is “primarily on Israel,
although it also embraces the nations”; during the Exile and at the
Restoration the judgment is represented as falling on the nations while
more definite doctrine of “the final condition of man and the world.” This is
regarded as the last stage in a moral process, a redemptive purpose of God.
The eschatology of the Old Testament is thus closely
Old Testament. connected with, but not limited by, Messianic hope, as
there are eschatological teachings that are not Messianic.
As the Old Testament revelation is concerned primarily with the elect
nation, and only secondarily (in the later writings) with the individual
persons composing it, we follow the order of importance as well as of time
in dealing first with the people. The universalism which marks the promise
to the seed of the woman (Gen. iii. 15) appears also in the blessing of Noah
(ix. 25). In the promise to Abraham (xii. 3) this universal good is directly
related to God’s particular purpose for His chosen people; so also in the
blessing of Jacob (xlix.) and of Moses (Deut. xxxiii.). David’s last words (2
Sam. xxiii.) blend together his desire that his family should retain the
kingship, and his aspiration for a kingdom of righteousness on earth. The
conception of the “Day of the Lord” is frequent and prominent in the
prophets, and the sense given to the phrase by the people and by the
prophets throws into bold relief the contrast between popular beliefs and the
prophetic faith. The people simply expected deliverance from their miseries
and burdens by the intervention of Yahweh, because He had chosen Israel
for His people. The prophets had an ethical conception of Yahweh; the sin
of His own people and of other nations called for His intervention in
judgment as the moral ruler of the world. But judgment they conceived as
preparing for redemption. The day of the Lord is always an eschatological
conception, as the term is applied to the final and universal judgment, and
not to any less decisive intervention of God in the course of human history.
In the pre-exilic prophets the judgment of God is “primarily on Israel,
although it also embraces the nations”; during the Exile and at the
Restoration the judgment is represented as falling on the nations while
Page 265
redemption is being wrought for God’s people; after the Restoration the
people of God is again threatened, but still the warning of judgment is
mainly directed towards the nations and deliverance is promised to Israel.
As the manifestation of God in grace as well as judgment, the day of the
Lord will bring joy to Israel and even to the world. As a day of judgment it
is accompanied by terrible convulsions of nature (not to be taken
figuratively, but probably intended literally by the prophets in accordance
with their view of the absolute subordination of nature to the divine purpose
for man). It ushers in the Messianic age. While the moral issues are finally
determined by this day, yet the world of the Messianic age is painted with
the colours of the prophet’s own surroundings. Israel is restored to its own
land, and to it the other nations are brought into subjugation, by force or
persuasion. The contributions of the Old Testament to Christian eschatology
embrace these features: “(1) The manifestation or advent of God; (2) the
universal judgment; (3) behind the judgment the coming of the perfect
kingdom of the Lord, when all Israel shall be saved and when the nations
shall be partakers of their salvation; and (4) the finality and eternity of this
condition, that which constitutes the blessedness of the saved people being
the Presence of God in the midst of them—this last point corresponding to
the Christian idea of heaven” (A.B. Davidson, in Hastings’s Bible
Dictionary, i. p. 738). This hope is for the people on this earth though
transfigured.
To the individual it would seem at first only old age is promised (Is. lxv.
20; Zech. viii. 4), but the abolition of death itself is also declared (Is. xxv.
8). The resurrection, which appears at first as a revival of the dead nation
(Hos. vi. 2; Ez. xxxvii. 12-14), is afterwards promised for the pious
individuals (Is. xxvi. 19), so that they too may share in the national
restoration. Only in Daniel xii. 2 is taught a resurrection of the wicked “to
shame and everlasting contempt” as well as of the righteous to “everlasting
life.” It was only at the Exile, when the nation ceased to be, that the worth
people of God is again threatened, but still the warning of judgment is
mainly directed towards the nations and deliverance is promised to Israel.
As the manifestation of God in grace as well as judgment, the day of the
Lord will bring joy to Israel and even to the world. As a day of judgment it
is accompanied by terrible convulsions of nature (not to be taken
figuratively, but probably intended literally by the prophets in accordance
with their view of the absolute subordination of nature to the divine purpose
for man). It ushers in the Messianic age. While the moral issues are finally
determined by this day, yet the world of the Messianic age is painted with
the colours of the prophet’s own surroundings. Israel is restored to its own
land, and to it the other nations are brought into subjugation, by force or
persuasion. The contributions of the Old Testament to Christian eschatology
embrace these features: “(1) The manifestation or advent of God; (2) the
universal judgment; (3) behind the judgment the coming of the perfect
kingdom of the Lord, when all Israel shall be saved and when the nations
shall be partakers of their salvation; and (4) the finality and eternity of this
condition, that which constitutes the blessedness of the saved people being
the Presence of God in the midst of them—this last point corresponding to
the Christian idea of heaven” (A.B. Davidson, in Hastings’s Bible
Dictionary, i. p. 738). This hope is for the people on this earth though
transfigured.
To the individual it would seem at first only old age is promised (Is. lxv.
20; Zech. viii. 4), but the abolition of death itself is also declared (Is. xxv.
8). The resurrection, which appears at first as a revival of the dead nation
(Hos. vi. 2; Ez. xxxvii. 12-14), is afterwards promised for the pious
individuals (Is. xxvi. 19), so that they too may share in the national
restoration. Only in Daniel xii. 2 is taught a resurrection of the wicked “to
shame and everlasting contempt” as well as of the righteous to “everlasting
life.” It was only at the Exile, when the nation ceased to be, that the worth
Page 266
of the individual came to be recognized, and the hopes given to the nation
were claimed for the individual. In dealing with the individual eschatology
we must carefully distinguish the popular ideas regarding death and the
hereafter which Israel shared with the other Semitic peoples, from the
intuitions, inferences, aspirations evoked in the pious by the divine
revelation itself. The former have not the moral significance or the religious
value of the latter. The starting-point of the development was the common
belief that the dead continued to exist in an unsubstantial mode of life, but
cut off from fellowship with God and man; but faith left this far behind.
Sheol is the common abode of the righteous and the ungodly: life there is
shadowy and feeble, but seems to continue in a wavering and dim reflection
features of this life. As the present life is, however, determined by moral
issues, and as death does not change man’s relation to God, moral
considerations could not be absolutely excluded from the future life. A
forward step had to be taken. Pious men, in fellowship with God, when they
faced the fact of death, were led either to challenge its right, or to give a
new meaning to it. Either there was a protest against death itself, and a
demand for immortality (Ps. xvi. 9-11), or death was conceived as
something different for the saint and for the sinner; fellowship with God
would not and could not be interrupted (Ps. xlix. 14, 15, lxxiii. 17-28). The
vision of God is anticipated after death’s sleep (Ps. xvii. 15; Job xix. 25-27).
This belief in individual immortality is expressed poetically and obscurely:
it is later than the eschatology of the people. It assumes the moral
distinction of the righteous and the ungodly, and seeks a solution for the
problem of the lack of harmony of present character and condition. Its
deepest motive, however, is religious. The soul once in fellowship with God
cannot even by death be separated from God. The individual hoped that he
would live to share the nation’s good, and thus the two streams of Old
Testament eschatology at last flow together.
were claimed for the individual. In dealing with the individual eschatology
we must carefully distinguish the popular ideas regarding death and the
hereafter which Israel shared with the other Semitic peoples, from the
intuitions, inferences, aspirations evoked in the pious by the divine
revelation itself. The former have not the moral significance or the religious
value of the latter. The starting-point of the development was the common
belief that the dead continued to exist in an unsubstantial mode of life, but
cut off from fellowship with God and man; but faith left this far behind.
Sheol is the common abode of the righteous and the ungodly: life there is
shadowy and feeble, but seems to continue in a wavering and dim reflection
features of this life. As the present life is, however, determined by moral
issues, and as death does not change man’s relation to God, moral
considerations could not be absolutely excluded from the future life. A
forward step had to be taken. Pious men, in fellowship with God, when they
faced the fact of death, were led either to challenge its right, or to give a
new meaning to it. Either there was a protest against death itself, and a
demand for immortality (Ps. xvi. 9-11), or death was conceived as
something different for the saint and for the sinner; fellowship with God
would not and could not be interrupted (Ps. xlix. 14, 15, lxxiii. 17-28). The
vision of God is anticipated after death’s sleep (Ps. xvii. 15; Job xix. 25-27).
This belief in individual immortality is expressed poetically and obscurely:
it is later than the eschatology of the people. It assumes the moral
distinction of the righteous and the ungodly, and seeks a solution for the
problem of the lack of harmony of present character and condition. Its
deepest motive, however, is religious. The soul once in fellowship with God
cannot even by death be separated from God. The individual hoped that he
would live to share the nation’s good, and thus the two streams of Old
Testament eschatology at last flow together.
Page 267
It is in the apocryphal and apocalyptic literature of Judaism that the
fullest development of eschatology can be traced. Four words may serve to
express the difference of the doctrine of these writings and the teaching of
the Old Testament. Eschatology was universalized (God
Apocryphal and was recognized as the creator and moral governor of all
Apocalyptic books. the world), individualized (God’s judgment was directed,
not to nations in a future age, but to individuals in a
future life), transcendentalized (the future age was more and more
contrasted with the present, and the transition from the one to the other was
not expected as the result of historical movements, but of miraculous divine
acts), and dogmatized (the attempt was made to systematize in some
measure the vague and varied prophetic anticipations). Only a very brief
summary of the conceptions current in these writings can be given. The
coming of the Messiah will be preceded by the Last Woes. The Messiah is
very variously conceived: (1) “a passive, though supreme member of the
Messianic Kingdom”; (2) “an active warrior who slays his enemies with his
own hand”; (3) “one who slays his enemies by the word of his mouth, and
rules by virtue of his justice, faith and holiness”; (4) a supernatural person,
“eternal Ruler and Judge of Mankind” (R.H. Charles in Hastings’s Bible
Dictionary, i. p. 748). In some of the writings no Messianic kingdom is
looked for; in others only a temporal duration on earth is assigned to it; in
others still it abides for ever either on earth as it is, or on earth transformed.
The dispersion among the nations is to return home. Sometimes the
Resurrection is narrowed down to the resurrection of the righteous, at others
widened out to the resurrection of all mankind for the last judgment. A
blessed immortality after judgment, or even after death itself, is sometimes
taught without reference to any resurrection. Retribution in human history is
recognized, but attention is specially concentrated on the final judgment,
which is usually conceived as taking place in two stages. (1) The Messianic
is executed by the Messiah or the saints by victory in war, or by judicial
fullest development of eschatology can be traced. Four words may serve to
express the difference of the doctrine of these writings and the teaching of
the Old Testament. Eschatology was universalized (God
Apocryphal and was recognized as the creator and moral governor of all
Apocalyptic books. the world), individualized (God’s judgment was directed,
not to nations in a future age, but to individuals in a
future life), transcendentalized (the future age was more and more
contrasted with the present, and the transition from the one to the other was
not expected as the result of historical movements, but of miraculous divine
acts), and dogmatized (the attempt was made to systematize in some
measure the vague and varied prophetic anticipations). Only a very brief
summary of the conceptions current in these writings can be given. The
coming of the Messiah will be preceded by the Last Woes. The Messiah is
very variously conceived: (1) “a passive, though supreme member of the
Messianic Kingdom”; (2) “an active warrior who slays his enemies with his
own hand”; (3) “one who slays his enemies by the word of his mouth, and
rules by virtue of his justice, faith and holiness”; (4) a supernatural person,
“eternal Ruler and Judge of Mankind” (R.H. Charles in Hastings’s Bible
Dictionary, i. p. 748). In some of the writings no Messianic kingdom is
looked for; in others only a temporal duration on earth is assigned to it; in
others still it abides for ever either on earth as it is, or on earth transformed.
The dispersion among the nations is to return home. Sometimes the
Resurrection is narrowed down to the resurrection of the righteous, at others
widened out to the resurrection of all mankind for the last judgment. A
blessed immortality after judgment, or even after death itself, is sometimes
taught without reference to any resurrection. Retribution in human history is
recognized, but attention is specially concentrated on the final judgment,
which is usually conceived as taking place in two stages. (1) The Messianic
is executed by the Messiah or the saints by victory in war, or by judicial
Page 268
sentence. (2) The final remains in God’s hands; but in one writing (the
Ethiopic Enoch) is represented as Messiah’s function. This judgment either
closes the Messianic age, if thought of as temporal, or ushers it in, if
conceived as eternal, or closes the world’s history, if no Messianic age is
expected. The place of torment for the wicked was called Gehenna (the
valley of Hinnom or the Sons of Hinnom, where the bodies of criminals
were cast out, is described in Is. lxvi. 24). Here corporal as well as spiritual
punishment was endured; it was inflicted on apostate Jews or the wicked
generally; the righteous witnessed its initial stages but not its final form. In
later Judaism it was the purgatory of faithless Jews, who at last reached
Paradise, but it remained the place of eternal torment for the Gentiles.
Paradise was sometimes regarded as the division of Sheol to which the
righteous passed after death, but at others it was conceived as the heavenly
abode of Moses, Enoch and Elijah, to which other saints would pass after
the last judgment.
The eschatology of the New Testament attaches itself not only to that of
the Old Testament but also to that of contemporary Judaism, but it avoids
the extravagances of the latter. Not at all systematic, it is occasional,
practical, poetical and dominantly evangelical, laying
New Testament. stress on the hope of the righteous rather than the doom
of the wicked. The teaching of Jesus centres, according
to the Synoptists, in the great idea of the “Kingdom of God,” which is
already present in the teacher Himself, but also future as regards its
completion. In some parables a gradual realization of the kingdom is
indicated (Matt. xiii.); in other utterances its consummation is connected
with Christ’s own return, His Parousia (Matt. xxiv. 3, 37, 39), the time of
which, however, is unknown even to Himself (Mark xiii. 32). In this
eschatological discourse (Matt. xxiv., xxv.) He speaks of the destruction of
Jerusalem and of the end of the world as near, and seemingly as one. This is
in accordance with the characteristic of prophecy, which sees in “timeless
Ethiopic Enoch) is represented as Messiah’s function. This judgment either
closes the Messianic age, if thought of as temporal, or ushers it in, if
conceived as eternal, or closes the world’s history, if no Messianic age is
expected. The place of torment for the wicked was called Gehenna (the
valley of Hinnom or the Sons of Hinnom, where the bodies of criminals
were cast out, is described in Is. lxvi. 24). Here corporal as well as spiritual
punishment was endured; it was inflicted on apostate Jews or the wicked
generally; the righteous witnessed its initial stages but not its final form. In
later Judaism it was the purgatory of faithless Jews, who at last reached
Paradise, but it remained the place of eternal torment for the Gentiles.
Paradise was sometimes regarded as the division of Sheol to which the
righteous passed after death, but at others it was conceived as the heavenly
abode of Moses, Enoch and Elijah, to which other saints would pass after
the last judgment.
The eschatology of the New Testament attaches itself not only to that of
the Old Testament but also to that of contemporary Judaism, but it avoids
the extravagances of the latter. Not at all systematic, it is occasional,
practical, poetical and dominantly evangelical, laying
New Testament. stress on the hope of the righteous rather than the doom
of the wicked. The teaching of Jesus centres, according
to the Synoptists, in the great idea of the “Kingdom of God,” which is
already present in the teacher Himself, but also future as regards its
completion. In some parables a gradual realization of the kingdom is
indicated (Matt. xiii.); in other utterances its consummation is connected
with Christ’s own return, His Parousia (Matt. xxiv. 3, 37, 39), the time of
which, however, is unknown even to Himself (Mark xiii. 32). In this
eschatological discourse (Matt. xxiv., xxv.) He speaks of the destruction of
Jerusalem and of the end of the world as near, and seemingly as one. This is
in accordance with the characteristic of prophecy, which sees in “timeless
Page 269
sequence” events which are historically separated from one another. While
the Return is represented in the Synoptists as an external event, it is
conceived in the fourth gospel as an internal experience in the operation of
the Spirit on the believer (John xiv. 16-21); nevertheless here also the
Parousia in the synoptic sense is looked for (John xxi. 22; cf. 1 John ii. 28).
The object of the Second Coming is the execution of judgment by Christ
(Matt. xxv. 31), both individual (xxii. 1-14) and universal (xiii. 36-42). The
present subjective judgment, in which men determine their destiny by their
attitude to Christ, on which the fourth gospel lays stress (John iii. 17-21, ix.
39), is not inconsistent with the anticipation of a final judgment (John xii.
48, v. 27). This judgment presupposes the resurrection,
Pharisees and belief in which was rejected by the Sadducees, but
Sadducees. accepted by the Pharisees and the majority of the Jewish
people, and confirmed by Christ, not only as an
individual spiritual renovation (John v. 25, 26), but as a universal physical
resuscitation (28 and 29; Matt. xxii. 30). This resurrection is of the unjust as
well as the just (Matt. v. 29, 30, x. 28; Luke xiv. 14). On the Intermediate
State Jesus does not speak clearly. He uses the term Hades twice
metaphorically (Matt. xi. 23, xvi. 18), and once in a parable, the “Rich Man
and Lazarus” (Luke xvi. 23), in which he employs the current phrases such
as “Abraham’s bosom” (verse 22), without any definite doctrinal intention,
to unveil the secrets of the hereafter by confirming with His authority the
common beliefs of His time. The term Paradise (Luke xxiii. 43) seems to be
used “in a large and general sense as a word of hope and comfort,” and we
need not attach to it any of the more definite associations which it had in
Jewish eschatology. When he speaks of death as “sleep” (Luke viii. 52;
John xi. 11) it is to give men gentler and sweeter thoughts of it, not to
inculcate the doctrine of an intermediate state as an unconscious condition.
There are words which suggest rather the hope of an immediate entrance of
the just into the Father’s house and glory (John xiv. 2, 3, xvii. 24). He spoke
the Return is represented in the Synoptists as an external event, it is
conceived in the fourth gospel as an internal experience in the operation of
the Spirit on the believer (John xiv. 16-21); nevertheless here also the
Parousia in the synoptic sense is looked for (John xxi. 22; cf. 1 John ii. 28).
The object of the Second Coming is the execution of judgment by Christ
(Matt. xxv. 31), both individual (xxii. 1-14) and universal (xiii. 36-42). The
present subjective judgment, in which men determine their destiny by their
attitude to Christ, on which the fourth gospel lays stress (John iii. 17-21, ix.
39), is not inconsistent with the anticipation of a final judgment (John xii.
48, v. 27). This judgment presupposes the resurrection,
Pharisees and belief in which was rejected by the Sadducees, but
Sadducees. accepted by the Pharisees and the majority of the Jewish
people, and confirmed by Christ, not only as an
individual spiritual renovation (John v. 25, 26), but as a universal physical
resuscitation (28 and 29; Matt. xxii. 30). This resurrection is of the unjust as
well as the just (Matt. v. 29, 30, x. 28; Luke xiv. 14). On the Intermediate
State Jesus does not speak clearly. He uses the term Hades twice
metaphorically (Matt. xi. 23, xvi. 18), and once in a parable, the “Rich Man
and Lazarus” (Luke xvi. 23), in which he employs the current phrases such
as “Abraham’s bosom” (verse 22), without any definite doctrinal intention,
to unveil the secrets of the hereafter by confirming with His authority the
common beliefs of His time. The term Paradise (Luke xxiii. 43) seems to be
used “in a large and general sense as a word of hope and comfort,” and we
need not attach to it any of the more definite associations which it had in
Jewish eschatology. When he speaks of death as “sleep” (Luke viii. 52;
John xi. 11) it is to give men gentler and sweeter thoughts of it, not to
inculcate the doctrine of an intermediate state as an unconscious condition.
There are words which suggest rather the hope of an immediate entrance of
the just into the Father’s house and glory (John xiv. 2, 3, xvii. 24). He spoke
Page 270
frequently and distinctly both of final reward for the righteous and final
penalty for the wicked. “The recompense of the righteous is described as an
inheritance, entrance into the kingdom, treasure in heaven, an existence like
the angelic, a place prepared, the Father’s house, the joy of the Lord, life,
eternal life and the like; and there is no intimation that the reward is capable
of change, that the condition is a terminable one. The retribution of the
wicked is described as death, outer darkness, weeping and wailing and
gnashing of teeth, the undying worm, the quenchless fire, exclusion from
the kingdom, eternal punishment and the like” (S.D.J. Salmond in
Hastings’s Bible Dictionary, p. 752). Degrees of award are recognized
(Luke xii. 47, 48). Gehenna is applied to the condition of the lost (Matt.
xviii. 9). Two sayings are held to point to a terminable penalty (Matt. v. 25,
26, xii. 31, 32), but the one is so figurative and the other so obscure, that we
are not warranted in drawing any such definite conclusion from either of
them. The finality of destiny seems to be unmistakably expressed (Matt. vii.
23, x. 33, xiii. 30, xxv. 46, xxvi. 24; Mark ix. 43-48, viii. 36; Luke ix. 26;
John iii. 16, viii. 21, 24). No second opportunity for deciding the issue of
life or death is recognized by Jesus.
The apostolic eschatology presents resemblance amid difference. Jude (v.
6), as well as 2 Peter (ii. 4), refers to the judgment of the fallen angels. 2
Peter describes the place of their detention as Tartarus, and teaches that
Christ’s Parousia is to bring the whole present system of things to its
conclusion, and the world itself to an end (iii. 10, 13). After the destruction
of the existing order by fire, “a new heaven and a new earth” will appear as
the abode of righteousness. The question of greatest interest in 1 Peter is the
relation of two passages in it, the preaching to the spirits in prison (iii. 18-
22) and the preaching of the Gospel to the dead (iv. 6) to the “larger hope.”
Peter’s discourse also contains a phrase which suggests the belief of a
descent of Christ into Hades in the interval between His death and His
resurrection (Acts ii. 31). No certainty has been reached in the interpretation
penalty for the wicked. “The recompense of the righteous is described as an
inheritance, entrance into the kingdom, treasure in heaven, an existence like
the angelic, a place prepared, the Father’s house, the joy of the Lord, life,
eternal life and the like; and there is no intimation that the reward is capable
of change, that the condition is a terminable one. The retribution of the
wicked is described as death, outer darkness, weeping and wailing and
gnashing of teeth, the undying worm, the quenchless fire, exclusion from
the kingdom, eternal punishment and the like” (S.D.J. Salmond in
Hastings’s Bible Dictionary, p. 752). Degrees of award are recognized
(Luke xii. 47, 48). Gehenna is applied to the condition of the lost (Matt.
xviii. 9). Two sayings are held to point to a terminable penalty (Matt. v. 25,
26, xii. 31, 32), but the one is so figurative and the other so obscure, that we
are not warranted in drawing any such definite conclusion from either of
them. The finality of destiny seems to be unmistakably expressed (Matt. vii.
23, x. 33, xiii. 30, xxv. 46, xxvi. 24; Mark ix. 43-48, viii. 36; Luke ix. 26;
John iii. 16, viii. 21, 24). No second opportunity for deciding the issue of
life or death is recognized by Jesus.
The apostolic eschatology presents resemblance amid difference. Jude (v.
6), as well as 2 Peter (ii. 4), refers to the judgment of the fallen angels. 2
Peter describes the place of their detention as Tartarus, and teaches that
Christ’s Parousia is to bring the whole present system of things to its
conclusion, and the world itself to an end (iii. 10, 13). After the destruction
of the existing order by fire, “a new heaven and a new earth” will appear as
the abode of righteousness. The question of greatest interest in 1 Peter is the
relation of two passages in it, the preaching to the spirits in prison (iii. 18-
22) and the preaching of the Gospel to the dead (iv. 6) to the “larger hope.”
Peter’s discourse also contains a phrase which suggests the belief of a
descent of Christ into Hades in the interval between His death and His
resurrection (Acts ii. 31). No certainty has been reached in the interpretation
Page 271
of these passages, but they may suggest to the Christian mind the
expectation that the final destiny of no soul can be fixed until in some way
or other, in this life or the next, the opportunity of decision for or against
Christ has been given. The phrase “the times of restoration of all things”
(iii. 21) is too vague in itself, and is too isolated in its context to warrant the
dogmatic teaching of universalism, although there are other passages which
seem to point towards the same goal. While John’s Apocalypse is distinctly
eschatological, the Epistles and the Gospels often give these conceptions an
ethical and spiritual import, without, however, excluding the eschatological.
Life is present while eternal (1 John v. 12, 13), but it is also future (ii. 25).
There is expected a future manifestation of Christ as He is, and what the
believer himself will be does not yet appear (iii. 2). The writer speaks of the
last hour (ii. 18), the Antichrist that cometh (ii. 22, iv. 3), and the Christian’s
full reward (2 John v. 8) as well as the Parousia (1 John ii. 28). The
Apocalypse reproduces much of the current Jewish eschatology. A
millennial reign of Christ on earth is interposed between the first
resurrection, confined to the saints and especially the martyrs, and the
second resurrection for the rest of the dead. A final outburst of Satan’s
power is followed by his overthrow and the Last Judgment.
Although Paul sometimes describes the Kingdom of God as present
(Rom. xiv. 17; 1 Cor. iv. 20; Col. i. 13), it is usually represented as future.
The Parousia fills a large place in his thought, and, if more prominent in his
earlier writings, is not altogether absent from his later, although the
expectation of personal survival does seem to grow less confident (cf. 1
Cor. xv. 51 and Phil. i. 20-24). The doctrines of the Resurrection, the Last
Judgment, the Reward of the Righteous and the Punishment of the Wicked
are not less distinctly expressed than in the other apostolic writings.
Peculiar elements in Paul’s eschatology are the doctrines of the Rapture of
the Saints (1 Thess. iv. 17) and the Man of Sin (2 Thess. ii. 3-6), but these
have affinities elsewhere. A reference to the millennial reign of Christ in the
expectation that the final destiny of no soul can be fixed until in some way
or other, in this life or the next, the opportunity of decision for or against
Christ has been given. The phrase “the times of restoration of all things”
(iii. 21) is too vague in itself, and is too isolated in its context to warrant the
dogmatic teaching of universalism, although there are other passages which
seem to point towards the same goal. While John’s Apocalypse is distinctly
eschatological, the Epistles and the Gospels often give these conceptions an
ethical and spiritual import, without, however, excluding the eschatological.
Life is present while eternal (1 John v. 12, 13), but it is also future (ii. 25).
There is expected a future manifestation of Christ as He is, and what the
believer himself will be does not yet appear (iii. 2). The writer speaks of the
last hour (ii. 18), the Antichrist that cometh (ii. 22, iv. 3), and the Christian’s
full reward (2 John v. 8) as well as the Parousia (1 John ii. 28). The
Apocalypse reproduces much of the current Jewish eschatology. A
millennial reign of Christ on earth is interposed between the first
resurrection, confined to the saints and especially the martyrs, and the
second resurrection for the rest of the dead. A final outburst of Satan’s
power is followed by his overthrow and the Last Judgment.
Although Paul sometimes describes the Kingdom of God as present
(Rom. xiv. 17; 1 Cor. iv. 20; Col. i. 13), it is usually represented as future.
The Parousia fills a large place in his thought, and, if more prominent in his
earlier writings, is not altogether absent from his later, although the
expectation of personal survival does seem to grow less confident (cf. 1
Cor. xv. 51 and Phil. i. 20-24). The doctrines of the Resurrection, the Last
Judgment, the Reward of the Righteous and the Punishment of the Wicked
are not less distinctly expressed than in the other apostolic writings.
Peculiar elements in Paul’s eschatology are the doctrines of the Rapture of
the Saints (1 Thess. iv. 17) and the Man of Sin (2 Thess. ii. 3-6), but these
have affinities elsewhere. A reference to the millennial reign of Christ in the
Page 272
period between the two resurrections is sometimes sought in 1 Cor. xv. 22-
24; but it is not a chronology of the last things Paul is here giving. So also a
justification for the doctrine of purgatory is sought in iii. 12-15; but the day
and the fire are of the last judgment. A descent of Christ into Hades,
implying an extension of the opportunity of grace such as is supposed to be
taught in 1 Peter, is also discovered in the obscure statements in Rom. x. 7
(where Paul is freely quoting Deut. xxx. 11-14), and Eph. iv. 10 (where he
is commenting on Ps. lxviii. 18). Universal restoration is inferred from 1
Cor. xv. 24-28, “God all in all,” Phil. ii. 10-11, every knee bowing to, and
every tongue confessing Jesus Christ, Eph. i. 9, 10, the summing up of all
things in Christ, Col. i. 20, God reconciling all things unto Himself in
Christ. These passages inspire a hope, but do not sustain a certainty. Paul’s
shrinking from the disembodied state and longing to be clothed upon at
death in 2 Cor. v. 1-8, cannot be regarded as a proof of an interim body
prior to and preparatory for the resurrection body. Paul links the human
resurrection with a universal renovation (Rom. viii. 19-23). Paul’s
eschatology is not free of obscurities and ambiguities; and in the New
Testament eschatology generally we are forced to recognize a mixture of
inherited Jewish and original Christian elements (see Antichrist).
During the first century of the existence of the Gentile Christian Church,
“the hope of the approaching end of the world and the glorious kingdom of
Christ” was dominant, although warnings had to be given against doubt and
indifference. Redemption was thought of as still future, as the power of the
devil had not been broken but rather increased by the First Advent, and the
Second Advent was necessary to his complete overthrow. The expectations
were often grossly materialistic, as is evidenced by Papias’s quotation as the
words of the Lord of a group of sayings from the Apocalypse of Baruch,
setting forth the amazing fruitfulness of the earth in the Messianic time.
24; but it is not a chronology of the last things Paul is here giving. So also a
justification for the doctrine of purgatory is sought in iii. 12-15; but the day
and the fire are of the last judgment. A descent of Christ into Hades,
implying an extension of the opportunity of grace such as is supposed to be
taught in 1 Peter, is also discovered in the obscure statements in Rom. x. 7
(where Paul is freely quoting Deut. xxx. 11-14), and Eph. iv. 10 (where he
is commenting on Ps. lxviii. 18). Universal restoration is inferred from 1
Cor. xv. 24-28, “God all in all,” Phil. ii. 10-11, every knee bowing to, and
every tongue confessing Jesus Christ, Eph. i. 9, 10, the summing up of all
things in Christ, Col. i. 20, God reconciling all things unto Himself in
Christ. These passages inspire a hope, but do not sustain a certainty. Paul’s
shrinking from the disembodied state and longing to be clothed upon at
death in 2 Cor. v. 1-8, cannot be regarded as a proof of an interim body
prior to and preparatory for the resurrection body. Paul links the human
resurrection with a universal renovation (Rom. viii. 19-23). Paul’s
eschatology is not free of obscurities and ambiguities; and in the New
Testament eschatology generally we are forced to recognize a mixture of
inherited Jewish and original Christian elements (see Antichrist).
During the first century of the existence of the Gentile Christian Church,
“the hope of the approaching end of the world and the glorious kingdom of
Christ” was dominant, although warnings had to be given against doubt and
indifference. Redemption was thought of as still future, as the power of the
devil had not been broken but rather increased by the First Advent, and the
Second Advent was necessary to his complete overthrow. The expectations
were often grossly materialistic, as is evidenced by Papias’s quotation as the
words of the Lord of a group of sayings from the Apocalypse of Baruch,
setting forth the amazing fruitfulness of the earth in the Messianic time.
Page 273
The Gnostics rejected this eschatology as in their view the enlightened
spirit already possessed immortality. Marcion expected that the Church
would be assailed by Antichrist; a visible return of Christ he did not teach,
but he recognized that human history would issue in a
Gnostics. separation of the good from the bad. Montanism sought
Montanism. to form a new Christian commonwealth which, separated
from the world, should prepare itself for the descent of
the Jerusalem from above, and its establishment in the spot which by the
direction of the Spirit had been chosen in Phrygia. While Irenaeus held fast
the traditional eschatological beliefs, yet his conception of the Christian
salvation as a deification of man tended to weaken their hold on Christian
thought. The Alogi in the 2nd century rejected the Apocalypse on account
of its chiliasm, its teaching of a visible reign of Christ on earth for a
thousand years. Montanism also brought these apocalyptic expectations into
discredit in orthodox ecclesiastical circles. The Alexandrian theology
strengthened this movement against chiliasm. Clement of Alexandria taught
that justice is not merely retributive, that punishment is remedial, that
probation continues after death till the final judgment, that Christ and the
apostles preached the Gospel in Hades to those who lacked knowledge, but
whose heart was right, that a spiritual body will be raised. Origen taught
that a germ of the spiritual body is in the present body, and its development
depends on the character, that perfect bliss is reached only by stages, that
the evil are purified by pain, conscience being symbolized by fire, and that
all, even the devil himself, will at last be saved. Both regarded chiliasm
with aversion. But in the 5th century there were rejected as heretical (1)
“the doctrine of universalism, and the possibility of the redemption of the
devil; (2) the doctrine of the complete annihilation of evil; (3) the
conception of the penalties of hell as tortures of conscience; (4) the
spiritualizing version of the resurrection of the body; (5) the idea of the
spirit already possessed immortality. Marcion expected that the Church
would be assailed by Antichrist; a visible return of Christ he did not teach,
but he recognized that human history would issue in a
Gnostics. separation of the good from the bad. Montanism sought
Montanism. to form a new Christian commonwealth which, separated
from the world, should prepare itself for the descent of
the Jerusalem from above, and its establishment in the spot which by the
direction of the Spirit had been chosen in Phrygia. While Irenaeus held fast
the traditional eschatological beliefs, yet his conception of the Christian
salvation as a deification of man tended to weaken their hold on Christian
thought. The Alogi in the 2nd century rejected the Apocalypse on account
of its chiliasm, its teaching of a visible reign of Christ on earth for a
thousand years. Montanism also brought these apocalyptic expectations into
discredit in orthodox ecclesiastical circles. The Alexandrian theology
strengthened this movement against chiliasm. Clement of Alexandria taught
that justice is not merely retributive, that punishment is remedial, that
probation continues after death till the final judgment, that Christ and the
apostles preached the Gospel in Hades to those who lacked knowledge, but
whose heart was right, that a spiritual body will be raised. Origen taught
that a germ of the spiritual body is in the present body, and its development
depends on the character, that perfect bliss is reached only by stages, that
the evil are purified by pain, conscience being symbolized by fire, and that
all, even the devil himself, will at last be saved. Both regarded chiliasm
with aversion. But in the 5th century there were rejected as heretical (1)
“the doctrine of universalism, and the possibility of the redemption of the
devil; (2) the doctrine of the complete annihilation of evil; (3) the
conception of the penalties of hell as tortures of conscience; (4) the
spiritualizing version of the resurrection of the body; (5) the idea of the
Page 274
continued creation of new worlds” (A. Harnack, History of Dogma, iii. p.
186).
Epiphanius, following Methodius, insisted on the most perfect identity
between the resurrection body and the material body; and this belief,
enforced in the West by Jerome, soon established itself as alone orthodox.
Augustine made experiments on the flesh of a peacock in order to find
physical evidence for the doctrine. He held fast to eternal punishment, but
allowed the possibility of mitigations. Some believers, he taught, may pass
through purgatorial fires; and this middle class may be helped by the
sacraments and the alms of the living. “There are many souls not good
enough to dispense with this provision, and not bad enough to be benefited
by it” (op. cit. v. 233). This doctrine was sanctioned and developed by
Gregory the Great. “After God has changed eternal punishments into
temporary, the justified must expiate these temporary penalties for sin in
purgatory” (p. 268). This view was inferred indirectly from Matt. xii. 31,
and directly from 1 Cor. iii. 12-15. Afterwards purgatory took more and
more the place of hell, and was subject to the control of the church. As
regards the saints, different degrees of blessedness were recognized; they
were supposed to wait in Hades for the return of Christ, but gradually the
belief gained ground, especially in regard to the martyrs, that their souls at
once entered Paradise. The primitive Christian eschatology was preserved
in the West as it was not in the East, and in times of exceptional distress the
expectation of Antichrist emerged again and again. In the middle ages there
was an extravagance of speculation on this subject, which may be seen in
the last division of Aquinas’ Summa Theologiae. He proposes thirty
questions on these matters, among which are the following: “whether souls
are conducted to heaven or hell immediately after death”; “whether the
limbus of hell is the same as Abraham’s bosom”; “whether the sun and
moon will be really obscured at the day of judgment”; “whether all the
186).
Epiphanius, following Methodius, insisted on the most perfect identity
between the resurrection body and the material body; and this belief,
enforced in the West by Jerome, soon established itself as alone orthodox.
Augustine made experiments on the flesh of a peacock in order to find
physical evidence for the doctrine. He held fast to eternal punishment, but
allowed the possibility of mitigations. Some believers, he taught, may pass
through purgatorial fires; and this middle class may be helped by the
sacraments and the alms of the living. “There are many souls not good
enough to dispense with this provision, and not bad enough to be benefited
by it” (op. cit. v. 233). This doctrine was sanctioned and developed by
Gregory the Great. “After God has changed eternal punishments into
temporary, the justified must expiate these temporary penalties for sin in
purgatory” (p. 268). This view was inferred indirectly from Matt. xii. 31,
and directly from 1 Cor. iii. 12-15. Afterwards purgatory took more and
more the place of hell, and was subject to the control of the church. As
regards the saints, different degrees of blessedness were recognized; they
were supposed to wait in Hades for the return of Christ, but gradually the
belief gained ground, especially in regard to the martyrs, that their souls at
once entered Paradise. The primitive Christian eschatology was preserved
in the West as it was not in the East, and in times of exceptional distress the
expectation of Antichrist emerged again and again. In the middle ages there
was an extravagance of speculation on this subject, which may be seen in
the last division of Aquinas’ Summa Theologiae. He proposes thirty
questions on these matters, among which are the following: “whether souls
are conducted to heaven or hell immediately after death”; “whether the
limbus of hell is the same as Abraham’s bosom”; “whether the sun and
moon will be really obscured at the day of judgment”; “whether all the
Page 275
members of the human body will rise with it”; “whether the hair and nails
will reappear”; could thought become “more lawless and uncertain”?
While rejecting purgatory, Protestantism took over this eschatology.
Souls passed at once to heaven or to hell; a doctrine even less adequate to
the complex quality of human life. Luther himself looked for the passing
away of the present evil world. Socinianism taught a new
In Protestant spiritual body, an intermediate state in which the soul is
Theology. near non-existence, an annihilation of the wicked, as
immortality is the gift of God. Swedenborg discards a
physical resurrection, as at death the eyes of men are opened to the spiritual
world in which we exist now, and they continue to live essentially as they
lived here, until by their affinities they are drawn to heaven or hell. The
doctrine of eternal punishment has been opposed on many grounds, such as
the disproportion between the offence and the penalty, the moral and
religious immaturity of the majority of men at death, the diminution of the
happiness of heaven involved in the knowledge of the endless suffering of
others (Schleiermacher), the defeat of the divine purpose of righteousness
and grace that the continued antagonism of any of God’s creatures would
imply, the dissatisfaction God as Father must feel until His whole family is
restored. It has been argued that the term “eternal” has reference not to
duration of time but quality of being (Maurice); but it does seem certain that
the writers in the Holy Scriptures who used it did not foresee an end either
to the life or to the death to which they applied the term. The contention
should not be based on the meaning of a single word, but on such broader
considerations as have been indicated above. The doctrine of conditional
immortality taught by Socinianism was accepted by Archbishop Whately,
and has been most persistently advocated by Edward White, who
“maintains that immortality is a truth, not of reason, but of revelation, a gift
of God” bestowed only on believers in Christ; but he admits a continued
probation after death for such as have not hardened their hearts by a
will reappear”; could thought become “more lawless and uncertain”?
While rejecting purgatory, Protestantism took over this eschatology.
Souls passed at once to heaven or to hell; a doctrine even less adequate to
the complex quality of human life. Luther himself looked for the passing
away of the present evil world. Socinianism taught a new
In Protestant spiritual body, an intermediate state in which the soul is
Theology. near non-existence, an annihilation of the wicked, as
immortality is the gift of God. Swedenborg discards a
physical resurrection, as at death the eyes of men are opened to the spiritual
world in which we exist now, and they continue to live essentially as they
lived here, until by their affinities they are drawn to heaven or hell. The
doctrine of eternal punishment has been opposed on many grounds, such as
the disproportion between the offence and the penalty, the moral and
religious immaturity of the majority of men at death, the diminution of the
happiness of heaven involved in the knowledge of the endless suffering of
others (Schleiermacher), the defeat of the divine purpose of righteousness
and grace that the continued antagonism of any of God’s creatures would
imply, the dissatisfaction God as Father must feel until His whole family is
restored. It has been argued that the term “eternal” has reference not to
duration of time but quality of being (Maurice); but it does seem certain that
the writers in the Holy Scriptures who used it did not foresee an end either
to the life or to the death to which they applied the term. The contention
should not be based on the meaning of a single word, but on such broader
considerations as have been indicated above. The doctrine of conditional
immortality taught by Socinianism was accepted by Archbishop Whately,
and has been most persistently advocated by Edward White, who
“maintains that immortality is a truth, not of reason, but of revelation, a gift
of God” bestowed only on believers in Christ; but he admits a continued
probation after death for such as have not hardened their hearts by a
Page 276
rejection of Christ. According to Albrecht Ritschl “the wrath of God means
the resolve of God to annihilate those men who finally oppose themselves
to redemption, and the final purpose of the kingdom of God.” He thus
makes immortality conditional on inclusion in the kingdom of God. The
doctrine of universal restoration was maintained by Thomas Erskine of
Linlathen on the ground of the Fatherhood of God, and Archdeacon Wilson
anticipates such discipline after death as will restore all souls to God. C.I.
Nitzsch argues against the doctrine of the annihilation of the wicked,
regards the teaching of Scripture about eternal damnation as hypothetical,
and thinks it possible that Paul reached the hope of universal restoration.
I.A. Dorner maintains that hopeless perdition can be the penalty only of the
deliberate rejection of the Gospel, that those who have not had the
opportunity of choice fairly and fully in this life will get it hereafter, but that
the right choice will in all cases be made we cannot be confident. The
attitude of theologians generally regarding individual destiny is well
expressed by Dr James Orr, “The conclusion I arrive at is that we have not
the elements of a complete solution, and we ought not to attempt it. What
visions beyond there may be, what larger hopes, what ultimate harmonies, if
such there are in store, will come in God’s good time; it is not for us to
anticipate them, or lift the veil where God has left it down” (The Christian
View of God and the World, 1893, p. 397).
Although in recent theological thought attention has been mainly directed
to individual destiny, yet the other elements of Christian eschatology must
not be altogether passed over. History has offered the authoritative
commentary on the prophecy of the Parousia of Christ. The presence and
power of His Spirit, the spread of His Gospel, the progress of His kingdom
have been as much a fulfilment of the eschatological teaching of the New
Testament as His life and work on earth were a fulfilment of Messianic
prophecy, for fulfilment always transcends prophecy. Even if the common
beliefs of the apostolic age have not modified the evangelist’s reports of
the resolve of God to annihilate those men who finally oppose themselves
to redemption, and the final purpose of the kingdom of God.” He thus
makes immortality conditional on inclusion in the kingdom of God. The
doctrine of universal restoration was maintained by Thomas Erskine of
Linlathen on the ground of the Fatherhood of God, and Archdeacon Wilson
anticipates such discipline after death as will restore all souls to God. C.I.
Nitzsch argues against the doctrine of the annihilation of the wicked,
regards the teaching of Scripture about eternal damnation as hypothetical,
and thinks it possible that Paul reached the hope of universal restoration.
I.A. Dorner maintains that hopeless perdition can be the penalty only of the
deliberate rejection of the Gospel, that those who have not had the
opportunity of choice fairly and fully in this life will get it hereafter, but that
the right choice will in all cases be made we cannot be confident. The
attitude of theologians generally regarding individual destiny is well
expressed by Dr James Orr, “The conclusion I arrive at is that we have not
the elements of a complete solution, and we ought not to attempt it. What
visions beyond there may be, what larger hopes, what ultimate harmonies, if
such there are in store, will come in God’s good time; it is not for us to
anticipate them, or lift the veil where God has left it down” (The Christian
View of God and the World, 1893, p. 397).
Although in recent theological thought attention has been mainly directed
to individual destiny, yet the other elements of Christian eschatology must
not be altogether passed over. History has offered the authoritative
commentary on the prophecy of the Parousia of Christ. The presence and
power of His Spirit, the spread of His Gospel, the progress of His kingdom
have been as much a fulfilment of the eschatological teaching of the New
Testament as His life and work on earth were a fulfilment of Messianic
prophecy, for fulfilment always transcends prophecy. Even if the common
beliefs of the apostolic age have not modified the evangelist’s reports of
Page 277
Jesus’ teaching, it must be remembered that He used the common prophetic
phraseology, the literal fulfilment of which is not to be looked for. Some
parables (the leaven, the mustard seed) suggest a gradual progressive
realization of His kingdom. The Fourth Gospel interprets both judgment
and resurrection spiritually. Accordingly the general resurrection and the
last judgment may be regarded as the temporal and local forms of thought
to express the universal permanent truths that life survives death in the
completeness of its necessary organs and essential functions, and that the
character of that continued life is determined by personal choice of
submission or antagonism to God’s purpose of grace in Christ, the perfect
realization of which is the Christian’s hope for himself, mankind and the
world.
Bibliography.—In addition to the works referred to above the
following will be found useful: S.D.F. Salmond, The Christian
Doctrine of Immortality (4th ed., 1901); R.H. Charles, A Critical
History of the Doctrine of a Future Life in Israel, in Judaism, and in
Christianity (1899); L.N. Dahle, Life after Death and the Future of the
Kingdom of God (Eng. tr. by J. Beveridge, 1895); J.A. Beet, The Last
Things (new ed., 1905); W.G.T. Shedd, Doctrine of Endless
Punishment (New York, 1886); F.W. Farrar, The Eternal Hope (1892);
E. Pétavel, The Problem of Immortality (Eng. tr. by F.A. Freer, 1892);
E. White, Life in Christ (3rd ed., 1878); also the relevant sections in
books on biblical and systematic theology.
(A. E. G.*)
phraseology, the literal fulfilment of which is not to be looked for. Some
parables (the leaven, the mustard seed) suggest a gradual progressive
realization of His kingdom. The Fourth Gospel interprets both judgment
and resurrection spiritually. Accordingly the general resurrection and the
last judgment may be regarded as the temporal and local forms of thought
to express the universal permanent truths that life survives death in the
completeness of its necessary organs and essential functions, and that the
character of that continued life is determined by personal choice of
submission or antagonism to God’s purpose of grace in Christ, the perfect
realization of which is the Christian’s hope for himself, mankind and the
world.
Bibliography.—In addition to the works referred to above the
following will be found useful: S.D.F. Salmond, The Christian
Doctrine of Immortality (4th ed., 1901); R.H. Charles, A Critical
History of the Doctrine of a Future Life in Israel, in Judaism, and in
Christianity (1899); L.N. Dahle, Life after Death and the Future of the
Kingdom of God (Eng. tr. by J. Beveridge, 1895); J.A. Beet, The Last
Things (new ed., 1905); W.G.T. Shedd, Doctrine of Endless
Punishment (New York, 1886); F.W. Farrar, The Eternal Hope (1892);
E. Pétavel, The Problem of Immortality (Eng. tr. by F.A. Freer, 1892);
E. White, Life in Christ (3rd ed., 1878); also the relevant sections in
books on biblical and systematic theology.
(A. E. G.*)
Page 278
ESCHEAT (O. Fr. eschete, from escheoir, to fall to one’s share; Lat.
excidere, to fall out), in English law, the reversion of lands to the next lord
on the failure of heirs of the tenant. “When the tenant of an estate in fee
simple dies without having alienated his estate in his lifetime or by his will,
and without leaving any heirs either lineal or collateral, the lands in which
he held his estate escheat, as it is called, to the lord of whom he held them”
(Williams on the Law of Real Property). This rule is explained by the
conception of a freehold estate as an interest in lands held by the freeholder
from some lord, the king being lord paramount. (See Estate.) The granter
retains an interest in the land similar to that of the donor of an estate for life,
to whom the land reverts after the life estate is ended. As there are now few
freehold estates traceable to any mesne or intermediate lord, escheats, when
they do occur, fall to the king as lord paramount. Besides escheat for defect
of heirs, there was formerly also escheat propter delictum tenentis, or by the
corruption of the blood of the tenant through attainder consequent on
conviction and sentence for treason or felony. The blood of the tenant
becoming corrupt by attainder was decreed no longer inheritable, and the
effect was the same as if the tenant had died without heirs. The land,
therefore, escheated to the next heir, subject to the superior right of the
crown to the forfeiture of the lands,—in the case of treason for ever, in the
case of felony for a year and a day. All this was abolished by the Felony Act
1870, which provided for the appointment of an administrator to the
property of the convict. Escheat is also an incident of copyhold tenure.
Trust estates were not subject to escheat until the Intestates’ Estates Act
1884, but now by that act the law of escheat applies in the same manner as
if the estate or interest were a legal estate in corporeal hereditaments.
excidere, to fall out), in English law, the reversion of lands to the next lord
on the failure of heirs of the tenant. “When the tenant of an estate in fee
simple dies without having alienated his estate in his lifetime or by his will,
and without leaving any heirs either lineal or collateral, the lands in which
he held his estate escheat, as it is called, to the lord of whom he held them”
(Williams on the Law of Real Property). This rule is explained by the
conception of a freehold estate as an interest in lands held by the freeholder
from some lord, the king being lord paramount. (See Estate.) The granter
retains an interest in the land similar to that of the donor of an estate for life,
to whom the land reverts after the life estate is ended. As there are now few
freehold estates traceable to any mesne or intermediate lord, escheats, when
they do occur, fall to the king as lord paramount. Besides escheat for defect
of heirs, there was formerly also escheat propter delictum tenentis, or by the
corruption of the blood of the tenant through attainder consequent on
conviction and sentence for treason or felony. The blood of the tenant
becoming corrupt by attainder was decreed no longer inheritable, and the
effect was the same as if the tenant had died without heirs. The land,
therefore, escheated to the next heir, subject to the superior right of the
crown to the forfeiture of the lands,—in the case of treason for ever, in the
case of felony for a year and a day. All this was abolished by the Felony Act
1870, which provided for the appointment of an administrator to the
property of the convict. Escheat is also an incident of copyhold tenure.
Trust estates were not subject to escheat until the Intestates’ Estates Act
1884, but now by that act the law of escheat applies in the same manner as
if the estate or interest were a legal estate in corporeal hereditaments.
Page 279
ESCHENBURG, JOHANN JOACHIM (1743-1820), German critic
and literary historian, was born at Hamburg on the 7th of December 1743.
After receiving his early education in his native town, he studied at Leipzig
and Göttingen. In 1767 he was appointed tutor, and subsequently professor,
at the Collegium Carolinum in Brunswick. The title of “Hofrat” was
conferred on him in 1786, and in 1814 he was made one of the directors of
the Carolinum. He is best known by his efforts to familiarize his
countrymen with English literature. He published a series of German
translations of the principal English writers on aesthetics, such as J. Brown,
D. Webb, Charles Burney, Joseph Priestley and R. Hurd; and Germany
owes also to him the first complete translation (in prose) of Shakespeare’s
plays (William Shakespear’s Schauspiele, 13 vols., Zürich, 1775-1782).
This is virtually a revised edition of the incomplete translation published by
Wieland between 1762 and 1766. Eschenburg died at Brunswick on the
29th of February 1820.
Besides editing, with memoirs, the works of Hagedorn, Zachariä and
other German poets, he was the author of a Handbuch der klassischen
Literatur (1783); Entwurf einer Theorie und Literatur der schönen
Wissenschaften (1783); Beispielsammlung zur Theorie und Literatur der
schönen Wissenschaften (8 vols., 1788-1795); Lehrbuch der
Wissenschaftskunde (1792); and Denkmäler altdeutscher Dichtkunst (1799).
Most of these works have passed through several editions. Eschenburg was
also a poet of some pretensions, and some of his religious hymns, e.g. Ich
will dich noch im Tod erheben and Dir trau’ ich, Gott, und wanke nicht, are
contained in many hymnals to this day.
and literary historian, was born at Hamburg on the 7th of December 1743.
After receiving his early education in his native town, he studied at Leipzig
and Göttingen. In 1767 he was appointed tutor, and subsequently professor,
at the Collegium Carolinum in Brunswick. The title of “Hofrat” was
conferred on him in 1786, and in 1814 he was made one of the directors of
the Carolinum. He is best known by his efforts to familiarize his
countrymen with English literature. He published a series of German
translations of the principal English writers on aesthetics, such as J. Brown,
D. Webb, Charles Burney, Joseph Priestley and R. Hurd; and Germany
owes also to him the first complete translation (in prose) of Shakespeare’s
plays (William Shakespear’s Schauspiele, 13 vols., Zürich, 1775-1782).
This is virtually a revised edition of the incomplete translation published by
Wieland between 1762 and 1766. Eschenburg died at Brunswick on the
29th of February 1820.
Besides editing, with memoirs, the works of Hagedorn, Zachariä and
other German poets, he was the author of a Handbuch der klassischen
Literatur (1783); Entwurf einer Theorie und Literatur der schönen
Wissenschaften (1783); Beispielsammlung zur Theorie und Literatur der
schönen Wissenschaften (8 vols., 1788-1795); Lehrbuch der
Wissenschaftskunde (1792); and Denkmäler altdeutscher Dichtkunst (1799).
Most of these works have passed through several editions. Eschenburg was
also a poet of some pretensions, and some of his religious hymns, e.g. Ich
will dich noch im Tod erheben and Dir trau’ ich, Gott, und wanke nicht, are
contained in many hymnals to this day.
Page 280
ESCHENMAYER, ADAM KARL AUGUST VON (1768-1852),
German philosopher and physicist, was born at Neuenburg in Württemberg
in July 1768. After receiving his early education at the Caroline academy of
Stuttgart, he entered the university of Tübingen, where he received the
degree of doctor of medicine. He practised for some time as a physician at
Sulz, and then at Kirchheim, and in 1811 he was chosen extraordinary
professor of philosophy and medicine at Tübingen. In 1818 he became
ordinary professor of practical philosophy, but in 1836 he resigned and took
up his residence at Kirchheim, where he devoted his whole attention to
philosophical studies. Eschenmayer’s views are largely identical with those
of Schelling, but he differed from him in regard to the knowledge of the
absolute. He believed that in order to complete the arc of truth philosophy
must be supplemented by what he called “non-philosophy,” a kind of
mystical illumination by which was obtained a belief in God that could not
be reached by mere intellectual effort (see Höffding, Hist. of Mod. Phil.,
Eng. trans. vol. 2, p. 170). He carried this tendency to mysticism into his
physical researches, and was led by it to take a deep interest in the
phenomena of animal magnetism. He ultimately became a devout believer
in demoniacal and spiritual possession; and his later writings are all
strongly impregnated with the lower supernaturalism.
His principal works are—Die Philosophie in ihrem Übergange zur
Nichtphilosophie (1803); Versuch die scheinbare Magie des thierischen
Magnetismus aus physiol. und psychischen Gesetzen zu erklären
(1816); System der Moralphilosophie (1818); Psychologie in drei
Theilen, als empirische, reine, angewandte (1817, 2nd ed. 1822);
Religionsphilosophie (3 vols., 1818-1824); Die Hegel’sche
Religionsphilosophie verglichen mit dem christl. Princip (1834); Der
Ischariotismus unserer Tage (1835) (directed against Strauss’s Life of
Jesus); Konflikt zwischen Himmel und Hölle, an dem Dämon eines
besessenen Mädchens beobachtet (1837); Grundriss der
German philosopher and physicist, was born at Neuenburg in Württemberg
in July 1768. After receiving his early education at the Caroline academy of
Stuttgart, he entered the university of Tübingen, where he received the
degree of doctor of medicine. He practised for some time as a physician at
Sulz, and then at Kirchheim, and in 1811 he was chosen extraordinary
professor of philosophy and medicine at Tübingen. In 1818 he became
ordinary professor of practical philosophy, but in 1836 he resigned and took
up his residence at Kirchheim, where he devoted his whole attention to
philosophical studies. Eschenmayer’s views are largely identical with those
of Schelling, but he differed from him in regard to the knowledge of the
absolute. He believed that in order to complete the arc of truth philosophy
must be supplemented by what he called “non-philosophy,” a kind of
mystical illumination by which was obtained a belief in God that could not
be reached by mere intellectual effort (see Höffding, Hist. of Mod. Phil.,
Eng. trans. vol. 2, p. 170). He carried this tendency to mysticism into his
physical researches, and was led by it to take a deep interest in the
phenomena of animal magnetism. He ultimately became a devout believer
in demoniacal and spiritual possession; and his later writings are all
strongly impregnated with the lower supernaturalism.
His principal works are—Die Philosophie in ihrem Übergange zur
Nichtphilosophie (1803); Versuch die scheinbare Magie des thierischen
Magnetismus aus physiol. und psychischen Gesetzen zu erklären
(1816); System der Moralphilosophie (1818); Psychologie in drei
Theilen, als empirische, reine, angewandte (1817, 2nd ed. 1822);
Religionsphilosophie (3 vols., 1818-1824); Die Hegel’sche
Religionsphilosophie verglichen mit dem christl. Princip (1834); Der
Ischariotismus unserer Tage (1835) (directed against Strauss’s Life of
Jesus); Konflikt zwischen Himmel und Hölle, an dem Dämon eines
besessenen Mädchens beobachtet (1837); Grundriss der
Page 281
Naturphilosophie (1832); Grundzüge der christl. Philosophie (1840);
and Betrachtungen über den physischen Weltbau (1852).
ESCHER VON DER LINTH, ARNOLD (1807-1872), Swiss geologist,
the son of Hans Conrad Escher (1767-1823), was born at Zürich on the 8th
of June 1807. In 1856 he became professor of geology at the École
Polytechnique at Zürich. His researches led him to be regarded as one of the
founders of Swiss geology. With B. Studer he produced (1852-1853) the
first elaborate geological map of Switzerland. He was the author also of
Geologische Bemerkungen über das nördliche Vorarlberg und einige
angrenzenden Gegenden, published at Zürich in 1853. He died on the 12th
of July 1872.
ESCHSCHOLTZ, JOHANN FRIEDRICH (1793-1831), Russian
traveller and naturalist, was born in November 1793, at Dorpat, where he
died in May 1831. He was naturalist and physician to Otto von Kotzebue’s
exploring expedition during 1815-1818. On his return he was appointed
extraordinary professor of anatomy (1819) and director of the zoological
museum of the university at Dorpat (1822), and in 1823-1826 he
accompanied Kotzebue on his second voyage of discovery. He became
ordinary professor of anatomy at Dorpat in 1828. Among his publications
and Betrachtungen über den physischen Weltbau (1852).
ESCHER VON DER LINTH, ARNOLD (1807-1872), Swiss geologist,
the son of Hans Conrad Escher (1767-1823), was born at Zürich on the 8th
of June 1807. In 1856 he became professor of geology at the École
Polytechnique at Zürich. His researches led him to be regarded as one of the
founders of Swiss geology. With B. Studer he produced (1852-1853) the
first elaborate geological map of Switzerland. He was the author also of
Geologische Bemerkungen über das nördliche Vorarlberg und einige
angrenzenden Gegenden, published at Zürich in 1853. He died on the 12th
of July 1872.
ESCHSCHOLTZ, JOHANN FRIEDRICH (1793-1831), Russian
traveller and naturalist, was born in November 1793, at Dorpat, where he
died in May 1831. He was naturalist and physician to Otto von Kotzebue’s
exploring expedition during 1815-1818. On his return he was appointed
extraordinary professor of anatomy (1819) and director of the zoological
museum of the university at Dorpat (1822), and in 1823-1826 he
accompanied Kotzebue on his second voyage of discovery. He became
ordinary professor of anatomy at Dorpat in 1828. Among his publications
Page 282
were the System der Akalephen (1829), and the Zoologischer Atlas (1829-
1833). The botanical genus Eschscholtzia was named by Adelbert von
Chamisso in his honour.
ESCHWEGE, a town of Germany, in the Prussian province of Hesse-
Nassau, on the Werra, and the railway Treysa-Leinefelde, 28 m. S.E. of
Cassel. Pop. (1905) 11,113. It consists of the old town on the left, the new
town on the right, bank of the Werra, and Brückenhausen on a small island
connected with the old and new town by bridges. It is a thriving
manufacturing town, its chief industries being leather-making, yarn-
spinning, cotton- and linen-weaving, the manufactures of cigars, brushes,
liquors and oil, and glue- and soap-boiling. It has two ancient buildings, the
Nikolai-turm, built in 1455, and the old castle. After being part of
Thuringia, Eschwege passed to Hesse in 1263. It was recovered by the
landgrave of Thuringia in 1388, but soon reverted to Hesse, and it became
the residence of one of the branches of the Hessian royal house, a branch
which died out in 1655.
ESCHWEILER, a town of Germany, in the Prussian Rhine province, on
the Inde, and the railways Cologne-Herbesthal and Munich-Gladbach-
Stolberg, about 8 m. E.N.E. from Aix-la-Chapelle. Pop. (1905) 20,643. The
1833). The botanical genus Eschscholtzia was named by Adelbert von
Chamisso in his honour.
ESCHWEGE, a town of Germany, in the Prussian province of Hesse-
Nassau, on the Werra, and the railway Treysa-Leinefelde, 28 m. S.E. of
Cassel. Pop. (1905) 11,113. It consists of the old town on the left, the new
town on the right, bank of the Werra, and Brückenhausen on a small island
connected with the old and new town by bridges. It is a thriving
manufacturing town, its chief industries being leather-making, yarn-
spinning, cotton- and linen-weaving, the manufactures of cigars, brushes,
liquors and oil, and glue- and soap-boiling. It has two ancient buildings, the
Nikolai-turm, built in 1455, and the old castle. After being part of
Thuringia, Eschwege passed to Hesse in 1263. It was recovered by the
landgrave of Thuringia in 1388, but soon reverted to Hesse, and it became
the residence of one of the branches of the Hessian royal house, a branch
which died out in 1655.
ESCHWEILER, a town of Germany, in the Prussian Rhine province, on
the Inde, and the railways Cologne-Herbesthal and Munich-Gladbach-
Stolberg, about 8 m. E.N.E. from Aix-la-Chapelle. Pop. (1905) 20,643. The
Page 283
town has an Evangelical and four Roman Catholic churches, a gymnasium
and an orphanage. The manufacture of iron and steel goods is carried on;
other industries include the manufacture of zinc wares, tanning, distilling
and brewing. In the neighbourhood there are valuable coal mines.
and an orphanage. The manufacture of iron and steel goods is carried on;
other industries include the manufacture of zinc wares, tanning, distilling
and brewing. In the neighbourhood there are valuable coal mines.
Page 284
See Koch, Geschichte der Stadt Eschweiler (Frankfort, 1890).
ESCOBAR Y MENDOZA, ANTONIO (1589-1669), Spanish churchman of
illustrious descent, was born at Valladolid in 1589. He was educated by the Jesuits, and
at the age of fifteen took the habit of that order. He soon became a famous preacher,
and his facility was so great that for fifty years he preached daily, and sometimes twice
a day. In addition he was a voluminous writer, and his works fill eighty-three volumes.
His first literary efforts were Latin verses in praise of Ignatius Loyola (1613) and the
Virgin Mary (1618); but he is best known as a writer on casuistry. His principal works
belong to the fields of exegesis and moral theology. Of the latter the best known are
Summula casuum conscientiae (1627); Liber theologiae moralis (1644), and Universae
theologiae moralis problemata (1652-1666). The first mentioned of these was severely
criticised by Pascal in the fifth and sixth of his Provincial Letters, as tending to
inculcate a loose system of morality. It contains the famous maxim that purity of
intention may be a justification of actions which are contrary to the moral code and to
human laws; and its general tendency is to find excuses for the majority of human
frailties. His doctrines were disapproved of by many Catholics, and were mildly
condemned by Rome. They were also ridiculed in witty verses by Molière, Boileau and
La Fontaine, and gradually the name Escobar came to be used in France as a synonym
for a person who is adroit in making the rules of morality harmonize with his own
interests. Escobar himself is said to have been simple in his habits, a strict observer of
the rules of his order, and unweariedly zealous in his efforts to reform the lives of those
with whom he had to deal. It has been said of him that “he purchased heaven dearly for
himself, but gave it away cheap to others.” He died on the 4th of July 1669.
ESCOBAR Y MENDOZA, ANTONIO (1589-1669), Spanish churchman of
illustrious descent, was born at Valladolid in 1589. He was educated by the Jesuits, and
at the age of fifteen took the habit of that order. He soon became a famous preacher,
and his facility was so great that for fifty years he preached daily, and sometimes twice
a day. In addition he was a voluminous writer, and his works fill eighty-three volumes.
His first literary efforts were Latin verses in praise of Ignatius Loyola (1613) and the
Virgin Mary (1618); but he is best known as a writer on casuistry. His principal works
belong to the fields of exegesis and moral theology. Of the latter the best known are
Summula casuum conscientiae (1627); Liber theologiae moralis (1644), and Universae
theologiae moralis problemata (1652-1666). The first mentioned of these was severely
criticised by Pascal in the fifth and sixth of his Provincial Letters, as tending to
inculcate a loose system of morality. It contains the famous maxim that purity of
intention may be a justification of actions which are contrary to the moral code and to
human laws; and its general tendency is to find excuses for the majority of human
frailties. His doctrines were disapproved of by many Catholics, and were mildly
condemned by Rome. They were also ridiculed in witty verses by Molière, Boileau and
La Fontaine, and gradually the name Escobar came to be used in France as a synonym
for a person who is adroit in making the rules of morality harmonize with his own
interests. Escobar himself is said to have been simple in his habits, a strict observer of
the rules of his order, and unweariedly zealous in his efforts to reform the lives of those
with whom he had to deal. It has been said of him that “he purchased heaven dearly for
himself, but gave it away cheap to others.” He died on the 4th of July 1669.
Page 285
ESCOIQUIZ, JUAN (1762-1820), Spanish ecclesiastic, politician and writer, was
born in Navarre in 1762. His father was a general officer and he began life as a page in
the court of King Charles III. He entered the church and was provided for by a prebend
at Saragossa. Godoy in his memoirs asserts that Escoiquiz sought to gain his favour by
flattery. There is every reason to believe that this is an accurate statement of the case.
The mere fact that he was selected to be the tutor of the heir-apparent, Ferdinand,
afterwards King Ferdinand VII., is of itself a proof that he exerted himself to gain the
goodwill of the reigning favourite. In 1797 he published a translation of Young’s Night
Thoughts, which does not of itself show that he was well acquainted with English, for
the version may have been made with the help of the French. In 1798 he published a
long and worthless so-called epic on the conquest of Mexico. Escoiquiz was in fact a
busy and pushing member of the literary clique which looked up to Godoy as its
patron. But his position as tutor to the heir to the throne excited his ambition. He began
to hope that he might play the part of those court ecclesiastics who had often had an
active share in the government of Spain. As Ferdinand grew up, and after his marriage
with a Neapolitan princess, he became the centre of a court opposition to Godoy and to
his policy of alliance with France. Escoiquiz was the brains, as far as there were any
brains, of the intrigue. His activity was so notorious that he was exiled from court, but
was consoled by a canonry at Toledo. This half measure was as ineffective as was to
have been expected. Escoiquiz continued to be in constant communication with the
prince. Toledo is close to Madrid, and the correspondence was easily maintained. He
had a large share in the conspiracy of the Escorial which was detected on the 28th of
October 1807. He was imprisoned and sent for trial with other conspirators. But as they
had appealed to Napoleon, who would not suffer his name to be mentioned, the
government had to allow the matter to be hushed up, and the prisoners were acquitted.
After the outbreak at Aranjuez on the 17th of March 1808, in which he had a share, he
became one of the most trusted advisers of Ferdinand. The new king’s decision to go to
meet Napoleon at Bayonne was largely inspired by him. In 1814 Escoiquiz published at
Madrid his Idea Sencilla de las razones que motivaron el viage del Rey Fernando VII.
à Bayona (Honest representation of the causes which inspired the journey of King
Ferdinand VII. to Bayonne). It is a valuable historical document, and contains a
singularly vivid account of an interview with Napoleon. Escoiquiz was far too firmly
convinced of his ingenuity and merits to conceal the delusions and follies of himself
and his associates. He displays his own vanity, frivolity and futile cleverness with
much unconscious humour, but, it is only fair to allow, with some literary dexterity.
born in Navarre in 1762. His father was a general officer and he began life as a page in
the court of King Charles III. He entered the church and was provided for by a prebend
at Saragossa. Godoy in his memoirs asserts that Escoiquiz sought to gain his favour by
flattery. There is every reason to believe that this is an accurate statement of the case.
The mere fact that he was selected to be the tutor of the heir-apparent, Ferdinand,
afterwards King Ferdinand VII., is of itself a proof that he exerted himself to gain the
goodwill of the reigning favourite. In 1797 he published a translation of Young’s Night
Thoughts, which does not of itself show that he was well acquainted with English, for
the version may have been made with the help of the French. In 1798 he published a
long and worthless so-called epic on the conquest of Mexico. Escoiquiz was in fact a
busy and pushing member of the literary clique which looked up to Godoy as its
patron. But his position as tutor to the heir to the throne excited his ambition. He began
to hope that he might play the part of those court ecclesiastics who had often had an
active share in the government of Spain. As Ferdinand grew up, and after his marriage
with a Neapolitan princess, he became the centre of a court opposition to Godoy and to
his policy of alliance with France. Escoiquiz was the brains, as far as there were any
brains, of the intrigue. His activity was so notorious that he was exiled from court, but
was consoled by a canonry at Toledo. This half measure was as ineffective as was to
have been expected. Escoiquiz continued to be in constant communication with the
prince. Toledo is close to Madrid, and the correspondence was easily maintained. He
had a large share in the conspiracy of the Escorial which was detected on the 28th of
October 1807. He was imprisoned and sent for trial with other conspirators. But as they
had appealed to Napoleon, who would not suffer his name to be mentioned, the
government had to allow the matter to be hushed up, and the prisoners were acquitted.
After the outbreak at Aranjuez on the 17th of March 1808, in which he had a share, he
became one of the most trusted advisers of Ferdinand. The new king’s decision to go to
meet Napoleon at Bayonne was largely inspired by him. In 1814 Escoiquiz published at
Madrid his Idea Sencilla de las razones que motivaron el viage del Rey Fernando VII.
à Bayona (Honest representation of the causes which inspired the journey of King
Ferdinand VII. to Bayonne). It is a valuable historical document, and contains a
singularly vivid account of an interview with Napoleon. Escoiquiz was far too firmly
convinced of his ingenuity and merits to conceal the delusions and follies of himself
and his associates. He displays his own vanity, frivolity and futile cleverness with
much unconscious humour, but, it is only fair to allow, with some literary dexterity.
Page 286
When the Spanish royal family was imprisoned by Napoleon, Escoiquiz remained with
Ferdinand at Valençay. In 1813 he published at Bourges a translation of Milton’s
Paradise Lost. When Ferdinand was released in 1814 he came back to Madrid in the
hope that his ambition would now be satisfied, but the king was tired of him, and was
moreover resolved never to be subjected by any favourite. After a very brief period of
office in 1815 he was sent as a prisoner to Murcia. Though he was afterwards recalled,
he was again exiled to Ronda, where he died on the 27th of November 1820.
ESCOMBE, HARRY (1838-1899), South African statesman, a member of a
Somersetshire family, was born at Notting Hill, London, on the 25th of July 1838, and
was educated at St Paul’s school. After four years in a stockbroker’s office, he
emigrated, in 1859, to the Cape. The following year he moved to Natal, and, after
trying other occupations, qualified as an attorney. He became recognized as the ablest
pleader in the colony, and, in 1872, was elected for Durban as a member of the
legislative council, and subsequently was also placed on the executive council. In 1880
he secured the appointment of a harbour board for Natal, and was himself made
chairman. The transformation of the port of Durban into a harbour available for ocean
liners was due entirely to his energy. In 1888-1889 he defended Dinizulu and other
Zulu chiefs against a charge of high treason. For several years he opposed the grant of
responsible government to Natal, but by 1890 had become convinced of its desirability,
and on its conferment in 1893 he joined the first ministry formed, serving under Sir
John Robinson as attorney-general. In February 1897, on Sir John’s retirement,
Escombe became premier, remaining attorney-general and also holding the office of
minister of education and minister of defence. In the summer of that year he was in
London with the other colonial premiers at the celebration of the Diamond Jubilee of
Queen Victoria, and was made a member of the privy council. Cambridge University
conferred upon him the honorary degree of LL.D. The election that followed his return
to Natal proved unfavourable to his policy, and he resigned office (October 1897).
Throughout his life he took an active interest in national defence. He had served in the
Zulu War of 1879, was commander of the Natal Naval Volunteers and received the
Ferdinand at Valençay. In 1813 he published at Bourges a translation of Milton’s
Paradise Lost. When Ferdinand was released in 1814 he came back to Madrid in the
hope that his ambition would now be satisfied, but the king was tired of him, and was
moreover resolved never to be subjected by any favourite. After a very brief period of
office in 1815 he was sent as a prisoner to Murcia. Though he was afterwards recalled,
he was again exiled to Ronda, where he died on the 27th of November 1820.
ESCOMBE, HARRY (1838-1899), South African statesman, a member of a
Somersetshire family, was born at Notting Hill, London, on the 25th of July 1838, and
was educated at St Paul’s school. After four years in a stockbroker’s office, he
emigrated, in 1859, to the Cape. The following year he moved to Natal, and, after
trying other occupations, qualified as an attorney. He became recognized as the ablest
pleader in the colony, and, in 1872, was elected for Durban as a member of the
legislative council, and subsequently was also placed on the executive council. In 1880
he secured the appointment of a harbour board for Natal, and was himself made
chairman. The transformation of the port of Durban into a harbour available for ocean
liners was due entirely to his energy. In 1888-1889 he defended Dinizulu and other
Zulu chiefs against a charge of high treason. For several years he opposed the grant of
responsible government to Natal, but by 1890 had become convinced of its desirability,
and on its conferment in 1893 he joined the first ministry formed, serving under Sir
John Robinson as attorney-general. In February 1897, on Sir John’s retirement,
Escombe became premier, remaining attorney-general and also holding the office of
minister of education and minister of defence. In the summer of that year he was in
London with the other colonial premiers at the celebration of the Diamond Jubilee of
Queen Victoria, and was made a member of the privy council. Cambridge University
conferred upon him the honorary degree of LL.D. The election that followed his return
to Natal proved unfavourable to his policy, and he resigned office (October 1897).
Throughout his life he took an active interest in national defence. He had served in the
Zulu War of 1879, was commander of the Natal Naval Volunteers and received the
Page 287
volunteer long service decoration. In October 1899 he went to the northern confines of
the colony to take part in preparing measures of defence against the invasion by the
Boers. He died on the 27th of December 1899.
The Speeches of the late Right Hon. Harry Escombe (Maritzburg, 1903), edited
by J.T. Henderson, contains brief biographical notes by Sir John Robinson and the
editor.
ESCORIAL, or Escurial, in Spain, one of the most remarkable buildings in Europe,
comprising at once a convent, a church, a palace and a mausoleum. The Escorial is
situated 3432 ft. above the sea, on the south-western slopes of the Sierra de
Guadarrama, and thus within the borders of the province of Madrid and the kingdom of
New Castile. By the Madrid-Ávila railway it is 31 m. N.W. of Madrid. The surrounding
country is a sterile and gloomy wilderness exposed to the cold and blighting blasts of
the Sierra.
According to the usual tradition, which there seems no sufficient reason to reject, the
Escorial owes its existence to a vow made by Philip II. of Spain (1556-1598), shortly
after the battle of St Quentin, in which his forces succeeded in routing the army of
France. The day of the victory, the 10th of August 1557, was sacred to St Laurence;
and accordingly the building was dedicated to that saint, and received the title of El
real monasterio de San Lorenzo del Escorial. The last distinctive epithet was derived
from the little hamlet in the vicinity which furnished shelter, not only to the workmen,
but to the monks of St Jerome who were afterwards to be in possession of the
monastery; and the hamlet itself is generally but perhaps erroneously supposed to be
indebted for its name to the scoriae or dross of certain old iron mines. The preparation
of the plans and the superintendence of the work were entrusted by the king to Juan
Bautista de Toledo, a Spanish architect who had received most of his professional
education in Italy. The first stone was laid in April 1563; and under the king’s personal
inspection the work rapidly advanced. Abundant supplies of berroqueña, a granite-like
stone, were obtained in the neighbourhood, and for rarer materials the resources of both
the colony to take part in preparing measures of defence against the invasion by the
Boers. He died on the 27th of December 1899.
The Speeches of the late Right Hon. Harry Escombe (Maritzburg, 1903), edited
by J.T. Henderson, contains brief biographical notes by Sir John Robinson and the
editor.
ESCORIAL, or Escurial, in Spain, one of the most remarkable buildings in Europe,
comprising at once a convent, a church, a palace and a mausoleum. The Escorial is
situated 3432 ft. above the sea, on the south-western slopes of the Sierra de
Guadarrama, and thus within the borders of the province of Madrid and the kingdom of
New Castile. By the Madrid-Ávila railway it is 31 m. N.W. of Madrid. The surrounding
country is a sterile and gloomy wilderness exposed to the cold and blighting blasts of
the Sierra.
According to the usual tradition, which there seems no sufficient reason to reject, the
Escorial owes its existence to a vow made by Philip II. of Spain (1556-1598), shortly
after the battle of St Quentin, in which his forces succeeded in routing the army of
France. The day of the victory, the 10th of August 1557, was sacred to St Laurence;
and accordingly the building was dedicated to that saint, and received the title of El
real monasterio de San Lorenzo del Escorial. The last distinctive epithet was derived
from the little hamlet in the vicinity which furnished shelter, not only to the workmen,
but to the monks of St Jerome who were afterwards to be in possession of the
monastery; and the hamlet itself is generally but perhaps erroneously supposed to be
indebted for its name to the scoriae or dross of certain old iron mines. The preparation
of the plans and the superintendence of the work were entrusted by the king to Juan
Bautista de Toledo, a Spanish architect who had received most of his professional
education in Italy. The first stone was laid in April 1563; and under the king’s personal
inspection the work rapidly advanced. Abundant supplies of berroqueña, a granite-like
stone, were obtained in the neighbourhood, and for rarer materials the resources of both
Page 288
the Old and the New World were put under contribution. The death of Toledo in 1567
threatened a fatal blow at the satisfactory completion of the enterprise, but a worthy
successor was found in Juan Herrera, Toledo’s favourite pupil, who adhered in the
main to his master’s designs. On the 13th of September 1584 the last stone of the
masonry was laid, and the works were brought to a termination in 1593. Each
successive occupant of the Spanish throne has done something, however slight, to the
restoration or adornment of Philip’s convent-palace, and Ferdinand VII. (1808-1833)
did so much in this way that he has been called a second founder. In all its principal
features, however, the Escorial remains what it was made by the genius of Toledo and
Herrera working out the grand, if abnormal, desires of their master.
The ground plan of the building is estimated to occupy an area of 396,782 sq. ft., and
the total area of all the storeys would form a causeway 1 metre in breadth and 95 m. in
length. There are seven towers, fifteen gateways and, according to Los Santos, no
fewer than 12,000 windows and doors. The general arrangement is shown by the
accompanying plan. Entering by the main entrance the visitor finds himself in an
atrium, called the Court of the Kings (Patio de los reyes), from the 16th-century statues
of the kings of Judah, by Juan Bautista Monegro, which adorn the façade of the church.
The sides of the atrium are unfortunately occupied by plain ungainly buildings five
storeys in height, awkwardly accommodating themselves to the upward slope of the
ground. Of the grandeur of the church itself, however, there can be no question: it is the
finest portion of the whole Escorial, and, according to Fergusson, deserves to rank as
one of the great Renaissance churches of Europe. It is about 340 ft. from east to west
by 200 from north to south, and thus occupies an area of about 70,000 sq. ft. The dome
is 60 ft. in diameter, and its height at the centre is about 320 ft. In glaring contrast to
the bold and simple forms of the architecture, which belongs to the Doric style, were
the bronze and marbles and pictures of the high altar, the masterpiece of the Milanese
Giacomo Trezzo, almost ruined by the French in 1808. Directly under the altar is
situated the pantheon or royal mausoleum, a richly decorated octagonal chamber with
upwards of twenty niches, occupied by black marble urnas or sarcophagi, kept sacred
for the dust of kings or mothers of kings. There are the remains of Charles V. (1516-
1556), of Philip II., and of all their successors on the Spanish throne down to Ferdinand
VII., with the exception of Philip V. (1700-1746) and Ferdinand VI. (1746-1759).
Several of the sarcophagi are still empty. For the other members of the royal family
there is a separate vault, known as the Panteon de los Infantes, or more familiarly by
threatened a fatal blow at the satisfactory completion of the enterprise, but a worthy
successor was found in Juan Herrera, Toledo’s favourite pupil, who adhered in the
main to his master’s designs. On the 13th of September 1584 the last stone of the
masonry was laid, and the works were brought to a termination in 1593. Each
successive occupant of the Spanish throne has done something, however slight, to the
restoration or adornment of Philip’s convent-palace, and Ferdinand VII. (1808-1833)
did so much in this way that he has been called a second founder. In all its principal
features, however, the Escorial remains what it was made by the genius of Toledo and
Herrera working out the grand, if abnormal, desires of their master.
The ground plan of the building is estimated to occupy an area of 396,782 sq. ft., and
the total area of all the storeys would form a causeway 1 metre in breadth and 95 m. in
length. There are seven towers, fifteen gateways and, according to Los Santos, no
fewer than 12,000 windows and doors. The general arrangement is shown by the
accompanying plan. Entering by the main entrance the visitor finds himself in an
atrium, called the Court of the Kings (Patio de los reyes), from the 16th-century statues
of the kings of Judah, by Juan Bautista Monegro, which adorn the façade of the church.
The sides of the atrium are unfortunately occupied by plain ungainly buildings five
storeys in height, awkwardly accommodating themselves to the upward slope of the
ground. Of the grandeur of the church itself, however, there can be no question: it is the
finest portion of the whole Escorial, and, according to Fergusson, deserves to rank as
one of the great Renaissance churches of Europe. It is about 340 ft. from east to west
by 200 from north to south, and thus occupies an area of about 70,000 sq. ft. The dome
is 60 ft. in diameter, and its height at the centre is about 320 ft. In glaring contrast to
the bold and simple forms of the architecture, which belongs to the Doric style, were
the bronze and marbles and pictures of the high altar, the masterpiece of the Milanese
Giacomo Trezzo, almost ruined by the French in 1808. Directly under the altar is
situated the pantheon or royal mausoleum, a richly decorated octagonal chamber with
upwards of twenty niches, occupied by black marble urnas or sarcophagi, kept sacred
for the dust of kings or mothers of kings. There are the remains of Charles V. (1516-
1556), of Philip II., and of all their successors on the Spanish throne down to Ferdinand
VII., with the exception of Philip V. (1700-1746) and Ferdinand VI. (1746-1759).
Several of the sarcophagi are still empty. For the other members of the royal family
there is a separate vault, known as the Panteon de los Infantes, or more familiarly by
Page 289
the dreadfully suggestive name of El Pudridero. The most interesting room in the
palace is Philip II.’s cell, from which through an opening in the wall he could see the
celebration of mass while too ill to leave his bed.
palace is Philip II.’s cell, from which through an opening in the wall he could see the
celebration of mass while too ill to leave his bed.
Page 290
Views and Plan of the Escorial.1
15. Chapel of the Eleven Thousand 27. Old theological hall.
Church Virgins. 28. Chamber of secrets.
1. Principal entrance and portico. 16. Former Chapel of the 29. Old refectory.
2. Court of the kings (Patio de los Patrocinio. 30. Entrance to the colle
reyes). 17. Sacristy. 31. College yard.
3. Vestibule of the church.
4. Choir of the seminarists. Palace Convent
5. Centre of the church and 18. Principal court of the palace. 32. Clock tower.
projection of the dome. 19. Ladies’ tower. 33. Principal cloister.
6. Greater chapel. 20. Court of the masks. 34. Court of the evangel
7. High altar. 21. Apartments of the royal children. 35. Prior’s cell.
8. Chapel of St John. 22. Royal oratory. 36. Archives.
9. Chapel of St Michael. 23. Oratory where Philip II. died. 37. Old church.
10. Chapel of St Maurice. 38. Visitors’ hall.
11. Chapel of the Rosary. Seminary 39. Manuscript library.
12. Tomb of Louisa Carlota. 24. Entrance to seminary. 40. Convent refectory.
13. Chapel of the Patrocinio. 25. Classrooms.
14. Chapel of the Cristo de la 26. Old philosophical hall.
buena muerte.
The library, situated above the principal portico, was at one time one of the richest in
Europe, comprising the king’s own collection, the extensive bequest of Diego de
Mendoza, Philip’s ambassador to Rome, the spoils of the emperor of Morocco, Muley
Zidan (1603-1628) and various contributions from convents, churches and cities. It
suffered greatly in the fire of 1671, and has since been impoverished by plunder and
neglect. Among its curiosities still extant are two New Testament Codices of the 10th
century and two of the 11th; various works by Alphonso the Wise (1252-1284), a Virgil
of the 14th century, a Koran of the 15th, &c. Of the Arabic manuscripts which it
contained in the 17th century a catalogue was given in J.H. Hottinger’s Promptuarium
sive bibliotheca orientalis, published at Heidelberg in 1658, and another in the 18th, in
M. Casiri’s Bibliotheca Arabico-Hispanica (2 vols., Madrid, 1760-1770). Of the artistic
treasures with which the Escorial was gradually enriched, it is sufficient to mention the
frescoes of Peregrin or Pellagrino Tibaldi, Luis de Carbajal, Bartolommeo Carducci or
Carducho, and Luca Giordano, and the pictures of Titian, Tintoretto and Velasquez.
These paintings all date from the 15th or the 17th century. Many of those that are
movable have been transferred to Madrid, and many others have perished by fire or
sack. The conflagration of 1671, already mentioned, raged for fifteen days, and only
15. Chapel of the Eleven Thousand 27. Old theological hall.
Church Virgins. 28. Chamber of secrets.
1. Principal entrance and portico. 16. Former Chapel of the 29. Old refectory.
2. Court of the kings (Patio de los Patrocinio. 30. Entrance to the colle
reyes). 17. Sacristy. 31. College yard.
3. Vestibule of the church.
4. Choir of the seminarists. Palace Convent
5. Centre of the church and 18. Principal court of the palace. 32. Clock tower.
projection of the dome. 19. Ladies’ tower. 33. Principal cloister.
6. Greater chapel. 20. Court of the masks. 34. Court of the evangel
7. High altar. 21. Apartments of the royal children. 35. Prior’s cell.
8. Chapel of St John. 22. Royal oratory. 36. Archives.
9. Chapel of St Michael. 23. Oratory where Philip II. died. 37. Old church.
10. Chapel of St Maurice. 38. Visitors’ hall.
11. Chapel of the Rosary. Seminary 39. Manuscript library.
12. Tomb of Louisa Carlota. 24. Entrance to seminary. 40. Convent refectory.
13. Chapel of the Patrocinio. 25. Classrooms.
14. Chapel of the Cristo de la 26. Old philosophical hall.
buena muerte.
The library, situated above the principal portico, was at one time one of the richest in
Europe, comprising the king’s own collection, the extensive bequest of Diego de
Mendoza, Philip’s ambassador to Rome, the spoils of the emperor of Morocco, Muley
Zidan (1603-1628) and various contributions from convents, churches and cities. It
suffered greatly in the fire of 1671, and has since been impoverished by plunder and
neglect. Among its curiosities still extant are two New Testament Codices of the 10th
century and two of the 11th; various works by Alphonso the Wise (1252-1284), a Virgil
of the 14th century, a Koran of the 15th, &c. Of the Arabic manuscripts which it
contained in the 17th century a catalogue was given in J.H. Hottinger’s Promptuarium
sive bibliotheca orientalis, published at Heidelberg in 1658, and another in the 18th, in
M. Casiri’s Bibliotheca Arabico-Hispanica (2 vols., Madrid, 1760-1770). Of the artistic
treasures with which the Escorial was gradually enriched, it is sufficient to mention the
frescoes of Peregrin or Pellagrino Tibaldi, Luis de Carbajal, Bartolommeo Carducci or
Carducho, and Luca Giordano, and the pictures of Titian, Tintoretto and Velasquez.
These paintings all date from the 15th or the 17th century. Many of those that are
movable have been transferred to Madrid, and many others have perished by fire or
sack. The conflagration of 1671, already mentioned, raged for fifteen days, and only
Page 291
the church, a part of the palace, and two towers escaped uninjured. In 1808 the whole
building was exposed to the ravages of the French soldiers under General La Houssaye.
On the night of the 1st of October 1872, the college and seminary, a part of the palace
and the upper library were devastated by fire; but the damage was subsequently
repaired. In 1885 the conventual buildings were occupied by Augustinian monks.
The reader will find a remarkable description of the emotional influence of the
Escorial in E. Quinet’s Vacances en Espagne (Paris, 1846), and for historical and
architectural details he may consult the following works:—Fray Juan de San
Geronimo, Memorias sobre la fundacion del Escorial y su fabrica, in the
Coleccion de documentos ineditos para la historia de España, vol. vii.; Y. de
Herrera, Sumario y breve declaracion de los diseños y estampas de la fab. de S.
Lorencio el Real del Escurial (Madrid, 1589); José de Siguenza, Historia de la
orden de San Geronyno, &c. (Madrid, 1590). L. de Cabrera de Cordova, Felipe
Segundo (Madrid, 1619); James Wadsworth, Further Observations of the English
Spanish Pilgrime (London, 1629, 1630); Ilario Mazzorali de Cremona, Le Reali
Grandezze del Escuriale (Bologna, 1648); De los Santos, Descripcion del real
monasterio, &c. (Madrid, 1657); Andres Ximenes, Descripcion, &c. (Madrid,
1764); Y. Quevedo, Historia del Real Monasterio, &c. (Madrid, 1849); A.
Rotondo, Hist. artistica, ... del monasterio de San Lorenzo (Madrid, 1856-1861);
W.H. Prescott, Life of Philip II. (London, 1887); J. Fergusson, History of the
Modern Styles of Architecture (London, 1891-1893); Sir W. Stirling-Maxwell,
Annals of the Artists of Spain (London, 1891).
1 Reduced from a large plan of the Escorial in the British Museum, Monasterio del Escorial, published
at Madrid in 1876.
ESCOVEDO, JUAN DE (d. 1578), Spanish politician, secretary of Don John of
Austria, and chiefly notable as having been the victim of one of the mysteries of the
16th century, began life in the household of Ruy Gomez de Silva, prince of Eboli, the
most trusted minister of the early years of the reign of Philip II. By the will of the
building was exposed to the ravages of the French soldiers under General La Houssaye.
On the night of the 1st of October 1872, the college and seminary, a part of the palace
and the upper library were devastated by fire; but the damage was subsequently
repaired. In 1885 the conventual buildings were occupied by Augustinian monks.
The reader will find a remarkable description of the emotional influence of the
Escorial in E. Quinet’s Vacances en Espagne (Paris, 1846), and for historical and
architectural details he may consult the following works:—Fray Juan de San
Geronimo, Memorias sobre la fundacion del Escorial y su fabrica, in the
Coleccion de documentos ineditos para la historia de España, vol. vii.; Y. de
Herrera, Sumario y breve declaracion de los diseños y estampas de la fab. de S.
Lorencio el Real del Escurial (Madrid, 1589); José de Siguenza, Historia de la
orden de San Geronyno, &c. (Madrid, 1590). L. de Cabrera de Cordova, Felipe
Segundo (Madrid, 1619); James Wadsworth, Further Observations of the English
Spanish Pilgrime (London, 1629, 1630); Ilario Mazzorali de Cremona, Le Reali
Grandezze del Escuriale (Bologna, 1648); De los Santos, Descripcion del real
monasterio, &c. (Madrid, 1657); Andres Ximenes, Descripcion, &c. (Madrid,
1764); Y. Quevedo, Historia del Real Monasterio, &c. (Madrid, 1849); A.
Rotondo, Hist. artistica, ... del monasterio de San Lorenzo (Madrid, 1856-1861);
W.H. Prescott, Life of Philip II. (London, 1887); J. Fergusson, History of the
Modern Styles of Architecture (London, 1891-1893); Sir W. Stirling-Maxwell,
Annals of the Artists of Spain (London, 1891).
1 Reduced from a large plan of the Escorial in the British Museum, Monasterio del Escorial, published
at Madrid in 1876.
ESCOVEDO, JUAN DE (d. 1578), Spanish politician, secretary of Don John of
Austria, and chiefly notable as having been the victim of one of the mysteries of the
16th century, began life in the household of Ruy Gomez de Silva, prince of Eboli, the
most trusted minister of the early years of the reign of Philip II. By the will of the
Page 292
prince he was endowed for life with the post of Regidor, or legal representative of the
king in the municipality of Madrid. He was also associated with Antonio Perez as one
of the secretaries who acted as the agents of the king in all dealings with the various
governing boards which formed the Spanish administration. When Don John of
Austria, after the battle of Lepanto in 1571, began to launch on a policy of self-seeking
adventure, Escovedo was appointed as his secretary with the intention that he should
act as a check on these follies. Unhappily for himself and for Don John he went heart
and soul into all the prince’s schemes. He began to disobey orders from Madrid and
became entangled in intrigues to manage or even to coerce the king. In July 1577, and
contrary to the king’s orders, he came to Spain from Flanders, where Don John was
then governor. It is said that he discovered the love intrigue between Antonio Perez and
the widowed princess of Eboli, Ana Mendoza de la Cerda. This is, however, mere
gossip and supposition. There can be no doubt that he was a busy intriguer, or that the
king, acting on the then very generally accepted doctrine that the sovereign has a right
to act for the public interest without regard to forms of law, gave orders to Antonio
Perez that he was to be put out of the way. After two clumsy attempts had been made to
poison him at Perez’s table, he was killed by bravos on the night of Easter Monday, the
31st of March 1578. According to an old tradition the murder took place outside the
church of St Maria in Madrid, which was pulled down in 1868.
See Gaspar Muro, La Princesse d’Eboli (Paris, 1878); and W.H. Prescott, Reign
of Philip II. (1855-59).
ESCUINTLA, the capital of the department of Escuintla, Guatemala; on the
southern slope of the Sierra Madre, 45 m. S.W. of Guatemala city. Pop. (1905) about
12,000. Escuintla is locally celebrated for its hot mineral springs. It is the commercial
centre of a fertile district, which produces coffee, cane-sugar and cocoa; it has also a
brisk transit trade in most of the products of Guatemala, owing to its position on the
interoceanic railway between Puerto Barrios on the Atlantic and San José (30 m. S.) on
king in the municipality of Madrid. He was also associated with Antonio Perez as one
of the secretaries who acted as the agents of the king in all dealings with the various
governing boards which formed the Spanish administration. When Don John of
Austria, after the battle of Lepanto in 1571, began to launch on a policy of self-seeking
adventure, Escovedo was appointed as his secretary with the intention that he should
act as a check on these follies. Unhappily for himself and for Don John he went heart
and soul into all the prince’s schemes. He began to disobey orders from Madrid and
became entangled in intrigues to manage or even to coerce the king. In July 1577, and
contrary to the king’s orders, he came to Spain from Flanders, where Don John was
then governor. It is said that he discovered the love intrigue between Antonio Perez and
the widowed princess of Eboli, Ana Mendoza de la Cerda. This is, however, mere
gossip and supposition. There can be no doubt that he was a busy intriguer, or that the
king, acting on the then very generally accepted doctrine that the sovereign has a right
to act for the public interest without regard to forms of law, gave orders to Antonio
Perez that he was to be put out of the way. After two clumsy attempts had been made to
poison him at Perez’s table, he was killed by bravos on the night of Easter Monday, the
31st of March 1578. According to an old tradition the murder took place outside the
church of St Maria in Madrid, which was pulled down in 1868.
See Gaspar Muro, La Princesse d’Eboli (Paris, 1878); and W.H. Prescott, Reign
of Philip II. (1855-59).
ESCUINTLA, the capital of the department of Escuintla, Guatemala; on the
southern slope of the Sierra Madre, 45 m. S.W. of Guatemala city. Pop. (1905) about
12,000. Escuintla is locally celebrated for its hot mineral springs. It is the commercial
centre of a fertile district, which produces coffee, cane-sugar and cocoa; it has also a
brisk transit trade in most of the products of Guatemala, owing to its position on the
interoceanic railway between Puerto Barrios on the Atlantic and San José (30 m. S.) on
Page 293
the Pacific. A branch railway which goes westward to San Augustin meets this line at
Escuintla.
ESCUTCHEON (O. Fr. escucheon, escusson, modern écusson, through a Late Lat.
form from Lat. scutum, shield), an heraldic term for a shield with armorial bearings
displayed (see Heraldry). The word is also applied to the shields used on tombs, in the
spandrils of doors or in string-courses, and to the ornamented plates from the centre of
which door-rings, knockers, &c., are suspended, or which protect the wood of the key-
hole from the wear of the key. In medieval times these were often worked in a very
beautiful manner.
ESHER, WILLIAM BALIOL BRETT, 1st Viscount (1817-1899), English lawyer
and master of the rolls, was a son of the Rev. Joseph G. Brett, of Chelsea, and was born
on the 13th of August 1817. He was educated at Westminster and at Caius College,
Cambridge. Called to the bar in 1840, he went the northern circuit, and became a Q.C.
in 1861. On the death of Richard Cobden he unsuccessfully contested Rochdale as a
Conservative, but in 1866 was returned for Helston in unique circumstances. He and
his opponent polled exactly the same number of votes, whereupon the mayor, as
returning officer, gave his casting vote for the Liberal candidate. As this vote was given
after four o’clock, however, an appeal was lodged, and the House of Commons allowed
both members to take their seats. Brett rapidly made his mark in the House, and in
1868 he was appointed solicitor-general. On behalf of the crown he prosecuted the
Fenians charged with having caused the Clerkenwell explosion. In parliament he took a
leading part in the promotion of bills connected with the administration of law and
justice. He was (August 1868) appointed a justice in the court of common pleas. Some
Escuintla.
ESCUTCHEON (O. Fr. escucheon, escusson, modern écusson, through a Late Lat.
form from Lat. scutum, shield), an heraldic term for a shield with armorial bearings
displayed (see Heraldry). The word is also applied to the shields used on tombs, in the
spandrils of doors or in string-courses, and to the ornamented plates from the centre of
which door-rings, knockers, &c., are suspended, or which protect the wood of the key-
hole from the wear of the key. In medieval times these were often worked in a very
beautiful manner.
ESHER, WILLIAM BALIOL BRETT, 1st Viscount (1817-1899), English lawyer
and master of the rolls, was a son of the Rev. Joseph G. Brett, of Chelsea, and was born
on the 13th of August 1817. He was educated at Westminster and at Caius College,
Cambridge. Called to the bar in 1840, he went the northern circuit, and became a Q.C.
in 1861. On the death of Richard Cobden he unsuccessfully contested Rochdale as a
Conservative, but in 1866 was returned for Helston in unique circumstances. He and
his opponent polled exactly the same number of votes, whereupon the mayor, as
returning officer, gave his casting vote for the Liberal candidate. As this vote was given
after four o’clock, however, an appeal was lodged, and the House of Commons allowed
both members to take their seats. Brett rapidly made his mark in the House, and in
1868 he was appointed solicitor-general. On behalf of the crown he prosecuted the
Fenians charged with having caused the Clerkenwell explosion. In parliament he took a
leading part in the promotion of bills connected with the administration of law and
justice. He was (August 1868) appointed a justice in the court of common pleas. Some
Page 294
of his sentences in this capacity excited much criticism, notably so in the case of the
gas stokers’ strike, when he sentenced the defendants to imprisonment for twelve
months, with hard labour, which was afterwards reduced by the home secretary to four
months. On the reconstitution of the court of appeal in 1876, Brett was elevated to the
rank of a lord justice. After holding this position for seven years, he succeeded Sir
George Jessel as master of the rolls in 1883. In 1885 he was raised to the House of
Lords as Baron Esher. He opposed the bill proposing that an accused person or his wife
might give evidence in their own case, and supported the bill which empowered lords
of appeal to sit and vote after their retirement. The Solicitors Act of 1888, which
increased the powers of the Incorporated Law Society, owed much to his influence. In
1880 he delivered a remarkable speech in the House of Lords, deprecating the delay
and expense of trials, which he regarded as having been increased by the Judicature
Acts. Lord Esher suffered, perhaps, as master of the rolls from succeeding a lawyer of
such eminence as Jessel. He had a caustic tongue, but also a fund of shrewd common
sense, and one of his favourite considerations was whether a certain course was
“business” or not. He retired from the bench at the close of 1897, and a viscounty was
conferred upon him on his retirement, a dignity never given to any judge, lord
chancellors excepted, “for mere legal conduct since the time of Lord Coke.” He died in
London on the 24th of May 1899.
Lord Esher was succeeded in the title by his only surviving son, Reginald Baliol
Brett (b. 1852), who was secretary to the office of works from 1895 to 1902, but
subsequently came into far greater public prominence in 1904 as Chairman of the war
office reconstitution committee after the South African War.
ESHER, a township in the Epsom parliamentary division of Surrey, England, 14½
m. S.W. of London by the London & South Western railway (Esher and Claremont
station). It is pleasantly situated on rising ground above the river Mole, 3 m. from its
junction with the Thames. To the north-west lie the grounds of Esher Place. Of the
mansion-house founded by William of Waynflete, bishop of Winchester (c. 1450), in
gas stokers’ strike, when he sentenced the defendants to imprisonment for twelve
months, with hard labour, which was afterwards reduced by the home secretary to four
months. On the reconstitution of the court of appeal in 1876, Brett was elevated to the
rank of a lord justice. After holding this position for seven years, he succeeded Sir
George Jessel as master of the rolls in 1883. In 1885 he was raised to the House of
Lords as Baron Esher. He opposed the bill proposing that an accused person or his wife
might give evidence in their own case, and supported the bill which empowered lords
of appeal to sit and vote after their retirement. The Solicitors Act of 1888, which
increased the powers of the Incorporated Law Society, owed much to his influence. In
1880 he delivered a remarkable speech in the House of Lords, deprecating the delay
and expense of trials, which he regarded as having been increased by the Judicature
Acts. Lord Esher suffered, perhaps, as master of the rolls from succeeding a lawyer of
such eminence as Jessel. He had a caustic tongue, but also a fund of shrewd common
sense, and one of his favourite considerations was whether a certain course was
“business” or not. He retired from the bench at the close of 1897, and a viscounty was
conferred upon him on his retirement, a dignity never given to any judge, lord
chancellors excepted, “for mere legal conduct since the time of Lord Coke.” He died in
London on the 24th of May 1899.
Lord Esher was succeeded in the title by his only surviving son, Reginald Baliol
Brett (b. 1852), who was secretary to the office of works from 1895 to 1902, but
subsequently came into far greater public prominence in 1904 as Chairman of the war
office reconstitution committee after the South African War.
ESHER, a township in the Epsom parliamentary division of Surrey, England, 14½
m. S.W. of London by the London & South Western railway (Esher and Claremont
station). It is pleasantly situated on rising ground above the river Mole, 3 m. from its
junction with the Thames. To the north-west lie the grounds of Esher Place. Of the
mansion-house founded by William of Waynflete, bishop of Winchester (c. 1450), in
Page 295
which Cardinal Wolsey resided for three or four weeks after his sudden fall from power
in 1529, only the gatehouse remains. It is known as Wolsey’s Tower, but is apparently
part of Waynflete’s foundation. A new mansion was erected in 1803. To the south is
Claremont Palace, built by the great Lord Clive (1769) on the site of a mansion of Sir
John Vanbrugh. In 1816 it was the residence of Princess Charlotte, wife of Prince
(afterwards King) Leopold. She died here in 1817, and on the death of her husband in
1865 the property passed to the crown. Louis Philippe, ex-king of the French, resided
here from 1848 until his death in 1850. In 1882 Claremont became the private property
of Queen Victoria. Christ Church, Esher, contains fine memorials of King Leopold and
others, and one of its three bells is said to have been brought from San Domingo by Sir
Francis Drake. To the north near the railway station is Sandown Park, where important
race meetings are held. Esher is included in the urban district of Esher and The Dittons,
of which Thames Ditton is a favourite riverside resort. The whole district is largely
residential. Pop. (1901) 9489.
ESKER (O. Irish eiscir), a local name for long mounds of glacial gravel frequently
met with in Ireland. Eskers (the Swedish åsar) are among the occasionally puzzling
relics of the British glacial period. They wind from side to side across glaciated country
and have evidently been formed by channels upon or under the ice. “Where streams of
considerable size form tunnels under or in the ice these may become more or less filled
with wash, and when the ice melts the aggraded channels appear as long ridges of
gravel and sand known as eskers. It has been thought that similar ridges are sometimes
formed in valleys cut in the ice from top to bottom, and even that they rise from gravel
and sand lodged in super-glacial channels. The latter at least is probably rare, as the
surface streams have usually high gradients, swift currents and smooth bottoms, and
hence give little opportunity for lodgment. In the case of ice-sheets, too, in which
eskers are chiefly developed, there is usually no surface material except at the
immediate edge, where the ice is thin and its layers upturned” (T.C. Chamberlin and
R.D. Salisbury, Geology, Processes and their Results). Eskers are to be distinguished
from kames (q.v.).
in 1529, only the gatehouse remains. It is known as Wolsey’s Tower, but is apparently
part of Waynflete’s foundation. A new mansion was erected in 1803. To the south is
Claremont Palace, built by the great Lord Clive (1769) on the site of a mansion of Sir
John Vanbrugh. In 1816 it was the residence of Princess Charlotte, wife of Prince
(afterwards King) Leopold. She died here in 1817, and on the death of her husband in
1865 the property passed to the crown. Louis Philippe, ex-king of the French, resided
here from 1848 until his death in 1850. In 1882 Claremont became the private property
of Queen Victoria. Christ Church, Esher, contains fine memorials of King Leopold and
others, and one of its three bells is said to have been brought from San Domingo by Sir
Francis Drake. To the north near the railway station is Sandown Park, where important
race meetings are held. Esher is included in the urban district of Esher and The Dittons,
of which Thames Ditton is a favourite riverside resort. The whole district is largely
residential. Pop. (1901) 9489.
ESKER (O. Irish eiscir), a local name for long mounds of glacial gravel frequently
met with in Ireland. Eskers (the Swedish åsar) are among the occasionally puzzling
relics of the British glacial period. They wind from side to side across glaciated country
and have evidently been formed by channels upon or under the ice. “Where streams of
considerable size form tunnels under or in the ice these may become more or less filled
with wash, and when the ice melts the aggraded channels appear as long ridges of
gravel and sand known as eskers. It has been thought that similar ridges are sometimes
formed in valleys cut in the ice from top to bottom, and even that they rise from gravel
and sand lodged in super-glacial channels. The latter at least is probably rare, as the
surface streams have usually high gradients, swift currents and smooth bottoms, and
hence give little opportunity for lodgment. In the case of ice-sheets, too, in which
eskers are chiefly developed, there is usually no surface material except at the
immediate edge, where the ice is thin and its layers upturned” (T.C. Chamberlin and
R.D. Salisbury, Geology, Processes and their Results). Eskers are to be distinguished
from kames (q.v.).
Page 296
ESKILSTUNA, a town of Sweden in the district (län) of Södermanland, on the
Hjelmar river, which unites lakes Hjelmar and Mälar, 65 m. W. of Stockholm by rail.
Pop. (1900) 13,663. The place is mentioned in the 13th century, and is said to derive its
name from Eskil, an English missionary who suffered martyrdom on the spot. It rose
into importance in the reign of Charles X., who bestowed on it considerable privileges,
and gave the first impulse to its manufacturing activity. It is the chief seat in Sweden of
the iron and steel industries, its cutlery being especially noted, while damascened work
is a specialty. There is a technical school for the metal industries. There are, in the town
or its neighbourhood, great engineering, gun-making, and rolling and polishing works
and breweries. The largest mechanical works are those of Munktell and Tunafors. The
Karl Gustaf Stads rifle factory was established in 1814.
ESKIMO, Eskimos or Esquimaux (a corruption of the Abnaki Indian Eskimantsic or
the Ojibway Ashkimeq, both terms meaning “those who eat raw flesh”: they call
themselves “Innuit,” “the people”), a North American Indian people, inhabiting the
arctic coast of America from Greenland to Alaska, and a small portion of the Asiatic
shore of Bering Strait. On the American shores they are found, in broken tribes, from
East Greenland to the western shores of Alaska—never far inland, or south of the
region where the winter ice allows seals to congregate. Even on hunting expeditions
they never travel more than 30 m. from the coast. Save a slight admixture of European
settlers, they are the only inhabitants of both sides of Davis Strait and Baffin Bay. They
extend as far south as about 50° N. lat. on the eastern side of America, and in the west
to 60° on the eastern shore of Bering Strait, while 55° to 60° are their southern limits
on the shore of Hudson Bay. Throughout all this range there are no other tribes save
where the Kennayan and Ugalenze Indians (of western America) come down to the
shore to fish. The Aleutians are closely allied to the Eskimo in habits and language.
Hjelmar river, which unites lakes Hjelmar and Mälar, 65 m. W. of Stockholm by rail.
Pop. (1900) 13,663. The place is mentioned in the 13th century, and is said to derive its
name from Eskil, an English missionary who suffered martyrdom on the spot. It rose
into importance in the reign of Charles X., who bestowed on it considerable privileges,
and gave the first impulse to its manufacturing activity. It is the chief seat in Sweden of
the iron and steel industries, its cutlery being especially noted, while damascened work
is a specialty. There is a technical school for the metal industries. There are, in the town
or its neighbourhood, great engineering, gun-making, and rolling and polishing works
and breweries. The largest mechanical works are those of Munktell and Tunafors. The
Karl Gustaf Stads rifle factory was established in 1814.
ESKIMO, Eskimos or Esquimaux (a corruption of the Abnaki Indian Eskimantsic or
the Ojibway Ashkimeq, both terms meaning “those who eat raw flesh”: they call
themselves “Innuit,” “the people”), a North American Indian people, inhabiting the
arctic coast of America from Greenland to Alaska, and a small portion of the Asiatic
shore of Bering Strait. On the American shores they are found, in broken tribes, from
East Greenland to the western shores of Alaska—never far inland, or south of the
region where the winter ice allows seals to congregate. Even on hunting expeditions
they never travel more than 30 m. from the coast. Save a slight admixture of European
settlers, they are the only inhabitants of both sides of Davis Strait and Baffin Bay. They
extend as far south as about 50° N. lat. on the eastern side of America, and in the west
to 60° on the eastern shore of Bering Strait, while 55° to 60° are their southern limits
on the shore of Hudson Bay. Throughout all this range there are no other tribes save
where the Kennayan and Ugalenze Indians (of western America) come down to the
shore to fish. The Aleutians are closely allied to the Eskimo in habits and language.
Page 297
H.J. Rink divides the Eskimo into the following groups, the most eastern of which
would have to travel nearly 5000 m. to reach the most western: (1) The East Greenland
Eskimo, few in number, every year advancing farther south, and coming into contact
with the next section. (2) The West Greenlanders, civilized, living under the Danish
crown, and extending from Cape Farewell to 74° N. lat. (3) The Northern-most
Greenlanders—the Arctic Highlanders of Sir John Ross—confined to Smith, Whale,
Murchison and Wolstenholme Sounds, north of the Melville Bay glaciers. These—the
most isolated and uncivilized of all the Eskimo—had no boats or bows and arrows until
about 1868. (4) The Labrador Eskimo, mostly civilized. (5) The Eskimo of the middle
regions, occupying the coasts from Hudson Bay to Barter Island, beyond Mackenzie
river, inhabiting a stretch of country 2000 m. in length and 800 in breadth. (6) The
Western Eskimo, from Barter Island to the western limits in America. (7) The Asiatic
Eskimo.
The Eskimo are not a tall race, their height varying from 5 ft. 4 in. to 5 ft. 10 in., but
men of 6 ft. are met. Both men and women are muscular and active, the former often
inclining to fat. The faces of both have a pleasing, good-humoured expression, and not
infrequently are even handsome. The typical face is broadly oval, flat, with fat cheeks;
forehead not high, and rather retreating; teeth good, though, owing to the character of
the food, worn down to the gums in old age; nose very flat; eyes rather obliquely set,
small, black and bright; head largish, and covered with coarse black hair, which the
women fasten up into a knot on the top, and the men clip in front and allow to hang
loose and unkempt behind. Their skulls are of the mesocephalic type, the height being
greater than the breadth; according to Davis, 75 is the index of the latter and 77 of the
former. Some of the tribes slightly compress the skulls of their new-born children
laterally (Hall), but this practice is a very local one. The men have usually a slight
moustache, but no whiskers, and rarely any beard. The skin has generally a “bacony”
feel, and when cleaned of the smoke, grease and other dirt—the accumulation of which
varies according to the age of the individual—is only so slightly brown that red shows
in the cheeks of the children and young women. The hands and feet are small and well
formed. The Eskimo dress entirely in skins of the seal, reindeer, bear, dog, or even fox,
the first two being, however, the most common. The men’s and women’s dress is much
the same, a jacket suit, the trousers tucked into seal-skin boots. The jacket has a hood,
which in cold weather is used to cover the head, leaving only the face exposed. The
women’s jacket has a large hood for carrying a child and an absurd-looking tail behind,
would have to travel nearly 5000 m. to reach the most western: (1) The East Greenland
Eskimo, few in number, every year advancing farther south, and coming into contact
with the next section. (2) The West Greenlanders, civilized, living under the Danish
crown, and extending from Cape Farewell to 74° N. lat. (3) The Northern-most
Greenlanders—the Arctic Highlanders of Sir John Ross—confined to Smith, Whale,
Murchison and Wolstenholme Sounds, north of the Melville Bay glaciers. These—the
most isolated and uncivilized of all the Eskimo—had no boats or bows and arrows until
about 1868. (4) The Labrador Eskimo, mostly civilized. (5) The Eskimo of the middle
regions, occupying the coasts from Hudson Bay to Barter Island, beyond Mackenzie
river, inhabiting a stretch of country 2000 m. in length and 800 in breadth. (6) The
Western Eskimo, from Barter Island to the western limits in America. (7) The Asiatic
Eskimo.
The Eskimo are not a tall race, their height varying from 5 ft. 4 in. to 5 ft. 10 in., but
men of 6 ft. are met. Both men and women are muscular and active, the former often
inclining to fat. The faces of both have a pleasing, good-humoured expression, and not
infrequently are even handsome. The typical face is broadly oval, flat, with fat cheeks;
forehead not high, and rather retreating; teeth good, though, owing to the character of
the food, worn down to the gums in old age; nose very flat; eyes rather obliquely set,
small, black and bright; head largish, and covered with coarse black hair, which the
women fasten up into a knot on the top, and the men clip in front and allow to hang
loose and unkempt behind. Their skulls are of the mesocephalic type, the height being
greater than the breadth; according to Davis, 75 is the index of the latter and 77 of the
former. Some of the tribes slightly compress the skulls of their new-born children
laterally (Hall), but this practice is a very local one. The men have usually a slight
moustache, but no whiskers, and rarely any beard. The skin has generally a “bacony”
feel, and when cleaned of the smoke, grease and other dirt—the accumulation of which
varies according to the age of the individual—is only so slightly brown that red shows
in the cheeks of the children and young women. The hands and feet are small and well
formed. The Eskimo dress entirely in skins of the seal, reindeer, bear, dog, or even fox,
the first two being, however, the most common. The men’s and women’s dress is much
the same, a jacket suit, the trousers tucked into seal-skin boots. The jacket has a hood,
which in cold weather is used to cover the head, leaving only the face exposed. The
women’s jacket has a large hood for carrying a child and an absurd-looking tail behind,
Page 298
which is, however, usually tucked up. The women’s trousers are usually ornamented
with eider-duck neck feathers or embroidery of native dyed leather; their boots, which
are of white leather, or (in Greenland) dyed of various colours, reach over the knees,
and in some tribes are very wide at the top, thus giving them an awkward appearance
and a clumsy waddling walk. In winter two suits are worn, one with the hair inside, the
other with it outside. They also sometimes wear shirts of bird-skins, and stockings of
dog or young reindeer skins. Their clothes are very neatly made, fit beautifully, and are
sewn with “sinew-thread,” with a bone needle if a steel one cannot be had. In person
the Eskimo are usually filthy, and never wash. Infants are, however, sometimes cleaned
by being licked by their mother before being put into the bag of feathers which serves
as their bed, cradle and blankets.
In summer the Eskimo live in conical skin tents, and in winter usually in half-
underground huts of stone, turf, earth and bones, entered by a long tunnel-like passage,
which can only be traversed on all fours. Sometimes, if residing temporarily at a place,
they will erect neat round huts of blocks of snow with a sheet of ice for a window. In
the roof are deposited their spare harpoons, &c; and from it is suspended the steatite
basin-like lamp, the flame of which, the wick being of moss, serves as fire and light.
On one side of the hut is the bench which is used as sofa, seats and common sleeping
place. The floor is usually very filthy, a pool of blood or a dead seal being often to be
seen there. Ventilation is almost non-existent; and after the lamp has blazed for some
time, the heat is all but unbearable. In the summer the wolfish-looking dogs lie outside
on the roof of the huts, in the winter in the tunnel-like passage just outside the family
apartment. The Western Eskimo build their houses chiefly of planks, merely covered
on the outside with green turf. The same Eskimo have, in the more populous places, a
public room for meetings. “Council chambers” are also said to exist in Labrador, but
are only known in Greenland by tradition. Sometimes in south Greenland and in the
Western Eskimo country the houses are made to accommodate several families, but as
a rule each family has a house to itself.
The Eskimo are solely hunters and fishers, and derive most of their food from the
sea. Their country allows of no cultivation; and beyond a few berries, roots, &c., they
use no vegetable food. The seal, the reindeer and the whale supply the bulk of their
food, as well as their clothing, light, fuel, and frequently also, when driftwood is scarce
or unavailable, the material for various articles of domestic economy. Thus the Eskimo
canoe is made of seal-skin stretched on a wooden or whalebone frame, with a hole in
with eider-duck neck feathers or embroidery of native dyed leather; their boots, which
are of white leather, or (in Greenland) dyed of various colours, reach over the knees,
and in some tribes are very wide at the top, thus giving them an awkward appearance
and a clumsy waddling walk. In winter two suits are worn, one with the hair inside, the
other with it outside. They also sometimes wear shirts of bird-skins, and stockings of
dog or young reindeer skins. Their clothes are very neatly made, fit beautifully, and are
sewn with “sinew-thread,” with a bone needle if a steel one cannot be had. In person
the Eskimo are usually filthy, and never wash. Infants are, however, sometimes cleaned
by being licked by their mother before being put into the bag of feathers which serves
as their bed, cradle and blankets.
In summer the Eskimo live in conical skin tents, and in winter usually in half-
underground huts of stone, turf, earth and bones, entered by a long tunnel-like passage,
which can only be traversed on all fours. Sometimes, if residing temporarily at a place,
they will erect neat round huts of blocks of snow with a sheet of ice for a window. In
the roof are deposited their spare harpoons, &c; and from it is suspended the steatite
basin-like lamp, the flame of which, the wick being of moss, serves as fire and light.
On one side of the hut is the bench which is used as sofa, seats and common sleeping
place. The floor is usually very filthy, a pool of blood or a dead seal being often to be
seen there. Ventilation is almost non-existent; and after the lamp has blazed for some
time, the heat is all but unbearable. In the summer the wolfish-looking dogs lie outside
on the roof of the huts, in the winter in the tunnel-like passage just outside the family
apartment. The Western Eskimo build their houses chiefly of planks, merely covered
on the outside with green turf. The same Eskimo have, in the more populous places, a
public room for meetings. “Council chambers” are also said to exist in Labrador, but
are only known in Greenland by tradition. Sometimes in south Greenland and in the
Western Eskimo country the houses are made to accommodate several families, but as
a rule each family has a house to itself.
The Eskimo are solely hunters and fishers, and derive most of their food from the
sea. Their country allows of no cultivation; and beyond a few berries, roots, &c., they
use no vegetable food. The seal, the reindeer and the whale supply the bulk of their
food, as well as their clothing, light, fuel, and frequently also, when driftwood is scarce
or unavailable, the material for various articles of domestic economy. Thus the Eskimo
canoe is made of seal-skin stretched on a wooden or whalebone frame, with a hole in
Page 299
the centre for the paddler. It is driven by a bone-tipped double-bladed paddle. A
waterproof skin or entrail dress is tightly fastened round the mouth of the hole so that,
should the canoe overturn, no water can enter. A skilful paddler can turn a complete
somersault, boat and all, through the water. The Eskimo women use a flat-bottomed
skin luggage-boat. The Eskimo sledge is made of two runners of wood or bone—even,
in one case on record, of frozen salmon (Maclure)—united by cross bars tied to the
runners by hide thongs, and drawn by from 4 to 8 dogs harnessed abreast. Some of
their weapons are ingenious—in particular, the harpoon, with its detachable point to
which an inflated sealskin is fastened. When the quarry is struck, the floating skin
serves to tire it out, marks its course, and buoys it up when dead. The bird-spears, too,
have a bladder attached, and points at the sides which strike the creature should the
spear-head fail to wound. An effective bow is made out of whale’s rib. Altogether, with
meagre material the Eskimo show great skill in the manufacture of their weapons. Meat
is sometimes boiled, but, when it is frozen, it is often eaten raw. Blood, and the half-
digested contents of the reindeer’s paunch, are also eaten; and sometimes, but not
habitually, blubber. As a rule this latter is too precious: it must be kept for winter fuel
and light. The Eskimo are enormous eaters; two will easily dispose of a seal at a sitting;
and in Greenland, for instance, each individual has for his daily consumption, on an
average, 2½ ℔ of flesh with blubber, and 1 ℔ of fish, besides mussels, berries, sea-
weed, &c., to which in the Danish settlements may be added 2 oz. of imported food.
Ten pounds of flesh, in addition to other food, is not uncommonly consumed in a day
in time of plenty. A man will lie on his back and allow his wife to feed him with tit-bits
of blubber and flesh until he is unable to move.
The Eskimo cannot be strictly called a wandering race. They are nomadic only in so
far that they have to move about from place to place during the fishing and shooting
season, following the game in its migrations. They have, however, no regular property.
They possess only the most necessary utensils and furniture, with a stock of provisions
for less than one year; and these possessions never exceed certain limits fixed upon by
tradition or custom. Long habit and the necessities of their life have also compelled
those having food to share with those having none—a custom which, with others, has
conduced to the stagnant conditions of Eskimo society and to their utter improvidence.
Their intelligence is considerable, as their implements and folk-tales abundantly
prove. They display a taste for music, cartography and drawing, display no small
amount of humour, are quick at picking up peculiar traits in strangers, and are painfully
waterproof skin or entrail dress is tightly fastened round the mouth of the hole so that,
should the canoe overturn, no water can enter. A skilful paddler can turn a complete
somersault, boat and all, through the water. The Eskimo women use a flat-bottomed
skin luggage-boat. The Eskimo sledge is made of two runners of wood or bone—even,
in one case on record, of frozen salmon (Maclure)—united by cross bars tied to the
runners by hide thongs, and drawn by from 4 to 8 dogs harnessed abreast. Some of
their weapons are ingenious—in particular, the harpoon, with its detachable point to
which an inflated sealskin is fastened. When the quarry is struck, the floating skin
serves to tire it out, marks its course, and buoys it up when dead. The bird-spears, too,
have a bladder attached, and points at the sides which strike the creature should the
spear-head fail to wound. An effective bow is made out of whale’s rib. Altogether, with
meagre material the Eskimo show great skill in the manufacture of their weapons. Meat
is sometimes boiled, but, when it is frozen, it is often eaten raw. Blood, and the half-
digested contents of the reindeer’s paunch, are also eaten; and sometimes, but not
habitually, blubber. As a rule this latter is too precious: it must be kept for winter fuel
and light. The Eskimo are enormous eaters; two will easily dispose of a seal at a sitting;
and in Greenland, for instance, each individual has for his daily consumption, on an
average, 2½ ℔ of flesh with blubber, and 1 ℔ of fish, besides mussels, berries, sea-
weed, &c., to which in the Danish settlements may be added 2 oz. of imported food.
Ten pounds of flesh, in addition to other food, is not uncommonly consumed in a day
in time of plenty. A man will lie on his back and allow his wife to feed him with tit-bits
of blubber and flesh until he is unable to move.
The Eskimo cannot be strictly called a wandering race. They are nomadic only in so
far that they have to move about from place to place during the fishing and shooting
season, following the game in its migrations. They have, however, no regular property.
They possess only the most necessary utensils and furniture, with a stock of provisions
for less than one year; and these possessions never exceed certain limits fixed upon by
tradition or custom. Long habit and the necessities of their life have also compelled
those having food to share with those having none—a custom which, with others, has
conduced to the stagnant conditions of Eskimo society and to their utter improvidence.
Their intelligence is considerable, as their implements and folk-tales abundantly
prove. They display a taste for music, cartography and drawing, display no small
amount of humour, are quick at picking up peculiar traits in strangers, and are painfully
Page 300
acute in detecting the weak points or ludicrous sides of their character. They are
excellent mimics and easily learn the dances and songs of the Europeans, as well as
their games, such as chess and draughts. They gamble a little—but in moderation, for
the Eskimo, though keen traders, have a deep-rooted antipathy to speculation. When
they offer anything for sale—say at a Danish settlement in Greenland—they always
leave it to the buyer to settle the price. They have also a dislike to bind themselves by
contract. Hence it was long before the Eskimo in Greenland could be induced to enter
into European service, though when they do they pass to almost the opposite extreme
—they have no will of their own. Public licentiousness or indecency is rare among
them. In their private life their morality is, however, not high. The women are
especially erring; and in Greenland, at places where strangers visit, their extreme laxity
of morals, and their utter want of shame, are not more remarkable than the entire
absence of jealousy or self-respect on the part of their countrymen and relatives. Theft
in Greenland is almost unknown; but the wild Eskimo make very free with strangers’
goods—though it must be allowed that the value they attach to the articles stolen is
some excuse for the thieves. Among themselves, on the other hand, they are very
honest—a result of their being so much under the control of public opinion. Lying is
said to be as common a trait of the Eskimo as of other savages in their dealings with
Europeans. They have naturally not made any figure in literature. Their folk-lore is,
however, extensive, and that collected by Dr Rink shows considerable imagination and
no mean talent on the part of the story-tellers. In Greenland and Labrador most of the
natives have been taught by the missionaries to read and write in their own language.
Altogether, the literature published in the Eskimo tongue is considerable. Most of it has
been printed in Denmark, but some has been “set up” in a small printing-office in
Greenland, from which about 280 sheets have issued, beside many lithographic prints.
A journal (Atuagagldliutit nalinginarmik tusaruminásassumik univkat, i.e. “something
for reading, accounts of all entertaining subjects”) has been published since 1861.
The Eskimo in Greenland and Labrador are, with few exceptions, nominally at least,
Christians. The native religion is a vague animism, and consists of a belief in good and
evil spirits, limited each to its own sphere; in a Heaven and Hell; and a childish faith is
placed in the native wizards, who are regarded as intermediaries between mankind and
the spirit-powers. The worship of the whale-spirit, so important a factor in their daily
economy, is prevalent.
excellent mimics and easily learn the dances and songs of the Europeans, as well as
their games, such as chess and draughts. They gamble a little—but in moderation, for
the Eskimo, though keen traders, have a deep-rooted antipathy to speculation. When
they offer anything for sale—say at a Danish settlement in Greenland—they always
leave it to the buyer to settle the price. They have also a dislike to bind themselves by
contract. Hence it was long before the Eskimo in Greenland could be induced to enter
into European service, though when they do they pass to almost the opposite extreme
—they have no will of their own. Public licentiousness or indecency is rare among
them. In their private life their morality is, however, not high. The women are
especially erring; and in Greenland, at places where strangers visit, their extreme laxity
of morals, and their utter want of shame, are not more remarkable than the entire
absence of jealousy or self-respect on the part of their countrymen and relatives. Theft
in Greenland is almost unknown; but the wild Eskimo make very free with strangers’
goods—though it must be allowed that the value they attach to the articles stolen is
some excuse for the thieves. Among themselves, on the other hand, they are very
honest—a result of their being so much under the control of public opinion. Lying is
said to be as common a trait of the Eskimo as of other savages in their dealings with
Europeans. They have naturally not made any figure in literature. Their folk-lore is,
however, extensive, and that collected by Dr Rink shows considerable imagination and
no mean talent on the part of the story-tellers. In Greenland and Labrador most of the
natives have been taught by the missionaries to read and write in their own language.
Altogether, the literature published in the Eskimo tongue is considerable. Most of it has
been printed in Denmark, but some has been “set up” in a small printing-office in
Greenland, from which about 280 sheets have issued, beside many lithographic prints.
A journal (Atuagagldliutit nalinginarmik tusaruminásassumik univkat, i.e. “something
for reading, accounts of all entertaining subjects”) has been published since 1861.
The Eskimo in Greenland and Labrador are, with few exceptions, nominally at least,
Christians. The native religion is a vague animism, and consists of a belief in good and
evil spirits, limited each to its own sphere; in a Heaven and Hell; and a childish faith is
placed in the native wizards, who are regarded as intermediaries between mankind and
the spirit-powers. The worship of the whale-spirit, so important a factor in their daily
economy, is prevalent.
Page 301
As regards language, the idiom spoken from Greenland to north-eastern Siberia is,
with a few exceptions, the same; any difference is only that of dialect. It differs from
the whole group of European languages, not merely in the sound of the words, but
more especially, according to Rink, in the construction. Its most remarkable feature is
that a sentence of a European language is expressed in Eskimo by a single word
constructed out of certain elements, each of which corresponds in some degree to one
of our words. One specimen commonly given to visitors to Greenland may suffice:
Savigiksiniariartokasuaromaryotittogog, which is equivalent to “He says that you also
will go away quickly in like manner and buy a pretty knife.” Here is one word serving
in the place of 17. It is made up as follows: Savig a knife, ik pretty, sini buy, ariartok
go away, asuar hasten, omar wilt, y in like manner, otit thou, tog also, og he says.
The Eskimo have no chiefs or political and military rulers. Fabricius concisely
described them in his day: “Sine Deo, domino, reguntur consuetudine.” The
government is mainly a family one, though a man distinguished for skill in the chase,
and for strength and shrewdness, often has considerable power in the village. No
political or social tie is recognized between the villages, though general good-
fellowship seems to mark their relations. They never go to war with each other; and
though revengeful and apt to injure an enemy secretly, they rarely come to blows, and
are morbidly anxious not to give offence. Indeed, in their intercourse with each other,
all Eskimo indulge in much hyperbolical compliment. But they are not without
courage. On the Coppermine and Mackenzie rivers, where they sometimes come into
collision with their American-Indian kinsmen, they fight fiercely. Polygamy is rare, but
the rights of divorce and re-marriage are unrestricted. The Eskimo have intricate rules
governing the ownership of property and the rights of the hunter. As a race they are
singularly undemonstrative. When they met each other they used to rub noses together,
but this, though a common custom still among the wild Eskimo, is entirely abandoned
in Greenland except for the petting of children. There is, in Greenland at least, no
national mode of salutation, either on meeting or parting. When a guest enters a house,
commonly not the least sign is made either by him or his host. On leaving a place they
sometimes say “inûvdluaritse,” i.e. live well, and to a European “aporniakinatit,” i.e. do
not hurt thy head, viz. against the upper part of the doorway. The Eskimo, excluding
the few on the Asiatic coast, are estimated at about 29,000.
Bibliography.—Dr H.J. Rink, Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo (1875);
Danish Greenland; its People and its Products (1877); Eskimo Tribes (1887); J.
with a few exceptions, the same; any difference is only that of dialect. It differs from
the whole group of European languages, not merely in the sound of the words, but
more especially, according to Rink, in the construction. Its most remarkable feature is
that a sentence of a European language is expressed in Eskimo by a single word
constructed out of certain elements, each of which corresponds in some degree to one
of our words. One specimen commonly given to visitors to Greenland may suffice:
Savigiksiniariartokasuaromaryotittogog, which is equivalent to “He says that you also
will go away quickly in like manner and buy a pretty knife.” Here is one word serving
in the place of 17. It is made up as follows: Savig a knife, ik pretty, sini buy, ariartok
go away, asuar hasten, omar wilt, y in like manner, otit thou, tog also, og he says.
The Eskimo have no chiefs or political and military rulers. Fabricius concisely
described them in his day: “Sine Deo, domino, reguntur consuetudine.” The
government is mainly a family one, though a man distinguished for skill in the chase,
and for strength and shrewdness, often has considerable power in the village. No
political or social tie is recognized between the villages, though general good-
fellowship seems to mark their relations. They never go to war with each other; and
though revengeful and apt to injure an enemy secretly, they rarely come to blows, and
are morbidly anxious not to give offence. Indeed, in their intercourse with each other,
all Eskimo indulge in much hyperbolical compliment. But they are not without
courage. On the Coppermine and Mackenzie rivers, where they sometimes come into
collision with their American-Indian kinsmen, they fight fiercely. Polygamy is rare, but
the rights of divorce and re-marriage are unrestricted. The Eskimo have intricate rules
governing the ownership of property and the rights of the hunter. As a race they are
singularly undemonstrative. When they met each other they used to rub noses together,
but this, though a common custom still among the wild Eskimo, is entirely abandoned
in Greenland except for the petting of children. There is, in Greenland at least, no
national mode of salutation, either on meeting or parting. When a guest enters a house,
commonly not the least sign is made either by him or his host. On leaving a place they
sometimes say “inûvdluaritse,” i.e. live well, and to a European “aporniakinatit,” i.e. do
not hurt thy head, viz. against the upper part of the doorway. The Eskimo, excluding
the few on the Asiatic coast, are estimated at about 29,000.
Bibliography.—Dr H.J. Rink, Tales and Traditions of the Eskimo (1875);
Danish Greenland; its People and its Products (1877); Eskimo Tribes (1887); J.
Page 302
Richardson, Polar Regions (1861), pp. 298-331; Sir Clements Markham, Arctic
Papers of the R. G. S. (1875), pp. 163-232; Simpson, ibid. pp. 233-275; “Hans
Hendriks the Eskimo’s Memoirs,” Geographical Magazine (Feb. 1878, et seq.);
Fridtjof Nansen, Eskimo Life (1894); R.E. Peary, Northward over the Great Ice,
vol. i. appendix ii.; F. Boas, “The Central Eskimo,” Sixth Annual Report of
Bureau of Ethnology (1884-1885); J. Murdoch, “The Point Barrow Eskimo,”
Ninth Annual Report (1887-1888); E.W. Nelson, “The Eskimo about Bering
Strait,” Eighteenth Annual Report, part 1 (1896-1897).
ESKI-SHEHR, a town of Asia Minor, in the Kutaiah sanjak of the Brusa
(Khudavendikiar) vilayet. It is a station on the Haidar Pasha-Angora railway, 194½ m.
from the former and 164 m. from Angora, and the junction for Konia; and is situated on
the right bank of the Pursak Su (Tembris), a tributary of the Sakaria, at the foot of the
hills that border the broad treeless valley. Pop. 20,000 (Moslems 15,000, Christians
5000). Eski-Shehr, i.e. “the old town,” lies about a mile from the ruins of the ancient
Phrygian Dorylaeum. The latter is mentioned in connexion with the wars of
Lysimachus and Antigonus (about 302 b.c.), and frequently figures in Byzantine
history as an imperial residence and military rendezvous. It was the scene of the defeat
of the Turks under Kilij-Arslan by the crusaders in 1097, and fell finally to the Turks of
Konia in 1176. The town is divided by a small stream into a commercial quarter on low
ground, in which are the bazaars, khans and the hot sulphur springs (122° F.) which are
mentioned as early as the 3rd century by Athenaeus; and a residential quarter on the
higher ground. The town is noted for its good climate, the Pursak Su for the abundance
of its fish, and the plain for its fertility. About 18 m. to the E. are extensive deposits of
meerschaum. The clay is partly manufactured into pipes in the town, but the greater
proportion finds its way to Europe and especially to Germany. The annual output is
valued at £272,000.
See Murray’s Hdbk. to Asia Minor (1893); V. Cuinet, Turquie d’Asie (Paris,
1894).
Papers of the R. G. S. (1875), pp. 163-232; Simpson, ibid. pp. 233-275; “Hans
Hendriks the Eskimo’s Memoirs,” Geographical Magazine (Feb. 1878, et seq.);
Fridtjof Nansen, Eskimo Life (1894); R.E. Peary, Northward over the Great Ice,
vol. i. appendix ii.; F. Boas, “The Central Eskimo,” Sixth Annual Report of
Bureau of Ethnology (1884-1885); J. Murdoch, “The Point Barrow Eskimo,”
Ninth Annual Report (1887-1888); E.W. Nelson, “The Eskimo about Bering
Strait,” Eighteenth Annual Report, part 1 (1896-1897).
ESKI-SHEHR, a town of Asia Minor, in the Kutaiah sanjak of the Brusa
(Khudavendikiar) vilayet. It is a station on the Haidar Pasha-Angora railway, 194½ m.
from the former and 164 m. from Angora, and the junction for Konia; and is situated on
the right bank of the Pursak Su (Tembris), a tributary of the Sakaria, at the foot of the
hills that border the broad treeless valley. Pop. 20,000 (Moslems 15,000, Christians
5000). Eski-Shehr, i.e. “the old town,” lies about a mile from the ruins of the ancient
Phrygian Dorylaeum. The latter is mentioned in connexion with the wars of
Lysimachus and Antigonus (about 302 b.c.), and frequently figures in Byzantine
history as an imperial residence and military rendezvous. It was the scene of the defeat
of the Turks under Kilij-Arslan by the crusaders in 1097, and fell finally to the Turks of
Konia in 1176. The town is divided by a small stream into a commercial quarter on low
ground, in which are the bazaars, khans and the hot sulphur springs (122° F.) which are
mentioned as early as the 3rd century by Athenaeus; and a residential quarter on the
higher ground. The town is noted for its good climate, the Pursak Su for the abundance
of its fish, and the plain for its fertility. About 18 m. to the E. are extensive deposits of
meerschaum. The clay is partly manufactured into pipes in the town, but the greater
proportion finds its way to Europe and especially to Germany. The annual output is
valued at £272,000.
See Murray’s Hdbk. to Asia Minor (1893); V. Cuinet, Turquie d’Asie (Paris,
1894).
Page 303
ESMARCH, JOHANNES FRIEDRICH AUGUST VON (1823-1908), German
surgeon, was born at Tönning, in Schleswig-Holstein, on the 9th of January 1823. He
studied at Kiel and Göttingen, and in 1846 became B.R.K. von Langenbeck’s assistant
at the Kiel surgical hospital. He served in the Schleswig-Holstein War of 1848 as junior
surgeon, and this directed his attention to the subject of military surgery. He was taken
prisoner, but afterwards exchanged, and was then appointed as surgeon to a field
hospital. During the truce of 1849 he qualified as Privatdocent at Kiel, but on the fresh
outbreak of war he returned to the troops and was promoted to the rank of senior
surgeon. In 1854 he became director of the surgical clinic at Kiel, and in 1857 head of
the general hospital and professor at the university. During the Schleswig-Holstein War
of 1864 Esmarch rendered good service to the field hospitals of Flensburg, Sundewitt
and Kiel. In 1866 he was called to Berlin as member of the hospital commission, and
also to take the superintendence of the surgical work in the hospitals there. When the
Franco-German War broke out in 1870 he was appointed surgeon-general to the army,
and afterwards consulting surgeon at the great military hospital near Berlin. In 1872 he
married Princess Henrietta of Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Augustenburg, aunt of
the Empress Auguste Victoria. In 1887 a patent of nobility was conferred on him. He
died at Kiel on the 23rd of February 1908. Esmarch was one of the greatest authorities
on hospital management and military surgery. His Handbuch der kriegschirurgischen
Technik was written for a prize offered by the empress Augusta, on the occasion of the
Vienna Exhibition of 1877, for the best handbook for the battlefield of surgical
appliances and operations. This book is illustrated by admirable diagrams, showing the
different methods of bandaging and dressing, as well as the surgical operations as they
occur on the battlefield. Esmarch himself invented an apparatus, which bears his name,
for keeping a limb nearly bloodless during amputation. No part of Esmarch’s work is
more widely known than that which deals with “First Aid,” his First Aid on the
Battlefield and First Aid to the Injured being popular manuals on the subject. The latter
is the substance of a course of lectures delivered by him in 1881 to a “Samaritan
School,” the first of the kind in Germany, founded by Esmarch in 1881, in imitation of
the St John’s Ambulance classes which had been organized in England in 1878. These
surgeon, was born at Tönning, in Schleswig-Holstein, on the 9th of January 1823. He
studied at Kiel and Göttingen, and in 1846 became B.R.K. von Langenbeck’s assistant
at the Kiel surgical hospital. He served in the Schleswig-Holstein War of 1848 as junior
surgeon, and this directed his attention to the subject of military surgery. He was taken
prisoner, but afterwards exchanged, and was then appointed as surgeon to a field
hospital. During the truce of 1849 he qualified as Privatdocent at Kiel, but on the fresh
outbreak of war he returned to the troops and was promoted to the rank of senior
surgeon. In 1854 he became director of the surgical clinic at Kiel, and in 1857 head of
the general hospital and professor at the university. During the Schleswig-Holstein War
of 1864 Esmarch rendered good service to the field hospitals of Flensburg, Sundewitt
and Kiel. In 1866 he was called to Berlin as member of the hospital commission, and
also to take the superintendence of the surgical work in the hospitals there. When the
Franco-German War broke out in 1870 he was appointed surgeon-general to the army,
and afterwards consulting surgeon at the great military hospital near Berlin. In 1872 he
married Princess Henrietta of Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderburg-Augustenburg, aunt of
the Empress Auguste Victoria. In 1887 a patent of nobility was conferred on him. He
died at Kiel on the 23rd of February 1908. Esmarch was one of the greatest authorities
on hospital management and military surgery. His Handbuch der kriegschirurgischen
Technik was written for a prize offered by the empress Augusta, on the occasion of the
Vienna Exhibition of 1877, for the best handbook for the battlefield of surgical
appliances and operations. This book is illustrated by admirable diagrams, showing the
different methods of bandaging and dressing, as well as the surgical operations as they
occur on the battlefield. Esmarch himself invented an apparatus, which bears his name,
for keeping a limb nearly bloodless during amputation. No part of Esmarch’s work is
more widely known than that which deals with “First Aid,” his First Aid on the
Battlefield and First Aid to the Injured being popular manuals on the subject. The latter
is the substance of a course of lectures delivered by him in 1881 to a “Samaritan
School,” the first of the kind in Germany, founded by Esmarch in 1881, in imitation of
the St John’s Ambulance classes which had been organized in England in 1878. These
Page 304
lectures were very generally adopted as a manual for first aid students, edition after
edition having been called for, and they have been translated into numerous languages,
the English version being the work of H.R.H. Princess Christian. No ambulance course
would be complete without a demonstration of the Esmarch bandage. It is a three-sided
piece of linen or cotton, of which the base measures 4 ft. and the sides 2 ft. 10 in. It can
be used folded or open, and applied in thirty-two different ways. It answers every
purpose for temporary dressing and field-work, while its great recommendation is that
the means for making it are always at hand.
ESNA, or Esneh, a town of Upper Egypt on the W. bank of the Nile, 454 m. S.S.E.
of Cairo by rail, the railway station being on the opposite side of the river. Pop. (1897)
16,000, mostly Copts. Esna, one of the healthiest towns in Egypt, is noted for its
manufactures of pottery and its large grain and live stock markets. It formerly had a
large trade with the Sudan. A caravan road to the south goes through the oasis of
Kurkur. The trade, almost stopped by the Mahdist Wars, is now largely diverted by
railway and steamboat routes. There is, however, considerable traffic with the oasis of
Kharga, which lies almost due west of the town. Nearly in the centre of the town is the
Ptolemaic and Roman temple of the ram-headed Khnūm, almost buried in rubbish and
houses. The interior of the pronaos is accessible to tourists, and contains the latest
known hieroglyphic inscription, dating from the reign of Decius (a.d. 249-251). With
Khnūm are associated the goddesses Sati and Neith. In the neighbourhood are remains
of Coptic buildings, including a subterranean church (discovered 1895) in the desert
half a mile beyond the limits of cultivation. The name Esna is from the Coptic Sne. By
the Greeks the place was called Latopolis, from the worship here of the latus fish. In
the persecutions under Diocletian a.d. 303, the Christians of Esna, a numerous body,
suffered severely. In later times the town frequently served as a place of refuge for
political exiles. The so-called Esna barrage across the Nile (built 1906-1908) is 30 m.
higher up stream at Edfu.
edition having been called for, and they have been translated into numerous languages,
the English version being the work of H.R.H. Princess Christian. No ambulance course
would be complete without a demonstration of the Esmarch bandage. It is a three-sided
piece of linen or cotton, of which the base measures 4 ft. and the sides 2 ft. 10 in. It can
be used folded or open, and applied in thirty-two different ways. It answers every
purpose for temporary dressing and field-work, while its great recommendation is that
the means for making it are always at hand.
ESNA, or Esneh, a town of Upper Egypt on the W. bank of the Nile, 454 m. S.S.E.
of Cairo by rail, the railway station being on the opposite side of the river. Pop. (1897)
16,000, mostly Copts. Esna, one of the healthiest towns in Egypt, is noted for its
manufactures of pottery and its large grain and live stock markets. It formerly had a
large trade with the Sudan. A caravan road to the south goes through the oasis of
Kurkur. The trade, almost stopped by the Mahdist Wars, is now largely diverted by
railway and steamboat routes. There is, however, considerable traffic with the oasis of
Kharga, which lies almost due west of the town. Nearly in the centre of the town is the
Ptolemaic and Roman temple of the ram-headed Khnūm, almost buried in rubbish and
houses. The interior of the pronaos is accessible to tourists, and contains the latest
known hieroglyphic inscription, dating from the reign of Decius (a.d. 249-251). With
Khnūm are associated the goddesses Sati and Neith. In the neighbourhood are remains
of Coptic buildings, including a subterranean church (discovered 1895) in the desert
half a mile beyond the limits of cultivation. The name Esna is from the Coptic Sne. By
the Greeks the place was called Latopolis, from the worship here of the latus fish. In
the persecutions under Diocletian a.d. 303, the Christians of Esna, a numerous body,
suffered severely. In later times the town frequently served as a place of refuge for
political exiles. The so-called Esna barrage across the Nile (built 1906-1908) is 30 m.
higher up stream at Edfu.
Page 305
ESOTERIC, having an inner or secret meaning. This term, and its correlative
“exoteric,” were first applied in the ancient Greek mysteries to those who were
initiated (ἔσω, within) and to those who were not (ἔξω, outside), respectively. It was
then transferred to a supposed distinction drawn by certain philosophers between the
teaching given to the whole circle of their pupils and that containing a higher and secret
philosophy which was reserved for a select number of specially advanced or privileged
disciples. This distinction was ascribed by Lucian (Vit. Auct. 26) to Aristotle (q.v.),
who, however, uses ἐξωτερικοὶ λόγοι (Nic. Ethics) merely of “popular treatises.” It
was probably adopted by the Pythagoreans and was also attributed to Plato. In the
sense of mystic it is used of a secret doctrine of theosophy, supposed to have been
traditional among certain disciples of Buddhism.
ESPAGNOLS SUR MER, LES, the name given to the naval victory gained by
King Edward III. of England over a Spanish fleet off Winchelsea, on the 29th of
August 1350. Spanish ships had fought against England as the allies or mercenaries of
France, and there had been instances of piratical violence between the trading ships of
both nations. A Spanish merchant fleet was loading cargoes in the Flemish ports to be
carried to the Basque coast. The ships were armed and had warships with them. They
were all under the command of Don Carlos de la Cerda, a soldier of fortune who
belonged to a branch of the Castilian royal family. On its way to Flanders the Spanish
fleet had captured a number of English trading ships, and had thrown the crews
overboard. Piratical violence and massacre of this kind was then universal on the sea.
On the 10th of August, when the king was at Rotherhithe, he announced his intention
of attacking the Spaniards on their way home. The rendezvous of his fleet was at
Winchelsea, and thither the king went by land, accompanied by his wife and her ladies,
by his sons, the Black Prince and John of Gaunt, as well as by many nobles. The ladies
were placed in a convent and the king embarked on his flagship, the “Cog Thomas,” on
the 28th of August. The English fleet did not put to sea but remained at anchor, waiting
for the appearance of the Spaniards. Its strength is not known with certainty, but Stow
puts it at 50 ships and pinnaces. Carlos de la Cerda was obviously well disposed to give
“exoteric,” were first applied in the ancient Greek mysteries to those who were
initiated (ἔσω, within) and to those who were not (ἔξω, outside), respectively. It was
then transferred to a supposed distinction drawn by certain philosophers between the
teaching given to the whole circle of their pupils and that containing a higher and secret
philosophy which was reserved for a select number of specially advanced or privileged
disciples. This distinction was ascribed by Lucian (Vit. Auct. 26) to Aristotle (q.v.),
who, however, uses ἐξωτερικοὶ λόγοι (Nic. Ethics) merely of “popular treatises.” It
was probably adopted by the Pythagoreans and was also attributed to Plato. In the
sense of mystic it is used of a secret doctrine of theosophy, supposed to have been
traditional among certain disciples of Buddhism.
ESPAGNOLS SUR MER, LES, the name given to the naval victory gained by
King Edward III. of England over a Spanish fleet off Winchelsea, on the 29th of
August 1350. Spanish ships had fought against England as the allies or mercenaries of
France, and there had been instances of piratical violence between the trading ships of
both nations. A Spanish merchant fleet was loading cargoes in the Flemish ports to be
carried to the Basque coast. The ships were armed and had warships with them. They
were all under the command of Don Carlos de la Cerda, a soldier of fortune who
belonged to a branch of the Castilian royal family. On its way to Flanders the Spanish
fleet had captured a number of English trading ships, and had thrown the crews
overboard. Piratical violence and massacre of this kind was then universal on the sea.
On the 10th of August, when the king was at Rotherhithe, he announced his intention
of attacking the Spaniards on their way home. The rendezvous of his fleet was at
Winchelsea, and thither the king went by land, accompanied by his wife and her ladies,
by his sons, the Black Prince and John of Gaunt, as well as by many nobles. The ladies
were placed in a convent and the king embarked on his flagship, the “Cog Thomas,” on
the 28th of August. The English fleet did not put to sea but remained at anchor, waiting
for the appearance of the Spaniards. Its strength is not known with certainty, but Stow
puts it at 50 ships and pinnaces. Carlos de la Cerda was obviously well disposed to give
Page 306
the king a meeting. He might easily have avoided the English if he had kept well out in
the Channel. But he relied on the size and strength of his 40 large ships, and in
expectation of an encounter had recruited a body of mercenaries—mostly
crossbowmen—in the Flemish ports. In the afternoon of the 29th of August he bore
down boldly on King Edward’s ships at anchor at Winchelsea. When the Spaniards
hove in sight, the king was sitting on the deck of his ship, with his knights and nobles,
listening to his minstrels who played German airs, and to the singing of Sir John
Chandos. When the look-out in the tops reported the enemy in sight, the king and his
company drank to one another’s health, the trumpet was sounded, and the whole line
stood out. All battles at that time, whether on land or sea, were finally settled by stroke
of sword. The English steered to board the Spaniards. The king’s own ship was run into
by one of the enemy with such violence that both were damaged, and she began to
sink. The Spaniard stood on, and the “Cog Thomas” was laid alongside another, which
was carried by boarding. It was high time, for the king and his following had barely
reached the deck of the Spaniard before the “Cog Thomas” went to the bottom. Other
Spaniards were taken, but the fight was hot. La Cerda’s crossbowmen did much
execution, and the higher-built Spaniards were able to drop bars of iron or other
weights on the lighter English vessels, by which they were damaged. The conflict was
continued till twilight. At the close the large English vessel called “La Salle du Roi,”
which carried the king’s household, and was commanded by the Fleming, Robert of
Namur, afterwards a knight of the Garter, was grappled by a big Spaniard, and was
being dragged off by him. The crew called loudly for a rescue, but were either not
heard or, if heard, could not be helped. The “Salle du Roi” would have been taken if a
Flemish squire of Robert of Namur, named Hannequin, had not performed a great feat
of arms. He boarded the Spaniard and cut the halyards of her mainsail with his sword.
The Spanish ship was taken. King Edward is said to have captured 14 of the enemy.
What his own loss was is not stated, but as his own vessel, and also the vessel carrying
the Black Prince, were sunk, and from the peril of “La Salle du Roi,” we may conclude
that the English fleet suffered heavily. There was no pursuit, and a truce was made with
the Basque towns the next year.
The battle with “the Spaniards on the sea” is a very typical example of a medieval
sea-fight, when the ships were of the size of a small coaster or a fishing smack, were
crowded with men, and when the personal prowess of a single knight or squire was an
important element of strength.
the Channel. But he relied on the size and strength of his 40 large ships, and in
expectation of an encounter had recruited a body of mercenaries—mostly
crossbowmen—in the Flemish ports. In the afternoon of the 29th of August he bore
down boldly on King Edward’s ships at anchor at Winchelsea. When the Spaniards
hove in sight, the king was sitting on the deck of his ship, with his knights and nobles,
listening to his minstrels who played German airs, and to the singing of Sir John
Chandos. When the look-out in the tops reported the enemy in sight, the king and his
company drank to one another’s health, the trumpet was sounded, and the whole line
stood out. All battles at that time, whether on land or sea, were finally settled by stroke
of sword. The English steered to board the Spaniards. The king’s own ship was run into
by one of the enemy with such violence that both were damaged, and she began to
sink. The Spaniard stood on, and the “Cog Thomas” was laid alongside another, which
was carried by boarding. It was high time, for the king and his following had barely
reached the deck of the Spaniard before the “Cog Thomas” went to the bottom. Other
Spaniards were taken, but the fight was hot. La Cerda’s crossbowmen did much
execution, and the higher-built Spaniards were able to drop bars of iron or other
weights on the lighter English vessels, by which they were damaged. The conflict was
continued till twilight. At the close the large English vessel called “La Salle du Roi,”
which carried the king’s household, and was commanded by the Fleming, Robert of
Namur, afterwards a knight of the Garter, was grappled by a big Spaniard, and was
being dragged off by him. The crew called loudly for a rescue, but were either not
heard or, if heard, could not be helped. The “Salle du Roi” would have been taken if a
Flemish squire of Robert of Namur, named Hannequin, had not performed a great feat
of arms. He boarded the Spaniard and cut the halyards of her mainsail with his sword.
The Spanish ship was taken. King Edward is said to have captured 14 of the enemy.
What his own loss was is not stated, but as his own vessel, and also the vessel carrying
the Black Prince, were sunk, and from the peril of “La Salle du Roi,” we may conclude
that the English fleet suffered heavily. There was no pursuit, and a truce was made with
the Basque towns the next year.
The battle with “the Spaniards on the sea” is a very typical example of a medieval
sea-fight, when the ships were of the size of a small coaster or a fishing smack, were
crowded with men, and when the personal prowess of a single knight or squire was an
important element of strength.
Page 307
The only real authority for the battle is Froissart, who was at different times in
the service of King Edward or of his wife, Philippa of Hainaut, and of the counts
of Namur. He repeated what was told him by men who had been present, and
dwells as usual on the “chivalry” of his patrons. See his Chroniques, iv. 91.
(D. H.)
ESPALIER (a French word, derived from the Ital. spalliera, something to rest the
spalla or shoulder against; the word is ultimately the same as épaulière, a shoulder-
piece), a lattice-work or row of stakes, originally shoulder high, on which fruit trees,
shrubs and flowers, particularly roses and creepers, are trained. Espaliers are usually
made of larch or other wood, iron and metal rails being too great conductors of heat
and cold. The advantage of this method of training is that the fruit, &c, is more easily
got at, and while protected from wind, is freely exposed to sun and air, and not so open
to extreme changes of temperature as when trained on a wall. (See Horticulture.)
ESPARTERO, BALDOMERO (1792-1879), duke of Vitoria, duke of Morella,
prince of Vergara, Count Luchana, knight of the Toison d’Or, &c. &c., Spanish soldier
and statesman, was born at Granatulu, a town of the province of Ciudad Real, on the
27th of February 1792. He was the ninth child of a carter, who wanted to make him a
priest, but the lad at fifteen enlisted in a battalion of students to fight against the armies
of Napoleon I. In 1811 Espartero was appointed a lieutenant of Engineers in Cadiz, but
having failed to pass his examination he entered a line regiment. In 1815 he went to
America as a captain under General Morillo, who had been made commander-in-chief
to quell the risings of the colonies on the Spanish Main. For eight years Espartero
distinguished himself in the struggle against the colonists. He was several times
the service of King Edward or of his wife, Philippa of Hainaut, and of the counts
of Namur. He repeated what was told him by men who had been present, and
dwells as usual on the “chivalry” of his patrons. See his Chroniques, iv. 91.
(D. H.)
ESPALIER (a French word, derived from the Ital. spalliera, something to rest the
spalla or shoulder against; the word is ultimately the same as épaulière, a shoulder-
piece), a lattice-work or row of stakes, originally shoulder high, on which fruit trees,
shrubs and flowers, particularly roses and creepers, are trained. Espaliers are usually
made of larch or other wood, iron and metal rails being too great conductors of heat
and cold. The advantage of this method of training is that the fruit, &c, is more easily
got at, and while protected from wind, is freely exposed to sun and air, and not so open
to extreme changes of temperature as when trained on a wall. (See Horticulture.)
ESPARTERO, BALDOMERO (1792-1879), duke of Vitoria, duke of Morella,
prince of Vergara, Count Luchana, knight of the Toison d’Or, &c. &c., Spanish soldier
and statesman, was born at Granatulu, a town of the province of Ciudad Real, on the
27th of February 1792. He was the ninth child of a carter, who wanted to make him a
priest, but the lad at fifteen enlisted in a battalion of students to fight against the armies
of Napoleon I. In 1811 Espartero was appointed a lieutenant of Engineers in Cadiz, but
having failed to pass his examination he entered a line regiment. In 1815 he went to
America as a captain under General Morillo, who had been made commander-in-chief
to quell the risings of the colonies on the Spanish Main. For eight years Espartero
distinguished himself in the struggle against the colonists. He was several times
Page 308
wounded, and was made major and colonel on the battlefields of Cochabamba and
Sapachni. He had to surrender to Sucre at the final battle of Ayacucho, which put an
end to Castilian rule. He returned to Spain, and, like most of his companions in arms,
remained under a cloud for some time. He was sent to the garrison town of Logroño,
where he married the daughter of a rich landowner, Doña Jacinta Santa Cruz, who
eventually survived him. Henceforth Logroño became the home of the most prominent
of the Spanish political generals of the 19th century. Espartero became in 1832, on the
death of King Ferdinand VII., one of the most ardent defenders of the rights of his
daughter, Isabella II. The government sent him to the front, directly the Carlist War
broke out, as commandant of the province of Biscay, where he severely defeated the
Carlists in many encounters. He was quickly promoted to a divisional command, and
then made a lieutenant-general. At times he showed qualities as a guerillero quite equal
to those of the Carlists, like Zumalacarregui and Cabrera, by his daring marches and
surprises. When he had to move large forces he was greatly superior to them as an
organizer and strategist, and he never disgraced his successes by cruelty or needless
severity. Twice he obliged the Carlists to raise the siege of Bilbao before he was
appointed commander-in-chief of the northern army on the 17th of September 1836,
when the tide of war seemed to be setting in favour of the pretender in the Basque
provinces and Navarre, though Don Carlos had lost his ablest lieutenant, the Basque
Zumalacarregui. His military duties at the head of the principal national army did not
prevent Espartero from showing for the first time his political ambition. He displayed
such radical and reforming inclinations that he laid the foundations of his popularity
among the lower and middle classes, which lasted more than a quarter of a century,
during which time the Progressists, Democrats and advanced Liberals ever looked to
him as a leader and adviser. In November 1836 he again forced the Carlists to raise the
siege of Bilbao. His troops included the British legion under Sir de Lacy Evans. This
success turned the tide of war against Don Carlos, who vainly attempted a raid towards
Madrid. Espartero was soon at his heels, and obliged him to hurry northwards, after
several defeats. In 1839 Espartero carefully opened up negotiations with Maroto and
the principal Carlist chiefs of the Basque provinces. These ended in their accepting his
terms under the famous convention of Vergara, which secured the recognition of their
ranks and titles for nearly 1000 Carlist officers. Twenty thousand Carlist volunteers laid
down their arms at Vergara; only the irreconcilables led by Cabrera held out for a while
in the central provinces of Spain. Espartero soon, however, in 1840, stamped out the
Sapachni. He had to surrender to Sucre at the final battle of Ayacucho, which put an
end to Castilian rule. He returned to Spain, and, like most of his companions in arms,
remained under a cloud for some time. He was sent to the garrison town of Logroño,
where he married the daughter of a rich landowner, Doña Jacinta Santa Cruz, who
eventually survived him. Henceforth Logroño became the home of the most prominent
of the Spanish political generals of the 19th century. Espartero became in 1832, on the
death of King Ferdinand VII., one of the most ardent defenders of the rights of his
daughter, Isabella II. The government sent him to the front, directly the Carlist War
broke out, as commandant of the province of Biscay, where he severely defeated the
Carlists in many encounters. He was quickly promoted to a divisional command, and
then made a lieutenant-general. At times he showed qualities as a guerillero quite equal
to those of the Carlists, like Zumalacarregui and Cabrera, by his daring marches and
surprises. When he had to move large forces he was greatly superior to them as an
organizer and strategist, and he never disgraced his successes by cruelty or needless
severity. Twice he obliged the Carlists to raise the siege of Bilbao before he was
appointed commander-in-chief of the northern army on the 17th of September 1836,
when the tide of war seemed to be setting in favour of the pretender in the Basque
provinces and Navarre, though Don Carlos had lost his ablest lieutenant, the Basque
Zumalacarregui. His military duties at the head of the principal national army did not
prevent Espartero from showing for the first time his political ambition. He displayed
such radical and reforming inclinations that he laid the foundations of his popularity
among the lower and middle classes, which lasted more than a quarter of a century,
during which time the Progressists, Democrats and advanced Liberals ever looked to
him as a leader and adviser. In November 1836 he again forced the Carlists to raise the
siege of Bilbao. His troops included the British legion under Sir de Lacy Evans. This
success turned the tide of war against Don Carlos, who vainly attempted a raid towards
Madrid. Espartero was soon at his heels, and obliged him to hurry northwards, after
several defeats. In 1839 Espartero carefully opened up negotiations with Maroto and
the principal Carlist chiefs of the Basque provinces. These ended in their accepting his
terms under the famous convention of Vergara, which secured the recognition of their
ranks and titles for nearly 1000 Carlist officers. Twenty thousand Carlist volunteers laid
down their arms at Vergara; only the irreconcilables led by Cabrera held out for a while
in the central provinces of Spain. Espartero soon, however, in 1840, stamped out the
Page 309
last embers of the rising, which had lasted seven years. He was styled “El pacificador
de España,” was made a grandee of the first class, and received two dukedoms.
During the last three years of the war Espartero, who had been elected a deputy,
exercised from his distant headquarters such influence over Madrid politics that he
twice hastened the fall of the cabinet, and obtained office for his own friends. At the
close of the war the queen regent and her ministers attempted to elbow out Espartero
and his followers, but a pronunciamiento ensued in Madrid and other large towns
which culminated in the marshal’s accepting the post of prime minister. He soon
became virtually a dictator, as Queen Christina took offence at his popularity and
resigned, leaving the kingdom very soon afterwards. Directly the Cortes met they
elected Espartero regent by 179 votes to 103 in favour of Arguelles, who was appointed
guardian of the young queen. For two years Espartero ruled Spain in accordance with
his Radical and conciliatory dispositions, giving special attention to the reorganization
of the administration, taxation and finances, declaring all the estates of the church,
congregations and religious orders to be national property, and suppressing the diezma,
or tenths. He suppressed the Republican risings with as much severity as he did the
military pronunciamientos of Generals Concha and Diego de Leon. The latter was shot
in Madrid. Espartero crushed with much energy a revolutionary rising in Barcelona, but
on his return to Madrid was so coldly welcomed that he perceived that his prestige was
on the wane. The advanced Progressists coalesced with the partisans of the ex-regent
Christina to promote pronunciamientos in Barcelona and many cities. The rebels
declared Queen Isabel of age, and, led by General Narvaez, marched upon Madrid.
Espartero, deeming resistance useless, embarked at Cadiz on the 30th of July 1843 for
England, and lived quietly apart from politics until 1848, when a royal decree restored
to him all his honours and his seat in the senate. He retired to his house in Logroño,
which he left six years later, in 1854, when called upon by the queen to take the lead of
the powerful Liberal and Progressist movement which prevailed for two years. The old
marshal vainly endeavoured to keep his own Progressists within bounds in the Cortes
of 1854-1856, and in the great towns, but their excessive demands for reforms and
liberties played into the hands of a clerical and reactionary court and of the equally
retrograde governing classes. The growing ambition of General O’Donnell constantly
clashed with the views of Espartero, until the latter, in sheer disgust, resigned his
premiership and left for Logroño, after warning the queen that a conflict was imminent
between O’Donnell and the Cortes, backed by the Progressist militia. O’Donnell’s
de España,” was made a grandee of the first class, and received two dukedoms.
During the last three years of the war Espartero, who had been elected a deputy,
exercised from his distant headquarters such influence over Madrid politics that he
twice hastened the fall of the cabinet, and obtained office for his own friends. At the
close of the war the queen regent and her ministers attempted to elbow out Espartero
and his followers, but a pronunciamiento ensued in Madrid and other large towns
which culminated in the marshal’s accepting the post of prime minister. He soon
became virtually a dictator, as Queen Christina took offence at his popularity and
resigned, leaving the kingdom very soon afterwards. Directly the Cortes met they
elected Espartero regent by 179 votes to 103 in favour of Arguelles, who was appointed
guardian of the young queen. For two years Espartero ruled Spain in accordance with
his Radical and conciliatory dispositions, giving special attention to the reorganization
of the administration, taxation and finances, declaring all the estates of the church,
congregations and religious orders to be national property, and suppressing the diezma,
or tenths. He suppressed the Republican risings with as much severity as he did the
military pronunciamientos of Generals Concha and Diego de Leon. The latter was shot
in Madrid. Espartero crushed with much energy a revolutionary rising in Barcelona, but
on his return to Madrid was so coldly welcomed that he perceived that his prestige was
on the wane. The advanced Progressists coalesced with the partisans of the ex-regent
Christina to promote pronunciamientos in Barcelona and many cities. The rebels
declared Queen Isabel of age, and, led by General Narvaez, marched upon Madrid.
Espartero, deeming resistance useless, embarked at Cadiz on the 30th of July 1843 for
England, and lived quietly apart from politics until 1848, when a royal decree restored
to him all his honours and his seat in the senate. He retired to his house in Logroño,
which he left six years later, in 1854, when called upon by the queen to take the lead of
the powerful Liberal and Progressist movement which prevailed for two years. The old
marshal vainly endeavoured to keep his own Progressists within bounds in the Cortes
of 1854-1856, and in the great towns, but their excessive demands for reforms and
liberties played into the hands of a clerical and reactionary court and of the equally
retrograde governing classes. The growing ambition of General O’Donnell constantly
clashed with the views of Espartero, until the latter, in sheer disgust, resigned his
premiership and left for Logroño, after warning the queen that a conflict was imminent
between O’Donnell and the Cortes, backed by the Progressist militia. O’Donnell’s
Page 310
pronunciamiento in 1856 put an end to the Cortes, and the militia was disarmed, after a
sharp struggle in the streets of the capital. After 1856 Espartero resolutely declined to
identify himself with active politics, though at every stage in the onward march of
Spain towards more liberal and democratic institutions he was asked to take a leading
part. He refused to allow his name to be brought forward as a candidate when the
Cortes of 1868, after the Revolution, sought for a ruler. Espartero, strangely enough,
adopted a laconic phrase when successive governments on their advent to power
invariably addressed themselves to the venerable champion of liberal ideas. To all—to
the Revolution of 1868, the Constituent Cortes of 1869, King Amadeus, the Federal
Republic of 1873, the nameless government of Marshal Serrano in 1874, the Bourbon
restoration in 1875—he simply said: “Cumplase la voluntad nacional” (“Let the
national will be accomplished”). King Amadeus made him prince of Vergara. The
Restoration raised a statue to him near the gate of the Retiro Park in Madrid. Spaniards
of all shades, except Carlists and Ultramontanes, paid homage to his memory when he
passed away at his Logroño residence on the 8th of January 1879. His tastes were
singularly modest, his manners rather reserved, but always kind and considerate for
humble folk. He was a typical Spanish soldier-politician, though he had more of the
better traits of the soldier born and bred than of the arts of the statesman. His military
instincts did not always make it easy for him to accommodate himself to courtiers and
professional politicians.
(A. E. H.)
ESPARTO, or Spanish Grass, Stipa tenacissima, a grass resembling the ornamental
feather-grass of gardens. It is indigenous to the south of Spain and the north of Africa
(where it is known as Halfa or Alfa), and is especially abundant in the sterile and
rugged parts of Murcia and Valencia, and in Algeria, flourishing best in sandy,
ferruginous soils, in dry, sunny situations on the sea coast. Pliny (N.H. xix. 2) described
what appears to have been the same plant under the name of spartum, whence the
designation campus spartarius for the region surrounding New Carthage. It attains a
height of 3 or 4 ft. The stems are cylindrical, and clothed with short hair, and grow in
sharp struggle in the streets of the capital. After 1856 Espartero resolutely declined to
identify himself with active politics, though at every stage in the onward march of
Spain towards more liberal and democratic institutions he was asked to take a leading
part. He refused to allow his name to be brought forward as a candidate when the
Cortes of 1868, after the Revolution, sought for a ruler. Espartero, strangely enough,
adopted a laconic phrase when successive governments on their advent to power
invariably addressed themselves to the venerable champion of liberal ideas. To all—to
the Revolution of 1868, the Constituent Cortes of 1869, King Amadeus, the Federal
Republic of 1873, the nameless government of Marshal Serrano in 1874, the Bourbon
restoration in 1875—he simply said: “Cumplase la voluntad nacional” (“Let the
national will be accomplished”). King Amadeus made him prince of Vergara. The
Restoration raised a statue to him near the gate of the Retiro Park in Madrid. Spaniards
of all shades, except Carlists and Ultramontanes, paid homage to his memory when he
passed away at his Logroño residence on the 8th of January 1879. His tastes were
singularly modest, his manners rather reserved, but always kind and considerate for
humble folk. He was a typical Spanish soldier-politician, though he had more of the
better traits of the soldier born and bred than of the arts of the statesman. His military
instincts did not always make it easy for him to accommodate himself to courtiers and
professional politicians.
(A. E. H.)
ESPARTO, or Spanish Grass, Stipa tenacissima, a grass resembling the ornamental
feather-grass of gardens. It is indigenous to the south of Spain and the north of Africa
(where it is known as Halfa or Alfa), and is especially abundant in the sterile and
rugged parts of Murcia and Valencia, and in Algeria, flourishing best in sandy,
ferruginous soils, in dry, sunny situations on the sea coast. Pliny (N.H. xix. 2) described
what appears to have been the same plant under the name of spartum, whence the
designation campus spartarius for the region surrounding New Carthage. It attains a
height of 3 or 4 ft. The stems are cylindrical, and clothed with short hair, and grow in
Page 311
clusters of from 2 to 10 ft. in circumference; when young they serve as food for cattle,
but after a few years’ growth acquire great toughness of texture. The leaves vary from 6
in. to 3 ft. in length, and are grey-green in colour; on account of their tenacity of fibre
and flexibility they have for centuries been employed for the making of ropes, sandals,
baskets, mats and other articles. Ships’ cables of esparto, being light, have the quality
of floating on water, and have long been in use in the Spanish navy.
Esparto leaves contain 56% by weight of fibre, or about 10% more than straw, and
hence have come into requisition as a substitute for linen rags in the manufacture of
paper. For this purpose they were first utilized by the French, and in 1857 were
introduced into Great Britain. When required for paper-making the leaves should be
gathered before they are quite matured; if, however, they are obtained too young, they
furnish a paper having an objectionable semi-transparent appearance. The leaves are
gathered by hand, and from 2 to 3 cwt. may be collected in a day by a single labourer.
They are generally obtained during the dry summer months, as at other times their
adherence to the stems is so firm as often to cause the uprooting of the plants in the
attempt to remove them. Esparto may be raised from seed, but cannot be harvested for
twelve or fifteen years after sowing.
Another grass, Lygeum Spartum, with stiff rush-like leaves, growing in rocky soil on
the high plains of countries bordering on the Mediterranean, especially of Spain and
Algeria, is also a source of esparto.
For the processes of the paper manufacturer esparto is used in the dry state, and
without cutting; roots and flowers and stray weeds are first removed, and the material
is then boiled with caustic soda, washed, and bleached with chlorine solution. Sundry
experiments have been made to adapt esparto for use in the coarser textile fabrics.
Messrs A. Edger and B. Proctor in 1877 directed attention to the composition of the
slag resulting from the burning of esparto, which they found to be strikingly similar to
that of average medical bottle glass, the latter yielding on analysis 66.3% of silica and
25.1% of alkalies and alkaline earths, and the slag 64.6 and 27.45% of the same
respectively.
but after a few years’ growth acquire great toughness of texture. The leaves vary from 6
in. to 3 ft. in length, and are grey-green in colour; on account of their tenacity of fibre
and flexibility they have for centuries been employed for the making of ropes, sandals,
baskets, mats and other articles. Ships’ cables of esparto, being light, have the quality
of floating on water, and have long been in use in the Spanish navy.
Esparto leaves contain 56% by weight of fibre, or about 10% more than straw, and
hence have come into requisition as a substitute for linen rags in the manufacture of
paper. For this purpose they were first utilized by the French, and in 1857 were
introduced into Great Britain. When required for paper-making the leaves should be
gathered before they are quite matured; if, however, they are obtained too young, they
furnish a paper having an objectionable semi-transparent appearance. The leaves are
gathered by hand, and from 2 to 3 cwt. may be collected in a day by a single labourer.
They are generally obtained during the dry summer months, as at other times their
adherence to the stems is so firm as often to cause the uprooting of the plants in the
attempt to remove them. Esparto may be raised from seed, but cannot be harvested for
twelve or fifteen years after sowing.
Another grass, Lygeum Spartum, with stiff rush-like leaves, growing in rocky soil on
the high plains of countries bordering on the Mediterranean, especially of Spain and
Algeria, is also a source of esparto.
For the processes of the paper manufacturer esparto is used in the dry state, and
without cutting; roots and flowers and stray weeds are first removed, and the material
is then boiled with caustic soda, washed, and bleached with chlorine solution. Sundry
experiments have been made to adapt esparto for use in the coarser textile fabrics.
Messrs A. Edger and B. Proctor in 1877 directed attention to the composition of the
slag resulting from the burning of esparto, which they found to be strikingly similar to
that of average medical bottle glass, the latter yielding on analysis 66.3% of silica and
25.1% of alkalies and alkaline earths, and the slag 64.6 and 27.45% of the same
respectively.
Page 312
ESPERANCE, a small seaport on a fine natural harbour on the south coast of West
Australia, 275 m. north-east from Albany. It is a summer resort, and in the
neighbourhood are interesting caves. Its importance as a seaport is due to its being on
the high road between the eastern states and the gold-fields, and the nearest place for
the shipment of gold from the Coolgardie fields.
ESPERANTO, an artificial international auxiliary language (see Universal
Languages), first published in 1887, seven years after the appearance of its predecessor
Volapük (q.v.), which it has now completely supplanted. Its author was a Russian
physician, Dr L. Zamenhof, born in 1859 at Bielostok, where the spectacle of the feuds
of the four races—each speaking different languages—which inhabit it (Russians,
Poles, Germans and Jews) at an early date suggested to him the idea of remedying the
evil by the introduction of a neutral language, standing apart from the existing national
languages. His first idea was to resuscitate some dead language. Then he tried to
construct a new language on an a priori basis. At the same time he made what he
appears to have considered the great discovery that the bulk of the vocabulary of a
language consists not of independent roots, but of compounds and derivatives formed
from a comparatively small number of roots.
At first he tried to construct his roots a priori by arbitrary combinations of letters.
Then he fell back on the plan of taking his roots ready-made from existing languages,
as the inventor of Volapük had done before him. But instead of taking them mainly
from one language, he has selected them from the chief European languages, but not
impartially. Like all inventors of artificial languages, he is more ready to experiment
with foreign languages than with his own; and hence the Slavonic roots in Esperanto
are much less numerous than those taken from the other European languages. Here his
choice has been to some extent guided by considerations of internationality, although
he has not fully grasped the importance of the principle of maximum internationality,
so well worked out in the latest rival of Esperanto—Idiom Neutral (see Universal
Languages). Thus he adopts a large number of international words—generally
Australia, 275 m. north-east from Albany. It is a summer resort, and in the
neighbourhood are interesting caves. Its importance as a seaport is due to its being on
the high road between the eastern states and the gold-fields, and the nearest place for
the shipment of gold from the Coolgardie fields.
ESPERANTO, an artificial international auxiliary language (see Universal
Languages), first published in 1887, seven years after the appearance of its predecessor
Volapük (q.v.), which it has now completely supplanted. Its author was a Russian
physician, Dr L. Zamenhof, born in 1859 at Bielostok, where the spectacle of the feuds
of the four races—each speaking different languages—which inhabit it (Russians,
Poles, Germans and Jews) at an early date suggested to him the idea of remedying the
evil by the introduction of a neutral language, standing apart from the existing national
languages. His first idea was to resuscitate some dead language. Then he tried to
construct a new language on an a priori basis. At the same time he made what he
appears to have considered the great discovery that the bulk of the vocabulary of a
language consists not of independent roots, but of compounds and derivatives formed
from a comparatively small number of roots.
At first he tried to construct his roots a priori by arbitrary combinations of letters.
Then he fell back on the plan of taking his roots ready-made from existing languages,
as the inventor of Volapük had done before him. But instead of taking them mainly
from one language, he has selected them from the chief European languages, but not
impartially. Like all inventors of artificial languages, he is more ready to experiment
with foreign languages than with his own; and hence the Slavonic roots in Esperanto
are much less numerous than those taken from the other European languages. Here his
choice has been to some extent guided by considerations of internationality, although
he has not fully grasped the importance of the principle of maximum internationality,
so well worked out in the latest rival of Esperanto—Idiom Neutral (see Universal
Languages). Thus he adopts a large number of international words—generally
Page 313
unaltered except in spelling—such as teatr, tabak, even when it would be easy to form
equivalent terms from the roots already existing in the language. Where there is no one
international word, he selects practically at random, keeping, however, a certain
balance between the Romance words, taken chiefly from Latin (tamen) and French
(trotuar), on the one hand, and the Germanic on the other hand, the latter being taken
sometimes from German (nur, “only”), sometimes from English, the words being
generally written more or less phonetically (rajt = right). Most of the Germanic words
are badly chosen from the international point of view. Thus the German word quoted
above would not be intelligible to any one ignorant of German. Indeed, from the
international point of view all specially German words ought to be excluded, or else
reduced to the common Germanic form; thus trink ought to be made into drink, the t
being a specially German modification of the d, preserved not only in English but in all
the remaining Germanic languages. This incongruous mixture of languages is not only
jarring and repulsive, but adds greatly to the difficulty of mastering the vocabulary for
the polyglot as well as the monolingual learner.
The inventor has taken great pains to reduce the number of his roots to a minimum;
there are 2642 of them in his dictionary, the Universala Vortaro (from Ger. Wort,
“word”), which does not include such international words as poezio, telefono; these the
learner is supposed to recognize and form without help. The most eccentric feature of
the vocabulary, and the one to which it owes much of its brevity, is the extensive use of
the prefix mal- to reverse the meaning of a word, as in malamiko, “enemy,” and even
malbona, “bad.”
The phonology of the language is very simple. The vowels are only five in number,
a, e, i, o, u, used without any distinction of quantity, as in Russian. There are six
diphthongs, expressed by an unnecessarily complicated notation. The consonant-
system is simple enough in itself, but is greatly complicated in writing by the excessive
and mostly unnecessary use made of diacritical letters not only for simple sounds but
also for consonant-groups. c is used for ts, as in Polish.
The grammar is, like that of Volapük, partly borrowed from existing languages,
partly a priori and arbitrary. The use of the final vowels belongs to the latter category.
The use of -a to indicate adjectives and of -o to indicate nouns as in kara amiko, “dear
(male) friend,” is a source of confusion to those familiar with the Romance languages,
and has proved a bar to the diffusion of Esperanto among the speakers of these
equivalent terms from the roots already existing in the language. Where there is no one
international word, he selects practically at random, keeping, however, a certain
balance between the Romance words, taken chiefly from Latin (tamen) and French
(trotuar), on the one hand, and the Germanic on the other hand, the latter being taken
sometimes from German (nur, “only”), sometimes from English, the words being
generally written more or less phonetically (rajt = right). Most of the Germanic words
are badly chosen from the international point of view. Thus the German word quoted
above would not be intelligible to any one ignorant of German. Indeed, from the
international point of view all specially German words ought to be excluded, or else
reduced to the common Germanic form; thus trink ought to be made into drink, the t
being a specially German modification of the d, preserved not only in English but in all
the remaining Germanic languages. This incongruous mixture of languages is not only
jarring and repulsive, but adds greatly to the difficulty of mastering the vocabulary for
the polyglot as well as the monolingual learner.
The inventor has taken great pains to reduce the number of his roots to a minimum;
there are 2642 of them in his dictionary, the Universala Vortaro (from Ger. Wort,
“word”), which does not include such international words as poezio, telefono; these the
learner is supposed to recognize and form without help. The most eccentric feature of
the vocabulary, and the one to which it owes much of its brevity, is the extensive use of
the prefix mal- to reverse the meaning of a word, as in malamiko, “enemy,” and even
malbona, “bad.”
The phonology of the language is very simple. The vowels are only five in number,
a, e, i, o, u, used without any distinction of quantity, as in Russian. There are six
diphthongs, expressed by an unnecessarily complicated notation. The consonant-
system is simple enough in itself, but is greatly complicated in writing by the excessive
and mostly unnecessary use made of diacritical letters not only for simple sounds but
also for consonant-groups. c is used for ts, as in Polish.
The grammar is, like that of Volapük, partly borrowed from existing languages,
partly a priori and arbitrary. The use of the final vowels belongs to the latter category.
The use of -a to indicate adjectives and of -o to indicate nouns as in kara amiko, “dear
(male) friend,” is a source of confusion to those familiar with the Romance languages,
and has proved a bar to the diffusion of Esperanto among the speakers of these
Page 314
languages. On the other hand, the following paradigm will show how faithfully
Esperanto can reproduce the defects of conventional European grammar:—
Singular. Plural.
Nominative la bona patro la bonaj patroj
Accusative la bonan patron la bonajn patrojn.
It is difficult to see why the accusative should be kept when all the other cases are
replaced by prepositions.
The verb is better than the noun. Its inflections are -as present, -is preterite, -os
future, -us conditional, -u imperative and subjunctive, -i infinitive, together with the
following participles:—
Active. Passive.
Present -anta -ata
Preterite -inta -ita
Future -onta -ota
The inventor has followed the good example of his native language in using esti, “to
be,” as the auxiliary verb both in the passive, where it is combined with passive
participles, and in the secondary tenses of the active (perfect, pluperfect, &c.), where it
is of course combined with the active participles. The participles can be made into
nouns and adverbs by changing the final -a into -o and -e respectively: thus tenonto,
“the future holder,” perdinte, “through having lost.”
The table of the forty-five correlative pronouns, adjectives and adverbs is also
elaborate and ingenious.
Much ingenuity is displayed in the syntax, as well as some happy simplifications.
But, on the other hand, there is much in it that is fanciful, arbitrary and vague, as in the
use of the definite article—where the author has unfortunately followed French rather
than English usage—and in the moods of the verb.
The following specimens will show the general character of this easy-flowing but
somewhat heavy and monotonous language—“bad Italian,” as it is called by its
Esperanto can reproduce the defects of conventional European grammar:—
Singular. Plural.
Nominative la bona patro la bonaj patroj
Accusative la bonan patron la bonajn patrojn.
It is difficult to see why the accusative should be kept when all the other cases are
replaced by prepositions.
The verb is better than the noun. Its inflections are -as present, -is preterite, -os
future, -us conditional, -u imperative and subjunctive, -i infinitive, together with the
following participles:—
Active. Passive.
Present -anta -ata
Preterite -inta -ita
Future -onta -ota
The inventor has followed the good example of his native language in using esti, “to
be,” as the auxiliary verb both in the passive, where it is combined with passive
participles, and in the secondary tenses of the active (perfect, pluperfect, &c.), where it
is of course combined with the active participles. The participles can be made into
nouns and adverbs by changing the final -a into -o and -e respectively: thus tenonto,
“the future holder,” perdinte, “through having lost.”
The table of the forty-five correlative pronouns, adjectives and adverbs is also
elaborate and ingenious.
Much ingenuity is displayed in the syntax, as well as some happy simplifications.
But, on the other hand, there is much in it that is fanciful, arbitrary and vague, as in the
use of the definite article—where the author has unfortunately followed French rather
than English usage—and in the moods of the verb.
The following specimens will show the general character of this easy-flowing but
somewhat heavy and monotonous language—“bad Italian,” as it is called by its
Page 315
detractors:—
Patro nia, kiu estas en la ĉielo, sankta estu via nomo; venu regeco via; estu volo
via, kiel en la ĉielo, tiel ankaŭ sur la tero. Panon nian ĉiutagan donu al ni hodiaŭ;
kaj pardonu al ni ŝuldojn niajn, kiel ni ankaŭ pardonas al niaj ŝuldantoj; kaj ne
konduku nin en tenton, sed liberigu nin de la malbono.
Estimata Sinjoro. Per tiu ĉi libreto mi havas la honoron prezenti al vi la lingvon
internacian Esperanto. Esperanto tute ne havas la intencon malfortigi la lingvon
naturan de ia popolo. Ĝi devas nur servi por la rilatoj internaciaj kaj por tiuj
verkoj aŭ produktoj, kiuj interesas egale la tutan mondon.
In summing up the merits and defects of Esperanto we must begin by admitting that
it is the most reasonable and practical artificial language that has yet appeared. Its
inventor has had the double advantage of being able to profit by the mistakes of his
predecessors, and of being himself, by force of circumstances, a better linguist. It must
further be admitted that he has made as good a use of these advantages as was perhaps
possible without systematic training in scientific philology in its widest sense. This last
defect explains why the enthusiasm which his work has excited in the great world of
linguistic dilettantes has not been shared by the philologists: in spite of its superiority
to Volapük, they see in it the same radical defects. Whether they are rash or not in
predicting for it a similar fate, remains to be seen. The Esperantists, warned by the fate
of Volapük, have adopted the wise policy of suppressing all internal disunion by
submitting to the dictatorship of the inventor, and so presenting a united front to the
enemy. One thing is clear: either Esperanto must be taken as it is without change, or
else it must crumble to pieces; its failure to work out consistently the principle of the
maximum of internationality for its root-words is alone enough to condemn it as
hopelessly antiquated even from the narrow point of view which regards
“international” as synonymous with “European”—a view which political development
in the Far East has made equally obsolete.
(H. Sw.)
Patro nia, kiu estas en la ĉielo, sankta estu via nomo; venu regeco via; estu volo
via, kiel en la ĉielo, tiel ankaŭ sur la tero. Panon nian ĉiutagan donu al ni hodiaŭ;
kaj pardonu al ni ŝuldojn niajn, kiel ni ankaŭ pardonas al niaj ŝuldantoj; kaj ne
konduku nin en tenton, sed liberigu nin de la malbono.
Estimata Sinjoro. Per tiu ĉi libreto mi havas la honoron prezenti al vi la lingvon
internacian Esperanto. Esperanto tute ne havas la intencon malfortigi la lingvon
naturan de ia popolo. Ĝi devas nur servi por la rilatoj internaciaj kaj por tiuj
verkoj aŭ produktoj, kiuj interesas egale la tutan mondon.
In summing up the merits and defects of Esperanto we must begin by admitting that
it is the most reasonable and practical artificial language that has yet appeared. Its
inventor has had the double advantage of being able to profit by the mistakes of his
predecessors, and of being himself, by force of circumstances, a better linguist. It must
further be admitted that he has made as good a use of these advantages as was perhaps
possible without systematic training in scientific philology in its widest sense. This last
defect explains why the enthusiasm which his work has excited in the great world of
linguistic dilettantes has not been shared by the philologists: in spite of its superiority
to Volapük, they see in it the same radical defects. Whether they are rash or not in
predicting for it a similar fate, remains to be seen. The Esperantists, warned by the fate
of Volapük, have adopted the wise policy of suppressing all internal disunion by
submitting to the dictatorship of the inventor, and so presenting a united front to the
enemy. One thing is clear: either Esperanto must be taken as it is without change, or
else it must crumble to pieces; its failure to work out consistently the principle of the
maximum of internationality for its root-words is alone enough to condemn it as
hopelessly antiquated even from the narrow point of view which regards
“international” as synonymous with “European”—a view which political development
in the Far East has made equally obsolete.
(H. Sw.)
Page 316
ESPINAY, TIMOLÉON D’ (1580-1644), French soldier, was the eldest of the four
sons of François d’Espinay, seigneur de Saint Luc (1554-1597), and was himself
marquis de Saint Luc. In 1603 he accompanied Sully in his embassy to London. In
1622, in his capacity as vice-admiral of France, he gained some advantages over the
defenders of La Rochelle, obliging the Huguenot commander, Benjamin de Rohan,
seigneur de Soubise, to evacuate the islands of Ré and Oléron. In 1627 he was named
lieutenant-general of Guienne and marshal of France.
ESPINEL, VICENTE MARTINEZ (1551-1624), Spanish poet and novelist, was
baptized on the 28th of December 1551, and educated at Salamanca. He was expelled
from the university in 1572, and served as a soldier in Flanders, returning to Spain in
1584 or thereabouts. He took orders in 1587, and four years later became chaplain at
Ronda, absented himself from his living, and was deprived of his cure; but his musical
skill obtained for him the post of choirmaster at Plasencia. His Diversas Rìmas (1591)
are undeniably good examples of technical accomplishment and caustic wit. Espinel,
however, survives as the author of a clever picaresque novel entitled Relaciones de la
vida del Escudero Marcos de Obregón (1618). It is, in many passages, an
autobiography of Espinel with picturesque embellishments. Marcos is not a
chivalresque “esquire,” but an adventurer who seeks his fortune by attaching himself to
great men; and the object of the author is to warn young men against such a life. Apart
from the unedifying confessions of the hero, the book contains curious anecdotes
concerning prominent contemporaries, and the episodical stories are told with great
spirit; the style is extremely correct, though somewhat diffuse. Le Sage has not
scrupled to borrow from Marcos de Obregón many of the incidents and characters in
Gil Blas—a circumstance which induced Isla to give to his Spanish translation of Le
Sage’s work the jesting title, Gil Blas restored to his Country and his Native Tongue. In
the 1775 edition of the Siècle de Louis XIV. Voltaire grossly exaggerates in saying that
Gil Blas is taken entirely from Marcos de Obregón. Espinel was a clever musician and
added a fifth string to the guitar. He revived the measure known as décimas or
sons of François d’Espinay, seigneur de Saint Luc (1554-1597), and was himself
marquis de Saint Luc. In 1603 he accompanied Sully in his embassy to London. In
1622, in his capacity as vice-admiral of France, he gained some advantages over the
defenders of La Rochelle, obliging the Huguenot commander, Benjamin de Rohan,
seigneur de Soubise, to evacuate the islands of Ré and Oléron. In 1627 he was named
lieutenant-general of Guienne and marshal of France.
ESPINEL, VICENTE MARTINEZ (1551-1624), Spanish poet and novelist, was
baptized on the 28th of December 1551, and educated at Salamanca. He was expelled
from the university in 1572, and served as a soldier in Flanders, returning to Spain in
1584 or thereabouts. He took orders in 1587, and four years later became chaplain at
Ronda, absented himself from his living, and was deprived of his cure; but his musical
skill obtained for him the post of choirmaster at Plasencia. His Diversas Rìmas (1591)
are undeniably good examples of technical accomplishment and caustic wit. Espinel,
however, survives as the author of a clever picaresque novel entitled Relaciones de la
vida del Escudero Marcos de Obregón (1618). It is, in many passages, an
autobiography of Espinel with picturesque embellishments. Marcos is not a
chivalresque “esquire,” but an adventurer who seeks his fortune by attaching himself to
great men; and the object of the author is to warn young men against such a life. Apart
from the unedifying confessions of the hero, the book contains curious anecdotes
concerning prominent contemporaries, and the episodical stories are told with great
spirit; the style is extremely correct, though somewhat diffuse. Le Sage has not
scrupled to borrow from Marcos de Obregón many of the incidents and characters in
Gil Blas—a circumstance which induced Isla to give to his Spanish translation of Le
Sage’s work the jesting title, Gil Blas restored to his Country and his Native Tongue. In
the 1775 edition of the Siècle de Louis XIV. Voltaire grossly exaggerates in saying that
Gil Blas is taken entirely from Marcos de Obregón. Espinel was a clever musician and
added a fifth string to the guitar. He revived the measure known as décimas or
Page 317
espinelas, consisting of a stanza of ten octosyllabic lines. Most of the poems which he
left in manuscript remain unpublished owing to their licentious character.
Bibliography.—J. Perez de Guzmán’s edition of Marcos de Obregón
(Barcelona, 1881) includes a valuable introduction; Léo Claretie, Le Sage
romancier (Paris, 1890), discusses exhaustively the question of Le Sage’s
indebtedness to Espinel. For some previously unpublished poems see Pedro Salvá
y Mallén, Catálogo de la biblioteca de Salvá (Valencia, 1872).
ESPIRITO SANTO, a maritime state of Brazil, bounded N. by Bahia, E. by the
Atlantic Ocean, S. by Rio de Janeiro, and W. by Minas Geraes. Pop. (1890) 135,997;
(1900) 209,783; area, 17,316 sq. m. With the exception of Sergipe it is the smallest of
the Brazilian states. The western border of the state is traversed by low ranges of
mountains forming a northward continuation of the Serra do Mar. The longest and most
prominent of these ranges, which are for the most part the eastern escarpments of the
great Brazilian plateau, is the Serra dos Aymores, which extends along fully two-thirds
of the western frontier. Farther S. the ranges are much broken and extend partly across
the state toward the seaboard; the more prominent are known as the Serra do Espigão,
Serra da Chibata, Serra dos Pilões and Serra dos Purys. The eastern and larger part of
the state belongs to the coastal plain, in great part low and swampy, with large areas of
sand barrens, and broken by isolated groups and ranges of hills. With the exception of
these sandy plains the country is heavily forested, even the mountain sides being
covered with vegetation to their summits. The northern and southern parts are fertile,
but the central districts are comparatively poor. The coastal plain comprises a sandy,
unproductive belt immediately on the coast, back of which is a more fertile tertiary
plain, well suited, near the higher country, to the production of sugar and cotton. The
inland valleys and slopes are very fertile and heavily forested, and much of the
Brazilian export of rosewood and other cabinet woods is drawn from this state. There is
only one good bay on the coast, that of Espirito Santo, on which the port of Victoria is
situated. The river-mouths are obstructed by sand bars and admit small vessels only.
left in manuscript remain unpublished owing to their licentious character.
Bibliography.—J. Perez de Guzmán’s edition of Marcos de Obregón
(Barcelona, 1881) includes a valuable introduction; Léo Claretie, Le Sage
romancier (Paris, 1890), discusses exhaustively the question of Le Sage’s
indebtedness to Espinel. For some previously unpublished poems see Pedro Salvá
y Mallén, Catálogo de la biblioteca de Salvá (Valencia, 1872).
ESPIRITO SANTO, a maritime state of Brazil, bounded N. by Bahia, E. by the
Atlantic Ocean, S. by Rio de Janeiro, and W. by Minas Geraes. Pop. (1890) 135,997;
(1900) 209,783; area, 17,316 sq. m. With the exception of Sergipe it is the smallest of
the Brazilian states. The western border of the state is traversed by low ranges of
mountains forming a northward continuation of the Serra do Mar. The longest and most
prominent of these ranges, which are for the most part the eastern escarpments of the
great Brazilian plateau, is the Serra dos Aymores, which extends along fully two-thirds
of the western frontier. Farther S. the ranges are much broken and extend partly across
the state toward the seaboard; the more prominent are known as the Serra do Espigão,
Serra da Chibata, Serra dos Pilões and Serra dos Purys. The eastern and larger part of
the state belongs to the coastal plain, in great part low and swampy, with large areas of
sand barrens, and broken by isolated groups and ranges of hills. With the exception of
these sandy plains the country is heavily forested, even the mountain sides being
covered with vegetation to their summits. The northern and southern parts are fertile,
but the central districts are comparatively poor. The coastal plain comprises a sandy,
unproductive belt immediately on the coast, back of which is a more fertile tertiary
plain, well suited, near the higher country, to the production of sugar and cotton. The
inland valleys and slopes are very fertile and heavily forested, and much of the
Brazilian export of rosewood and other cabinet woods is drawn from this state. There is
only one good bay on the coast, that of Espirito Santo, on which the port of Victoria is
situated. The river-mouths are obstructed by sand bars and admit small vessels only.
Page 318
The principal rivers of the state are the Mucury, which rises in Minas Geraes and forms
the boundary line with Bahia, the Itaunas, São Domingos, São Matheus, Doce,
Timbuhy, Santa Maria, Jucú, Benevente, Itapemirim, and Itabapoana, the last forming
the boundary line with Rio de Janeiro. The Doce, São Matheus, and Itapemirim rise in
Minas Geraes and flow entirely across the state. The lower courses of these rivers are
generally navigable, that of the Rio Doce for a distance of 90 m. The climate of the
coastal zone and deeper valleys is hot, humid and unhealthy, malarial fevers being
prevalent. In the higher country the temperature is lower and the climate is healthy.
Espirito Santo is almost exclusively agricultural, sugar-cane, coffee, rice, cotton,
tobacco, mandioca and tropical fruits being the principal products. Agriculture is in a
very backward condition, however, and the state is classed as one of the poorest and
most unprogressive in the republic. The rivers and shallow coast waters are well
stocked with fish, but there are no fishing industries worthy of mention. There are three
railway lines in operation in the state—one running from Victoria to Cachoeira do
Itapemirim (50 m.), and thence, by another line, to Santo Eduardo in Rio de Janeiro (58
m.), where connexion is made with the Leopoldina system running into the national
capital, and a third running north-westerly from Victoria to Diamantina, Minas Geraes,
about 450 m. The chief cities and towns of the state, with their populations in 1890, are
Victoria, São Matheus (municipality, 7761) on a river of the same name 16 m. from the
sea, Serra (municipality, 6274), Guarapary (municipality, 5310), a small port S. by W.
of the capital, Conceicão da Barra (municipality, 5628), the port of São Matheus and
Cachoeira do Itapemirim (4049), an important commercial centre in the south.
Espirito Santo formed part of one of the original captaincies which were given to
Vasco Fernandes Coutinho by the Portuguese crown. The first settlement (1535) was at
the entrance to the bay of Espirito Santo, and its name was afterwards given to the bay
and captaincy. It once included the municipality of Campos, now belonging to the state
of Rio de Janeiro.
The islands of Trinidade and Martim Vaz, which lie about 715 m. E. of Victoria,
belong politically to this state. They are uninhabited, but considerable importance is
attached to the former because Great Britain has twice attempted to take possession of
it. It rises 1200 ft. above sea-level and is about 6 m. in circumference, but it has no
value other than that of an ocean cable station. An excellent description of this singular
island is to be found in E.F. Knight’s Cruise of the “Alerte” (London, 1895).
the boundary line with Bahia, the Itaunas, São Domingos, São Matheus, Doce,
Timbuhy, Santa Maria, Jucú, Benevente, Itapemirim, and Itabapoana, the last forming
the boundary line with Rio de Janeiro. The Doce, São Matheus, and Itapemirim rise in
Minas Geraes and flow entirely across the state. The lower courses of these rivers are
generally navigable, that of the Rio Doce for a distance of 90 m. The climate of the
coastal zone and deeper valleys is hot, humid and unhealthy, malarial fevers being
prevalent. In the higher country the temperature is lower and the climate is healthy.
Espirito Santo is almost exclusively agricultural, sugar-cane, coffee, rice, cotton,
tobacco, mandioca and tropical fruits being the principal products. Agriculture is in a
very backward condition, however, and the state is classed as one of the poorest and
most unprogressive in the republic. The rivers and shallow coast waters are well
stocked with fish, but there are no fishing industries worthy of mention. There are three
railway lines in operation in the state—one running from Victoria to Cachoeira do
Itapemirim (50 m.), and thence, by another line, to Santo Eduardo in Rio de Janeiro (58
m.), where connexion is made with the Leopoldina system running into the national
capital, and a third running north-westerly from Victoria to Diamantina, Minas Geraes,
about 450 m. The chief cities and towns of the state, with their populations in 1890, are
Victoria, São Matheus (municipality, 7761) on a river of the same name 16 m. from the
sea, Serra (municipality, 6274), Guarapary (municipality, 5310), a small port S. by W.
of the capital, Conceicão da Barra (municipality, 5628), the port of São Matheus and
Cachoeira do Itapemirim (4049), an important commercial centre in the south.
Espirito Santo formed part of one of the original captaincies which were given to
Vasco Fernandes Coutinho by the Portuguese crown. The first settlement (1535) was at
the entrance to the bay of Espirito Santo, and its name was afterwards given to the bay
and captaincy. It once included the municipality of Campos, now belonging to the state
of Rio de Janeiro.
The islands of Trinidade and Martim Vaz, which lie about 715 m. E. of Victoria,
belong politically to this state. They are uninhabited, but considerable importance is
attached to the former because Great Britain has twice attempted to take possession of
it. It rises 1200 ft. above sea-level and is about 6 m. in circumference, but it has no
value other than that of an ocean cable station. An excellent description of this singular
island is to be found in E.F. Knight’s Cruise of the “Alerte” (London, 1895).
Page 319
ESPRONCEDA, JOSÉ IGNACIO JAVIER ORIOL ENCARNACIÓN DE
(1808-1842), Spanish poet, son of an officer in the Bourbon regiment, was born at or
near Almendralejo de los Barros on the 25th of March 1808. On the close of the war he
was sent to the preparatory school of artillery at Segovia, and later became a pupil of
the poet Lista, then professor of literature at St Matthew’s College in Madrid. In his
fourteenth year he had attracted his master’s attention by his verses, and had joined a
secret society. Sentenced to five years’ seclusion in the Franciscan convent at
Guadalajara, he began an epic poem entitled Pelayo, of which fragments survive. He
escaped to Portugal and thence to England, where he found the famous Teresa whom
he had met at Lisbon; here, too, he became a student of Shakespeare, Milton and
Byron. In 1830 he eloped with Teresa to Paris, took part in the July revolution, and
soon after joined the raid of Chapalangarra on Navarre. In 1833 he returned to Spain
and obtained a commission in the queen’s guards. This, however, he soon forfeited by a
political song, and he was banished to Cuéllar, where he wrote a poor novel entitled
Sancho Saldaña ó el Castellano de Cuéllar (1834). He took an active part in the
revolutionary risings of 1835 and 1836, and, on the accession to power of the Liberal
party in 1840, was appointed secretary of legation at the Hague; in 1842 he was elected
deputy for Almería, and seemed likely to play a great part in parliamentary life. But his
constitution was undermined, and, after a short illness, he died at Madrid on the 23rd of
May 1842. His poems, first published in 1840, at once gained for him a reputation
which still continues undiminished. The influence of Byron pervades Espronceda’s life
and work. It is present in an ambitious variant on the Don Juan legend, El Estudiante
de Salamanca, Elvira’s letter being obviously modelled on Julia’s letter in Don Juan;
the Canción del Pirata is suggested by The Corsair; and the Byronic inspiration is not
wanting even in the noble fragment entitled El Diablo Mundo, based on the story of
Faust. But in El Mendigo, in El Reo de Muerte, in El Verdugo, and in the sombre
vehement lines, A Jarifa en una orgía, Espronceda approves himself the most potent
and original lyrical poet produced by Spain during the 19th century.
Bibliography.—Obras poéticas y escritos en prosa (Madrid, 1884), edited by
Blanca Espronceda de Escosura, the poet’s daughter (the second volume has not
(1808-1842), Spanish poet, son of an officer in the Bourbon regiment, was born at or
near Almendralejo de los Barros on the 25th of March 1808. On the close of the war he
was sent to the preparatory school of artillery at Segovia, and later became a pupil of
the poet Lista, then professor of literature at St Matthew’s College in Madrid. In his
fourteenth year he had attracted his master’s attention by his verses, and had joined a
secret society. Sentenced to five years’ seclusion in the Franciscan convent at
Guadalajara, he began an epic poem entitled Pelayo, of which fragments survive. He
escaped to Portugal and thence to England, where he found the famous Teresa whom
he had met at Lisbon; here, too, he became a student of Shakespeare, Milton and
Byron. In 1830 he eloped with Teresa to Paris, took part in the July revolution, and
soon after joined the raid of Chapalangarra on Navarre. In 1833 he returned to Spain
and obtained a commission in the queen’s guards. This, however, he soon forfeited by a
political song, and he was banished to Cuéllar, where he wrote a poor novel entitled
Sancho Saldaña ó el Castellano de Cuéllar (1834). He took an active part in the
revolutionary risings of 1835 and 1836, and, on the accession to power of the Liberal
party in 1840, was appointed secretary of legation at the Hague; in 1842 he was elected
deputy for Almería, and seemed likely to play a great part in parliamentary life. But his
constitution was undermined, and, after a short illness, he died at Madrid on the 23rd of
May 1842. His poems, first published in 1840, at once gained for him a reputation
which still continues undiminished. The influence of Byron pervades Espronceda’s life
and work. It is present in an ambitious variant on the Don Juan legend, El Estudiante
de Salamanca, Elvira’s letter being obviously modelled on Julia’s letter in Don Juan;
the Canción del Pirata is suggested by The Corsair; and the Byronic inspiration is not
wanting even in the noble fragment entitled El Diablo Mundo, based on the story of
Faust. But in El Mendigo, in El Reo de Muerte, in El Verdugo, and in the sombre
vehement lines, A Jarifa en una orgía, Espronceda approves himself the most potent
and original lyrical poet produced by Spain during the 19th century.
Bibliography.—Obras poéticas y escritos en prosa (Madrid, 1884), edited by
Blanca Espronceda de Escosura, the poet’s daughter (the second volume has not
Page 320
been published); E. Rodriguez Solís, Espronceda; su tiempo, su vida, y sus obras
(Madrid, 1883); E. Piñeyro, El Romanticismo en España (Paris, 1904).
ESQUIRE (O. Fr. escuyer, Mod. Fr. écuyer, derived through the form escudier from
Med. Lat. scutarius, “shield-bearer”), originally the attendant on a knight, whose helm,
shield and lance he carried at the tournament or in the field of battle. The esquire
ranked immediately below the knight bachelor, and his office was regarded as the
apprentice stage of knighthood. The title was regarded as one of function, not of birth,
and was not hereditary. In time, however, its original significance was lost sight of, and
it came to be a title of honour, implying a rank between that of knight and valet or
gentleman, as it technically still remains. Thus in the later middle ages esquire
(armiger) was the customary description of holders of knight’s fees who had not taken
up their knighthood, whence the surviving custom of entitling the principal landowner
in a parish “the squire” (see Squire). Camden, at the close of the 16th century,
distinguished four classes entitled to bear the style: (1) The eldest sons of knights, and
their eldest sons, in perpetual succession; (2) the eldest sons of the younger sons of
peers, and their eldest sons, in like perpetual succession; (3) esquires created by royal
letters patent or other investiture, and their eldest sons; (4) esquires by office, e.g.
justices of the peace and others who bear any office of trust under the crown. To these
the writer in the 3rd edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica (1797) added Irish peers
and the eldest sons of British peers, who, though they bear courtesy titles, have in law
only the right to be styled esquires. Officers of the king’s courts, and of the royal
household, counsellors at law and justices of the peace he described as esquires only
“by reputation”; and justices of the peace have the title only as long as they are in
commission; while certain heads of great landed families are styled “esquires” by
prescription. “But the meaner ranks of people,” he adds indignantly, “who know no
better, do often basely prostitute this title; and, to the great confusion of all rank and
precedence, every man who makes a decent appearance, far from thinking himself in
any way ridiculed by finding the superscription of his letters thus decorated, is fully
gratified by such an address.”
(Madrid, 1883); E. Piñeyro, El Romanticismo en España (Paris, 1904).
ESQUIRE (O. Fr. escuyer, Mod. Fr. écuyer, derived through the form escudier from
Med. Lat. scutarius, “shield-bearer”), originally the attendant on a knight, whose helm,
shield and lance he carried at the tournament or in the field of battle. The esquire
ranked immediately below the knight bachelor, and his office was regarded as the
apprentice stage of knighthood. The title was regarded as one of function, not of birth,
and was not hereditary. In time, however, its original significance was lost sight of, and
it came to be a title of honour, implying a rank between that of knight and valet or
gentleman, as it technically still remains. Thus in the later middle ages esquire
(armiger) was the customary description of holders of knight’s fees who had not taken
up their knighthood, whence the surviving custom of entitling the principal landowner
in a parish “the squire” (see Squire). Camden, at the close of the 16th century,
distinguished four classes entitled to bear the style: (1) The eldest sons of knights, and
their eldest sons, in perpetual succession; (2) the eldest sons of the younger sons of
peers, and their eldest sons, in like perpetual succession; (3) esquires created by royal
letters patent or other investiture, and their eldest sons; (4) esquires by office, e.g.
justices of the peace and others who bear any office of trust under the crown. To these
the writer in the 3rd edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica (1797) added Irish peers
and the eldest sons of British peers, who, though they bear courtesy titles, have in law
only the right to be styled esquires. Officers of the king’s courts, and of the royal
household, counsellors at law and justices of the peace he described as esquires only
“by reputation”; and justices of the peace have the title only as long as they are in
commission; while certain heads of great landed families are styled “esquires” by
prescription. “But the meaner ranks of people,” he adds indignantly, “who know no
better, do often basely prostitute this title; and, to the great confusion of all rank and
precedence, every man who makes a decent appearance, far from thinking himself in
any way ridiculed by finding the superscription of his letters thus decorated, is fully
gratified by such an address.”
Page 321
It is clear, however, that the title of esquire was very loosely used at a much earlier
date. On this point Selden is somewhat scornfully explicit. “To whomsoever, either by
blood, place in the State or other eminency, we conceive some higher attribute should
be given, than that sole Title of Gentleman, knowing yet that he hath no other honorary
title legally fixed upon him, we usually style him an Esquire, in such passages as
require legally that his degree or state be mentioned; as especially in Indictments and
Actions whereupon he may be outlawed. Those of other nations who are Barons or
great Lords in their own Countries, and no knights, are in legal proceedings stiled with
us, Esquires only. Some of our greatest Heralds have their divisions of Esquires applied
to this day. I leave them as I see them, where they may easily be found.” Coke, too,
says that every one is entitled to be termed esquire who has the legal right to call
himself a gentleman (2. Institutes, 688).
At the present time the following classes are recognized as esquires on occasions of
ceremony or for legal purposes:—(1) All sons of peers and lords of parliament during
their fathers’ lives, and the younger sons of such peers, &c., after their fathers’ deaths;
the eldest sons of peers’ younger sons, and their eldest sons for ever. (2) Noblemen of
all other nations. (3) The eldest sons of baronets and knights. (4) Persons bearing arms
and the title of esquire by letters patent. (5) Esquires of the Bath and their eldest sons.
(6) Barristers-at-law. (7) Justices of the peace and mayors while in commission or
office. (8) The holders of any superior office under the crown. (9) Persons styled
esquires by the sovereign in their patents, commissions or appointments.1 (10)
Attorneys in colonies where the functions of counsel and attorney are united (in
England solicitors are “gentlemen,” not “esquires”).
In practice, however, the title of esquire, now to all intents and purposes
meaningless, is given to any one who “can bear the port, charge and countenance of a
gentleman.” The word has followed the same course as that of “gentleman” (q.v.), and
for very similar reasons. It is still not customary in Great Britain to address e.g. a well-
to-do person engaged in trade as esquire at his shop; it would be offensive not to do so
at his private residence. In America, on the other hand, the use of the word “esquire” is
practically obsolete, “Mr” (“Mister” or “Master,” at one time the title special to a
“gentleman”) being the general form of address.
See Selden, Titles of Honor (1672); Camden, Britannia (ed. London, 1594);
Coke, Institutes; Enc. of the Laws of England, s. “Esquire”; Du Cange,
date. On this point Selden is somewhat scornfully explicit. “To whomsoever, either by
blood, place in the State or other eminency, we conceive some higher attribute should
be given, than that sole Title of Gentleman, knowing yet that he hath no other honorary
title legally fixed upon him, we usually style him an Esquire, in such passages as
require legally that his degree or state be mentioned; as especially in Indictments and
Actions whereupon he may be outlawed. Those of other nations who are Barons or
great Lords in their own Countries, and no knights, are in legal proceedings stiled with
us, Esquires only. Some of our greatest Heralds have their divisions of Esquires applied
to this day. I leave them as I see them, where they may easily be found.” Coke, too,
says that every one is entitled to be termed esquire who has the legal right to call
himself a gentleman (2. Institutes, 688).
At the present time the following classes are recognized as esquires on occasions of
ceremony or for legal purposes:—(1) All sons of peers and lords of parliament during
their fathers’ lives, and the younger sons of such peers, &c., after their fathers’ deaths;
the eldest sons of peers’ younger sons, and their eldest sons for ever. (2) Noblemen of
all other nations. (3) The eldest sons of baronets and knights. (4) Persons bearing arms
and the title of esquire by letters patent. (5) Esquires of the Bath and their eldest sons.
(6) Barristers-at-law. (7) Justices of the peace and mayors while in commission or
office. (8) The holders of any superior office under the crown. (9) Persons styled
esquires by the sovereign in their patents, commissions or appointments.1 (10)
Attorneys in colonies where the functions of counsel and attorney are united (in
England solicitors are “gentlemen,” not “esquires”).
In practice, however, the title of esquire, now to all intents and purposes
meaningless, is given to any one who “can bear the port, charge and countenance of a
gentleman.” The word has followed the same course as that of “gentleman” (q.v.), and
for very similar reasons. It is still not customary in Great Britain to address e.g. a well-
to-do person engaged in trade as esquire at his shop; it would be offensive not to do so
at his private residence. In America, on the other hand, the use of the word “esquire” is
practically obsolete, “Mr” (“Mister” or “Master,” at one time the title special to a
“gentleman”) being the general form of address.
See Selden, Titles of Honor (1672); Camden, Britannia (ed. London, 1594);
Coke, Institutes; Enc. of the Laws of England, s. “Esquire”; Du Cange,
Page 322
Glossarium (ed. 1886), s. “Scutarius,” “Scutifer” and “Armiger”; New English
Dictionary, s. “Esquire.” (W. A. P.)
1 In practice this means every one receiving such a patent, commission or appointment.
ESQUIROL, JEAN ÉTIENNE DOMINIQUE (1772-1840), French alienist, was
born at Toulouse on the 3rd of February 1772. In 1794 he became a pupil of the
military hospital of Narbonne, and subsequently studied in Paris at the Salpêtrière
under P. Pinel, whose assistant he became. In 1811 he was chosen physician to the
Salpêtrière, and in 1817 he began a course of lectures on the treatment of the insane, in
which he made such revelations of the abuses existing in the lunatic asylums of France
that the government appointed a commission to inquire into the subject. Esquirol in this
and other ways greatly assisted Pinel’s efforts for the introduction of humaner methods.
The asylums of Rouen, Nantes and Montpellier were built in accordance with his plans.
In 1823 he became inspector-general of the university of Paris for the faculties of
medicine, and in 1826 chief physician of the asylum at Charenton. He died at Paris on
the 13th of December 1840. Besides contributing to the Dictionnaire des sciences
médicales and the Encyclopédie des gens du monde, Esquirol wrote Des maladies
mentales, considérées sous les rapports médical, hygiénique, et médico-légal (2 vols.,
Paris, 1838).
ESQUIROS, HENRI FRANÇOIS ALPHONSE (1812-1876), French writer, was
born in Paris on the 23rd of May 1812. After some minor publications he produced
L’Évangile du peuple (1840), an exposition of the life and character of Jesus as a social
reformer. This work was considered an offence against religion and decency, and
Dictionary, s. “Esquire.” (W. A. P.)
1 In practice this means every one receiving such a patent, commission or appointment.
ESQUIROL, JEAN ÉTIENNE DOMINIQUE (1772-1840), French alienist, was
born at Toulouse on the 3rd of February 1772. In 1794 he became a pupil of the
military hospital of Narbonne, and subsequently studied in Paris at the Salpêtrière
under P. Pinel, whose assistant he became. In 1811 he was chosen physician to the
Salpêtrière, and in 1817 he began a course of lectures on the treatment of the insane, in
which he made such revelations of the abuses existing in the lunatic asylums of France
that the government appointed a commission to inquire into the subject. Esquirol in this
and other ways greatly assisted Pinel’s efforts for the introduction of humaner methods.
The asylums of Rouen, Nantes and Montpellier were built in accordance with his plans.
In 1823 he became inspector-general of the university of Paris for the faculties of
medicine, and in 1826 chief physician of the asylum at Charenton. He died at Paris on
the 13th of December 1840. Besides contributing to the Dictionnaire des sciences
médicales and the Encyclopédie des gens du monde, Esquirol wrote Des maladies
mentales, considérées sous les rapports médical, hygiénique, et médico-légal (2 vols.,
Paris, 1838).
ESQUIROS, HENRI FRANÇOIS ALPHONSE (1812-1876), French writer, was
born in Paris on the 23rd of May 1812. After some minor publications he produced
L’Évangile du peuple (1840), an exposition of the life and character of Jesus as a social
reformer. This work was considered an offence against religion and decency, and
Page 323
Esquiros was fined and imprisoned. He was elected in 1850 as a social democrat to the
Legislative Assembly, but was exiled in 1851 for his opposition to the Empire.
Returning to France in 1869 he was again a member of the Legislative Assembly, and
in 1876 was elected to the senate. He died at Versailles on the 12th of May 1876. He
turned to account his residence in England in L’Angleterre et la vie anglaise (5 vols.,
1859-1869). Among his numerous works on social subjects may be noted:—Histoire
des Montagnards (2 vols., 1847); Paris, ou les sciences, les institutions et les mœurs au
XIXe siècle (2 vols., 1847); and Histoire des martyrs de la liberté (1851).
ESS, JOHANN HEINRICH VAN (1772-1847), German Catholic theologian, was
born at Warburg, Westphalia, on the 15th of February 1772. He was educated at the
Dominican gymnasium of his native town, and in 1790 entered, as a novice, the
Benedictine abbey of Marienmünster, in the bishopric of Paderborn. His Benedictine
name was Leander. He was priest at Schwalenberg from 1799 to 1812, after which he
became extraordinary professor of theology and joint-director of the teachers’ seminary
at Marburg. In 1818 he received the doctorate of theology and of canonical law. In
1807, in conjunction with his cousin Karl van Ess, he had published a German
translation of the New Testament, and, as its circulation was discountenanced by his
superiors, he published in 1808 a defence of his views, entitled Auszüge aus den
heiligen Vätern und anderen Lehrern der katholischen Kirche über das nothwendige
und nützliche Bibellesen. An improved edition of this tractate was published in 1816,
under the title Gedanken über Bibel und Bibellehre, and in the same year appeared Was
war die Bibel den ersten Christen? In 1822 he published the first part of a German
translation of the Old Testament, which was completed in 1836. In 1822 he resigned
his offices at Marburg in order to devote his whole time to the defence of his views
regarding Bible reading by the people, and to endeavour to promote the circulation of
the scriptures. He was associated first with the Catholic Bible Society of Regensburg,
and then with the British and Foreign Bible Society. He died at Affolderbach in the
Odenwald on the 13th of October 1847.
Legislative Assembly, but was exiled in 1851 for his opposition to the Empire.
Returning to France in 1869 he was again a member of the Legislative Assembly, and
in 1876 was elected to the senate. He died at Versailles on the 12th of May 1876. He
turned to account his residence in England in L’Angleterre et la vie anglaise (5 vols.,
1859-1869). Among his numerous works on social subjects may be noted:—Histoire
des Montagnards (2 vols., 1847); Paris, ou les sciences, les institutions et les mœurs au
XIXe siècle (2 vols., 1847); and Histoire des martyrs de la liberté (1851).
ESS, JOHANN HEINRICH VAN (1772-1847), German Catholic theologian, was
born at Warburg, Westphalia, on the 15th of February 1772. He was educated at the
Dominican gymnasium of his native town, and in 1790 entered, as a novice, the
Benedictine abbey of Marienmünster, in the bishopric of Paderborn. His Benedictine
name was Leander. He was priest at Schwalenberg from 1799 to 1812, after which he
became extraordinary professor of theology and joint-director of the teachers’ seminary
at Marburg. In 1818 he received the doctorate of theology and of canonical law. In
1807, in conjunction with his cousin Karl van Ess, he had published a German
translation of the New Testament, and, as its circulation was discountenanced by his
superiors, he published in 1808 a defence of his views, entitled Auszüge aus den
heiligen Vätern und anderen Lehrern der katholischen Kirche über das nothwendige
und nützliche Bibellesen. An improved edition of this tractate was published in 1816,
under the title Gedanken über Bibel und Bibellehre, and in the same year appeared Was
war die Bibel den ersten Christen? In 1822 he published the first part of a German
translation of the Old Testament, which was completed in 1836. In 1822 he resigned
his offices at Marburg in order to devote his whole time to the defence of his views
regarding Bible reading by the people, and to endeavour to promote the circulation of
the scriptures. He was associated first with the Catholic Bible Society of Regensburg,
and then with the British and Foreign Bible Society. He died at Affolderbach in the
Odenwald on the 13th of October 1847.
Page 324
ESSAY, ESSAYIST (Fr. essai, Late Lat. exagium, a weighing or balance; exigere, to
examine; the term in general meaning any trial or effort). As a form of literature, the
essay is a composition of moderate length, usually in prose, which deals in an easy,
cursory way with the external conditions of a subject, and, in strictness, with that
subject, only as it affects the writer. Dr Johnson, himself an eminent essayist, defines
an essay as “an irregular, undigested piece”; the irregularity may perhaps be admitted,
but want of thought, that is to say lack of proper mental digestion, is certainly not
characteristic of a fine example. It should, on the contrary, always be the brief and light
result of experience and profound meditation, while “undigested” is the last epithet to
be applied to the essays of Montaigne, Addison or Lamb. Bacon said that the Epistles
of Seneca were “essays,” but this can hardly be allowed. Bacon himself goes on to
admit that “the word is late, though the thing is ancient.” The word, in fact, was
invented for this species of writing by Montaigne, who merely meant that these were
experiments in a new kind of literature. This original meaning, namely that these pieces
were attempts or endeavours, feeling their way towards the expression of what would
need a far wider space to exhaust, was lost in England in the course of the eighteenth
century. This is seen by the various attempts made in the nineteenth century to coin a
word which should express a still smaller work, as distinctive in comparison with the
essay as the essay is by the side of the monograph; none of these linguistic
experiments, such as essayette, essaykin (Thackeray) and essaylet (Helps) have taken
hold of the language. As a matter of fact, the journalistic word article covers the lesser
form of essay, although not exhaustively, since the essays in the monthly and quarterly
reviews, which are fully as extended as an essay should ever be, are frequently termed
“articles,” while many “articles” in newspapers, dictionaries and encyclopaedias are in
no sense essays. It may be said that the idea of a detached work is combined with the
word “essay,” which should be neither a section of a disquisition nor a chapter in a
book which aims at the systematic development of a story. Locke’s Essay on the
Human Understanding is not an essay at all, or cluster of essays, in this technical
sense, but refers to the experimental and tentative nature of the inquiry which the
examine; the term in general meaning any trial or effort). As a form of literature, the
essay is a composition of moderate length, usually in prose, which deals in an easy,
cursory way with the external conditions of a subject, and, in strictness, with that
subject, only as it affects the writer. Dr Johnson, himself an eminent essayist, defines
an essay as “an irregular, undigested piece”; the irregularity may perhaps be admitted,
but want of thought, that is to say lack of proper mental digestion, is certainly not
characteristic of a fine example. It should, on the contrary, always be the brief and light
result of experience and profound meditation, while “undigested” is the last epithet to
be applied to the essays of Montaigne, Addison or Lamb. Bacon said that the Epistles
of Seneca were “essays,” but this can hardly be allowed. Bacon himself goes on to
admit that “the word is late, though the thing is ancient.” The word, in fact, was
invented for this species of writing by Montaigne, who merely meant that these were
experiments in a new kind of literature. This original meaning, namely that these pieces
were attempts or endeavours, feeling their way towards the expression of what would
need a far wider space to exhaust, was lost in England in the course of the eighteenth
century. This is seen by the various attempts made in the nineteenth century to coin a
word which should express a still smaller work, as distinctive in comparison with the
essay as the essay is by the side of the monograph; none of these linguistic
experiments, such as essayette, essaykin (Thackeray) and essaylet (Helps) have taken
hold of the language. As a matter of fact, the journalistic word article covers the lesser
form of essay, although not exhaustively, since the essays in the monthly and quarterly
reviews, which are fully as extended as an essay should ever be, are frequently termed
“articles,” while many “articles” in newspapers, dictionaries and encyclopaedias are in
no sense essays. It may be said that the idea of a detached work is combined with the
word “essay,” which should be neither a section of a disquisition nor a chapter in a
book which aims at the systematic development of a story. Locke’s Essay on the
Human Understanding is not an essay at all, or cluster of essays, in this technical
sense, but refers to the experimental and tentative nature of the inquiry which the
Page 325
philosopher was undertaking. Of the curious use of the word so repeatedly made by
Pope mention will be made below.
The essay, as a species of literature, was invented by Montaigne, who had probably
little suspicion of the far-reaching importance of what he had created. In his dejected
moments, he turned to rail at what he had written, and to call his essays “inepties” and
“sottises.” But in his own heart he must have been well satisfied with the new and
beautiful form which he had added to literary tradition. He was perfectly aware that he
had devised a new thing; that he had invented a way of communicating himself to the
world as a type of human nature. He designed it to carry out his peculiar object, which
was to produce an accurate portrait of his own soul, not as it was yesterday or will be
to-morrow, but as it is to-day. It is not often that we can date with any approach to
accuracy the arrival of a new class of literature into the world, but it was in the month
of March 1571 that the essay was invented. It was started in the second story of the old
tower of the castle of Montaigne, in a study to which the philosopher withdrew for that
purpose, surrounded by his books, close to his chapel, sheltered from the excesses of a
fatiguing world. He wrote slowly, not systematically; it took nine years to finish the
two first books of the essays. In 1574 the manuscript of the work, so far as it was then
completed, was nearly lost, for it was confiscated by the pontifical police in Rome,
where Montaigne was residing, and was not returned to the author for four months. The
earliest imprint saw the light in 1580, at Bordeaux, and the Paris edition of 1588, which
is the fifth, contains the final text of the great author. These dates are not negligible in
the briefest history of the essay, for they are those of its revelation to the world of
readers. It was in the delightful chapters of his new, strange book that Montaigne
introduced the fashion of writing briefly, irregularly, with constant digressions and
interruptions, about the world as it appears to the individual who writes. The Essais
were instantly welcomed, and few writers of the Renaissance had so instant and so vast
a popularity as Montaigne. But while the philosophy, and above all the graceful
stoicism, of the great master were admired and copied in France, the exact shape in
which he had put down his thoughts, in the exquisite negligence of a series of essays,
was too delicate to tempt an imitator. It is to be noted that neither Charron, nor Mlle de
Gournay, his most immediate disciples, tried to write essays. But Montaigne, who liked
to fancy that the Eyquem family was of English extraction, had spoken affably of the
English people as his “cousins,” and it has always been admitted that his genius has an
affinity with the English. He was early read in England, and certainly by Bacon, whose
Pope mention will be made below.
The essay, as a species of literature, was invented by Montaigne, who had probably
little suspicion of the far-reaching importance of what he had created. In his dejected
moments, he turned to rail at what he had written, and to call his essays “inepties” and
“sottises.” But in his own heart he must have been well satisfied with the new and
beautiful form which he had added to literary tradition. He was perfectly aware that he
had devised a new thing; that he had invented a way of communicating himself to the
world as a type of human nature. He designed it to carry out his peculiar object, which
was to produce an accurate portrait of his own soul, not as it was yesterday or will be
to-morrow, but as it is to-day. It is not often that we can date with any approach to
accuracy the arrival of a new class of literature into the world, but it was in the month
of March 1571 that the essay was invented. It was started in the second story of the old
tower of the castle of Montaigne, in a study to which the philosopher withdrew for that
purpose, surrounded by his books, close to his chapel, sheltered from the excesses of a
fatiguing world. He wrote slowly, not systematically; it took nine years to finish the
two first books of the essays. In 1574 the manuscript of the work, so far as it was then
completed, was nearly lost, for it was confiscated by the pontifical police in Rome,
where Montaigne was residing, and was not returned to the author for four months. The
earliest imprint saw the light in 1580, at Bordeaux, and the Paris edition of 1588, which
is the fifth, contains the final text of the great author. These dates are not negligible in
the briefest history of the essay, for they are those of its revelation to the world of
readers. It was in the delightful chapters of his new, strange book that Montaigne
introduced the fashion of writing briefly, irregularly, with constant digressions and
interruptions, about the world as it appears to the individual who writes. The Essais
were instantly welcomed, and few writers of the Renaissance had so instant and so vast
a popularity as Montaigne. But while the philosophy, and above all the graceful
stoicism, of the great master were admired and copied in France, the exact shape in
which he had put down his thoughts, in the exquisite negligence of a series of essays,
was too delicate to tempt an imitator. It is to be noted that neither Charron, nor Mlle de
Gournay, his most immediate disciples, tried to write essays. But Montaigne, who liked
to fancy that the Eyquem family was of English extraction, had spoken affably of the
English people as his “cousins,” and it has always been admitted that his genius has an
affinity with the English. He was early read in England, and certainly by Bacon, whose
Page 326
is the second great name connected with this form of literature. It was in 1597, only
five years after the death of Montaigne, that Bacon published in a small octavo the first
ten of his essays. These he increased to 38 in 1612 and to 58 in 1625. In their first
form, the essays of Bacon had nothing of the fulness or grace of Montaigne’s; they are
meagre notes, scarcely more than the headings for discourses. It is possible that when
he wrote them he was not yet familiar with the style of his predecessor, which was first
made popular in England, in 1603, when Florio published that translation of the Essais
which Shakespeare unquestionably read. In the later editions Bacon greatly expanded
his theme, but he never reached, or but seldom, the freedom and ease, the seeming
formlessness held in by an invisible chain, which are the glory of Montaigne, and
distinguish the typical essayist. It would seem that at first, in England, as in France, no
lesser writer was willing to adopt a title which belonged to so great a presence as that
of Bacon or Montaigne. The one exception was Sir William Cornwallis (d. 1631), who
published essays in 1600 and 1617, of slight merit, but popular in their day. No other
English essayist of any importance appeared until the Restoration, when Abraham
Cowley wrote eleven “Several Discourses by way of Essays,” which did not see the
light until 1668. He interspersed with his prose, translations and original pieces in
verse, but in other respects Cowley keeps much nearer than Bacon to the form of
Montaigne. Cowley’s essay “Of Myself” is a model of what these little compositions
should be. The name of Bacon inspires awe, but it is really not he, but Cowley, who is
the father of the English essay; and it is remarkable that he has had no warmer
panegyrists than his great successors, Charles Lamb and Macaulay. Towards the end of
the century, Sir George Mackenzie (1636-1691) wrote witty moral discourses, which
were, however, essays rather in name than form. Whenever, however, we reach the
eighteenth century, we find the essay suddenly became a dominant force in English
literature. It made its appearance almost as a new thing, and in combination with the
earliest developments of journalism. On the 12th of April 1709 appeared the first
number of a penny newspaper, entitled the Tatler, a main feature of which was to
amuse and instruct fashionable readers by a series of short papers dealing with the
manifold occurrences of life, quicquid agunt homines. But it was not until Steele, the
founder of the Tatler, was joined by Addison that the eighteenth-century essay really
started upon its course. It displayed at first, and indeed it long retained, a mixture of the
manner of Montaigne with that of La Bruyère, combining the form of the pure essay
with that of the character-study, as modelled on Theophrastus, which had been so
popular in England throughout the seventeenth century. Addison’s early Tatler
five years after the death of Montaigne, that Bacon published in a small octavo the first
ten of his essays. These he increased to 38 in 1612 and to 58 in 1625. In their first
form, the essays of Bacon had nothing of the fulness or grace of Montaigne’s; they are
meagre notes, scarcely more than the headings for discourses. It is possible that when
he wrote them he was not yet familiar with the style of his predecessor, which was first
made popular in England, in 1603, when Florio published that translation of the Essais
which Shakespeare unquestionably read. In the later editions Bacon greatly expanded
his theme, but he never reached, or but seldom, the freedom and ease, the seeming
formlessness held in by an invisible chain, which are the glory of Montaigne, and
distinguish the typical essayist. It would seem that at first, in England, as in France, no
lesser writer was willing to adopt a title which belonged to so great a presence as that
of Bacon or Montaigne. The one exception was Sir William Cornwallis (d. 1631), who
published essays in 1600 and 1617, of slight merit, but popular in their day. No other
English essayist of any importance appeared until the Restoration, when Abraham
Cowley wrote eleven “Several Discourses by way of Essays,” which did not see the
light until 1668. He interspersed with his prose, translations and original pieces in
verse, but in other respects Cowley keeps much nearer than Bacon to the form of
Montaigne. Cowley’s essay “Of Myself” is a model of what these little compositions
should be. The name of Bacon inspires awe, but it is really not he, but Cowley, who is
the father of the English essay; and it is remarkable that he has had no warmer
panegyrists than his great successors, Charles Lamb and Macaulay. Towards the end of
the century, Sir George Mackenzie (1636-1691) wrote witty moral discourses, which
were, however, essays rather in name than form. Whenever, however, we reach the
eighteenth century, we find the essay suddenly became a dominant force in English
literature. It made its appearance almost as a new thing, and in combination with the
earliest developments of journalism. On the 12th of April 1709 appeared the first
number of a penny newspaper, entitled the Tatler, a main feature of which was to
amuse and instruct fashionable readers by a series of short papers dealing with the
manifold occurrences of life, quicquid agunt homines. But it was not until Steele, the
founder of the Tatler, was joined by Addison that the eighteenth-century essay really
started upon its course. It displayed at first, and indeed it long retained, a mixture of the
manner of Montaigne with that of La Bruyère, combining the form of the pure essay
with that of the character-study, as modelled on Theophrastus, which had been so
popular in England throughout the seventeenth century. Addison’s early Tatler
Page 327
portraits, in particular such as those of “Tom Folio” and “Ned Softly,” are hardly
essays. But Steele’s “Recollections of Childhood” is, and here we may observe the type
on which Goldsmith, Lamb and R.L. Stevenson afterwards worked. In January 1711
the Tatler came to an end, and was almost immediately followed by the Spectator, and
in 1713 by the Guardian. These three newspapers are storehouses of admirable and
typical essays, the majority of them written by Steele and Addison, who are the most
celebrated eighteenth-century essayists in England. Later in the century, after the
publication of other less successful experiments, appeared Fielding’s essays in the
Covent Garden Journal (1752) and Johnson’s in the Rambler (1750), the Adventurer
(1752) and the Idler (1759). There followed a great number of polite journals, in which
the essay was treated as “the bow of Ulysses in which it was the fashion for men of
rank and genius to try their strength.” Goldsmith reached a higher level than the
Chesterfields and Bonnel Thorntons had dreamed of, in the delicious sections of his
Citizen of the World (1760). After Goldsmith, the eighteenth-century essay declined
into tamer hands, and passed into final feebleness with the pedantic Richard
Cumberland and the sentimental Henry Mackenzie. The corpus of eighteenth-century
essayists is extremely voluminous, and their reprinted works fill some fifty volumes.
There is, however, a great sameness about all but the very best of them, and in no case
do they surpass Addison in freshness, or have they ventured to modify the form he
adopted for his lucubrations. What has survived of them all is the lightest portion, but it
should not be forgotten that a very large section of the essays of that age were
deliberately didactic and “moral.” A great revival of the essay took place during the
first quarter of the nineteenth century, and foremost in the history of this movement
must always be placed the name of Charles Lamb. He perceived that the real business
of the essay, as Montaigne had conceived it, was to be largely personal. The famous
Essays of Elia began to appear in the London Magazine for August 1820, and
proceeded at fairly regular intervals until December 1822; early in 1823 the first series
of them were collected in a volume. The peculiarity of Lamb’s style as an essayist was
that he threw off the Addisonian and still more the Johnsonian tradition, which had
become a burden that crushed the life out of each conventional essay, and that he
boldly went back to the rich verbiage and brilliant imagery of the seventeenth century
for his inspiration. It is true that Lamb had great ductility of style, and that, when he
pleases, he can write so like Steele that Steele himself might scarcely know the
difference, yet in his freer flights we are conscious of more exalted masters, of Milton,
Thomas Browne and Jeremy Taylor. He succeeded, moreover, in reaching a poignant
essays. But Steele’s “Recollections of Childhood” is, and here we may observe the type
on which Goldsmith, Lamb and R.L. Stevenson afterwards worked. In January 1711
the Tatler came to an end, and was almost immediately followed by the Spectator, and
in 1713 by the Guardian. These three newspapers are storehouses of admirable and
typical essays, the majority of them written by Steele and Addison, who are the most
celebrated eighteenth-century essayists in England. Later in the century, after the
publication of other less successful experiments, appeared Fielding’s essays in the
Covent Garden Journal (1752) and Johnson’s in the Rambler (1750), the Adventurer
(1752) and the Idler (1759). There followed a great number of polite journals, in which
the essay was treated as “the bow of Ulysses in which it was the fashion for men of
rank and genius to try their strength.” Goldsmith reached a higher level than the
Chesterfields and Bonnel Thorntons had dreamed of, in the delicious sections of his
Citizen of the World (1760). After Goldsmith, the eighteenth-century essay declined
into tamer hands, and passed into final feebleness with the pedantic Richard
Cumberland and the sentimental Henry Mackenzie. The corpus of eighteenth-century
essayists is extremely voluminous, and their reprinted works fill some fifty volumes.
There is, however, a great sameness about all but the very best of them, and in no case
do they surpass Addison in freshness, or have they ventured to modify the form he
adopted for his lucubrations. What has survived of them all is the lightest portion, but it
should not be forgotten that a very large section of the essays of that age were
deliberately didactic and “moral.” A great revival of the essay took place during the
first quarter of the nineteenth century, and foremost in the history of this movement
must always be placed the name of Charles Lamb. He perceived that the real business
of the essay, as Montaigne had conceived it, was to be largely personal. The famous
Essays of Elia began to appear in the London Magazine for August 1820, and
proceeded at fairly regular intervals until December 1822; early in 1823 the first series
of them were collected in a volume. The peculiarity of Lamb’s style as an essayist was
that he threw off the Addisonian and still more the Johnsonian tradition, which had
become a burden that crushed the life out of each conventional essay, and that he
boldly went back to the rich verbiage and brilliant imagery of the seventeenth century
for his inspiration. It is true that Lamb had great ductility of style, and that, when he
pleases, he can write so like Steele that Steele himself might scarcely know the
difference, yet in his freer flights we are conscious of more exalted masters, of Milton,
Thomas Browne and Jeremy Taylor. He succeeded, moreover, in reaching a poignant
Page 328
note of personal feeling, such as none of his predecessors had ever aimed at; the essays
called “Dream Children” and “Blakesmoor” are examples of this, and they display a
degree of harmony and perfection in the writing of the pure essay such as had never
been attempted before, and has never since been reached. Leigh Hunt, clearing away
all the didactic and pompous elements which had overgrown the essay, restored it to its
old Spectator grace, and was the most easy nondescript writer of his generation in
periodicals such as the Indicator (1819) and the Companion (1828). The sermons,
letters and pamphlets of Sydney Smith were really essays of an extended order. In
Hazlitt and Francis Jeffrey we see the form and method of the essay beginning to be
applied to literary criticism. The writings of De Quincey are almost exclusively essays,
although many of the most notable of them, under his vehement pen, have far
outgrown the limits of the length laid down by the most indulgent formalist. His
biographical and critical essays are interesting, but they are far from being trustworthy
models in form or substance. In a sketch, however rapid, of the essay in the nineteenth
century, prominence must be given to the name of Macaulay. His earliest essay, that on
Milton, appeared in the Edinburgh Review in 1825, very shortly after the revelation of
Lamb’s genius in “Elia.” No two products cast in the same mould could, however, be
more unlike in substance. In the hands of Macaulay the essay ceases to be a confession
or an autobiography; it is strictly impersonal, it is literary, historical or controversial,
vigorous, trenchant and full of party prejudice. The periodical publication of
Macaulay’s Essays in the Edinburgh Review went on until 1844; when we cast our eyes
over this mass of brilliant writing we observe with surprise that it is almost wholly
contentious. Nothing can be more remarkable than the difference in this respect
between Lamb and Macaulay, the former for ever demanding, even cajoling, the
sympathy of the reader, the latter scanning the horizon for an enemy to controvert. In
later times the essay in England has been cultivated in each of these ways, by a
thousand journalists and authors. The “leaders” of a daily newspaper are examples of
the popularization of the essay, and they point to the danger which now attacks it, that
of producing a purely ephemeral or even momentary species of effect. The essay, in its
best days, was intended to be as lasting as a poem or a historical monograph; it aimed
at being one of the most durable and precious departments of literature. We still
occasionally see the production of essays which have this more ambitious aim; within
the last quarter of the nineteenth century the essays of R.L. Stevenson achieved it. His
Familiar Studies are of the same class as those of Montaigne and Lamb, and he
approached far more closely than any other contemporary to their high level of
called “Dream Children” and “Blakesmoor” are examples of this, and they display a
degree of harmony and perfection in the writing of the pure essay such as had never
been attempted before, and has never since been reached. Leigh Hunt, clearing away
all the didactic and pompous elements which had overgrown the essay, restored it to its
old Spectator grace, and was the most easy nondescript writer of his generation in
periodicals such as the Indicator (1819) and the Companion (1828). The sermons,
letters and pamphlets of Sydney Smith were really essays of an extended order. In
Hazlitt and Francis Jeffrey we see the form and method of the essay beginning to be
applied to literary criticism. The writings of De Quincey are almost exclusively essays,
although many of the most notable of them, under his vehement pen, have far
outgrown the limits of the length laid down by the most indulgent formalist. His
biographical and critical essays are interesting, but they are far from being trustworthy
models in form or substance. In a sketch, however rapid, of the essay in the nineteenth
century, prominence must be given to the name of Macaulay. His earliest essay, that on
Milton, appeared in the Edinburgh Review in 1825, very shortly after the revelation of
Lamb’s genius in “Elia.” No two products cast in the same mould could, however, be
more unlike in substance. In the hands of Macaulay the essay ceases to be a confession
or an autobiography; it is strictly impersonal, it is literary, historical or controversial,
vigorous, trenchant and full of party prejudice. The periodical publication of
Macaulay’s Essays in the Edinburgh Review went on until 1844; when we cast our eyes
over this mass of brilliant writing we observe with surprise that it is almost wholly
contentious. Nothing can be more remarkable than the difference in this respect
between Lamb and Macaulay, the former for ever demanding, even cajoling, the
sympathy of the reader, the latter scanning the horizon for an enemy to controvert. In
later times the essay in England has been cultivated in each of these ways, by a
thousand journalists and authors. The “leaders” of a daily newspaper are examples of
the popularization of the essay, and they point to the danger which now attacks it, that
of producing a purely ephemeral or even momentary species of effect. The essay, in its
best days, was intended to be as lasting as a poem or a historical monograph; it aimed
at being one of the most durable and precious departments of literature. We still
occasionally see the production of essays which have this more ambitious aim; within
the last quarter of the nineteenth century the essays of R.L. Stevenson achieved it. His
Familiar Studies are of the same class as those of Montaigne and Lamb, and he
approached far more closely than any other contemporary to their high level of
Page 329
excellence. We have seen that the tone of the essay should be personal and confidential;
in Stevenson’s case it was characteristically so. But the voices which please the public
in a strain of pure self-study are few at all times, and with the cultivation of the analytic
habit they tend to become less original and attractive. It is possible that the essay may
die of exhaustion of interest, or may survive only in the modified form of accidental
journalism.
The essay, although invented by a great French writer, was very late in making itself
at home in France. The so-called Essais of Leibnitz, Nicole, Yves Marie André and so
many others were really treatises. Voltaire’s famous Essai sur les mœurs des nations is
an elaborate historical disquisition in nearly two hundred chapters. Later, the
voluminous essays of Joseph de Maistre and of Lamennais were not essays at all in the
literary sense. On the other hand, the admirable Causeries du lundi of Sainte-Beuve
(1804-1869) are literary essays in the fulness of the term, and have been the
forerunners of a great army of brilliant essay-writing in France. Among those who have
specially distinguished themselves as French essayists may be mentioned Théophile
Gautier, Paul de Saint-Victor, Anatole France, Jules Lemaître, Ferdinand Brunetière
and Émile Faguet. All these are literary critics, and it is in the form of the analysis of
manifestations of intellectual energy that the essay has been most successfully
illustrated in France. All the countries of Europe, since the middle of the 19th century,
have adopted this form of writing; such monographs or reviews, however, are not
perfectly identical with the essay as it was conceived by Addison and Lamb. This last,
it may be supposed, is a definitely English thing, and this view is confirmed by the fact
that in several European languages the word “essayist” has been adopted without
modification.
In the above remarks it has been taken for granted that the essay is always in prose.
Pope, however, conceived an essay in heroic verse. Of this his Essay on Criticism
(1711) and his Essay on Man (1732-1734) are not good examples, for they are really
treatises. The so-called Moral Essays (1720-1735), on the contrary, might have been
contributed, if in prose, either to the Spectator or the Guardian. The idea of pure
essays, in verse, however, did not take any root in English literature.
(E. G.)
in Stevenson’s case it was characteristically so. But the voices which please the public
in a strain of pure self-study are few at all times, and with the cultivation of the analytic
habit they tend to become less original and attractive. It is possible that the essay may
die of exhaustion of interest, or may survive only in the modified form of accidental
journalism.
The essay, although invented by a great French writer, was very late in making itself
at home in France. The so-called Essais of Leibnitz, Nicole, Yves Marie André and so
many others were really treatises. Voltaire’s famous Essai sur les mœurs des nations is
an elaborate historical disquisition in nearly two hundred chapters. Later, the
voluminous essays of Joseph de Maistre and of Lamennais were not essays at all in the
literary sense. On the other hand, the admirable Causeries du lundi of Sainte-Beuve
(1804-1869) are literary essays in the fulness of the term, and have been the
forerunners of a great army of brilliant essay-writing in France. Among those who have
specially distinguished themselves as French essayists may be mentioned Théophile
Gautier, Paul de Saint-Victor, Anatole France, Jules Lemaître, Ferdinand Brunetière
and Émile Faguet. All these are literary critics, and it is in the form of the analysis of
manifestations of intellectual energy that the essay has been most successfully
illustrated in France. All the countries of Europe, since the middle of the 19th century,
have adopted this form of writing; such monographs or reviews, however, are not
perfectly identical with the essay as it was conceived by Addison and Lamb. This last,
it may be supposed, is a definitely English thing, and this view is confirmed by the fact
that in several European languages the word “essayist” has been adopted without
modification.
In the above remarks it has been taken for granted that the essay is always in prose.
Pope, however, conceived an essay in heroic verse. Of this his Essay on Criticism
(1711) and his Essay on Man (1732-1734) are not good examples, for they are really
treatises. The so-called Moral Essays (1720-1735), on the contrary, might have been
contributed, if in prose, either to the Spectator or the Guardian. The idea of pure
essays, in verse, however, did not take any root in English literature.
(E. G.)
Page 330
ESSEG, Essegg or Essek (Hung. Esszék; Croatian Osjek), a royal free town,
municipality, and capital of the county of Virovitica (Veröcze), in Croatia-Slavonia, on
the right bank of the Drave, 9 m. W. of its confluence with the Danube, and 185 m. S.
of Buda-Pest by rail. Pop. (1900) 24,930; chiefly Magyars and Croats, with a few
Germans and Jews. At Esseg the Drave is crossed by two bridges, and below these it is
navigable by small steamers. The upper town, with the fortress, is under military
authority; the new town and the lower town, which is the headquarters of commerce,
are under civil authority. The only buildings of note are the Roman Catholic and
Orthodox churches, Franciscan and Capuchin monasteries, synagogue, gymnasium,
modern school, hospital, chamber of commerce, and law-courts. Esseg has a thriving
trade in grain, fruit, live-stock, plum-brandy and timber. Tanning, silk-weaving and
glass-blowing are also carried on.
Esseg owes its origin to its fortress, which existed as early as the time of the Romans
under the name of Mursia; though the present structure dates only from 1720. At the
beginning of the Hungarian revolution of 1848 the town was held by the Hungarians,
but on the 4th of February 1849 it was taken by the Austrians under General Baron
Trebersberg.
ESSEN, a manufacturing town of Germany, in the Prussian Rhine province, 22 m.
N.E. from Düsseldorf, on the main line of railway to Berlin, in an undulating and
densely populated district. Pop. (1849) 8813; (1875) 54,790; (1905) 229,270. It lies at
the centre of a network of railways giving it access to all the principal towns of the
Westphalian iron and coal fields. Its general aspect is gloomy; it possesses few streets
of any pretensions, though those in the old part, which are mostly narrow, present, with
their grey slate roofs and green shutters, a picturesque appearance. Of its religious
edifices (twelve Roman Catholic, one Old Catholic, six Protestant churches, and a
synagogue) the minster, dating from the 10th century, with fine pictures, relics and wall
frescoes, is alone especially remarkable. This building is very similar to the Pfalz-
Kapelle (capella in palatio) at Aix-la-Chapelle. Among the town’s principal secular
municipality, and capital of the county of Virovitica (Veröcze), in Croatia-Slavonia, on
the right bank of the Drave, 9 m. W. of its confluence with the Danube, and 185 m. S.
of Buda-Pest by rail. Pop. (1900) 24,930; chiefly Magyars and Croats, with a few
Germans and Jews. At Esseg the Drave is crossed by two bridges, and below these it is
navigable by small steamers. The upper town, with the fortress, is under military
authority; the new town and the lower town, which is the headquarters of commerce,
are under civil authority. The only buildings of note are the Roman Catholic and
Orthodox churches, Franciscan and Capuchin monasteries, synagogue, gymnasium,
modern school, hospital, chamber of commerce, and law-courts. Esseg has a thriving
trade in grain, fruit, live-stock, plum-brandy and timber. Tanning, silk-weaving and
glass-blowing are also carried on.
Esseg owes its origin to its fortress, which existed as early as the time of the Romans
under the name of Mursia; though the present structure dates only from 1720. At the
beginning of the Hungarian revolution of 1848 the town was held by the Hungarians,
but on the 4th of February 1849 it was taken by the Austrians under General Baron
Trebersberg.
ESSEN, a manufacturing town of Germany, in the Prussian Rhine province, 22 m.
N.E. from Düsseldorf, on the main line of railway to Berlin, in an undulating and
densely populated district. Pop. (1849) 8813; (1875) 54,790; (1905) 229,270. It lies at
the centre of a network of railways giving it access to all the principal towns of the
Westphalian iron and coal fields. Its general aspect is gloomy; it possesses few streets
of any pretensions, though those in the old part, which are mostly narrow, present, with
their grey slate roofs and green shutters, a picturesque appearance. Of its religious
edifices (twelve Roman Catholic, one Old Catholic, six Protestant churches, and a
synagogue) the minster, dating from the 10th century, with fine pictures, relics and wall
frescoes, is alone especially remarkable. This building is very similar to the Pfalz-
Kapelle (capella in palatio) at Aix-la-Chapelle. Among the town’s principal secular
Page 331
buildings are the new Gothic town-hall, the post office and the railway station. There
are several high-grade (classical and modern) schools, technical, mining and
commercial schools, a theatre, a permanent art exhibition, and hospitals. Essen also has
a beautiful public park in the immediate vicinity. The town originally owed its
prosperity to the large iron and coal fields underlying the basin in which it is situated.
Chief among its industrial establishments are the famous iron and steel works of Krupp
(q.v.), and the whole of Essen may be said to depend for its livelihood upon this firm,
which annually expends vast sums in building and supporting churches, schools, clubs,
hospitals and philanthropic institutions, and in other ways providing for the welfare of
its employees. There are also manufactories of woollen goods and cigars, dyeworks
and breweries.
Essen was originally the seat of a Benedictine nunnery, and was formed into a town
about the middle of the 10th century by the abbess Hedwig. The abbess of the nunnery,
who held from 1275 the rank of a princess of the Empire, was assisted by a chapter of
ten princesses and countesses; she governed the town until 1803, when it was
secularized and incorporated with Prussia. In 1807 it came into the possession of the
grand dukes of Berg, but was transferred to Prussia in 1814.
See Funcke, Geschichte des Fürstenthums und der Stadt Essen (Elberfeld,
1851); Kellen, Die Industriestadt Essen in Wort und Bild (Essen, 1902); and A.
Shadwell, Industrial Efficiency (London, 1906).
ESSENES, a monastic order among the Jews prior to Christianity. Their first
appearance in history is in the time of Jonathan the Maccabee (161-144 b.c.). How
much older they may have been we have no means of determining, but our authorities
agree in assigning to them a dateless antiquity. The name occurs in Greek, in the two
forms Ἐσσηνοί and Ἐσσαῖοι. Ἐσσηνοί is used by Josephus fourteen times, Ἐσσαῖοι
six, but the latter is the only form used by Philo (ii. 457, 471, 632). Ἐσσηνοί is also
used by Synesius and Hippolytus, and its Latin equivalent by Pliny and Solinus;
Ἐσσαῖοι by Hegesippus and Porphyry. In Epiphanius we find the forms Ὀσσαῖοι,
are several high-grade (classical and modern) schools, technical, mining and
commercial schools, a theatre, a permanent art exhibition, and hospitals. Essen also has
a beautiful public park in the immediate vicinity. The town originally owed its
prosperity to the large iron and coal fields underlying the basin in which it is situated.
Chief among its industrial establishments are the famous iron and steel works of Krupp
(q.v.), and the whole of Essen may be said to depend for its livelihood upon this firm,
which annually expends vast sums in building and supporting churches, schools, clubs,
hospitals and philanthropic institutions, and in other ways providing for the welfare of
its employees. There are also manufactories of woollen goods and cigars, dyeworks
and breweries.
Essen was originally the seat of a Benedictine nunnery, and was formed into a town
about the middle of the 10th century by the abbess Hedwig. The abbess of the nunnery,
who held from 1275 the rank of a princess of the Empire, was assisted by a chapter of
ten princesses and countesses; she governed the town until 1803, when it was
secularized and incorporated with Prussia. In 1807 it came into the possession of the
grand dukes of Berg, but was transferred to Prussia in 1814.
See Funcke, Geschichte des Fürstenthums und der Stadt Essen (Elberfeld,
1851); Kellen, Die Industriestadt Essen in Wort und Bild (Essen, 1902); and A.
Shadwell, Industrial Efficiency (London, 1906).
ESSENES, a monastic order among the Jews prior to Christianity. Their first
appearance in history is in the time of Jonathan the Maccabee (161-144 b.c.). How
much older they may have been we have no means of determining, but our authorities
agree in assigning to them a dateless antiquity. The name occurs in Greek, in the two
forms Ἐσσηνοί and Ἐσσαῖοι. Ἐσσηνοί is used by Josephus fourteen times, Ἐσσαῖοι
six, but the latter is the only form used by Philo (ii. 457, 471, 632). Ἐσσηνοί is also
used by Synesius and Hippolytus, and its Latin equivalent by Pliny and Solinus;
Ἐσσαῖοι by Hegesippus and Porphyry. In Epiphanius we find the forms Ὀσσαῖοι,
Page 332
Ὀσσηνοί, and Ἰεσσαῖοι. There is a place named Essa mentioned by Josephus (Ant.
xiii. 15, § 3), from which the name may have been formed, just as the Christians were
originally called Ναζαρηνοί or Ναζωραῖοι, from Nazara. This etymology, however, is
not much in favour now. Lightfoot explains the name as meaning “the silent ones,”
others as meaning “physicians.” Perhaps there is most authority in favour of deriving it
from the Syriac חסיך, which in the emphatic state becomes חסיא, so that we have a
Semitic correspondence to both the Greek forms Ἐσσηνοί and Ἐσσαῖοι. This
etymology makes the word mean “pious.” It has also been urged in excuse for Philo’s
absurd derivation from ὅσιος.
The original accounts we have of them are confined to three authors—Philo, Pliny
the Elder, and Josephus. Philo describes them in his treatise known as Quod omnis
probus liber (§§ 12, 13; ii. 457-460), and also in his “Apology for the Jews,” a
fragment of which has been preserved by Eusebius (Praep. Ev. viii. 11, 12). Pliny (N.H.
v. 17) has a short but striking sketch of them, derived in all probability from Alexander
Polyhistor, who is mentioned among the authorities for the fifth book of his Natural
History. This historian, of whom Eusebius had a very high opinion (Praep. Ev. ix. 17, §
1), lived in the time of Sulla. Josephus treats of them at length in his Jewish War (ii. 8),
and more briefly in two passages of his Antiquities (xiii. 5, § 9; xviii. 1, § 5). He has
also interesting accounts of the prophetic powers possessed by three individual
members of the sect—Judas (B.J. i. 3, § 5; Ant. xiii. 11, § 2), Menahem (Ant. xv. 10, §
5), and Simon (B.J. ii. 7, § 3; Ant. xvii. 13, § 3). Besides this he mentions an Essene
Gate in Jerusalem (B.J. v. 4, § 2) and a person called John the Essene, one of the
bravest and most capable leaders in the war against the Romans (B.J. ii. 20, § 4; iii. 2, §
1). Josephus himself made trial of the sect of Essenes in his youth; but from his own
statement it appears that he must have been a very short time with them, and therefore
could not have been initiated into the inner mysteries of the society (De vita sua, 2).
After this the notices that we have of the Essenes from antiquity are mere
reproductions, except in the case of Epiphanius (died a.d. 402), who, however, is so
confused a writer as to be of little value. Solinus, who was known as “Pliny’s Ape,”
echoed the words of his master about a century after that writer’s death, which took
place in a.d. 79. Similarly Hippolytus, who lived in the reign of Commodus (a.d. 180-
192), reproduced the account of Josephus, adding a few touches of his own. Porphyry
(a.d. 233-306) afterwards did the same, but had the grace to mention Josephus in the
context. Eusebius quoted the account as from Porphyry, though he must have known
xiii. 15, § 3), from which the name may have been formed, just as the Christians were
originally called Ναζαρηνοί or Ναζωραῖοι, from Nazara. This etymology, however, is
not much in favour now. Lightfoot explains the name as meaning “the silent ones,”
others as meaning “physicians.” Perhaps there is most authority in favour of deriving it
from the Syriac חסיך, which in the emphatic state becomes חסיא, so that we have a
Semitic correspondence to both the Greek forms Ἐσσηνοί and Ἐσσαῖοι. This
etymology makes the word mean “pious.” It has also been urged in excuse for Philo’s
absurd derivation from ὅσιος.
The original accounts we have of them are confined to three authors—Philo, Pliny
the Elder, and Josephus. Philo describes them in his treatise known as Quod omnis
probus liber (§§ 12, 13; ii. 457-460), and also in his “Apology for the Jews,” a
fragment of which has been preserved by Eusebius (Praep. Ev. viii. 11, 12). Pliny (N.H.
v. 17) has a short but striking sketch of them, derived in all probability from Alexander
Polyhistor, who is mentioned among the authorities for the fifth book of his Natural
History. This historian, of whom Eusebius had a very high opinion (Praep. Ev. ix. 17, §
1), lived in the time of Sulla. Josephus treats of them at length in his Jewish War (ii. 8),
and more briefly in two passages of his Antiquities (xiii. 5, § 9; xviii. 1, § 5). He has
also interesting accounts of the prophetic powers possessed by three individual
members of the sect—Judas (B.J. i. 3, § 5; Ant. xiii. 11, § 2), Menahem (Ant. xv. 10, §
5), and Simon (B.J. ii. 7, § 3; Ant. xvii. 13, § 3). Besides this he mentions an Essene
Gate in Jerusalem (B.J. v. 4, § 2) and a person called John the Essene, one of the
bravest and most capable leaders in the war against the Romans (B.J. ii. 20, § 4; iii. 2, §
1). Josephus himself made trial of the sect of Essenes in his youth; but from his own
statement it appears that he must have been a very short time with them, and therefore
could not have been initiated into the inner mysteries of the society (De vita sua, 2).
After this the notices that we have of the Essenes from antiquity are mere
reproductions, except in the case of Epiphanius (died a.d. 402), who, however, is so
confused a writer as to be of little value. Solinus, who was known as “Pliny’s Ape,”
echoed the words of his master about a century after that writer’s death, which took
place in a.d. 79. Similarly Hippolytus, who lived in the reign of Commodus (a.d. 180-
192), reproduced the account of Josephus, adding a few touches of his own. Porphyry
(a.d. 233-306) afterwards did the same, but had the grace to mention Josephus in the
context. Eusebius quoted the account as from Porphyry, though he must have known
Page 333
that he had derived it from Josephus (Praep. Ev. ix. 3, §§ 1, 13). But Porphyry’s name
would impress pagan readers. There is also a mention of the Essenes by Hegesippus
(Eus. H.E. iv. 22) and by Synesius in his life of Dio Chrysostom. It has been
conjectured that the Clementine literature emanated from Essenes who had turned
Christian. (See Ebionites.)
The Essenes were an exclusive society, distinguished from the rest of the Jewish
nation in Palestine by an organization peculiar to themselves, and by a theory of life in
which a severe asceticism and a rare benevolence to one another and to mankind in
general were the most striking characteristics. They had fixed rules for initiation, a
succession of strictly separate grades within the limits of the society, and regulations
for the conduct of their daily life even in its minutest details. Their membership could
be recruited only from the outside world, as marriage and all intercourse with women
were absolutely renounced. They were the first society in the world to condemn slavery
both in theory and practice; they enforced and practised the most complete community
of goods. They chose their own priests and public office-bearers, and even their own
judges. Though their prevailing tendency was practical, and the tenets of the society
were kept a profound secret, it is perfectly clear from the concurrent testimony of Philo
and Josephus that they cultivated a kind of speculation, which not only accounts for
their spiritual asceticism, but indicates a great deviation from the normal development
of Judaism, and a profound sympathy with Greek philosophy, and probably also with
Oriental ideas. At the same time we do our Jewish authorities no injustice in imputing
to them the patriotic tendency to idealize the society, and thus offer to their readers
something in Jewish life that would bear comparison at least with similar
manifestations of Gentile life.
There is some difficulty in determining how far the Essenes separated themselves
locally from their fellow-countrymen. Josephus informs us that they had no single city
of their own, but that many of them dwelt in every city. While in his treatise Quod
omnis, &c., Philo speaks of their avoiding towns and preferring to live in villages, in
his “Apology for the Jews” we find them living in many cities, villages, and in great
and prosperous towns. In Pliny they are a perennial colony settled on the western shore
of the Dead Sea. On the whole, as Philo and Josephus agree in estimating their number
at 4000 (Philo, Q.O.P.L. § 12; Jos. Ant. xviii. 1, § 5), we are justified in suspecting
some exaggeration as to the many cities, towns and villages where they were said to be
found. As agriculture was their favourite occupation, and as their tendency was to
would impress pagan readers. There is also a mention of the Essenes by Hegesippus
(Eus. H.E. iv. 22) and by Synesius in his life of Dio Chrysostom. It has been
conjectured that the Clementine literature emanated from Essenes who had turned
Christian. (See Ebionites.)
The Essenes were an exclusive society, distinguished from the rest of the Jewish
nation in Palestine by an organization peculiar to themselves, and by a theory of life in
which a severe asceticism and a rare benevolence to one another and to mankind in
general were the most striking characteristics. They had fixed rules for initiation, a
succession of strictly separate grades within the limits of the society, and regulations
for the conduct of their daily life even in its minutest details. Their membership could
be recruited only from the outside world, as marriage and all intercourse with women
were absolutely renounced. They were the first society in the world to condemn slavery
both in theory and practice; they enforced and practised the most complete community
of goods. They chose their own priests and public office-bearers, and even their own
judges. Though their prevailing tendency was practical, and the tenets of the society
were kept a profound secret, it is perfectly clear from the concurrent testimony of Philo
and Josephus that they cultivated a kind of speculation, which not only accounts for
their spiritual asceticism, but indicates a great deviation from the normal development
of Judaism, and a profound sympathy with Greek philosophy, and probably also with
Oriental ideas. At the same time we do our Jewish authorities no injustice in imputing
to them the patriotic tendency to idealize the society, and thus offer to their readers
something in Jewish life that would bear comparison at least with similar
manifestations of Gentile life.
There is some difficulty in determining how far the Essenes separated themselves
locally from their fellow-countrymen. Josephus informs us that they had no single city
of their own, but that many of them dwelt in every city. While in his treatise Quod
omnis, &c., Philo speaks of their avoiding towns and preferring to live in villages, in
his “Apology for the Jews” we find them living in many cities, villages, and in great
and prosperous towns. In Pliny they are a perennial colony settled on the western shore
of the Dead Sea. On the whole, as Philo and Josephus agree in estimating their number
at 4000 (Philo, Q.O.P.L. § 12; Jos. Ant. xviii. 1, § 5), we are justified in suspecting
some exaggeration as to the many cities, towns and villages where they were said to be
found. As agriculture was their favourite occupation, and as their tendency was to
Page 334
withdraw from the haunts and ordinary interests of mankind, we may assume that with
the growing confusion and corruption of Jewish society they felt themselves attracted
from the mass of the population to the sparsely peopled districts, till they found a
congenial settlement and free scope for their peculiar view of life by the shore of the
Dead Sea. While their principles were consistent with the neighbourhood of men, they
were better adapted to a state of seclusion.
The Essenes did not renounce marriage because they denied the validity of the
institution or the necessity of it as providing for the continuance of the human race, but
because they had a low opinion of the character of women (Jos. B.J. ii. 8, § 2; Philo,
“Apol. for the Jews” in Eus. Praep. Ev. viii. 11, § 8). They adopted children when very
young, and brought them up on their own principles. Pleasure generally they rejected
as evil. They despised riches not less than pleasure; neither poverty nor wealth was
observable among them; at initiation every one gave his property into the common
stock; every member in receipt of wages handed them over to the funds of the society.
In matters of dress the asceticism of the society was very pronounced. They regarded
oil as a defilement, even washing it off if anointed with it against their will. They did
not change their clothes or their shoes till they were torn in pieces or worn completely
away. The colour of their garments was always white. Their daily routine was
prescribed for them in the strictest manner. Before the rising of the sun they were to
speak of nothing profane, but offered to it certain traditional forms of prayer as if
beseeching it to rise. Thereafter they went about their daily tasks, working continuously
at whatever trade they knew till the fifth hour, when they assembled, and, girding on a
garment of linen, bathed in cold water. They next seated themselves quietly in the
dining hall, where the baker set bread in order, and the cook brought each a single dish
of one kind of food. Before meat and after it grace was said by a priest. After dinner
they resumed work till sunset. In the evening they had supper, at which guests of the
order joined them, if there happened to be any such present. Withal there was no noise
or confusion to mar the tranquillity of their intercourse; no one usurped more than his
share of the conversation; the stillness of the place oppressed a stranger with a feeling
of mysterious awe. This composure of spirit was owing to their perfect temperance in
eating and drinking. Not only in the daily routine of the society, but generally, the
activity of the members was controlled by their presidents. In only two things could
they take the initiative, helpfulness and mercy; the deserving poor and the destitute
were to receive instant relief; but no member could give anything to his relatives
the growing confusion and corruption of Jewish society they felt themselves attracted
from the mass of the population to the sparsely peopled districts, till they found a
congenial settlement and free scope for their peculiar view of life by the shore of the
Dead Sea. While their principles were consistent with the neighbourhood of men, they
were better adapted to a state of seclusion.
The Essenes did not renounce marriage because they denied the validity of the
institution or the necessity of it as providing for the continuance of the human race, but
because they had a low opinion of the character of women (Jos. B.J. ii. 8, § 2; Philo,
“Apol. for the Jews” in Eus. Praep. Ev. viii. 11, § 8). They adopted children when very
young, and brought them up on their own principles. Pleasure generally they rejected
as evil. They despised riches not less than pleasure; neither poverty nor wealth was
observable among them; at initiation every one gave his property into the common
stock; every member in receipt of wages handed them over to the funds of the society.
In matters of dress the asceticism of the society was very pronounced. They regarded
oil as a defilement, even washing it off if anointed with it against their will. They did
not change their clothes or their shoes till they were torn in pieces or worn completely
away. The colour of their garments was always white. Their daily routine was
prescribed for them in the strictest manner. Before the rising of the sun they were to
speak of nothing profane, but offered to it certain traditional forms of prayer as if
beseeching it to rise. Thereafter they went about their daily tasks, working continuously
at whatever trade they knew till the fifth hour, when they assembled, and, girding on a
garment of linen, bathed in cold water. They next seated themselves quietly in the
dining hall, where the baker set bread in order, and the cook brought each a single dish
of one kind of food. Before meat and after it grace was said by a priest. After dinner
they resumed work till sunset. In the evening they had supper, at which guests of the
order joined them, if there happened to be any such present. Withal there was no noise
or confusion to mar the tranquillity of their intercourse; no one usurped more than his
share of the conversation; the stillness of the place oppressed a stranger with a feeling
of mysterious awe. This composure of spirit was owing to their perfect temperance in
eating and drinking. Not only in the daily routine of the society, but generally, the
activity of the members was controlled by their presidents. In only two things could
they take the initiative, helpfulness and mercy; the deserving poor and the destitute
were to receive instant relief; but no member could give anything to his relatives
Page 335
without consulting the heads of the society. Their office-bearers were elected. They had
also their special courts of justice, which were composed of not less than a hundred
members, and their decisions, which were arrived at with extreme care, were
irreversible. Oaths were strictly forbidden; their word was stronger than an oath. They
were just and temperate in anger, the guardians of good faith, and the ministers of
peace, obedient to their elders and to the majority. But the moral characteristics which
they most earnestly cultivated and enjoined will best appear in their rules of initiation.
There was a novitiate of three years, during which the intending member was tested as
to his fitness for entering the society. If the result was satisfactory, he was admitted, but
before partaking of the common meal he was required to swear awful oaths, that he
would reverence the deity, do justice to men, hurt no man voluntarily or at the
command of another, hate the unjust and assist the just, and that he would render
fidelity to all men, but especially to the rulers, seeing that no one rules but of God. He
also vowed, if he should bear rule himself, to make no violent use of his power, nor
outshine those set under him by superior display, to make it his aim to cherish the truth
and unmask liars, to be pure from theft and unjust gain, to conceal nothing from his
fellow-members, nor to divulge any of their affairs to other men, even at the risk of
death, to transmit their doctrines unchanged, and to keep secret the books of the society
and the names of the angels.
Within the limits of the society there were four grades so distinct that if any one
touched a member of an inferior grade he required to cleanse himself by bathing in
water; members who had been found guilty of serious crimes were expelled from the
society, and could not be received again till reduced to the very last extremity of want
or sickness. As the result of the ascetic training of the Essenes, and of their temperate
diet, it is said that they lived to a great age, and were superior to pain and fear. During
the Roman war they cheerfully underwent the most grievous tortures rather than break
any of the principles of their faith. In fact, they had in many respects reached the very
highest moral elevation attained by the ancient world; they were just, humane,
benevolent, and spiritually-minded; the sick and aged were the objects of a special
affectionate regard; and they condemned slavery, not only as an injustice, but as an
impious violation of the natural brotherhood of men (Philo ii. 457). There were some of
the Essenes who permitted marriage, but strictly with a view to the preservation of the
race; in other respects they agreed with the main body of the society.
also their special courts of justice, which were composed of not less than a hundred
members, and their decisions, which were arrived at with extreme care, were
irreversible. Oaths were strictly forbidden; their word was stronger than an oath. They
were just and temperate in anger, the guardians of good faith, and the ministers of
peace, obedient to their elders and to the majority. But the moral characteristics which
they most earnestly cultivated and enjoined will best appear in their rules of initiation.
There was a novitiate of three years, during which the intending member was tested as
to his fitness for entering the society. If the result was satisfactory, he was admitted, but
before partaking of the common meal he was required to swear awful oaths, that he
would reverence the deity, do justice to men, hurt no man voluntarily or at the
command of another, hate the unjust and assist the just, and that he would render
fidelity to all men, but especially to the rulers, seeing that no one rules but of God. He
also vowed, if he should bear rule himself, to make no violent use of his power, nor
outshine those set under him by superior display, to make it his aim to cherish the truth
and unmask liars, to be pure from theft and unjust gain, to conceal nothing from his
fellow-members, nor to divulge any of their affairs to other men, even at the risk of
death, to transmit their doctrines unchanged, and to keep secret the books of the society
and the names of the angels.
Within the limits of the society there were four grades so distinct that if any one
touched a member of an inferior grade he required to cleanse himself by bathing in
water; members who had been found guilty of serious crimes were expelled from the
society, and could not be received again till reduced to the very last extremity of want
or sickness. As the result of the ascetic training of the Essenes, and of their temperate
diet, it is said that they lived to a great age, and were superior to pain and fear. During
the Roman war they cheerfully underwent the most grievous tortures rather than break
any of the principles of their faith. In fact, they had in many respects reached the very
highest moral elevation attained by the ancient world; they were just, humane,
benevolent, and spiritually-minded; the sick and aged were the objects of a special
affectionate regard; and they condemned slavery, not only as an injustice, but as an
impious violation of the natural brotherhood of men (Philo ii. 457). There were some of
the Essenes who permitted marriage, but strictly with a view to the preservation of the
race; in other respects they agreed with the main body of the society.
Page 336
It will be apparent that the predominant tendency of the society was practical. Philo
tells us expressly that they rejected logic as unnecessary to the acquisition of virtue,
and speculation on nature as too lofty for the human intellect. Yet they had views of
their own as to God, Providence, the soul, and a future state, which, while they had a
practical use, were yet essentially speculative. On the one hand, indeed, they held
tenaciously by the traditional Judaism: blasphemy against their lawgiver was punished
with death, the sacred books were preserved and read with great reverence, though not
without an allegorical interpretation, and the Sabbath was most scrupulously observed.
But in many important points their deviation from the strait path of Judaic development
was complete. They rejected animal sacrifice as well as marriage; the oil with which
priests and kings were anointed they accounted unclean; and the condemnation of oaths
and the community of goods were unmistakable innovations for which they found no
hint or warrant in the old Hebrew writings. Their most singular feature, perhaps, was
their reverence for the sun. In their speculative hints respecting the soul and a future
state, we find another important deviation from Judaism, and the explanation of their
asceticism. They held that the body is mortal, and its substance transitory; that the soul
is immortal, but, coming from the subtlest ether, is lured as by a sorcery of nature into
the prison-house of the body. At death it is released from its bonds, as from long
slavery, and joyously soars aloft. To the souls of the good there is reserved a life
beyond the ocean, and a country oppressed by neither rain, nor snow, nor heat, but
refreshed by a gentle west wind blowing continually from the sea (cf. Hom. Od. iv.
566-568), but to the wicked a region of wintry darkness and of unceasing torment.
Josephus tells us too that the Essenes believed in fate; but in what sense, and what
relation it bore to Divine Providence, does not appear.
The above evidence has left students in doubt as to whether Essenism is to be
regarded as a pure product of the Jewish mind or as due in part to some foreign
influence. On the one hand it might be maintained that the Essenes out-Pharisee’d the
Pharisees. They had in common with that sect their veneration for Moses and the Law,
their Sabbatarianism, their striving after ceremonial purity, and their tendency towards
fatalism. But if the Pharisees abstained from good works on the Sabbath, the Essenes
abstained even from natural necessities (Jos. B.J. ii. 8, § 9); if the Pharisees washed, the
Essenes bathed before dinner; if the Pharisees ascribed some things to Fate, the
Essenes ascribed all (Jos. Ant. xiii. 5, § 9). But on the other hand the Essenes avoided
marriage, which the Pharisees held in honour; they offered no animal-sacrifices in the
tells us expressly that they rejected logic as unnecessary to the acquisition of virtue,
and speculation on nature as too lofty for the human intellect. Yet they had views of
their own as to God, Providence, the soul, and a future state, which, while they had a
practical use, were yet essentially speculative. On the one hand, indeed, they held
tenaciously by the traditional Judaism: blasphemy against their lawgiver was punished
with death, the sacred books were preserved and read with great reverence, though not
without an allegorical interpretation, and the Sabbath was most scrupulously observed.
But in many important points their deviation from the strait path of Judaic development
was complete. They rejected animal sacrifice as well as marriage; the oil with which
priests and kings were anointed they accounted unclean; and the condemnation of oaths
and the community of goods were unmistakable innovations for which they found no
hint or warrant in the old Hebrew writings. Their most singular feature, perhaps, was
their reverence for the sun. In their speculative hints respecting the soul and a future
state, we find another important deviation from Judaism, and the explanation of their
asceticism. They held that the body is mortal, and its substance transitory; that the soul
is immortal, but, coming from the subtlest ether, is lured as by a sorcery of nature into
the prison-house of the body. At death it is released from its bonds, as from long
slavery, and joyously soars aloft. To the souls of the good there is reserved a life
beyond the ocean, and a country oppressed by neither rain, nor snow, nor heat, but
refreshed by a gentle west wind blowing continually from the sea (cf. Hom. Od. iv.
566-568), but to the wicked a region of wintry darkness and of unceasing torment.
Josephus tells us too that the Essenes believed in fate; but in what sense, and what
relation it bore to Divine Providence, does not appear.
The above evidence has left students in doubt as to whether Essenism is to be
regarded as a pure product of the Jewish mind or as due in part to some foreign
influence. On the one hand it might be maintained that the Essenes out-Pharisee’d the
Pharisees. They had in common with that sect their veneration for Moses and the Law,
their Sabbatarianism, their striving after ceremonial purity, and their tendency towards
fatalism. But if the Pharisees abstained from good works on the Sabbath, the Essenes
abstained even from natural necessities (Jos. B.J. ii. 8, § 9); if the Pharisees washed, the
Essenes bathed before dinner; if the Pharisees ascribed some things to Fate, the
Essenes ascribed all (Jos. Ant. xiii. 5, § 9). But on the other hand the Essenes avoided
marriage, which the Pharisees held in honour; they offered no animal-sacrifices in the
Page 337
Temple; they refrained from the use of oil, which was customary among the Pharisees
(Luke vii. 46); above all, they offered prayers to the sun, after the manner denounced in
Ezekiel (viii. 16). These and other points of divergences are not explained by Ritschl’s
interesting theory that Essenism was an organized attempt to carry out the idea of “a
kingdom of priests and an holy nation” (Ex. xix. 6).
Granting then that some foreign influence was at work in Essenism, we have four
theories offered to us—that this influence was Persian, Buddhist, Pythagorean, or
lastly, as maintained by Lipsius, that of the surrounding Syrian heathenism. Each of
these views has had able advocates, but it must not be supposed that they are mutually
exclusive. If we consider how Philo, while remaining a devout Jew in religion, yet
managed to assimilate the whole Stoic philosophy, we can well believe that the Essenes
might have been influenced, as Zeller maintained that they were, by Neo-
Pythagoreanism. But as Pythagoras himself came from Samos, and his doctrines have a
decidedly Oriental tinge, it may very well be that both he and the Essenes drew from a
common source; for there is no need to reject, as is so commonly done, the statements
of our authorities as to the antiquity of the Essenes. This common source we may
believe with Lightfoot to have been the Persian religion, which we know to have
profoundly influenced that of Israel, independently of the Essenes.
The fact that the Pharisees and Sadducees so often figure in the pages of the New
Testament, while the Essenes are never mentioned, might plausibly be interpreted to
show that the New Testament emanated from the side of the Essenes. So far as
concerns the Epistle of St James this interpretation would probably be correct. That
work contains the doctrine common to the Essenes with Plato, and suggestive of
Persian Dualism, that God is the author of good only. There are also certain obvious
points of resemblance between the Essenes and the early Christians. Both held property
in common; both had scattered communities which received guests one from the other;
both avoided a light use of oaths; both taught passive obedience to political authority.
The list might be enlarged, but it would not necessarily prove more than that the early
Christians shared in the ideas of their age. Christianity was to some extent a
popularization of Essenism, but there is little reason for believing that Jesus himself
was an Essene. De Quincey’s contention that there were no Essenes but the early
Christians is now a literary curiosity.
(Luke vii. 46); above all, they offered prayers to the sun, after the manner denounced in
Ezekiel (viii. 16). These and other points of divergences are not explained by Ritschl’s
interesting theory that Essenism was an organized attempt to carry out the idea of “a
kingdom of priests and an holy nation” (Ex. xix. 6).
Granting then that some foreign influence was at work in Essenism, we have four
theories offered to us—that this influence was Persian, Buddhist, Pythagorean, or
lastly, as maintained by Lipsius, that of the surrounding Syrian heathenism. Each of
these views has had able advocates, but it must not be supposed that they are mutually
exclusive. If we consider how Philo, while remaining a devout Jew in religion, yet
managed to assimilate the whole Stoic philosophy, we can well believe that the Essenes
might have been influenced, as Zeller maintained that they were, by Neo-
Pythagoreanism. But as Pythagoras himself came from Samos, and his doctrines have a
decidedly Oriental tinge, it may very well be that both he and the Essenes drew from a
common source; for there is no need to reject, as is so commonly done, the statements
of our authorities as to the antiquity of the Essenes. This common source we may
believe with Lightfoot to have been the Persian religion, which we know to have
profoundly influenced that of Israel, independently of the Essenes.
The fact that the Pharisees and Sadducees so often figure in the pages of the New
Testament, while the Essenes are never mentioned, might plausibly be interpreted to
show that the New Testament emanated from the side of the Essenes. So far as
concerns the Epistle of St James this interpretation would probably be correct. That
work contains the doctrine common to the Essenes with Plato, and suggestive of
Persian Dualism, that God is the author of good only. There are also certain obvious
points of resemblance between the Essenes and the early Christians. Both held property
in common; both had scattered communities which received guests one from the other;
both avoided a light use of oaths; both taught passive obedience to political authority.
The list might be enlarged, but it would not necessarily prove more than that the early
Christians shared in the ideas of their age. Christianity was to some extent a
popularization of Essenism, but there is little reason for believing that Jesus himself
was an Essene. De Quincey’s contention that there were no Essenes but the early
Christians is now a literary curiosity.
Page 338
The original sources of our knowledge of the Essenes have been mentioned at
the beginning of this paper; the best modern discussions of them are to be found
in such works as Zeller’s Philosophie der Griechen, vol. iii.; Ewald, Geschichte d.
V. Israël, iii. 419-428; Reuss, La Théologie chrétienne au siècle apostolique, i.
122-131; Keim, Life of Jesus of Nazara, vol. i.; Lightfoot on the Colossians;
Lucius, Der Essenismus in seinem Verhältniss zum Judenthum; Wellhausen,
Israelitische und jüdische Geschichte; Ed. Schürer, The Jewish People in the Time
of Jesus Christ, div. ii. vol. ii. § 30. The copious bibliography in Conybeare’s
edition of Philo’s De vita contemplativa bears upon the Essenes as well as upon
the Therapeutes. For a specially Jewish view of the Essenes see Kohler’s article in
the Jewish Encyclopaedia. They are there regarded as being “simply the rigorists
among the Pharisees.” But we are also told that “the Pharisees characterized the
Essene as ‘a fool who destroyed the world.’”
(T. K.; St G. S.)
ESSENTUKI, a watering-place of south Russia, in the government of Terek, 11 m.
by rail W. from Pyatigorsk; altitude, 2096 ft. Its alkaline and sulphur-alkaline mineral
waters, similar to those of Ems, Selters and Vichy, are much visited in summer. The
climate shows great variations in temperature. Pop. (1897) 9974.
ESSEQUIBO, or Essequebo, one of the three settlements of British Guiana, taking
its name from the river Essequibo. (See Guiana.)
the beginning of this paper; the best modern discussions of them are to be found
in such works as Zeller’s Philosophie der Griechen, vol. iii.; Ewald, Geschichte d.
V. Israël, iii. 419-428; Reuss, La Théologie chrétienne au siècle apostolique, i.
122-131; Keim, Life of Jesus of Nazara, vol. i.; Lightfoot on the Colossians;
Lucius, Der Essenismus in seinem Verhältniss zum Judenthum; Wellhausen,
Israelitische und jüdische Geschichte; Ed. Schürer, The Jewish People in the Time
of Jesus Christ, div. ii. vol. ii. § 30. The copious bibliography in Conybeare’s
edition of Philo’s De vita contemplativa bears upon the Essenes as well as upon
the Therapeutes. For a specially Jewish view of the Essenes see Kohler’s article in
the Jewish Encyclopaedia. They are there regarded as being “simply the rigorists
among the Pharisees.” But we are also told that “the Pharisees characterized the
Essene as ‘a fool who destroyed the world.’”
(T. K.; St G. S.)
ESSENTUKI, a watering-place of south Russia, in the government of Terek, 11 m.
by rail W. from Pyatigorsk; altitude, 2096 ft. Its alkaline and sulphur-alkaline mineral
waters, similar to those of Ems, Selters and Vichy, are much visited in summer. The
climate shows great variations in temperature. Pop. (1897) 9974.
ESSEQUIBO, or Essequebo, one of the three settlements of British Guiana, taking
its name from the river Essequibo. (See Guiana.)
Page 339
ESSEX, EARLS OF. The first earl of Essex was probably Geoffrey de Mandeville
(q.v.), who became earl about 1139, the earldom being subsequently held by his two
sons, Geoffrey and William, until the death of the latter in 1189. In 1199 Geoffrey
Fitzpeter or Fitzpiers (d. 1213), who was related to the Mandevilles through his wife
Beatrice, became earl of Essex, and on the death of Geoffrey’s son William in 1227 the
earldom reverted for the second time to the crown. Then the title to the earldom passed
by marriage to the Bohuns, earls of Hereford, and before 1239 Humphrey de Bohun (d.
1275) had been recognized as earl of Essex. With the earldom of Hereford the earldom
of Essex became extinct in 1373; afterwards it was held by Thomas of Woodstock,
duke of Gloucester, a son of Edward III. and the husband of Eleanor de Bohun; and
from Gloucester it passed to the Bourchiers, Henry Bourchier (d. 1483), who secured
the earldom in 1461, being one of Gloucester’s grandsons. The second and last
Bourchier earl was Henry’s grandson Henry, who died early in 1540. A few weeks
before his execution in 1540 Thomas Cromwell (q.v.) was created earl of Essex; then in
1543 William Parr, afterwards marquess of Northampton, obtained the earldom by
right of his wife Anne, a daughter of the last Bourchier earl. Northampton lost the
earldom when he was attainted in 1553; and afterwards it passed to the famous family
of Devereux, Walter Devereux, who was created earl of Essex in 1572, being related to
the Bourchiers. Robert, the 3rd and last Devereux earl, died in 1646. In 1661 Arthur
Capel was created earl of Essex, and the earldom is still held by his descendants.
ESSEX, ARTHUR CAPEL, 1st1 Earl of (1632-1683), English statesman, son of
Arthur, 1st Baron Capel of Hadham (c. 1641), executed in 1649, and of Elizabeth,
daughter and heir of Sir Charles Morrison of Cashiobury in Hertfordshire, was baptized
on the 28th of January 1632. In June 1648, then a sickly boy of sixteen, he was taken
by Fairfax’s soldiers from Hadham to Colchester, which his father was defending, and
carried every day round the works with the hope of inducing Lord Capel to surrender
the place. At the restoration he was created Viscount Malden and earl of Essex (20th of
April 1661), with special remainder to the male issue of his father, and was made lord-
lieutenant of Hertfordshire and a few years later of Wiltshire.2
(q.v.), who became earl about 1139, the earldom being subsequently held by his two
sons, Geoffrey and William, until the death of the latter in 1189. In 1199 Geoffrey
Fitzpeter or Fitzpiers (d. 1213), who was related to the Mandevilles through his wife
Beatrice, became earl of Essex, and on the death of Geoffrey’s son William in 1227 the
earldom reverted for the second time to the crown. Then the title to the earldom passed
by marriage to the Bohuns, earls of Hereford, and before 1239 Humphrey de Bohun (d.
1275) had been recognized as earl of Essex. With the earldom of Hereford the earldom
of Essex became extinct in 1373; afterwards it was held by Thomas of Woodstock,
duke of Gloucester, a son of Edward III. and the husband of Eleanor de Bohun; and
from Gloucester it passed to the Bourchiers, Henry Bourchier (d. 1483), who secured
the earldom in 1461, being one of Gloucester’s grandsons. The second and last
Bourchier earl was Henry’s grandson Henry, who died early in 1540. A few weeks
before his execution in 1540 Thomas Cromwell (q.v.) was created earl of Essex; then in
1543 William Parr, afterwards marquess of Northampton, obtained the earldom by
right of his wife Anne, a daughter of the last Bourchier earl. Northampton lost the
earldom when he was attainted in 1553; and afterwards it passed to the famous family
of Devereux, Walter Devereux, who was created earl of Essex in 1572, being related to
the Bourchiers. Robert, the 3rd and last Devereux earl, died in 1646. In 1661 Arthur
Capel was created earl of Essex, and the earldom is still held by his descendants.
ESSEX, ARTHUR CAPEL, 1st1 Earl of (1632-1683), English statesman, son of
Arthur, 1st Baron Capel of Hadham (c. 1641), executed in 1649, and of Elizabeth,
daughter and heir of Sir Charles Morrison of Cashiobury in Hertfordshire, was baptized
on the 28th of January 1632. In June 1648, then a sickly boy of sixteen, he was taken
by Fairfax’s soldiers from Hadham to Colchester, which his father was defending, and
carried every day round the works with the hope of inducing Lord Capel to surrender
the place. At the restoration he was created Viscount Malden and earl of Essex (20th of
April 1661), with special remainder to the male issue of his father, and was made lord-
lieutenant of Hertfordshire and a few years later of Wiltshire.2
Page 340
He early showed himself antagonistic to the court, to Roman Catholicism, and to the
extension of the royal prerogative, and was coupled by Charles II. with Holles as “stiff
and sullen men,” who would not yield against their convictions to his solicitations. In
1669 he was sent as ambassador to King Christian V. of Denmark, in which capacity he
gained credit by refusing to strike his flag to the governor of Kronborg. In 1672 he was
made a privy councillor and lord-lieutenant of Ireland. He remained in office till 1677,
and his administration was greatly commended by Burnet and Ormonde,3 the former
describing it “as a pattern to all that come after him.” He identified himself with Irish
interests, and took immense pains to understand the constitution and the political
necessities of the country, appointing men of real merit to office, and maintaining an
exceptional independence from solicitation and influence. He held a just balance
between the Roman Catholics, the English Church and the Presbyterians, protecting the
former as far as public opinion in England would permit, and governing the native Irish
with firmness and moderation. The purity and patriotism of his administration were in
strong contrast to the hopeless corruption prevalent in that at home and naturally
aroused bitter opposition, as an obstacle to the unscrupulous employment of Irish
revenues for the satisfaction of the court and the king’s expenses. In particular he came
into conflict with Lord Ranelagh, to whom had been assigned the Irish revenues on
condition of his supplying the requirements of the crown, and whose accounts Essex
refused to pass. He opposed strongly the lavish gifts of forfeited estates to court
favourites and mistresses, prevented the grant of Phoenix Park to the duchess of
Cleveland, and refused to encumber the administration by granting reversions. Finally
the intrigues of his enemies at home, and Charles’s continual demands for money,
which Ranelagh undertook to satisfy, brought about his recall in April 1677. He
immediately joined the country party and the opposition to Danby’s government, and
on the latter’s fall in 1679 was appointed a commissioner of the treasury, and the same
year a member of Sir William Temple’s new-modelled council. He followed the lead of
Halifax, who advocated not the exclusion of James, but the limitation of his sovereign
powers, and looked to the prince of Orange rather than to Monmouth as the leader of
Protestantism, incurring thereby the hostility of Shaftesbury, but at the same time
gaining the confidence of Charles. He was appointed by Charles together with Halifax
to hear the charges against Lauderdale. In July he wrote a wise and statesmanlike letter
to the king, advising him to renounce his project of raising a new company of guards.
Together with Halifax he urged Charles to summon the parliament, and after his refusal
resigned the treasury in November, the real cause being, according to one account,4 a
extension of the royal prerogative, and was coupled by Charles II. with Holles as “stiff
and sullen men,” who would not yield against their convictions to his solicitations. In
1669 he was sent as ambassador to King Christian V. of Denmark, in which capacity he
gained credit by refusing to strike his flag to the governor of Kronborg. In 1672 he was
made a privy councillor and lord-lieutenant of Ireland. He remained in office till 1677,
and his administration was greatly commended by Burnet and Ormonde,3 the former
describing it “as a pattern to all that come after him.” He identified himself with Irish
interests, and took immense pains to understand the constitution and the political
necessities of the country, appointing men of real merit to office, and maintaining an
exceptional independence from solicitation and influence. He held a just balance
between the Roman Catholics, the English Church and the Presbyterians, protecting the
former as far as public opinion in England would permit, and governing the native Irish
with firmness and moderation. The purity and patriotism of his administration were in
strong contrast to the hopeless corruption prevalent in that at home and naturally
aroused bitter opposition, as an obstacle to the unscrupulous employment of Irish
revenues for the satisfaction of the court and the king’s expenses. In particular he came
into conflict with Lord Ranelagh, to whom had been assigned the Irish revenues on
condition of his supplying the requirements of the crown, and whose accounts Essex
refused to pass. He opposed strongly the lavish gifts of forfeited estates to court
favourites and mistresses, prevented the grant of Phoenix Park to the duchess of
Cleveland, and refused to encumber the administration by granting reversions. Finally
the intrigues of his enemies at home, and Charles’s continual demands for money,
which Ranelagh undertook to satisfy, brought about his recall in April 1677. He
immediately joined the country party and the opposition to Danby’s government, and
on the latter’s fall in 1679 was appointed a commissioner of the treasury, and the same
year a member of Sir William Temple’s new-modelled council. He followed the lead of
Halifax, who advocated not the exclusion of James, but the limitation of his sovereign
powers, and looked to the prince of Orange rather than to Monmouth as the leader of
Protestantism, incurring thereby the hostility of Shaftesbury, but at the same time
gaining the confidence of Charles. He was appointed by Charles together with Halifax
to hear the charges against Lauderdale. In July he wrote a wise and statesmanlike letter
to the king, advising him to renounce his project of raising a new company of guards.
Together with Halifax he urged Charles to summon the parliament, and after his refusal
resigned the treasury in November, the real cause being, according to one account,4 a
Page 341
demand upon the treasury by the duchess of Cleveland for £25,000, according to
another “the niceness of touching French money,” “that makes my Lord Essex’s
squeasy stomach that it can no longer digest his employment.”5
Subsequently his political attitude underwent a change, the exact cause of which is
not clear—probably a growing conviction of the dangers threatened by a Roman
Catholic sovereign of the character of James. He now, in 1680, joined Shaftesbury’s
party and supported the Exclusion Bill, and on its rejection by the Lords carried a
motion for an association to execute the scheme of expedients promoted by Halifax.
On the 25th of January 1681 at the head of fifteen peers he presented a petition to the
king, couched in exaggerated language, requesting the abandonment of the session of
parliament at Oxford. He was a jealous prosecutor of the Roman Catholics in the
popish plot, and voted for Stafford’s attainder, on the other hand interceding for
Archbishop Plunket, implicated in the pretended Irish plot. He, however, refused to
follow Shaftesbury in his extreme courses, declined participation in the latter’s design
to seize the Tower in 1682, and on Shaftesbury’s consequent departure from England
became the leader of Monmouth’s faction, in which were now included Lord Russell,
Algernon Sidney, and Lord Howard of Escrick. Essex took no part in the wilder
schemes of the party, but after the discovery of the Rye House Plot in June 1683, and
the capture of the leaders, he was arrested at Cashiobury and imprisoned in the Tower.
His spirits and fortitude appear immediately to have abandoned him, and on the 13th of
July he was discovered in his chamber with his throat cut. His death was attributed,
quite groundlessly, to Charles and James, and the evidence points clearly if not
conclusively to suicide, his motive being possibly to prevent an attainder and preserve
his estate for his family. He was, however, undoubtedly a victim of the Stuart
administration, and the antagonism and tragic end of men like Essex, deserving men,
naturally devoted to the throne, constitutes a severe indictment of the Stuart rule.
He was a statesman of strong and sincere patriotism, just and unselfish,
conscientious and laborious in the fulfilment of public duties, blameless in his official
and private life. Evelyn describes him as “a sober, wise, judicious and pondering
person, not illiterate beyond the rule of most noblemen in this age, very well versed in
English history and affairs, industrious, frugal, methodical and every way
accomplished”; and declares he was much deplored, few believing he had ever
harboured any seditious designs.6 He married Lady Elizabeth Percy, daughter of
another “the niceness of touching French money,” “that makes my Lord Essex’s
squeasy stomach that it can no longer digest his employment.”5
Subsequently his political attitude underwent a change, the exact cause of which is
not clear—probably a growing conviction of the dangers threatened by a Roman
Catholic sovereign of the character of James. He now, in 1680, joined Shaftesbury’s
party and supported the Exclusion Bill, and on its rejection by the Lords carried a
motion for an association to execute the scheme of expedients promoted by Halifax.
On the 25th of January 1681 at the head of fifteen peers he presented a petition to the
king, couched in exaggerated language, requesting the abandonment of the session of
parliament at Oxford. He was a jealous prosecutor of the Roman Catholics in the
popish plot, and voted for Stafford’s attainder, on the other hand interceding for
Archbishop Plunket, implicated in the pretended Irish plot. He, however, refused to
follow Shaftesbury in his extreme courses, declined participation in the latter’s design
to seize the Tower in 1682, and on Shaftesbury’s consequent departure from England
became the leader of Monmouth’s faction, in which were now included Lord Russell,
Algernon Sidney, and Lord Howard of Escrick. Essex took no part in the wilder
schemes of the party, but after the discovery of the Rye House Plot in June 1683, and
the capture of the leaders, he was arrested at Cashiobury and imprisoned in the Tower.
His spirits and fortitude appear immediately to have abandoned him, and on the 13th of
July he was discovered in his chamber with his throat cut. His death was attributed,
quite groundlessly, to Charles and James, and the evidence points clearly if not
conclusively to suicide, his motive being possibly to prevent an attainder and preserve
his estate for his family. He was, however, undoubtedly a victim of the Stuart
administration, and the antagonism and tragic end of men like Essex, deserving men,
naturally devoted to the throne, constitutes a severe indictment of the Stuart rule.
He was a statesman of strong and sincere patriotism, just and unselfish,
conscientious and laborious in the fulfilment of public duties, blameless in his official
and private life. Evelyn describes him as “a sober, wise, judicious and pondering
person, not illiterate beyond the rule of most noblemen in this age, very well versed in
English history and affairs, industrious, frugal, methodical and every way
accomplished”; and declares he was much deplored, few believing he had ever
harboured any seditious designs.6 He married Lady Elizabeth Percy, daughter of
Page 342
Algernon, 10th earl of Northumberland, by whom, besides a daughter, he had an only
son Algernon (1670-1710), who succeeded him as 2nd earl of Essex.
son Algernon (1670-1710), who succeeded him as 2nd earl of Essex.
Page 343
Bibliography.—See the Lives in the Dict. of Nat. Biography and in
Biographia Britannica (Kippis), with authorities there collected;
Essex’s Irish correspondence is in the Stow Collection in the British
Museum, Nos. 200-217, and selections have been published in Letters
written by Arthur Capel, Earl of Essex (1770) and in the Essex Papers
(Camden Society, 1890), to which can now be added the Calendars of
State Papers, Domestic, which contain a large number of his letters and
which strongly support the opinion of his contemporaries concerning
his unselfish patriotism and industry; see also Somers Tracts (1813), x.,
and for other pamphlets relating to his death the catalogue of the
British Museum.
1 i.e. in the Capel line.
2 Hist. MSS. Comm. ser.; Duke of Beaufort’s MSS. 45.
3 Life of Ormonde, by T. Carte, viii. 468 (1851), vol. iv. p. 529.
4 Hist. MSS. Comm. 7th Rep. app. 477b.
5 Ib. 6th Rep. app. 741b.
6 Diary and Corresp. (1850), ii. 141, 178.
ESSEX, ROBERT DEVEREUX, 2nd1 Earl of (1566-1601), son of the
1st Devereux earl, was born at Netherwood, Herefordshire, on the 19th of
November 1566. He entered the university of Cambridge and graduated in
1581. In 1585 he accompanied his stepfather, the earl of Leicester, on an
expedition to Holland, and greatly distinguished himself at the battle of
Biographia Britannica (Kippis), with authorities there collected;
Essex’s Irish correspondence is in the Stow Collection in the British
Museum, Nos. 200-217, and selections have been published in Letters
written by Arthur Capel, Earl of Essex (1770) and in the Essex Papers
(Camden Society, 1890), to which can now be added the Calendars of
State Papers, Domestic, which contain a large number of his letters and
which strongly support the opinion of his contemporaries concerning
his unselfish patriotism and industry; see also Somers Tracts (1813), x.,
and for other pamphlets relating to his death the catalogue of the
British Museum.
1 i.e. in the Capel line.
2 Hist. MSS. Comm. ser.; Duke of Beaufort’s MSS. 45.
3 Life of Ormonde, by T. Carte, viii. 468 (1851), vol. iv. p. 529.
4 Hist. MSS. Comm. 7th Rep. app. 477b.
5 Ib. 6th Rep. app. 741b.
6 Diary and Corresp. (1850), ii. 141, 178.
ESSEX, ROBERT DEVEREUX, 2nd1 Earl of (1566-1601), son of the
1st Devereux earl, was born at Netherwood, Herefordshire, on the 19th of
November 1566. He entered the university of Cambridge and graduated in
1581. In 1585 he accompanied his stepfather, the earl of Leicester, on an
expedition to Holland, and greatly distinguished himself at the battle of
Page 344
Zutphen. He now took his place at court, where so handsome a youth soon
found favour with Queen Elizabeth, and in consequence was on bad terms
with Raleigh. In 1587 he was appointed master of the horse, and in the
following year was made general of the horse and installed knight of the
Garter. On the death of Leicester he succeeded him as chief favourite of the
queen, a position which injuriously affected his whole subsequent life, and
ultimately resulted in his ruin. While Elizabeth was approaching the mature
age of sixty, Essex was scarcely twenty-one. Though well aware of the
advantages of his position, and somewhat vain of the queen’s favour, his
constant attendance on her at court was irksome to him beyond all
endurance; and when he could not make his escape to the scenes of foreign
adventure after which he longed, he varied the monotony of his life at court
by intrigues with the maids of honour. He fought a duel with Sir Charles
Blount, a rival favourite of the queen, in which the earl was disarmed and
slightly wounded in the thigh.
In 1589, without the queen’s consent, he joined the expedition of Drake
and Sir John Norris against Spain, but in June he was compelled to obey a
letter enjoining him at his “uttermost peril” to return immediately. In 1590
Essex married the widow of Sir Philip Sidney, but in dread of the queen’s
anger he kept the marriage secret as long as possible. When it was
necessary to avow it, her rage at first knew no bounds, but as the earl did
“use it with good temper,” and “for her majesty’s better satisfaction was
pleased that my lady should live retired in her mother’s house,” he soon
came to be “in very good favour.” In 1591 he was appointed to the
command of a force auxiliary to one formerly sent to assist Henry IV. of
France against the Spaniards; but after a fruitless campaign he was finally
recalled from the command in January 1592. For some years after this most
of his time was spent at court, where he held a position of unexampled
influence, both on account of the favour of the queen and from his own
personal popularity. In 1596 he was, after a great many “changes of
found favour with Queen Elizabeth, and in consequence was on bad terms
with Raleigh. In 1587 he was appointed master of the horse, and in the
following year was made general of the horse and installed knight of the
Garter. On the death of Leicester he succeeded him as chief favourite of the
queen, a position which injuriously affected his whole subsequent life, and
ultimately resulted in his ruin. While Elizabeth was approaching the mature
age of sixty, Essex was scarcely twenty-one. Though well aware of the
advantages of his position, and somewhat vain of the queen’s favour, his
constant attendance on her at court was irksome to him beyond all
endurance; and when he could not make his escape to the scenes of foreign
adventure after which he longed, he varied the monotony of his life at court
by intrigues with the maids of honour. He fought a duel with Sir Charles
Blount, a rival favourite of the queen, in which the earl was disarmed and
slightly wounded in the thigh.
In 1589, without the queen’s consent, he joined the expedition of Drake
and Sir John Norris against Spain, but in June he was compelled to obey a
letter enjoining him at his “uttermost peril” to return immediately. In 1590
Essex married the widow of Sir Philip Sidney, but in dread of the queen’s
anger he kept the marriage secret as long as possible. When it was
necessary to avow it, her rage at first knew no bounds, but as the earl did
“use it with good temper,” and “for her majesty’s better satisfaction was
pleased that my lady should live retired in her mother’s house,” he soon
came to be “in very good favour.” In 1591 he was appointed to the
command of a force auxiliary to one formerly sent to assist Henry IV. of
France against the Spaniards; but after a fruitless campaign he was finally
recalled from the command in January 1592. For some years after this most
of his time was spent at court, where he held a position of unexampled
influence, both on account of the favour of the queen and from his own
personal popularity. In 1596 he was, after a great many “changes of
Page 345
humour” on the queen’s part, appointed along with Lord Howard of
Effingham, Raleigh and Lord Thomas Howard, to the command of an
expedition, which was successful in defeating the Spanish fleet, capturing
and pillaging Cadiz, and destroying 53 merchant vessels. It would seem to
have been shortly after this exploit that the beginnings of a change in the
feelings of the queen towards him came into existence. On his return she
chided him that he had not followed up his successes, and though she
professed great pleasure at again seeing him in safety, and was ultimately
satisfied that the abrupt termination of the expedition was contrary to his
advice and remonstrances, she forbade him to publish anything in
justification of his conduct. She doubtless was offended at his growing
tendency to assert his independence, and jealous of his increasing
popularity with the people; but it is also probable that her strange
infatuation regarding her own charms, great as it was, scarcely prevented
her from suspecting either that his professed attachment had all along been
somewhat alloyed with considerations of personal interest, or that at least it
was now beginning to cool. Francis Bacon, at that time his most intimate
friend, endeavoured to prevent the threatened rupture by writing him a long
letter of advice; and although perseverance in a long course of feigned
action was for Essex impossible, he for some time attended pretty closely to
the hints of his mentor, so that the queen “used him most graciously.” In
1597 he was appointed master of the ordnance, and in the following year he
obtained command of an expedition against Spain, known as the Islands or
Azores Voyage. He gained some trifling successes, but as the Plate fleet
escaped him he failed of his main purpose; and when on his return the
queen met him with the usual reproaches, he retired to his home at
Wanstead. This was not what Elizabeth desired, and although she conferred
on Lord Howard of Effingham the earldom of Nottingham for services at
Cadiz, the main merit of which was justly claimed by Essex, she ultimately
held out to the latter the olive branch of peace, and condescended to soothe
Effingham, Raleigh and Lord Thomas Howard, to the command of an
expedition, which was successful in defeating the Spanish fleet, capturing
and pillaging Cadiz, and destroying 53 merchant vessels. It would seem to
have been shortly after this exploit that the beginnings of a change in the
feelings of the queen towards him came into existence. On his return she
chided him that he had not followed up his successes, and though she
professed great pleasure at again seeing him in safety, and was ultimately
satisfied that the abrupt termination of the expedition was contrary to his
advice and remonstrances, she forbade him to publish anything in
justification of his conduct. She doubtless was offended at his growing
tendency to assert his independence, and jealous of his increasing
popularity with the people; but it is also probable that her strange
infatuation regarding her own charms, great as it was, scarcely prevented
her from suspecting either that his professed attachment had all along been
somewhat alloyed with considerations of personal interest, or that at least it
was now beginning to cool. Francis Bacon, at that time his most intimate
friend, endeavoured to prevent the threatened rupture by writing him a long
letter of advice; and although perseverance in a long course of feigned
action was for Essex impossible, he for some time attended pretty closely to
the hints of his mentor, so that the queen “used him most graciously.” In
1597 he was appointed master of the ordnance, and in the following year he
obtained command of an expedition against Spain, known as the Islands or
Azores Voyage. He gained some trifling successes, but as the Plate fleet
escaped him he failed of his main purpose; and when on his return the
queen met him with the usual reproaches, he retired to his home at
Wanstead. This was not what Elizabeth desired, and although she conferred
on Lord Howard of Effingham the earldom of Nottingham for services at
Cadiz, the main merit of which was justly claimed by Essex, she ultimately
held out to the latter the olive branch of peace, and condescended to soothe
Page 346
his wounded honour by creating him earl marshal of England. That,
nevertheless, the irritated feelings neither of Essex nor of the queen were
completely healed was manifested shortly afterwards in a manner which set
propriety completely at defiance. In a discussion on the appointment of a
lord deputy to Ireland, Essex, on account of some taunting words of
Elizabeth, turned his back upon her with a gesture indicative not only of
anger but of contempt, and when she, unable to control her indignation,
slapped him on the face, he left her presence swearing that such an insult he
would not have endured even from Henry VIII.
In 1599, while Ulster was in rebellion under the earl of Tyrone, the office
of lieutenant and governor-general of Ireland was conferred on Essex, and a
large force put at his command. His campaign was an unsuccessful one, and
by acting in various ways in opposition to the commands of the queen and
the council, agreeing with Tyrone on a truce in September, and suddenly
leaving the post of duty with the object of privately vindicating himself
before the queen, he laid himself open to charges more serious than that of
mere incompetency. For these misdemeanours he was brought in June 1600
before a specially constituted court, deprived of all his high offices, and
ordered to live a prisoner in his own house during the queen’s pleasure.
Chiefly through the intercession of Bacon his liberty was shortly afterwards
restored to him, but he was ordered not to return to court. For some time he
hoped for an improvement in his prospects, but when he was refused the
renewal of his patent for sweet wines, hope was succeeded by despair, and
half maddened by wounded vanity, he made an attempt (Feb. 7, 1601) to
incite a revolution in his behalf, by parading the streets of London with 300
retainers, and shouting, “For the queen! a plot is laid for my life!” These
proceedings awakened, however, scarcely any other feelings than mild
perplexity and wonder; and finding that hope of assistance from the citizens
was vain, he returned to Essex House, where after defending himself for a
short time he surrendered. After a trial—in which Bacon, who prosecuted,
nevertheless, the irritated feelings neither of Essex nor of the queen were
completely healed was manifested shortly afterwards in a manner which set
propriety completely at defiance. In a discussion on the appointment of a
lord deputy to Ireland, Essex, on account of some taunting words of
Elizabeth, turned his back upon her with a gesture indicative not only of
anger but of contempt, and when she, unable to control her indignation,
slapped him on the face, he left her presence swearing that such an insult he
would not have endured even from Henry VIII.
In 1599, while Ulster was in rebellion under the earl of Tyrone, the office
of lieutenant and governor-general of Ireland was conferred on Essex, and a
large force put at his command. His campaign was an unsuccessful one, and
by acting in various ways in opposition to the commands of the queen and
the council, agreeing with Tyrone on a truce in September, and suddenly
leaving the post of duty with the object of privately vindicating himself
before the queen, he laid himself open to charges more serious than that of
mere incompetency. For these misdemeanours he was brought in June 1600
before a specially constituted court, deprived of all his high offices, and
ordered to live a prisoner in his own house during the queen’s pleasure.
Chiefly through the intercession of Bacon his liberty was shortly afterwards
restored to him, but he was ordered not to return to court. For some time he
hoped for an improvement in his prospects, but when he was refused the
renewal of his patent for sweet wines, hope was succeeded by despair, and
half maddened by wounded vanity, he made an attempt (Feb. 7, 1601) to
incite a revolution in his behalf, by parading the streets of London with 300
retainers, and shouting, “For the queen! a plot is laid for my life!” These
proceedings awakened, however, scarcely any other feelings than mild
perplexity and wonder; and finding that hope of assistance from the citizens
was vain, he returned to Essex House, where after defending himself for a
short time he surrendered. After a trial—in which Bacon, who prosecuted,
Page 347
delivered a speech against his quondam friend and benefactor, the bitterness
of which was quite unnecessary to secure a conviction entailing at least
very severe punishment—he was condemned to death, and notwithstanding
many alterations in Elizabeth’s mood, the sentence was carried out on the
25th of February 1601.
Essex was in person tall and well proportioned, with a countenance
which, though not strictly handsome, possessed, on account of its bold,
cheerful and amiable expression, a wonderful power of fascination. He was
a patron of literature, and himself a poet. His carriage was not very
graceful, but his manners are said to have been “courtly, grave and
exceedingly comely.” He was brave, chivalrous, impulsive, imperious
sometimes with his equals, but generous to all his dependants and incapable
of secret malice; and these virtues, which were innate and which remained
with him to the last, must be regarded as somewhat counterbalancing, in our
estimation of him, the follies and vices created by temptations which were
exceptionally strong.
See Hon. W.B. Devereux, Lives of the Earls of Essex (1853); and
Bacon and Essex, by E.A. Abbott (1877). Also the article Bacon,
Francis, and authorities there.
1 i.e. in the Devereux line.
ESSEX, ROBERT DEVEREUX, 3rd1 Earl of (1591-1646), son of the
preceding, was born in 1591. He was educated at Eton and at Merton
of which was quite unnecessary to secure a conviction entailing at least
very severe punishment—he was condemned to death, and notwithstanding
many alterations in Elizabeth’s mood, the sentence was carried out on the
25th of February 1601.
Essex was in person tall and well proportioned, with a countenance
which, though not strictly handsome, possessed, on account of its bold,
cheerful and amiable expression, a wonderful power of fascination. He was
a patron of literature, and himself a poet. His carriage was not very
graceful, but his manners are said to have been “courtly, grave and
exceedingly comely.” He was brave, chivalrous, impulsive, imperious
sometimes with his equals, but generous to all his dependants and incapable
of secret malice; and these virtues, which were innate and which remained
with him to the last, must be regarded as somewhat counterbalancing, in our
estimation of him, the follies and vices created by temptations which were
exceptionally strong.
See Hon. W.B. Devereux, Lives of the Earls of Essex (1853); and
Bacon and Essex, by E.A. Abbott (1877). Also the article Bacon,
Francis, and authorities there.
1 i.e. in the Devereux line.
ESSEX, ROBERT DEVEREUX, 3rd1 Earl of (1591-1646), son of the
preceding, was born in 1591. He was educated at Eton and at Merton
Page 348
College, Oxford. Shortly after the arrival of James I. in London, Essex
(whose title was restored, and the attainder on his father removed, in 1604)
was placed about the prince of Wales, as a sharer both in his studies and
amusements. At the early age of fifteen he was married to Frances Howard,
daughter of the earl of Suffolk, but she was his wife only in name; during
his absence abroad (1607-1609) she fell in love with Sir Robert Carr
(afterwards earl of Somerset), and on her charging her husband with
physical incapacity, the marriage was annulled in 1613. A second marriage
which he contracted in 1631 with Elizabeth, daughter of Sir William Paulet,
also ended unhappily. From 1620 to 1623 he served in the wars of the
Palatinate, and in 1625 he was vice-admiral of a fleet which made an
unsuccessful attempt to capture Cadiz. In 1639 he was lieutenant-general of
the army sent by Charles against the Scottish Covenanters; but on account
of the irresolution of the king no battle occurred, and the army was
disbanded at the end of the year. Essex was discharged “without ordinary
ceremony,” and refused an office which at that time fell vacant, “all which,”
says Clarendon, “wrought very much upon his rough, proud nature, and
made him susceptible of some impressions afterwards which otherwise
would not have found such easy admission.” Having taken the side of the
parliament against Charles, he was, on the outbreak of the civil war in 1642,
appointed to the command of the parliamentary army. At the battle of
Edgehill he remained master of the field, and in 1643 he captured Reading,
and relieved Gloucester; but in the campaign of the following year, on
account of his hesitation to fight against the king in person, nearly his
whole army fell into the hands of Charles. In 1645, on the passing of the
self-denying ordinance, providing that no member of parliament should
hold a public office, he resigned his commission; but on account of his past
services his annuity of £10,000 was continued to him for life. He died on
the 14th of September 1646, of a fever brought on by over-exertion in a
stag-hunt in Windsor Forest; his line becoming extinct.
(whose title was restored, and the attainder on his father removed, in 1604)
was placed about the prince of Wales, as a sharer both in his studies and
amusements. At the early age of fifteen he was married to Frances Howard,
daughter of the earl of Suffolk, but she was his wife only in name; during
his absence abroad (1607-1609) she fell in love with Sir Robert Carr
(afterwards earl of Somerset), and on her charging her husband with
physical incapacity, the marriage was annulled in 1613. A second marriage
which he contracted in 1631 with Elizabeth, daughter of Sir William Paulet,
also ended unhappily. From 1620 to 1623 he served in the wars of the
Palatinate, and in 1625 he was vice-admiral of a fleet which made an
unsuccessful attempt to capture Cadiz. In 1639 he was lieutenant-general of
the army sent by Charles against the Scottish Covenanters; but on account
of the irresolution of the king no battle occurred, and the army was
disbanded at the end of the year. Essex was discharged “without ordinary
ceremony,” and refused an office which at that time fell vacant, “all which,”
says Clarendon, “wrought very much upon his rough, proud nature, and
made him susceptible of some impressions afterwards which otherwise
would not have found such easy admission.” Having taken the side of the
parliament against Charles, he was, on the outbreak of the civil war in 1642,
appointed to the command of the parliamentary army. At the battle of
Edgehill he remained master of the field, and in 1643 he captured Reading,
and relieved Gloucester; but in the campaign of the following year, on
account of his hesitation to fight against the king in person, nearly his
whole army fell into the hands of Charles. In 1645, on the passing of the
self-denying ordinance, providing that no member of parliament should
hold a public office, he resigned his commission; but on account of his past
services his annuity of £10,000 was continued to him for life. He died on
the 14th of September 1646, of a fever brought on by over-exertion in a
stag-hunt in Windsor Forest; his line becoming extinct.
Page 349
See the “Life of Robert Earl of Essex,” by Robert Codrington, M.A.,
printed in Hart. Misc.; Clarendon’s History of the Rebellion, and Hon.
W.B. Devereux, Lives of the Earls of Essex (1853).
1 i.e. in the Devereux line.
ESSEX, WALTER DEVEREUX, 1st1 Earl of (1541-1576), the eldest
son of Sir Richard Devereux, was born in 1541. His grandfather was the
2nd Baron Ferrers, who was created Viscount Hereford in 1550 and by his
mother was a nephew of Henry Bourchier, a former earl of Essex. Walter
Devereux succeeded as 2nd Viscount Hereford in 1558, and in 1561 or
1562 married Lettice, daughter of Sir Francis Knollys. In 1569 he served as
high marshal of the field under the earl of Warwick and Lord Clinton, and
materially assisted them in suppressing the northern insurrection. For his
zeal in the service of Queen Elizabeth on this and other occasions, he in
1572 received the Garter and was created earl of Essex, the title which
formerly belonged to the Bourchier family. Eager to give proof of “his good
devotion to employ himself in the service of her majesty,” he offered on
certain conditions to subdue and colonize, at his own expense, a portion of
the Irish province of Ulster, at that time completely under the dominion of
the rebel O’Neills, under Sir Brian MacPhelim and Tirlogh Luineach, with
the Scots under their leader Sorley Boy MacDonnell. His offer, with certain
modifications, was accepted, and he set sail for Ireland in July 1573,
accompanied by a number of earls, knights and gentlemen, and with a force
of about 1200 men. The beginning of his enterprise was inauspicious, for on
printed in Hart. Misc.; Clarendon’s History of the Rebellion, and Hon.
W.B. Devereux, Lives of the Earls of Essex (1853).
1 i.e. in the Devereux line.
ESSEX, WALTER DEVEREUX, 1st1 Earl of (1541-1576), the eldest
son of Sir Richard Devereux, was born in 1541. His grandfather was the
2nd Baron Ferrers, who was created Viscount Hereford in 1550 and by his
mother was a nephew of Henry Bourchier, a former earl of Essex. Walter
Devereux succeeded as 2nd Viscount Hereford in 1558, and in 1561 or
1562 married Lettice, daughter of Sir Francis Knollys. In 1569 he served as
high marshal of the field under the earl of Warwick and Lord Clinton, and
materially assisted them in suppressing the northern insurrection. For his
zeal in the service of Queen Elizabeth on this and other occasions, he in
1572 received the Garter and was created earl of Essex, the title which
formerly belonged to the Bourchier family. Eager to give proof of “his good
devotion to employ himself in the service of her majesty,” he offered on
certain conditions to subdue and colonize, at his own expense, a portion of
the Irish province of Ulster, at that time completely under the dominion of
the rebel O’Neills, under Sir Brian MacPhelim and Tirlogh Luineach, with
the Scots under their leader Sorley Boy MacDonnell. His offer, with certain
modifications, was accepted, and he set sail for Ireland in July 1573,
accompanied by a number of earls, knights and gentlemen, and with a force
of about 1200 men. The beginning of his enterprise was inauspicious, for on
Page 350
account of a storm which dispersed his fleet and drove some of his vessels
as far as Cork and the Isle of Man, his forces did not all reach the place of
rendezvous till late in the autumn, and he was compelled to entrench
himself at Belfast for the winter. Here, by sickness, famine and desertions,
his troops were diminished to little more than 200 men. Intrigues of various
sorts, and fighting of a guerilla type, followed with disappointing results,
and Essex had difficulties both with the deputy Fitzwilliam and with the
queen. Essex was in straits himself, and his offensive movements in Ulster
took the form of raids and brutal massacres among the O’Neills; in October
1574 he treacherously captured MacPhelim at a conference in Belfast, and
after slaughtering his attendants had him and his wife and brother executed
at Dublin. Elizabeth, instigated apparently by Leicester, after encouraging
Essex to prepare to attack the Irish chief Tirlogh Luineach, suddenly
commanded him to “break off his enterprise”; but, as she left him a certain
discretionary power, he took advantage of it to defeat Tirlogh Luineach,
chastise Antrim, and massacre several hundreds of Sorley Boy’s following,
chiefly women and children, discovered hiding in the caves of Rathlin. He
returned to England in the end of 1575, resolved “to live henceforth an
untroubled life”; but he was ultimately persuaded to accept the offer of the
queen to make him earl marshal of Ireland. He arrived in Dublin in
September 1576, and three weeks afterwards died of dysentery. There were
suspicions that he had been poisoned by Leicester, who shortly after his
death married his widow, but these were not confirmed by the post-mortem
examination. The endeavours of Essex to better the condition of Ireland
were a dismal failure; and the massacres of the O’Neills and of the Scots of
Rathlin leave a dark stain on his reputation.
See Sidney Lee’s article in the Dict. Nat. Biog.; Lives of the
Devereux Earls of Essex, by Hon. Walter B. Devereux (1853); Froude’s
History of England, vol. x.; J.S. Brewer, Athenaeum (1870), part i. pp.
261, 326.
as far as Cork and the Isle of Man, his forces did not all reach the place of
rendezvous till late in the autumn, and he was compelled to entrench
himself at Belfast for the winter. Here, by sickness, famine and desertions,
his troops were diminished to little more than 200 men. Intrigues of various
sorts, and fighting of a guerilla type, followed with disappointing results,
and Essex had difficulties both with the deputy Fitzwilliam and with the
queen. Essex was in straits himself, and his offensive movements in Ulster
took the form of raids and brutal massacres among the O’Neills; in October
1574 he treacherously captured MacPhelim at a conference in Belfast, and
after slaughtering his attendants had him and his wife and brother executed
at Dublin. Elizabeth, instigated apparently by Leicester, after encouraging
Essex to prepare to attack the Irish chief Tirlogh Luineach, suddenly
commanded him to “break off his enterprise”; but, as she left him a certain
discretionary power, he took advantage of it to defeat Tirlogh Luineach,
chastise Antrim, and massacre several hundreds of Sorley Boy’s following,
chiefly women and children, discovered hiding in the caves of Rathlin. He
returned to England in the end of 1575, resolved “to live henceforth an
untroubled life”; but he was ultimately persuaded to accept the offer of the
queen to make him earl marshal of Ireland. He arrived in Dublin in
September 1576, and three weeks afterwards died of dysentery. There were
suspicions that he had been poisoned by Leicester, who shortly after his
death married his widow, but these were not confirmed by the post-mortem
examination. The endeavours of Essex to better the condition of Ireland
were a dismal failure; and the massacres of the O’Neills and of the Scots of
Rathlin leave a dark stain on his reputation.
See Sidney Lee’s article in the Dict. Nat. Biog.; Lives of the
Devereux Earls of Essex, by Hon. Walter B. Devereux (1853); Froude’s
History of England, vol. x.; J.S. Brewer, Athenaeum (1870), part i. pp.
261, 326.
Page 351
1 i.e. in the Devereux line.
ESSEX, an eastern county of England, bounded N. by Cambridgeshire
and Suffolk, E. by the North Sea, S. by the Thames, dividing it from Kent,
W. by the administrative county of London and by Hertfordshire. Its area is
1542 sq. m. Its configuration is sufficiently indicated by the direction of its
rivers. Except that in the N.W. the county includes the heads of a few
valleys draining northward to the Cam and so to the Great Ouse, all the
streams, which are never of great size, run southward and eastward, either
into the Thames, or into the North Sea by way of the broad, shallow
estuaries which ramify through the flat coast lands. The highest ground lies
consequently in the north-west, between the Cam basin and the rivers of the
county. Its principal southward extension is that between the Lea (which
with its tributary the Stort forms a great part of the western boundary) and
the Roding, and east of the Roding valley. The other chief rivers may be
specified according to their estuaries, following the coast northward from
Shoeburyness at the Thames mouth. That of the Roach ramifies among
several islands of which Foulness is the largest, but its main branch joins
the Crouch estuary. Next follows the Blackwater, which receives the
Chelmer, the Brain and other streams. Following a coast of numerous
creeks and islets, with the large island of Mersea, the Colne estuary is
reached. The Colne and Blackwater may be said to form one large estuary,
as they enter the sea by a well-marked common mouth, 5 m. in width,
between Sales Point and Colne Point. There is a great irregular inlet
(Hamford Water) receiving no large stream, W. of the Naze promontory, and
ESSEX, an eastern county of England, bounded N. by Cambridgeshire
and Suffolk, E. by the North Sea, S. by the Thames, dividing it from Kent,
W. by the administrative county of London and by Hertfordshire. Its area is
1542 sq. m. Its configuration is sufficiently indicated by the direction of its
rivers. Except that in the N.W. the county includes the heads of a few
valleys draining northward to the Cam and so to the Great Ouse, all the
streams, which are never of great size, run southward and eastward, either
into the Thames, or into the North Sea by way of the broad, shallow
estuaries which ramify through the flat coast lands. The highest ground lies
consequently in the north-west, between the Cam basin and the rivers of the
county. Its principal southward extension is that between the Lea (which
with its tributary the Stort forms a great part of the western boundary) and
the Roding, and east of the Roding valley. The other chief rivers may be
specified according to their estuaries, following the coast northward from
Shoeburyness at the Thames mouth. That of the Roach ramifies among
several islands of which Foulness is the largest, but its main branch joins
the Crouch estuary. Next follows the Blackwater, which receives the
Chelmer, the Brain and other streams. Following a coast of numerous
creeks and islets, with the large island of Mersea, the Colne estuary is
reached. The Colne and Blackwater may be said to form one large estuary,
as they enter the sea by a well-marked common mouth, 5 m. in width,
between Sales Point and Colne Point. There is a great irregular inlet
(Hamford Water) receiving no large stream, W. of the Naze promontory, and
Page 352
then the Stour, bounding the county on the north, joins its estuary to that of
the Orwell near the sea. There are several seaside watering-places in favour
owing to their proximity to London, of which Southend-on-Sea above the
mouth of the Thames, Clacton-on-Sea, Walton-on-the-Naze, and
Dovercourt adjoining Harwich are the chief. These and other stations on the
estuaries are also in favour with yachtsmen. The sea has at some points
seriously encroached upon the land within historic times. The low soft cliffs
at various points are liable to give way against the waves; in other parts
dykes and embankments are necessary to prevent inundation. Inland, that is
apart from the flat coast-district, the country is pleasantly undulating and
for the most part well wooded. It was formerly, indeed, almost wholly
forested, the great Waltham Forest stretching from Colchester to the
confines of London. Of this a fragment is preserved in Epping Forest (see
Epping) between the Lea and the Roding. On the other side of the Roding
Hainault Forest is traceable, but was disafforested in 1851. The oak is the
principal tree; a noteworthy example was that of Fairlop in Hainault, which
measured 45 ft. in girth, but was blown down in 1820.
Geology.—The geological structure of the county is very simple: the
greater part is occupied by the London clay with underlying Reading
beds and Thanet sands, with here and there small patches of Bagshot
gravels on elevated tracts, as at High Beech, Langdon Hill, Brentwood
and Rayleigh; and occasionally the same beds are represented by the
large boulder-like Sarsen stones on the lower ground. In the north, the
chalk, which underlies the Tertiary strata over the whole county,
appears at the surface and forms the downs about Saffron Walden,
Birdbrook and Great Yeldham; it is brought up again by a small
disturbance at Grays Thurrock where it is quarried on a large scale for
lime, cement and whiting. Small patches of Pleistocene Red Crag rest
upon the Eocene strata at Beaumont and Oakley, and are very well
exposed at Walton-on-the-Naze where they are very fossiliferous. Most
the Orwell near the sea. There are several seaside watering-places in favour
owing to their proximity to London, of which Southend-on-Sea above the
mouth of the Thames, Clacton-on-Sea, Walton-on-the-Naze, and
Dovercourt adjoining Harwich are the chief. These and other stations on the
estuaries are also in favour with yachtsmen. The sea has at some points
seriously encroached upon the land within historic times. The low soft cliffs
at various points are liable to give way against the waves; in other parts
dykes and embankments are necessary to prevent inundation. Inland, that is
apart from the flat coast-district, the country is pleasantly undulating and
for the most part well wooded. It was formerly, indeed, almost wholly
forested, the great Waltham Forest stretching from Colchester to the
confines of London. Of this a fragment is preserved in Epping Forest (see
Epping) between the Lea and the Roding. On the other side of the Roding
Hainault Forest is traceable, but was disafforested in 1851. The oak is the
principal tree; a noteworthy example was that of Fairlop in Hainault, which
measured 45 ft. in girth, but was blown down in 1820.
Geology.—The geological structure of the county is very simple: the
greater part is occupied by the London clay with underlying Reading
beds and Thanet sands, with here and there small patches of Bagshot
gravels on elevated tracts, as at High Beech, Langdon Hill, Brentwood
and Rayleigh; and occasionally the same beds are represented by the
large boulder-like Sarsen stones on the lower ground. In the north, the
chalk, which underlies the Tertiary strata over the whole county,
appears at the surface and forms the downs about Saffron Walden,
Birdbrook and Great Yeldham; it is brought up again by a small
disturbance at Grays Thurrock where it is quarried on a large scale for
lime, cement and whiting. Small patches of Pleistocene Red Crag rest
upon the Eocene strata at Beaumont and Oakley, and are very well
exposed at Walton-on-the-Naze where they are very fossiliferous. Most
Page 353
of the county is covered by a superficial deposit of glacial drifts, sands,
gravel and in places boulder clay, as at Epping, Dunmow and
Hornchurch where the drift lies beneath the Thames gravel. An
interesting feature in relation to the glacial drift is a deep trough in the
Cam valley revealed by borings to be no less than 340 ft. deep at
Newport; this ancient valley is filled with drift. In the southern part of
the county are broad spreads of gravel and brick earth, formed by the
Thames; these have been excavated for brick-making and building
purposes about Ilford, Romford and Grays, and have yielded the
remains of hippopotamus, rhinoceros and mammoth. More recent
alluvial deposits are found in the valley at Walthamstow and Tilbury, in
which the remains of the beaver have been discovered.
The roads of this county with a clay soil foundation were for
generations repaired with flints picked by women and children from
the surface of the fields. Gravel is difficult of access. With the
exception of chalk for lime (mainly obtained at Ballingdon in the north
and Grays in the south), septaria for making cement, and clay for
bricks, the underground riches of the county are meagre.
Agriculture.—As an agricultural county Essex ranks high. Some four-
fifths of the total area is under cultivation, and about one-third of that area
is in permanent pasture. Wheat, barley and oats, in that relative order, are
the principal grain crops, Essex being one of the chief grain-producing
counties. The wheat and barley are in particularly high favour, the wheat of
various standard species being exported for seed purposes, while the barley
is especially useful in malting. Beans and peas are largely grown, as are
vegetables for the London market. Hop-growing was once important. From
the comparative dryness of the climate Essex does not excel in pasturage,
and winter grazing receives the more attention. The numbers of cattle
increase steadily, and store bullocks are introduced in large numbers from
gravel and in places boulder clay, as at Epping, Dunmow and
Hornchurch where the drift lies beneath the Thames gravel. An
interesting feature in relation to the glacial drift is a deep trough in the
Cam valley revealed by borings to be no less than 340 ft. deep at
Newport; this ancient valley is filled with drift. In the southern part of
the county are broad spreads of gravel and brick earth, formed by the
Thames; these have been excavated for brick-making and building
purposes about Ilford, Romford and Grays, and have yielded the
remains of hippopotamus, rhinoceros and mammoth. More recent
alluvial deposits are found in the valley at Walthamstow and Tilbury, in
which the remains of the beaver have been discovered.
The roads of this county with a clay soil foundation were for
generations repaired with flints picked by women and children from
the surface of the fields. Gravel is difficult of access. With the
exception of chalk for lime (mainly obtained at Ballingdon in the north
and Grays in the south), septaria for making cement, and clay for
bricks, the underground riches of the county are meagre.
Agriculture.—As an agricultural county Essex ranks high. Some four-
fifths of the total area is under cultivation, and about one-third of that area
is in permanent pasture. Wheat, barley and oats, in that relative order, are
the principal grain crops, Essex being one of the chief grain-producing
counties. The wheat and barley are in particularly high favour, the wheat of
various standard species being exported for seed purposes, while the barley
is especially useful in malting. Beans and peas are largely grown, as are
vegetables for the London market. Hop-growing was once important. From
the comparative dryness of the climate Essex does not excel in pasturage,
and winter grazing receives the more attention. The numbers of cattle
increase steadily, and store bullocks are introduced in large numbers from
Page 354
Norfolk, Lincolnshire, Ireland and Wales. Of sheep there are but few
distinct flocks, and the numbers decrease. Pigs are generally of a high-class
Berkshire type.
Other Industries.—The south-west of the county, being contiguous to
London, is very densely populated, and is the seat of large and varied
industries. For example, there are numbers of chemical works, the extensive
engine shops and works of the Great Eastern railway at Stratford,
government powder works in the vicinity of Waltham Abbey, and powder
stores at Purfleet on the Thames. The extensive water-works for east
London, by the Lea near Walthamstow, may also be mentioned. The docks
at Plaistow and Tilbury on the Thames employ many hands. Apart from this
industrial district, there are considerable engineering works, especially for
agricultural implements, at Chelmsford, Colchester and elsewhere; several
silk works, as at Braintree and Halstead; large breweries, as at Brentwood,
Chelmsford and Romford; and lime and cement works at Grays Thurrock.
The oyster-beds of the Colne produce the famous Colchester natives, and
there are similar beds in the Crouch and Roach, for which Burnham-on-
Crouch is the centre; and in the Blackwater (Maldon).
Communications.—Railway communications are supplied principally by
the Great Eastern railway, of which the main line runs by Stratford, Ilford,
Romford, Brentwood, Chelmsford, Witham, Colchester, and Manningtree.
The Cambridge and northern line of this company, following the Lea valley,
does not touch the county until it diverges along the valley of the Stort. The
chief branches are those to Southend and Burnham, Witham to Maldon,
Colchester to Brightlingsea, to Clacton and to Walton, and Manningtree to
Harwich, on the coast; and Witham to Braintree and Bishop’s Stortford, and
Mark’s Tey to Sudbury and beyond, inland; while there are several branch
lines among the manufacturing and residential suburbs in the south-west, to
Walthamstow and Buckhurst Hill, Chigwell, Loughton, Epping, Ongar, &c.
distinct flocks, and the numbers decrease. Pigs are generally of a high-class
Berkshire type.
Other Industries.—The south-west of the county, being contiguous to
London, is very densely populated, and is the seat of large and varied
industries. For example, there are numbers of chemical works, the extensive
engine shops and works of the Great Eastern railway at Stratford,
government powder works in the vicinity of Waltham Abbey, and powder
stores at Purfleet on the Thames. The extensive water-works for east
London, by the Lea near Walthamstow, may also be mentioned. The docks
at Plaistow and Tilbury on the Thames employ many hands. Apart from this
industrial district, there are considerable engineering works, especially for
agricultural implements, at Chelmsford, Colchester and elsewhere; several
silk works, as at Braintree and Halstead; large breweries, as at Brentwood,
Chelmsford and Romford; and lime and cement works at Grays Thurrock.
The oyster-beds of the Colne produce the famous Colchester natives, and
there are similar beds in the Crouch and Roach, for which Burnham-on-
Crouch is the centre; and in the Blackwater (Maldon).
Communications.—Railway communications are supplied principally by
the Great Eastern railway, of which the main line runs by Stratford, Ilford,
Romford, Brentwood, Chelmsford, Witham, Colchester, and Manningtree.
The Cambridge and northern line of this company, following the Lea valley,
does not touch the county until it diverges along the valley of the Stort. The
chief branches are those to Southend and Burnham, Witham to Maldon,
Colchester to Brightlingsea, to Clacton and to Walton, and Manningtree to
Harwich, on the coast; and Witham to Braintree and Bishop’s Stortford, and
Mark’s Tey to Sudbury and beyond, inland; while there are several branch
lines among the manufacturing and residential suburbs in the south-west, to
Walthamstow and Buckhurst Hill, Chigwell, Loughton, Epping, Ongar, &c.
Page 355
The London, Tilbury & Southend railway, following the Thames, serves the
places named, and the Colne Valley railway runs from Chappel junction
near Mark’s Tey by Halstead to Haverhill.
On the Thames, besides the great docks at Plaistow (Victoria and Albert)
and the deep-water docks at Tilbury, the principal calling places for vessels
are Grays, Purfleet and Southend, while Barking on the Roding has also
shipping trade, and the Lea affords important water-connexions. Elsewhere,
the principal port is Harwich, at the mouth of the Stour, one of the chief
ports of England for European passenger traffic. Other towns ranking as
lesser estuarine ports are: Brightlingsea and Wivenhoe on the Colne,
forming a member of the Cinque Port of Sandwich; Colchester, Maldon on
the Blackwater, and Burnham-on-Crouch. The Stour, Chelmer, and Lea and
Stort are the principal navigable inland waterways.
Population and Administration.—The area of the ancient county is
986,975 acres, with a population in 1891 of 785,445 and in 1901 of
1,085,771. The area of the administrative county is 979,532 acres. The
county contains nineteen hundreds. It is divided into eight parliamentary
divisions, and it also includes the parliamentary boroughs of Colchester and
West Ham, the latter consisting of two divisions. Each of these returns one
member. The county divisions are—Northern or Saffron Walden, North-
eastern or Harwich, Eastern or Maldon, Western or Epping, Mid or
Chelmsford, South-eastern, Southern or Romford, South-western or
Walthamstow, returning one member each. The municipal boroughs are—
Chelmsford (12,580), Colchester (38,373), East Ham (96,018), Harwich
(10,070), Maldon(5565), Saffron Walden (5896), Southend-on-Sea
(28,857), and one county borough, West Ham (267,358). The following are
the other urban districts—Barking Town (21,547), Braintree (5330),
Brentwood (4932), Brightlingsea (4501), Buckhurst Hill (4786), Burnham-
on-Crouch (2919), Chingford (4373), Clacton (7456), Epping (3789),
places named, and the Colne Valley railway runs from Chappel junction
near Mark’s Tey by Halstead to Haverhill.
On the Thames, besides the great docks at Plaistow (Victoria and Albert)
and the deep-water docks at Tilbury, the principal calling places for vessels
are Grays, Purfleet and Southend, while Barking on the Roding has also
shipping trade, and the Lea affords important water-connexions. Elsewhere,
the principal port is Harwich, at the mouth of the Stour, one of the chief
ports of England for European passenger traffic. Other towns ranking as
lesser estuarine ports are: Brightlingsea and Wivenhoe on the Colne,
forming a member of the Cinque Port of Sandwich; Colchester, Maldon on
the Blackwater, and Burnham-on-Crouch. The Stour, Chelmer, and Lea and
Stort are the principal navigable inland waterways.
Population and Administration.—The area of the ancient county is
986,975 acres, with a population in 1891 of 785,445 and in 1901 of
1,085,771. The area of the administrative county is 979,532 acres. The
county contains nineteen hundreds. It is divided into eight parliamentary
divisions, and it also includes the parliamentary boroughs of Colchester and
West Ham, the latter consisting of two divisions. Each of these returns one
member. The county divisions are—Northern or Saffron Walden, North-
eastern or Harwich, Eastern or Maldon, Western or Epping, Mid or
Chelmsford, South-eastern, Southern or Romford, South-western or
Walthamstow, returning one member each. The municipal boroughs are—
Chelmsford (12,580), Colchester (38,373), East Ham (96,018), Harwich
(10,070), Maldon(5565), Saffron Walden (5896), Southend-on-Sea
(28,857), and one county borough, West Ham (267,358). The following are
the other urban districts—Barking Town (21,547), Braintree (5330),
Brentwood (4932), Brightlingsea (4501), Buckhurst Hill (4786), Burnham-
on-Crouch (2919), Chingford (4373), Clacton (7456), Epping (3789),
Page 356
Frinton-on-Sea (644), Grays Thurrock (13,834), Halstead (6073), Ilford
(41,234), Leigh-on-Sea (3667), Leyton (98,912), Loughton (4730),
Romford (13,656), Shoeburyness (4081), Waltham Holy Cross (6549),
Walthamstow (95,131), Walton-on-the-Naze (2014), Wanstead (9179),
Witham (3454), Wivenhoe (2560), Woodford (13,798). Essex is in the
South-eastern circuit, and assizes are held at Chelmsford. The boroughs of
Harwich and Southend-on-Sea have separate commissions of the peace, and
the boroughs of Colchester, Maldon, Saffron Walden and West Ham have,
in addition, separate courts of quarter sessions. The county is
ecclesiastically within the diocese of St Albans (with a small portion within
that of Ely) and is divided into two archdeaconries; containing 452 parishes
or districts wholly or in part. There are 399 civil parishes.
There is a military station and depot for recruits at Warley, and a garrison
at Tilbury. At Shoeburyness there are a school of gunnery and an extensive
ground for testing government artillery of the largest calibre.
History (see also below under Essex, Kingdom of).—Essex probably
originated as a shire in the time of Æthelstan. According to the Domesday
Survey it comprised nineteen hundreds, corresponding very closely in
extent and in name with those of the present day. The additional half-
hundred of Thunreslan on the Suffolk border has disappeared;
Witbrictesherna is now Dengie; and the liberty of Havering-atte-Bower
appears to have been taken out of Becontree. Essex and Hertfordshire were
under one sheriff until the time of Elizabeth. At the time of the Survey
Count Eustace held a vast fief in Essex, and the court of the Honour of
Boulogne was held at Witham. Bentry Heath in Dagenham, Hundred Heath
in Tendring and Castle Hedingham in Hinckford were the meeting-places of
their respective hundreds. The stewardship of the forest of Essex was held
by the earls of Oxford until deprived of it for adherence to the Lancastrian
(41,234), Leigh-on-Sea (3667), Leyton (98,912), Loughton (4730),
Romford (13,656), Shoeburyness (4081), Waltham Holy Cross (6549),
Walthamstow (95,131), Walton-on-the-Naze (2014), Wanstead (9179),
Witham (3454), Wivenhoe (2560), Woodford (13,798). Essex is in the
South-eastern circuit, and assizes are held at Chelmsford. The boroughs of
Harwich and Southend-on-Sea have separate commissions of the peace, and
the boroughs of Colchester, Maldon, Saffron Walden and West Ham have,
in addition, separate courts of quarter sessions. The county is
ecclesiastically within the diocese of St Albans (with a small portion within
that of Ely) and is divided into two archdeaconries; containing 452 parishes
or districts wholly or in part. There are 399 civil parishes.
There is a military station and depot for recruits at Warley, and a garrison
at Tilbury. At Shoeburyness there are a school of gunnery and an extensive
ground for testing government artillery of the largest calibre.
History (see also below under Essex, Kingdom of).—Essex probably
originated as a shire in the time of Æthelstan. According to the Domesday
Survey it comprised nineteen hundreds, corresponding very closely in
extent and in name with those of the present day. The additional half-
hundred of Thunreslan on the Suffolk border has disappeared;
Witbrictesherna is now Dengie; and the liberty of Havering-atte-Bower
appears to have been taken out of Becontree. Essex and Hertfordshire were
under one sheriff until the time of Elizabeth. At the time of the Survey
Count Eustace held a vast fief in Essex, and the court of the Honour of
Boulogne was held at Witham. Bentry Heath in Dagenham, Hundred Heath
in Tendring and Castle Hedingham in Hinckford were the meeting-places of
their respective hundreds. The stewardship of the forest of Essex was held
by the earls of Oxford until deprived of it for adherence to the Lancastrian
Page 357
cause. In 1421 certain parts of Essex inherited by Henry V. from his mother
were brought under the jurisdiction of the duchy of Lancaster.
Essex was part of the see of London from the time of the foundation of
the bishopric in the 7th century. The archdeaconries are first mentioned in
1108; that of Essex extended over the south of the county and in 1291
included eight deaneries; the north of the county was divided between the
archdeaconries of Middlesex and Colchester, comprising three and six
deaneries respectively. Colchester was constituted a suffragan bishopric by
Henry VIII. In 1836 Essex was transferred to the diocese of Rochester, with
the exception of nine parishes which remained in London. In 1845 the
archdeacon of Middlesex ceased to exercise control in Essex, and the
deaneries were readjusted. In 1875 Essex was transferred to the newly
created diocese of St Albans, and in 1877 the archdeaconry of Essex was
subdivided into eighteen deaneries and that of Colchester into sixteen.
Owing to its proximity to the capital Essex was intimately associated
with all the great historical struggles. The nobility of Essex took a leading
part in the struggle for the charter, and of the twenty-four guardians of the
charter, four were Essex barons. The castles of Pleshey, Colchester, and
Hedingham were held against the king in the Barons’ War of the reign of
Henry III., and 5000 Essex men joined the peasant rising of 1381. During
the Wars of the Roses the Lancastrian cause was supported by the de Veres,
while the Bourchiers and Lord Fitz-Walter were among the Yorkist leaders.
Several Essex men were concerned in the Gunpowder Plot, and in the Civil
War of the 17th century the county rendered valuable aid to the parliament.
After the Conquest no Englishman retained estates in Essex of any
importance, and the chief lay barons at the time of the Survey were
Geoffrey de Mandeville and Aubrey de Vere. The de Veres, earls of Oxford,
were continuously connected with the county until the extinction of the title
two centuries ago. Pleshey was the stronghold of the Mandevilles, and,
were brought under the jurisdiction of the duchy of Lancaster.
Essex was part of the see of London from the time of the foundation of
the bishopric in the 7th century. The archdeaconries are first mentioned in
1108; that of Essex extended over the south of the county and in 1291
included eight deaneries; the north of the county was divided between the
archdeaconries of Middlesex and Colchester, comprising three and six
deaneries respectively. Colchester was constituted a suffragan bishopric by
Henry VIII. In 1836 Essex was transferred to the diocese of Rochester, with
the exception of nine parishes which remained in London. In 1845 the
archdeacon of Middlesex ceased to exercise control in Essex, and the
deaneries were readjusted. In 1875 Essex was transferred to the newly
created diocese of St Albans, and in 1877 the archdeaconry of Essex was
subdivided into eighteen deaneries and that of Colchester into sixteen.
Owing to its proximity to the capital Essex was intimately associated
with all the great historical struggles. The nobility of Essex took a leading
part in the struggle for the charter, and of the twenty-four guardians of the
charter, four were Essex barons. The castles of Pleshey, Colchester, and
Hedingham were held against the king in the Barons’ War of the reign of
Henry III., and 5000 Essex men joined the peasant rising of 1381. During
the Wars of the Roses the Lancastrian cause was supported by the de Veres,
while the Bourchiers and Lord Fitz-Walter were among the Yorkist leaders.
Several Essex men were concerned in the Gunpowder Plot, and in the Civil
War of the 17th century the county rendered valuable aid to the parliament.
After the Conquest no Englishman retained estates in Essex of any
importance, and the chief lay barons at the time of the Survey were
Geoffrey de Mandeville and Aubrey de Vere. The de Veres, earls of Oxford,
were continuously connected with the county until the extinction of the title
two centuries ago. Pleshey was the stronghold of the Mandevilles, and,
Page 358
although the house became extinct in 1189, its descendants in the female
line retained the title of earls of Essex. The Honour of Hatfield Peverel held
by Ranulf Peverel after the Conquest escheated to the crown in the reign of
Henry I., and in the same reign the fief of Robert Gernon passed to the
house of Mountfichet.
Essex has always been mainly an agricultural county, and the ordinary
agricultural pursuits were carried on at the time of the Domesday Survey,
which also mentions salt-making, wine-making, bee-culture and cheese-
making, while the oyster fisheries have been famous from the earliest
historic times. The woollen industry dates back to Saxon times, and for
many centuries ranked as the most important industry. Cloth-weaving was
introduced in the 14th century, and in the 16th century Colchester was noted
for its “bays and says.” Colchester also possessed a valuable leather
industry in the 16th century, at which period Essex was considered an
exceptionally wealthy and prosperous county; Norden, writing in 1594,
describes it as “moste fatt, frutefull, and full of all profitable things.” The
decline of the cloth industry in the 17th century caused great distress, but a
number of smaller industries began to take its place. Saffron-culture and
silk-weaving were extensively carried on in the 17th century, and the 18th
century saw the introduction of the straw-plait industry, potash-making,
calico-printing, malting and brewing, and the manufacture of Roman
cement.
The county returned four members to parliament in 1290. From 1295 it
returned two members for the county and two for Colchester. Maldon
acquired representation in 1331 and Harwich in 1604. Under the Reform
Act of 1832 the county returned four members in four divisions. Under the
Representation of the People Act of 1868 Maldon and Harwich each lost
one member, and the county returned six members in three divisions.
line retained the title of earls of Essex. The Honour of Hatfield Peverel held
by Ranulf Peverel after the Conquest escheated to the crown in the reign of
Henry I., and in the same reign the fief of Robert Gernon passed to the
house of Mountfichet.
Essex has always been mainly an agricultural county, and the ordinary
agricultural pursuits were carried on at the time of the Domesday Survey,
which also mentions salt-making, wine-making, bee-culture and cheese-
making, while the oyster fisheries have been famous from the earliest
historic times. The woollen industry dates back to Saxon times, and for
many centuries ranked as the most important industry. Cloth-weaving was
introduced in the 14th century, and in the 16th century Colchester was noted
for its “bays and says.” Colchester also possessed a valuable leather
industry in the 16th century, at which period Essex was considered an
exceptionally wealthy and prosperous county; Norden, writing in 1594,
describes it as “moste fatt, frutefull, and full of all profitable things.” The
decline of the cloth industry in the 17th century caused great distress, but a
number of smaller industries began to take its place. Saffron-culture and
silk-weaving were extensively carried on in the 17th century, and the 18th
century saw the introduction of the straw-plait industry, potash-making,
calico-printing, malting and brewing, and the manufacture of Roman
cement.
The county returned four members to parliament in 1290. From 1295 it
returned two members for the county and two for Colchester. Maldon
acquired representation in 1331 and Harwich in 1604. Under the Reform
Act of 1832 the county returned four members in four divisions. Under the
Representation of the People Act of 1868 Maldon and Harwich each lost
one member, and the county returned six members in three divisions.
Page 359
Antiquities.—It is supposed by many antiquaries that Saxon masonry can
be detected in the foundations of several of the Essex churches, but, with
the exception of Ashingdon church tower, believed to have been erected by
Canute after his victory over Edmund Ironside, there is no obviously
recognizable building belonging to that period. This is probably to be in
part ascribed to the fact that the comparative scarcity of stone and the
unusual abundance of timber led to the extensive employment of the latter
material. Several of the Essex churches, as Blackmore, Mountnessing,
Margaretting, and South Benfleet, have massive porches and towers of
timber; and St Andrew’s church, Greenstead, with its walls of solid oak,
continues an almost unique example of its kind. Of the four round churches
in England one is in Essex at Little Maplestead; it is both the smallest and
the latest. The churches of South Weald, Hadleigh, Blackmore, Heybridge
and Hadstock may be mentioned as containing Norman work; with the
church of Castle Hedingham for its fine Transitional work; Southchurch,
Danbury and Boreham as being partly Early English; Ingatestone, Stebbing
and Tilty for specimens of Decorated architecture; and Messing, Thaxted,
Saffron Walden, and the church of St Peter ad Vincula at the small town of
Coggeshall, near Colchester, as specimens of Perpendicular. Stained glass
windows have left their traces in several of the churches, the finest remains
being those of Margaretting, which represent a tree of Jesse and the daisy or
herb Margaret. Paintings have evidently been largely used for internal
decoration: a remarkable series, probably of the 12th century, but much
restored in the 14th, exists in the chancel of Copford church; and in the
church at Ingatestone there was discovered in 1868 an almost unique fresco
representation of the seven deadly sins. The oldest brasses preserved in the
county are those of Sir William Fitz-Ralph at Pebmarsh, about 1323;
Richard of Beltown, at Corringham, 1340; Sir John Gifford, at Bowers
Gifford, 1348; Ralph de Kneyton, at Aveley, 1370; Robert de Swynbourne,
at Little Horkesley, 1391; and Sir Ingelram de Bruyn, at South Ockendon,
be detected in the foundations of several of the Essex churches, but, with
the exception of Ashingdon church tower, believed to have been erected by
Canute after his victory over Edmund Ironside, there is no obviously
recognizable building belonging to that period. This is probably to be in
part ascribed to the fact that the comparative scarcity of stone and the
unusual abundance of timber led to the extensive employment of the latter
material. Several of the Essex churches, as Blackmore, Mountnessing,
Margaretting, and South Benfleet, have massive porches and towers of
timber; and St Andrew’s church, Greenstead, with its walls of solid oak,
continues an almost unique example of its kind. Of the four round churches
in England one is in Essex at Little Maplestead; it is both the smallest and
the latest. The churches of South Weald, Hadleigh, Blackmore, Heybridge
and Hadstock may be mentioned as containing Norman work; with the
church of Castle Hedingham for its fine Transitional work; Southchurch,
Danbury and Boreham as being partly Early English; Ingatestone, Stebbing
and Tilty for specimens of Decorated architecture; and Messing, Thaxted,
Saffron Walden, and the church of St Peter ad Vincula at the small town of
Coggeshall, near Colchester, as specimens of Perpendicular. Stained glass
windows have left their traces in several of the churches, the finest remains
being those of Margaretting, which represent a tree of Jesse and the daisy or
herb Margaret. Paintings have evidently been largely used for internal
decoration: a remarkable series, probably of the 12th century, but much
restored in the 14th, exists in the chancel of Copford church; and in the
church at Ingatestone there was discovered in 1868 an almost unique fresco
representation of the seven deadly sins. The oldest brasses preserved in the
county are those of Sir William Fitz-Ralph at Pebmarsh, about 1323;
Richard of Beltown, at Corringham, 1340; Sir John Gifford, at Bowers
Gifford, 1348; Ralph de Kneyton, at Aveley, 1370; Robert de Swynbourne,
at Little Horkesley, 1391; and Sir Ingelram de Bruyn, at South Ockendon,
Page 360
1400. The brass of Thomas Heron, aged 14, at Little Ilford, though dating
only from 1517, is of interest as a picture of a schoolboy of the period.
Ancient wooden effigies are preserved at Danbury, Little Leighs and Little
Horkesley.
Essex was rich in monastic foundations, though the greater number have
left but meagre ruins behind. The Benedictines had an abbey at Saffron
Walden, nunneries at Barking and Wickes, and priories at Earl’s or Monk’s
Colne and Castle Hedingham; the Augustinian canons had an abbey at
Waltham (see Waltham Abbey; the portion remaining shows Norman work
of the finest character), priories at Thoby, Blackmore, Bicknacre, Little
Leighs, Little Dunmow and St Osyth (see Brightlingsea); there were
Cistercian abbeys at Coggeshall, Stratford and Tilty; the Cluniac monks
were settled at Prittlewell, the Premonstratensians at Beleigh Abbey, and the
Knights Hospitallers at Little Maplestead. Barking Abbey is said to date its
first origin from the 7th century; most of the others arose in the 12th and
13th centuries. Besides the keep at Colchester there is a fine Norman castle
at Castle Hedingham, and two dilapidated round towers still stand at
Hadleigh near Southend. Ongar, the house of the de Lacys, and Pleshey, the
seat of the earls of Essex, have left only mounds. Havering-atte-Bower, the
palace that was occupied by many queens, is replaced by a modern house;
Wickham, the mansion of the bishops of London, no longer stands. New
Hall, which was successively occupied by Henry VIII., Elizabeth, the earl
of Essex, George Villiers, duke of Buckingham, and Cromwell, is now a
nunnery of the order of the Holy Sepulchre. Audley End, the mansion of
Lord Braybrooke, is a noble example of the domestic architecture of the
Jacobean period; Layer Marney is an interesting proof of the Italian
influences that were at work in the time of Wolsey. Horeham Hall was built
by Sir John Cutt in the reign of Henry VII., and Gosfield Hall is of about
the same date.
only from 1517, is of interest as a picture of a schoolboy of the period.
Ancient wooden effigies are preserved at Danbury, Little Leighs and Little
Horkesley.
Essex was rich in monastic foundations, though the greater number have
left but meagre ruins behind. The Benedictines had an abbey at Saffron
Walden, nunneries at Barking and Wickes, and priories at Earl’s or Monk’s
Colne and Castle Hedingham; the Augustinian canons had an abbey at
Waltham (see Waltham Abbey; the portion remaining shows Norman work
of the finest character), priories at Thoby, Blackmore, Bicknacre, Little
Leighs, Little Dunmow and St Osyth (see Brightlingsea); there were
Cistercian abbeys at Coggeshall, Stratford and Tilty; the Cluniac monks
were settled at Prittlewell, the Premonstratensians at Beleigh Abbey, and the
Knights Hospitallers at Little Maplestead. Barking Abbey is said to date its
first origin from the 7th century; most of the others arose in the 12th and
13th centuries. Besides the keep at Colchester there is a fine Norman castle
at Castle Hedingham, and two dilapidated round towers still stand at
Hadleigh near Southend. Ongar, the house of the de Lacys, and Pleshey, the
seat of the earls of Essex, have left only mounds. Havering-atte-Bower, the
palace that was occupied by many queens, is replaced by a modern house;
Wickham, the mansion of the bishops of London, no longer stands. New
Hall, which was successively occupied by Henry VIII., Elizabeth, the earl
of Essex, George Villiers, duke of Buckingham, and Cromwell, is now a
nunnery of the order of the Holy Sepulchre. Audley End, the mansion of
Lord Braybrooke, is a noble example of the domestic architecture of the
Jacobean period; Layer Marney is an interesting proof of the Italian
influences that were at work in the time of Wolsey. Horeham Hall was built
by Sir John Cutt in the reign of Henry VII., and Gosfield Hall is of about
the same date.
Page 361
See Norden, Speculi Britanniae Pars: an Hist. and Geogr. Descrip.
of the County of Essex (1594) (edited for the Camden Society by Sir
Henry Ellis, 1840, from the original MS. in the Marquis of Salisbury’s
library at Hatfield); Nicholas Tindal, Hist. of Essex (1720); N. Salmon,
The Hist. and Antiq. of Essex (London, 1740)—based on the
collections of James Strangman of Hadleigh (v. Trans. of Essex Arch.
Soc. vol. ii.); P. Morant, Hist. and Antiq. of the County of Essex
(London, 1768); P. Muilman, New and Complete Hist. of Essex from a
late Survey, by a Gentleman (Chelmsford, 6 vols., 1770-1772, London,
1779); Elizabeth Ogbourne, Hist. of Essex (London, part i., 1814);
Excursions through Essex, illustrated with one hundred engravings (2
vols., London, 1818); T. Wright, Hist. and Topography of Essex (1831);
W. Berry, Pedigrees of Families in Essex (1841); A. Suckling,
Memorials of the Antiquities, &c., of the County of Essex (London,
1845); W. Andrews (ed.), Bygone Essex (London, 1892); J.T. Page
(ed.), Essex in the Days of Old (London, 1898); Victoria County
History, Essex; Transactions of the Essex Arch. Soc. from 1858. An
account of various MS. collections connected with the county is given
by H.W. King in vol. ii. of the Transactions (1863).
ESSEX, KINGDOM OF, one of the kingdoms into which Anglo-Saxon
Britain was divided, properly the land of the East Saxons. Of its origin and
early history we have no record except the bare statement of Bede that its
settlers were of the Old Saxon race. In connexion with this it is interesting
to notice that the East Saxon dynasty claimed descent from Seaxneat, not
of the County of Essex (1594) (edited for the Camden Society by Sir
Henry Ellis, 1840, from the original MS. in the Marquis of Salisbury’s
library at Hatfield); Nicholas Tindal, Hist. of Essex (1720); N. Salmon,
The Hist. and Antiq. of Essex (London, 1740)—based on the
collections of James Strangman of Hadleigh (v. Trans. of Essex Arch.
Soc. vol. ii.); P. Morant, Hist. and Antiq. of the County of Essex
(London, 1768); P. Muilman, New and Complete Hist. of Essex from a
late Survey, by a Gentleman (Chelmsford, 6 vols., 1770-1772, London,
1779); Elizabeth Ogbourne, Hist. of Essex (London, part i., 1814);
Excursions through Essex, illustrated with one hundred engravings (2
vols., London, 1818); T. Wright, Hist. and Topography of Essex (1831);
W. Berry, Pedigrees of Families in Essex (1841); A. Suckling,
Memorials of the Antiquities, &c., of the County of Essex (London,
1845); W. Andrews (ed.), Bygone Essex (London, 1892); J.T. Page
(ed.), Essex in the Days of Old (London, 1898); Victoria County
History, Essex; Transactions of the Essex Arch. Soc. from 1858. An
account of various MS. collections connected with the county is given
by H.W. King in vol. ii. of the Transactions (1863).
ESSEX, KINGDOM OF, one of the kingdoms into which Anglo-Saxon
Britain was divided, properly the land of the East Saxons. Of its origin and
early history we have no record except the bare statement of Bede that its
settlers were of the Old Saxon race. In connexion with this it is interesting
to notice that the East Saxon dynasty claimed descent from Seaxneat, not
Page 362
Woden. The form Seaxneat is identical with Saxnot, one of three gods
mentioned in a short continental document probably of Old Saxon origin.
Bede does not mention this kingdom in his narrative until 604, the year of
the consecration of Mellitus to the see of London. The boundaries of Essex
were in later times the rivers Stour and Thames, but the original limits of
the kingdom are quite uncertain; towards the west it probably included most
if not the whole of Hertfordshire, and in the 7th century the whole of
Middlesex. In 604 we find Essex in close dependence upon Kent, being
ruled by Saberht, sister’s son of Æthelberht, under whom the East Saxons
received Christianity. The three sons of Saberht, however, expelled Mellitus
from his see, and even after their death in battle against the West Saxons,
Eadbald of Kent was unable to restore him. In the year 653 we find North-
umbrian influence paramount in Essex, for King Sigeberht at the instance of
Oswio became a Christian and received Cedd, the brother of St Chad, in his
kingdom as bishop, Tilbury and Ythanceastere (on the Blackwater) being
the chief scenes of his work. Swithhelm, the successor of Sigeberht, was on
terms of friendship with the East Anglian royal house, King Æthelwald
being his sponsor at his baptism by Cedd. It was probably about this time
that Erconwald, afterwards bishop of London, founded the monastery of
Barking. Swithhelm’s successors Sigehere and Sebbe were dependent on
Wulfhere, the powerful king of Mercia, who on the apostasy of Sigehere
sent Bishop Jaruman to restore the faith. There are grounds for believing
that an East Saxon conquest of Kent took place in this reign. A forged grant
of Ceadwalla speaks of the fall of Kent before Sigehere as a well-known
event; and in a Kentish charter dated 676 a king of Kent called Swebhard
grants land with the consent of his father King Sebbe. In 692 or 694 Sebbe
abdicated and received the monastic vows from Waldhere, the successor of
Erconwald at London. His sons Sigeheard and Swefred succeeded him as
kings of Essex, Sigehere being apparently dead. As the laws of Ine of
Wessex speak of Erconwald as “my bishop,” it is possible that the influence
mentioned in a short continental document probably of Old Saxon origin.
Bede does not mention this kingdom in his narrative until 604, the year of
the consecration of Mellitus to the see of London. The boundaries of Essex
were in later times the rivers Stour and Thames, but the original limits of
the kingdom are quite uncertain; towards the west it probably included most
if not the whole of Hertfordshire, and in the 7th century the whole of
Middlesex. In 604 we find Essex in close dependence upon Kent, being
ruled by Saberht, sister’s son of Æthelberht, under whom the East Saxons
received Christianity. The three sons of Saberht, however, expelled Mellitus
from his see, and even after their death in battle against the West Saxons,
Eadbald of Kent was unable to restore him. In the year 653 we find North-
umbrian influence paramount in Essex, for King Sigeberht at the instance of
Oswio became a Christian and received Cedd, the brother of St Chad, in his
kingdom as bishop, Tilbury and Ythanceastere (on the Blackwater) being
the chief scenes of his work. Swithhelm, the successor of Sigeberht, was on
terms of friendship with the East Anglian royal house, King Æthelwald
being his sponsor at his baptism by Cedd. It was probably about this time
that Erconwald, afterwards bishop of London, founded the monastery of
Barking. Swithhelm’s successors Sigehere and Sebbe were dependent on
Wulfhere, the powerful king of Mercia, who on the apostasy of Sigehere
sent Bishop Jaruman to restore the faith. There are grounds for believing
that an East Saxon conquest of Kent took place in this reign. A forged grant
of Ceadwalla speaks of the fall of Kent before Sigehere as a well-known
event; and in a Kentish charter dated 676 a king of Kent called Swebhard
grants land with the consent of his father King Sebbe. In 692 or 694 Sebbe
abdicated and received the monastic vows from Waldhere, the successor of
Erconwald at London. His sons Sigeheard and Swefred succeeded him as
kings of Essex, Sigehere being apparently dead. As the laws of Ine of
Wessex speak of Erconwald as “my bishop,” it is possible that the influence
Page 363
of Wessex for a short time prevailed in Essex; but a subsequent charter of
Swefred is approved by Coenred of Mercia, and Offa, the son of Sigehere,
accompanied the same king to Rome in 709. From this time onwards the
history of Essex is almost a blank. In 743 or 745 Æthelbald of Mercia is
found granting privileges at the port of London, and perhaps the western
portion of the kingdom had already been annexed, for henceforward
London is frequently the meeting-place of the Mercian council. The violent
death of Selred, king of Essex, is mentioned in the Saxon Chronicle under
the year 746; but we have no more information of historical importance
until the defeat of the Mercian king Beornwulf in 825, when Essex, together
with Kent, Sussex and Surrey, passed into the hands of Ecgbert, king of
Wessex. After 825 we hear of no more kings of Essex, but occasionally of
earls. About the year 870 Essex passed into the hands of the Danes and was
left to them by the treaty between Alfred and Guthrum. It was reconquered
by Edward the Elder. The earldom in the 10th century apparently included
several other counties, and its most famous holder was the ealdorman
Brihtnoth, who fell at the battle of Maldon in 991.
The following is a list of kings of Essex of whom there is record: Saberht
(d. c. 617); three sons of Saberht, including probably Saweard and Seaxred;
Sigeberht (Parvus); Sigeberht II.; Swithhelm (d. c. 664); Sigehere (reigned
perhaps 664-689); Sebbe, son of Seaxred (664-694); Sigeheard (reigning in
693-694); Swefred (reigning in 693-694 and in 704); the two last being sons
of Sebbe; Swebriht (d. 738); Selred (d. 746); Swithred, grandson of
Sigeheard (succ. 746); Sigeric, son of Selered (abd. 798); Sigered, son of
Sigeric (reigning in 823).
See Bede, Hist. Eccl., edited by C. Plummer (Oxford, 1896), ii. 3, 5;
Saxon Chronicle (Earle and Plummer, Oxford, 1899), s.a. 823, 894,
904, 913, 921, 994; William of Malmesbury, Gesta Regum, Rolls
Series (ed. Stubbs, 1887-1889); Simeon of Durham, s.a. 746 (ed. T.
Swefred is approved by Coenred of Mercia, and Offa, the son of Sigehere,
accompanied the same king to Rome in 709. From this time onwards the
history of Essex is almost a blank. In 743 or 745 Æthelbald of Mercia is
found granting privileges at the port of London, and perhaps the western
portion of the kingdom had already been annexed, for henceforward
London is frequently the meeting-place of the Mercian council. The violent
death of Selred, king of Essex, is mentioned in the Saxon Chronicle under
the year 746; but we have no more information of historical importance
until the defeat of the Mercian king Beornwulf in 825, when Essex, together
with Kent, Sussex and Surrey, passed into the hands of Ecgbert, king of
Wessex. After 825 we hear of no more kings of Essex, but occasionally of
earls. About the year 870 Essex passed into the hands of the Danes and was
left to them by the treaty between Alfred and Guthrum. It was reconquered
by Edward the Elder. The earldom in the 10th century apparently included
several other counties, and its most famous holder was the ealdorman
Brihtnoth, who fell at the battle of Maldon in 991.
The following is a list of kings of Essex of whom there is record: Saberht
(d. c. 617); three sons of Saberht, including probably Saweard and Seaxred;
Sigeberht (Parvus); Sigeberht II.; Swithhelm (d. c. 664); Sigehere (reigned
perhaps 664-689); Sebbe, son of Seaxred (664-694); Sigeheard (reigning in
693-694); Swefred (reigning in 693-694 and in 704); the two last being sons
of Sebbe; Swebriht (d. 738); Selred (d. 746); Swithred, grandson of
Sigeheard (succ. 746); Sigeric, son of Selered (abd. 798); Sigered, son of
Sigeric (reigning in 823).
See Bede, Hist. Eccl., edited by C. Plummer (Oxford, 1896), ii. 3, 5;
Saxon Chronicle (Earle and Plummer, Oxford, 1899), s.a. 823, 894,
904, 913, 921, 994; William of Malmesbury, Gesta Regum, Rolls
Series (ed. Stubbs, 1887-1889); Simeon of Durham, s.a. 746 (ed. T.
Page 364
Arnold, 1882) and appendix, s.a. 738; Florence of Worcester (ed. B.
Thorpe, London, 1848-1849); H. Sweet, Oldest English Texts, p. 179
(London, 1885). (F. G. M. B.)
ESSLINGEN, a town of Germany, in the kingdom of Württemberg, in a
fertile district on the Neckar, 9 m. S.E. from Stuttgart, on the railway to
Ulm. Pop. (1905) 29,750. It is surrounded by medieval walls with towers
and bastions, and has thirteen suburbs, one lying on an island in the river.
On a commanding height above the town lies the old citadel. The inner
town has an old (1430) and a new Rathaus, the latter, formerly a palace, an
exceedingly handsome edifice. The church of Our Lady (Frauenkirche) is a
fine Gothic building of the 15th century, and has a beautifully sculptured
doorway and a lattice spire 240 ft. high. The church of St Dionysius dated
from the 13th century, and possesses a fine screen and a ciborium of 1486.
Esslingen possesses several schools, a theatre and a richly endowed
hospital, while its municipal archives contain much valuable literature
bearing especially on the period of the Reformation. The town has railway,
machine and electrical works; cloth, gloves and buttons are also
manufactured here, and there are spinning-mills. There is a large
lithographic establishment, and a considerable trade is done in wine and
fruit, the wines of Esslingen being very famous.
Esslingen, which dates from the 8th century, became a town in 886. It
was soon a place of importance; it became a free imperial city in 1209 and
was surrounded with walls by order of the emperor Frederick II. Its liberty
Thorpe, London, 1848-1849); H. Sweet, Oldest English Texts, p. 179
(London, 1885). (F. G. M. B.)
ESSLINGEN, a town of Germany, in the kingdom of Württemberg, in a
fertile district on the Neckar, 9 m. S.E. from Stuttgart, on the railway to
Ulm. Pop. (1905) 29,750. It is surrounded by medieval walls with towers
and bastions, and has thirteen suburbs, one lying on an island in the river.
On a commanding height above the town lies the old citadel. The inner
town has an old (1430) and a new Rathaus, the latter, formerly a palace, an
exceedingly handsome edifice. The church of Our Lady (Frauenkirche) is a
fine Gothic building of the 15th century, and has a beautifully sculptured
doorway and a lattice spire 240 ft. high. The church of St Dionysius dated
from the 13th century, and possesses a fine screen and a ciborium of 1486.
Esslingen possesses several schools, a theatre and a richly endowed
hospital, while its municipal archives contain much valuable literature
bearing especially on the period of the Reformation. The town has railway,
machine and electrical works; cloth, gloves and buttons are also
manufactured here, and there are spinning-mills. There is a large
lithographic establishment, and a considerable trade is done in wine and
fruit, the wines of Esslingen being very famous.
Esslingen, which dates from the 8th century, became a town in 886. It
was soon a place of importance; it became a free imperial city in 1209 and
was surrounded with walls by order of the emperor Frederick II. Its liberty
Page 365
was frequently threatened by the rulers of Württemberg, but it did not
become part of that country until 1802.
See K.H.S. Pfaff, Geschichte der Reichsstadt Esslingen (Esslingen,
1852); and Ströhmfeld, Esslingen in Wort und Bild (Esslingen, 1902).
ESTABLISHMENT (O. Fr. establissement, Fr. établissement, late
Norm. Fr. establishement, from O. Fr. establir, Fr. établir, Lat. stabilire, to
make stable), generally the act of establishing or fact of being established,
and so by transference a thing established. Thus we may speak of the
establishment (i.e. setting up) of a business, the “long establishment” of a
business, and of the manager of “the establishment.” In a special sense the
word is applied, with something of all the three above-mentioned
connotations, to certain religious bodies in their relation to the state. It is
with this latter that the present article is concerned.
Perhaps the best definition which can be given, and which will cover all
cases, is that establishment implies the existence of some definite and
distinctive relation between the state and a religious society (or conceivably
more than one) other than that which is shared in by other societies of the
same general character. Of course, a certain relationship must needs exist
between the state and every society, religious or secular, by virtue of the
sovereignty of the state over each and all of its members. Every society
must possess certain principles or perform certain acts, and the state may
make the profession of such principles unlawful, or impose a penalty upon
the performance of such acts; and, moreover, every society is liable before
become part of that country until 1802.
See K.H.S. Pfaff, Geschichte der Reichsstadt Esslingen (Esslingen,
1852); and Ströhmfeld, Esslingen in Wort und Bild (Esslingen, 1902).
ESTABLISHMENT (O. Fr. establissement, Fr. établissement, late
Norm. Fr. establishement, from O. Fr. establir, Fr. établir, Lat. stabilire, to
make stable), generally the act of establishing or fact of being established,
and so by transference a thing established. Thus we may speak of the
establishment (i.e. setting up) of a business, the “long establishment” of a
business, and of the manager of “the establishment.” In a special sense the
word is applied, with something of all the three above-mentioned
connotations, to certain religious bodies in their relation to the state. It is
with this latter that the present article is concerned.
Perhaps the best definition which can be given, and which will cover all
cases, is that establishment implies the existence of some definite and
distinctive relation between the state and a religious society (or conceivably
more than one) other than that which is shared in by other societies of the
same general character. Of course, a certain relationship must needs exist
between the state and every society, religious or secular, by virtue of the
sovereignty of the state over each and all of its members. Every society
must possess certain principles or perform certain acts, and the state may
make the profession of such principles unlawful, or impose a penalty upon
the performance of such acts; and, moreover, every society is liable before
Page 366
the law as to the fulfilment of its obligations towards its members and the
due administration of its property should it possess any. With all this
establishment has nothing to do. It is not concerned with what pertains to
the religious society qua society, or with what is common to all religious
societies, but with what is exceptional. It denotes any special connexion
with the state, or privileges and responsibilities before the law, possessed by
one religious society to the exclusion of others; in a word, establishment is
of the nature of a monopoly. But it does not imply merely privilege. The
state and the Church have mutual obligations towards one another: each is,
to some extent, tied by the existence of this relationship, and each accepts
the limitations for the sake of the advantages which accrue to itself. The
state does so in view of what it believes to be the good of all its members;
for “the true end for which religion is established is not to provide for the
true faith, but for civil utility” (Warburton), even if the latter be held to be
implied in the former. On the other hand, the Church accepts these relations
for the facilities which they involve, i.e. for its own benefit. It will be seen
that this definition excludes, and rightly, many current presuppositions.
Establishment affirms the fact, but does not determine the precise nature, of
the connexion between the state and the religious society. It does not tell us,
for example, when or how it began, whether it is the result of an
unconscious growth (as with the Gallican Church previous to the French
Revolution), or of a determinate legislative act (as with the same Church re-
established by the Concordat of 1801). It does not tell us whether an
endowment of the religious society by the state is included; what particular
privileges are enjoyed by the religious society; and what limitations are
placed upon the free exercise of its life. These things can only be
ascertained by actual inquiry; for the conditions are precisely similar in no
two cases.
To proceed to details. At the present day there is no established religion
in the United States, the German empire as a whole, Holland, Belgium,
due administration of its property should it possess any. With all this
establishment has nothing to do. It is not concerned with what pertains to
the religious society qua society, or with what is common to all religious
societies, but with what is exceptional. It denotes any special connexion
with the state, or privileges and responsibilities before the law, possessed by
one religious society to the exclusion of others; in a word, establishment is
of the nature of a monopoly. But it does not imply merely privilege. The
state and the Church have mutual obligations towards one another: each is,
to some extent, tied by the existence of this relationship, and each accepts
the limitations for the sake of the advantages which accrue to itself. The
state does so in view of what it believes to be the good of all its members;
for “the true end for which religion is established is not to provide for the
true faith, but for civil utility” (Warburton), even if the latter be held to be
implied in the former. On the other hand, the Church accepts these relations
for the facilities which they involve, i.e. for its own benefit. It will be seen
that this definition excludes, and rightly, many current presuppositions.
Establishment affirms the fact, but does not determine the precise nature, of
the connexion between the state and the religious society. It does not tell us,
for example, when or how it began, whether it is the result of an
unconscious growth (as with the Gallican Church previous to the French
Revolution), or of a determinate legislative act (as with the same Church re-
established by the Concordat of 1801). It does not tell us whether an
endowment of the religious society by the state is included; what particular
privileges are enjoyed by the religious society; and what limitations are
placed upon the free exercise of its life. These things can only be
ascertained by actual inquiry; for the conditions are precisely similar in no
two cases.
To proceed to details. At the present day there is no established religion
in the United States, the German empire as a whole, Holland, Belgium,
Page 367
France and Austria-Hungary (saving, indeed, “the rights of the sovereign
arising from ecclesiastical dignity”1); whereas there are religious
establishments in Russia, Greece, Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Prussia,2
Spain, Portugal and even in Italy, as well as in England and Scotland.
These, however, differ greatly amongst themselves. In Russia the
“Orthodox Catholic Eastern” is the state religion. The emperor is, by the
fundamental laws of the empire, “the sovereign defender and protector of
the dogmas of the dominant faith, who maintains orthodoxy and holy
discipline within the Church,” although, of course, he cannot modify either
its dogmas or its outward order. Further, “the autocratic (i.e. imperial)
power acts in the ecclesiastical administration by means of the Most Holy
Ruling Synod, created by it”; and all the officers of the Church are
appointed by it. The enactments of the Synod do not become law till they
have received the emperor’s sanction, and are then published, not in its
name but in his; and a large part of the revenues of the Church is derived
from state subsidies. In Greece “the dominant religion (Ἡ ἐπικρατοῦσα
θρησκεία) is that of the Eastern Orthodox Church of Christ”; and although
toleration is otherwise complete, no proselytism from the Church of Greece
is allowed. The king swears to protect it, but no powers pertain to him with
regard to it such as those which the tsar enjoys; the present king is not a
member of it, but his successors must be. In Sweden, Lutheranism was
adopted as the state religion by the synod of Upsala (Upsala möte) in 1593,
and the king must profess it. The “Lutheran Protestant Church” retains an
episcopal order, and is supported out of its own revenues. Archbishops and
bishops are chosen by the king out of those names submitted to him, and he
also nominates to royal peculiars. The ecclesiastical law (Kyrkolag), first
constituted in 1686, is part of the law of the state, but may not be modified
or abrogated without consent of a General Synod; and although ad interim
interpretations of that law may be given by the king on the advice of the
Supreme Court, since 1866 these have been subject to review and rejection
arising from ecclesiastical dignity”1); whereas there are religious
establishments in Russia, Greece, Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Prussia,2
Spain, Portugal and even in Italy, as well as in England and Scotland.
These, however, differ greatly amongst themselves. In Russia the
“Orthodox Catholic Eastern” is the state religion. The emperor is, by the
fundamental laws of the empire, “the sovereign defender and protector of
the dogmas of the dominant faith, who maintains orthodoxy and holy
discipline within the Church,” although, of course, he cannot modify either
its dogmas or its outward order. Further, “the autocratic (i.e. imperial)
power acts in the ecclesiastical administration by means of the Most Holy
Ruling Synod, created by it”; and all the officers of the Church are
appointed by it. The enactments of the Synod do not become law till they
have received the emperor’s sanction, and are then published, not in its
name but in his; and a large part of the revenues of the Church is derived
from state subsidies. In Greece “the dominant religion (Ἡ ἐπικρατοῦσα
θρησκεία) is that of the Eastern Orthodox Church of Christ”; and although
toleration is otherwise complete, no proselytism from the Church of Greece
is allowed. The king swears to protect it, but no powers pertain to him with
regard to it such as those which the tsar enjoys; the present king is not a
member of it, but his successors must be. In Sweden, Lutheranism was
adopted as the state religion by the synod of Upsala (Upsala möte) in 1593,
and the king must profess it. The “Lutheran Protestant Church” retains an
episcopal order, and is supported out of its own revenues. Archbishops and
bishops are chosen by the king out of those names submitted to him, and he
also nominates to royal peculiars. The ecclesiastical law (Kyrkolag), first
constituted in 1686, is part of the law of the state, but may not be modified
or abrogated without consent of a General Synod; and although ad interim
interpretations of that law may be given by the king on the advice of the
Supreme Court, since 1866 these have been subject to review and rejection
Page 368
by the next General Synod. In Norway the “Evangelical-Lutheran” is the
“official religion,” but the Church is supported by the state, its property
having been secularized. It is also more subject to the king, who by the
constitution is to “regulate all that concerns divine service and the clergy,”
and to see that the prescribed order is carried out. It is much the same in
Denmark, where, however, the “Evangelical-Lutheran Church” has since
the fundamental constitutional law of the 5th of June 1849 been officially
described as the National Church (Folkekirche) instead of the State Church
(Statskirche) as formerly, and the constitution provides for its regulation by
further legislation, which has not yet been passed. For Prussia, see under
that heading; it need only be added that self-government still tends to
increase, but that the emperor William II. has exercised his office as
summus episcopus more freely than most of his predecessors. In Spain the
“Catholic, Apostolic and Roman” religion is that of the state, “the nation
binds itself to maintain its worship and its ministers,” and the rites of any
other religion are only permitted in private. The patriarch of the Indies and
the archbishops are senators by right, and the king may nominate others
from amongst the bishops; only laymen may sit in the chamber of deputies.
Convents were suppressed, and their property confiscated, in 1835 and
1836; in 1859 the remaining ecclesiastical property was exchanged for
untransferable government securities and the support of the clergy of the
State Church is assured by an unrepealed law previous to the present
constitution. In Portugal it is much the same, but all the home bishops sit in
the upper chamber as peers (Pares do Reino) by right, and there is no
restriction on membership of the chamber of deputies. A more important
point is that the king confers all ecclesiastical benefices and nominates the
bishops, instead of their being chosen, as in Spain, by agreement between
the civil power and the papacy. In Italy, in spite of the feud between the
papacy and the civil power, the fact remains that, by the Statuto
fondamentale, “the Catholic, Apostolic and Roman religion is the sole
“official religion,” but the Church is supported by the state, its property
having been secularized. It is also more subject to the king, who by the
constitution is to “regulate all that concerns divine service and the clergy,”
and to see that the prescribed order is carried out. It is much the same in
Denmark, where, however, the “Evangelical-Lutheran Church” has since
the fundamental constitutional law of the 5th of June 1849 been officially
described as the National Church (Folkekirche) instead of the State Church
(Statskirche) as formerly, and the constitution provides for its regulation by
further legislation, which has not yet been passed. For Prussia, see under
that heading; it need only be added that self-government still tends to
increase, but that the emperor William II. has exercised his office as
summus episcopus more freely than most of his predecessors. In Spain the
“Catholic, Apostolic and Roman” religion is that of the state, “the nation
binds itself to maintain its worship and its ministers,” and the rites of any
other religion are only permitted in private. The patriarch of the Indies and
the archbishops are senators by right, and the king may nominate others
from amongst the bishops; only laymen may sit in the chamber of deputies.
Convents were suppressed, and their property confiscated, in 1835 and
1836; in 1859 the remaining ecclesiastical property was exchanged for
untransferable government securities and the support of the clergy of the
State Church is assured by an unrepealed law previous to the present
constitution. In Portugal it is much the same, but all the home bishops sit in
the upper chamber as peers (Pares do Reino) by right, and there is no
restriction on membership of the chamber of deputies. A more important
point is that the king confers all ecclesiastical benefices and nominates the
bishops, instead of their being chosen, as in Spain, by agreement between
the civil power and the papacy. In Italy, in spite of the feud between the
papacy and the civil power, the fact remains that, by the Statuto
fondamentale, “the Catholic, Apostolic and Roman religion is the sole
Page 369
religion of the state,” and the king may nominate “archbishops and bishops
of the state” to be senators. The Legge sulle prerogative del Summo
Pontifice, &c., or “Law of Guarantees,” by which the papal prerogatives are
secured, has been declared by the Council of State to be a fundamental law;
and while many civil restrictions upon the activities of the Church are
removed by it, outside Rome and the suburbicarian dioceses the royal
exequatur is still required before a bishop is installed. Moreover, the bulk of
Church property having been secularized, the Italian clergy receive a
stipend from the state.
Establishment is, of course, a distinctively English term, but it implies
precisely the same thing as “Staatsreligion” or “église dominante” does
elsewhere, neither more nor less. It denotes the existence of a special
relationship between Church and state without defining
Church and State its precise nature. The statement that the Church of
in Britain. England or the Scottish Kirk is “established by law”
denotes that it has a peculiar status before the law; but
that is all. (a) There is no basis whatever for the once popular assumption
that the word “established” as applied to the Church means “created,” or the
like; on the contrary, the modern use of the word in this sense is a
misleading perversion. To establish is to make firm or stable; and a thing
cannot be established unless it is already in existence. A few examples will
make it clear that this is the true sense of the word, and that in which it is
used here. “Stablish the thing, O God, that thou hast wrought in us” (Ps.
lxviii. 28, P.B.; A.V. and R.V. “strengthen”) implies that the thing is already
wrought; it could not be “stablished” else. “Stablish your hearts” (Jas v. 8)
implies that the hearts are already in existence. “Until he had her settled in
her raine With safe assuraunce and establishment” (Faerie Queene, v. xi.
35) would have been impossible unless the reign had already begun. This is
the meaning of the words in many Tudor acts of parliament, “be it enacted,
ordained and established,” or the like (21 Hen. VIII. c. 1; 27 Hen. VIII. c.
of the state” to be senators. The Legge sulle prerogative del Summo
Pontifice, &c., or “Law of Guarantees,” by which the papal prerogatives are
secured, has been declared by the Council of State to be a fundamental law;
and while many civil restrictions upon the activities of the Church are
removed by it, outside Rome and the suburbicarian dioceses the royal
exequatur is still required before a bishop is installed. Moreover, the bulk of
Church property having been secularized, the Italian clergy receive a
stipend from the state.
Establishment is, of course, a distinctively English term, but it implies
precisely the same thing as “Staatsreligion” or “église dominante” does
elsewhere, neither more nor less. It denotes the existence of a special
relationship between Church and state without defining
Church and State its precise nature. The statement that the Church of
in Britain. England or the Scottish Kirk is “established by law”
denotes that it has a peculiar status before the law; but
that is all. (a) There is no basis whatever for the once popular assumption
that the word “established” as applied to the Church means “created,” or the
like; on the contrary, the modern use of the word in this sense is a
misleading perversion. To establish is to make firm or stable; and a thing
cannot be established unless it is already in existence. A few examples will
make it clear that this is the true sense of the word, and that in which it is
used here. “Stablish the thing, O God, that thou hast wrought in us” (Ps.
lxviii. 28, P.B.; A.V. and R.V. “strengthen”) implies that the thing is already
wrought; it could not be “stablished” else. “Stablish your hearts” (Jas v. 8)
implies that the hearts are already in existence. “Until he had her settled in
her raine With safe assuraunce and establishment” (Faerie Queene, v. xi.
35) would have been impossible unless the reign had already begun. This is
the meaning of the words in many Tudor acts of parliament, “be it enacted,
ordained and established,” or the like (21 Hen. VIII. c. 1; 27 Hen. VIII. c.
Page 370
28, s. 9; 28 Hen. VIII. c. 13 [Ireland]; 28 Hen. VIII. c. 18 [Ireland]; 33 Hen.
VIII. c. 27; 1 Eliz. c. 1, ss. 15, 17; 1 Eliz. c. 4, s. 4); that which is then and
there enacted is to be valid for the future. (b) Nor is it necessarily implied
that establishment is a process completed once for all. Every law touching
the Church slightly alters its conditions; everything that affects the relations
of Church and state may be regarded as a measure of establishment or the
reverse. When the two Houses of Parliament, in an address to William III.
after his coronation, spoke of their proposed measures of toleration, the
king said in his reply, “I do hope that the ease which you design to
Dissenters will contribute very much to the establishment of the Church”
(Cobbett, Parl. Hist. v. 218). And Defoe (in 1702) published an ironical
tract with the title, The Shortest Way with the Dissenters, or Proposals for
the Establishment of the Church. (c) Nor is it necessarily implied that there
was any specific time at which establishment took place. Such may indeed
be the case, as with the Kirk in Scotland; but it certainly cannot be said that
the English Church was established at any particular time, or by any
particular legislative act. There were, no doubt, periods when the existing
relations between Church and state were modified or re-defined, notably in
the 16th and 17th centuries; but the relations themselves are far older. In
fact, they existed from the very first: the English Church and state grew up
side by side, and from the beginning they were in close relations with one
another. But although the state of things which it represented was there
from the first, the term “established” or “established by law” only came into
use at a later date. Until there was some other religious society to be
compared with it such a distinctive epithet would have had no point. As,
however, there arose religious societies which had no status before the law,
it became more natural; and yet more so when the formularies of the
Church came to be “established” by civil sanctions (the Books of Common
Prayer by 5 and 6 Edw. VI. c. 1, s. 4, &c; the Articles by 13 Eliz. c. 12; the
new Ordinal by 13 and 14 Car. II. c. 4, title). Accordingly the Church itself
VIII. c. 27; 1 Eliz. c. 1, ss. 15, 17; 1 Eliz. c. 4, s. 4); that which is then and
there enacted is to be valid for the future. (b) Nor is it necessarily implied
that establishment is a process completed once for all. Every law touching
the Church slightly alters its conditions; everything that affects the relations
of Church and state may be regarded as a measure of establishment or the
reverse. When the two Houses of Parliament, in an address to William III.
after his coronation, spoke of their proposed measures of toleration, the
king said in his reply, “I do hope that the ease which you design to
Dissenters will contribute very much to the establishment of the Church”
(Cobbett, Parl. Hist. v. 218). And Defoe (in 1702) published an ironical
tract with the title, The Shortest Way with the Dissenters, or Proposals for
the Establishment of the Church. (c) Nor is it necessarily implied that there
was any specific time at which establishment took place. Such may indeed
be the case, as with the Kirk in Scotland; but it certainly cannot be said that
the English Church was established at any particular time, or by any
particular legislative act. There were, no doubt, periods when the existing
relations between Church and state were modified or re-defined, notably in
the 16th and 17th centuries; but the relations themselves are far older. In
fact, they existed from the very first: the English Church and state grew up
side by side, and from the beginning they were in close relations with one
another. But although the state of things which it represented was there
from the first, the term “established” or “established by law” only came into
use at a later date. Until there was some other religious society to be
compared with it such a distinctive epithet would have had no point. As,
however, there arose religious societies which had no status before the law,
it became more natural; and yet more so when the formularies of the
Church came to be “established” by civil sanctions (the Books of Common
Prayer by 5 and 6 Edw. VI. c. 1, s. 4, &c; the Articles by 13 Eliz. c. 12; the
new Ordinal by 13 and 14 Car. II. c. 4, title). Accordingly the Church itself
Page 371
came to be spoken of as established by law; first, it would seem, in the
Canons of 1604, and subsequently in many statutes (Act of Settlement, 6
Anne, c. 8 and c. 11, &c). In all such cases the Church is described as
already established, not as being established by the particular canon or
statute. In other words, the constitutional status of the Church is affirmed,
but nothing is said as to how it arose.
The legislative changes of the 16th and 17th centuries brought
“establishment” into greater prominence and greatly modified its
conditions, but a moment’s thought will show that it did not begin then. If,
e.g., all post-Reformation ecclesiastical statutes were non-existent, the
relations between Church and state would be very different, but there would
still be an “establishment.” The bishops would sit in the House of Lords, the
clergy would tax themselves in convocation, the Church courts would
possess coercive jurisdiction, and so on. The present relations of Church
and state in England may be briefly summed up as follows:—(1) The
personal relation of the crown to the Church, including (a) restraints upon
the action of convocation (formulated by 25 Hen. VIII. c. 19); (b)
nomination of bishops, &c. (25 Hen. VIII. c. 20); (c) power of supervision
as visitor, long disused (26 Hen. VIII. c. 1; 1 Eliz. c. 1, s. 17); (d) power of
receiving appeals as the fount of civil justice (25 Hen. VIII. c. 19, &c). In
connexion with these, it must be borne in mind that (a) the holder of the
crown receives coronation from the church and takes an oath having
reference to it (1 Will. III. c. 6), and (b) the crown is held on the condition
of communion with the Church of England (Act of Settlement; the
conditions of communion are laid down in the Prayer Book, which itself is
sanctioned by law). (2) The relation of the Church to the crown in
parliament. No change has been permitted in its doctrine or formularies
without the sanction of an act of parliament. (3) Privileges of the Church
and clergy. Of these may be mentioned (a) the coercive jurisdiction of the
Church courts; (b) the right of bishops to sit in the House of Lords. It need
Canons of 1604, and subsequently in many statutes (Act of Settlement, 6
Anne, c. 8 and c. 11, &c). In all such cases the Church is described as
already established, not as being established by the particular canon or
statute. In other words, the constitutional status of the Church is affirmed,
but nothing is said as to how it arose.
The legislative changes of the 16th and 17th centuries brought
“establishment” into greater prominence and greatly modified its
conditions, but a moment’s thought will show that it did not begin then. If,
e.g., all post-Reformation ecclesiastical statutes were non-existent, the
relations between Church and state would be very different, but there would
still be an “establishment.” The bishops would sit in the House of Lords, the
clergy would tax themselves in convocation, the Church courts would
possess coercive jurisdiction, and so on. The present relations of Church
and state in England may be briefly summed up as follows:—(1) The
personal relation of the crown to the Church, including (a) restraints upon
the action of convocation (formulated by 25 Hen. VIII. c. 19); (b)
nomination of bishops, &c. (25 Hen. VIII. c. 20); (c) power of supervision
as visitor, long disused (26 Hen. VIII. c. 1; 1 Eliz. c. 1, s. 17); (d) power of
receiving appeals as the fount of civil justice (25 Hen. VIII. c. 19, &c). In
connexion with these, it must be borne in mind that (a) the holder of the
crown receives coronation from the church and takes an oath having
reference to it (1 Will. III. c. 6), and (b) the crown is held on the condition
of communion with the Church of England (Act of Settlement; the
conditions of communion are laid down in the Prayer Book, which itself is
sanctioned by law). (2) The relation of the Church to the crown in
parliament. No change has been permitted in its doctrine or formularies
without the sanction of an act of parliament. (3) Privileges of the Church
and clergy. Of these may be mentioned (a) the coercive jurisdiction of the
Church courts; (b) the right of bishops to sit in the House of Lords. It need
Page 372
hardly be said that establishment in England does not include an
endowment of the Church by the state. Nothing of the kind ever took place
on any large scale, and the grants for Church purposes in the 18th century
are comparable with the regium donum to Nonconformists.
The position of the Church of Ireland until its disestablishment (see
below) was not dissimilar. With Scotland the case is different. The
establishment of the Kirk was an entirely new process, carried out by a
more or less definite series of legislative and administrative acts. The
Convention of Estates which met at Edinburgh in 1560 ordered the drawing
up of a new Confession of Faith, which was done in four days by a
committee of preachers, and on the 24th of August it passed three acts, one
abolishing the pope’s authority and all jurisdiction of Catholic prelates,
another repealing the old statutes in favour of the Old Church, the third
forbidding the celebrating and hearing of mass under penalty of
imprisonment, exile and death. The intention was to make a clean sweep of
the Old Church, which was denounced as “the Kirk Malignant.”3 The new
model thus set up was confirmed by the Scottish act of 1567, c. 6, which
declared it to be “the onely true and halie kirk of Jesus Christ within this
realme.” Again, after the revolution of 1688 had put an end to the attempts
of the Stuart kings to impose the episcopal model on Scotland, by the act of
1690, c. 5, the crown and estates “ratifie and establish the Confession of
Faith, ... as also they do establish, ratifie and confirm the Presbyterian
government and discipline.” The “Act of Security” of 1705, as incorporated
in the Act of Union 1706, speaking of it “as now by law established,” says
that “Her Majesty ... doth hereby establish and confirm” it, and finally
declares this act, “with the Establishment therein contained,” to be “a
fundamental and essential condition of the Union.” Nevertheless, the
conditions of establishment in the Scottish Kirk are much easier than those
of the Church of England. It is bound by the statutes sanctioning its doctrine
and order, but within these limits its legislative and judicial freedom is
endowment of the Church by the state. Nothing of the kind ever took place
on any large scale, and the grants for Church purposes in the 18th century
are comparable with the regium donum to Nonconformists.
The position of the Church of Ireland until its disestablishment (see
below) was not dissimilar. With Scotland the case is different. The
establishment of the Kirk was an entirely new process, carried out by a
more or less definite series of legislative and administrative acts. The
Convention of Estates which met at Edinburgh in 1560 ordered the drawing
up of a new Confession of Faith, which was done in four days by a
committee of preachers, and on the 24th of August it passed three acts, one
abolishing the pope’s authority and all jurisdiction of Catholic prelates,
another repealing the old statutes in favour of the Old Church, the third
forbidding the celebrating and hearing of mass under penalty of
imprisonment, exile and death. The intention was to make a clean sweep of
the Old Church, which was denounced as “the Kirk Malignant.”3 The new
model thus set up was confirmed by the Scottish act of 1567, c. 6, which
declared it to be “the onely true and halie kirk of Jesus Christ within this
realme.” Again, after the revolution of 1688 had put an end to the attempts
of the Stuart kings to impose the episcopal model on Scotland, by the act of
1690, c. 5, the crown and estates “ratifie and establish the Confession of
Faith, ... as also they do establish, ratifie and confirm the Presbyterian
government and discipline.” The “Act of Security” of 1705, as incorporated
in the Act of Union 1706, speaking of it “as now by law established,” says
that “Her Majesty ... doth hereby establish and confirm” it, and finally
declares this act, “with the Establishment therein contained,” to be “a
fundamental and essential condition of the Union.” Nevertheless, the
conditions of establishment in the Scottish Kirk are much easier than those
of the Church of England. It is bound by the statutes sanctioning its doctrine
and order, but within these limits its legislative and judicial freedom is
Page 373
unimpaired. A royal commissioner is present at the meetings of the general
assembly, but he need not be a member of the Kirk; and there is no
constitutional tie between the crown and the Kirk such as there is in
England. There is what may accurately be described as a state endowment,
the bulk of the property of the Old Church having been conferred upon the
Scottish Kirk.
Not unnaturally the organization of Anglican Churches in the colonies
was followed in some cases by their establishment, which included
endowment. It was so, for example, in the East and West Indies; and the
disestablishment of the West Indian Church in 1868 was
The Colonies. followed, in 1873, by a re-establishment of the Church in
Barbados by the colonial legislature. India is the only
other part of the empire (outside Great Britain) in which there is to-day a
religious establishment.
Disestablishment is in theory the annulling of establishment; but since an
established Church is usually rich, disestablishment generally includes
disendowment, even where there is no state endowment of religion. It is, in
short, the abrogation of establishment, coupled with such
Disestablishment. a confiscation of Church property as the state thinks
good in the interests of the community. The
disestablishment of the West Indian Church in 1868 has already been
referred to; in 1869 the Irish Church Disestablishment Bill was passed.
Private bills relating to Scotland have more than once been brought
forward. In 1895 the Liberal government introduced a suspensory bill,
intended as the preliminary step towards disestablishing and disendowing
the Church in Wales; it was withdrawn, however, in the same session, and
the question of Welsh disestablishment slumbered until in 1906 a royal
commission was appointed by the Liberal government to inquire into the
assembly, but he need not be a member of the Kirk; and there is no
constitutional tie between the crown and the Kirk such as there is in
England. There is what may accurately be described as a state endowment,
the bulk of the property of the Old Church having been conferred upon the
Scottish Kirk.
Not unnaturally the organization of Anglican Churches in the colonies
was followed in some cases by their establishment, which included
endowment. It was so, for example, in the East and West Indies; and the
disestablishment of the West Indian Church in 1868 was
The Colonies. followed, in 1873, by a re-establishment of the Church in
Barbados by the colonial legislature. India is the only
other part of the empire (outside Great Britain) in which there is to-day a
religious establishment.
Disestablishment is in theory the annulling of establishment; but since an
established Church is usually rich, disestablishment generally includes
disendowment, even where there is no state endowment of religion. It is, in
short, the abrogation of establishment, coupled with such
Disestablishment. a confiscation of Church property as the state thinks
good in the interests of the community. The
disestablishment of the West Indian Church in 1868 has already been
referred to; in 1869 the Irish Church Disestablishment Bill was passed.
Private bills relating to Scotland have more than once been brought
forward. In 1895 the Liberal government introduced a suspensory bill,
intended as the preliminary step towards disestablishing and disendowing
the Church in Wales; it was withdrawn, however, in the same session, and
the question of Welsh disestablishment slumbered until in 1906 a royal
commission was appointed by the Liberal government to inquire into the
Page 374
subject, and in 1909 a bill was introduced on much the same lines as in
1895.
The case of the Irish Church will illustrate the process of
disestablishment, although, of course, the precise details would vary in
other cases. The Irish Church Act was passed in 1869 by Gladstone’s first
government, after considerable opposition, and provided that from January
1, 1871, the union created by statute between the Churches of England and
Ireland should be dissolved, and the Church of Ireland should “cease to be
established by law.” Existing ecclesiastical corporations were dissolved,
and their rights ceased, compensation being given to all individuals and
their personal precedence being secured for life. All rights of patronage,
including those of the crown, were abolished, with compensation in the case
of private patrons; and the archbishops and bishops ceased to have the right
of summons to the House of Lords. All laws restraining the freedom of
action of the Church were repealed; the ecclesiastical law, however, to
subsist by way of contract amongst the members of the Church (until
altered by a representative body). Provision was made for the incorporation
by charter of the representative body of the Church, should such a body be
found, with power to hold landed property. All existing ecclesiastical
property was vested in a commission, which was to give compensation for
life interests, to transfer to the new representative body the churches, glebe
houses, and £500,000 in compensation for endowments by private persons
since 1660, and to hold the rest for such purposes as parliament might
thereafter determine.
Authorities.—F.R. Dareste, Les Constitutions modernes (Paris,
1891); H. Geffcken, Church and State, trans. by E.F. Taylor (London,
1877); P. Schaff, Church and State in the United States (Papers of the
American Hist. Association, vol. ii. No. 4), (New York, 1888); L.
Minghetti, Stato e Chiesa (Milan, 1878), French translation, with
1895.
The case of the Irish Church will illustrate the process of
disestablishment, although, of course, the precise details would vary in
other cases. The Irish Church Act was passed in 1869 by Gladstone’s first
government, after considerable opposition, and provided that from January
1, 1871, the union created by statute between the Churches of England and
Ireland should be dissolved, and the Church of Ireland should “cease to be
established by law.” Existing ecclesiastical corporations were dissolved,
and their rights ceased, compensation being given to all individuals and
their personal precedence being secured for life. All rights of patronage,
including those of the crown, were abolished, with compensation in the case
of private patrons; and the archbishops and bishops ceased to have the right
of summons to the House of Lords. All laws restraining the freedom of
action of the Church were repealed; the ecclesiastical law, however, to
subsist by way of contract amongst the members of the Church (until
altered by a representative body). Provision was made for the incorporation
by charter of the representative body of the Church, should such a body be
found, with power to hold landed property. All existing ecclesiastical
property was vested in a commission, which was to give compensation for
life interests, to transfer to the new representative body the churches, glebe
houses, and £500,000 in compensation for endowments by private persons
since 1660, and to hold the rest for such purposes as parliament might
thereafter determine.
Authorities.—F.R. Dareste, Les Constitutions modernes (Paris,
1891); H. Geffcken, Church and State, trans. by E.F. Taylor (London,
1877); P. Schaff, Church and State in the United States (Papers of the
American Hist. Association, vol. ii. No. 4), (New York, 1888); L.
Minghetti, Stato e Chiesa (Milan, 1878), French translation, with
Page 375
Introd. by E. de Laveleye (Paris, 1882); C. Cadorna, Religione, diritto,
libertà (Milan, 1893); F. Nippold, Die Theorie der Trennung von
Kirche und Staat (Bern, 1881); W. Warburton, Alliance between
Church and State (London, 1741) (Works, vol. iv., ed. Hurd, London,
1788); Church Problems (ed. by H.H. Henson) (London, 1900); Essays
on “Establishment” and “Disendowment”; W.R. Anson, Law and
Custom of the Constitution, vol. ii. chap. ix. (Oxford, 1892);
Phillimore, Ecclesiastical Law (London, 1895); J.S. Brewer,
Endowments and Establishment of the Church of England (ed. by L.T.
Dibdin, London, 1885); A.T. Innes, Law of Creeds in Scotland
(Edinburgh, 1867); E.A. Freeman, Disestablishment and
Disendowment (London, 1883); G. Harwood, Disestablishment
(London, 1876); Annales de l’école libre des Sciences politiques, tom.
i. (Paris, 1885), art. “La Séparation de l’Église et de l’État en
Angleterre,” by L. Ayral. (W. E. Co.)
1 In effect this involves the establishment of all religious denominations, for none can
exist without the express authorization of the state, and all are subject to more or less
interference on its part. Thus the emperor-king is, in his capacity of head of the state,
technically “bishop” of the Evangelical Church, the constitution of which was fixed by an
imperial patent in 1866 and modified by. another in 1891 (see Herzog-Hauck, Realencykl.
ed. 1904, s. “Österreich”).—[Ed.]
2 Also in the other German Protestant states. The relations of the Roman Catholic
Church with the various governments are settled by separate concordats with the papacy
(see Concordat).
3 Andrew Lang, Hist. of Scotland, ii. p. 75 ff. Compare with this the position of the
reformers generally in England, where even so stout a Puritan as William Harrison
(Description of England, 1570) does not dream of separating the organic life of the Church
of England from that of the pre-Reformation Church. (Ed).
libertà (Milan, 1893); F. Nippold, Die Theorie der Trennung von
Kirche und Staat (Bern, 1881); W. Warburton, Alliance between
Church and State (London, 1741) (Works, vol. iv., ed. Hurd, London,
1788); Church Problems (ed. by H.H. Henson) (London, 1900); Essays
on “Establishment” and “Disendowment”; W.R. Anson, Law and
Custom of the Constitution, vol. ii. chap. ix. (Oxford, 1892);
Phillimore, Ecclesiastical Law (London, 1895); J.S. Brewer,
Endowments and Establishment of the Church of England (ed. by L.T.
Dibdin, London, 1885); A.T. Innes, Law of Creeds in Scotland
(Edinburgh, 1867); E.A. Freeman, Disestablishment and
Disendowment (London, 1883); G. Harwood, Disestablishment
(London, 1876); Annales de l’école libre des Sciences politiques, tom.
i. (Paris, 1885), art. “La Séparation de l’Église et de l’État en
Angleterre,” by L. Ayral. (W. E. Co.)
1 In effect this involves the establishment of all religious denominations, for none can
exist without the express authorization of the state, and all are subject to more or less
interference on its part. Thus the emperor-king is, in his capacity of head of the state,
technically “bishop” of the Evangelical Church, the constitution of which was fixed by an
imperial patent in 1866 and modified by. another in 1891 (see Herzog-Hauck, Realencykl.
ed. 1904, s. “Österreich”).—[Ed.]
2 Also in the other German Protestant states. The relations of the Roman Catholic
Church with the various governments are settled by separate concordats with the papacy
(see Concordat).
3 Andrew Lang, Hist. of Scotland, ii. p. 75 ff. Compare with this the position of the
reformers generally in England, where even so stout a Puritan as William Harrison
(Description of England, 1570) does not dream of separating the organic life of the Church
of England from that of the pre-Reformation Church. (Ed).
Page 376
ESTABLISHMENT OF A PORT, the technical expression for the time
that elapses between the moon’s transit across the meridian at new or full
moon at a given place and the time of high water at that place. The interval
(constant at any one place) may vary from 6 mins. (Harwich) to 11 hrs. 45
mins. (North Foreland). At London Bridge it is 1 hr. 58 mins. (See also
Tide.)
ESTAING, CHARLES HECTOR, Comte d’ (1729-1794), French
admiral, was born at the château of Ruvel, Auvergne, in 1729. He entered
the army as a colonel of infantry, and in 1757 he accompanied count de
Lally to the East Indies, with the rank of brigadier-general. In 1759 he was
made prisoner at the siege of Madras, but was released on parole. Before
the ratification of his exchange he obtained command of some vessels, and
conducted various naval attacks against the English; and having, on his
return to France in 1760, fallen accidentally into their hands, he was, on the
ground of having broken his parole, thrown into prison at Portsmouth, but
as the charge could not be properly substantiated he was soon afterwards
released. In 1763 he was named lieutenant-general in the navy, and in 1777
vice-admiral; and in 1778 he obtained the command of a fleet intended to
assist the United States against Great Britain. He sailed on the 13th of April,
and between the 11th and the 22nd of July, blockaded Howe at Sandy Hook,
but did not venture to attack him, though greatly superior in force. In
concert with the American generals, he planned an attack on Newport,
preparatory to which he compelled the British to destroy some war vessels
that were in the harbour; but before the concerted attack could take place,
that elapses between the moon’s transit across the meridian at new or full
moon at a given place and the time of high water at that place. The interval
(constant at any one place) may vary from 6 mins. (Harwich) to 11 hrs. 45
mins. (North Foreland). At London Bridge it is 1 hr. 58 mins. (See also
Tide.)
ESTAING, CHARLES HECTOR, Comte d’ (1729-1794), French
admiral, was born at the château of Ruvel, Auvergne, in 1729. He entered
the army as a colonel of infantry, and in 1757 he accompanied count de
Lally to the East Indies, with the rank of brigadier-general. In 1759 he was
made prisoner at the siege of Madras, but was released on parole. Before
the ratification of his exchange he obtained command of some vessels, and
conducted various naval attacks against the English; and having, on his
return to France in 1760, fallen accidentally into their hands, he was, on the
ground of having broken his parole, thrown into prison at Portsmouth, but
as the charge could not be properly substantiated he was soon afterwards
released. In 1763 he was named lieutenant-general in the navy, and in 1777
vice-admiral; and in 1778 he obtained the command of a fleet intended to
assist the United States against Great Britain. He sailed on the 13th of April,
and between the 11th and the 22nd of July, blockaded Howe at Sandy Hook,
but did not venture to attack him, though greatly superior in force. In
concert with the American generals, he planned an attack on Newport,
preparatory to which he compelled the British to destroy some war vessels
that were in the harbour; but before the concerted attack could take place,
Page 377
he put to sea against the English fleet, under Lord Howe, when owing to a
violent storm, which arose suddenly and compelled the two fleets to
separate before engaging in battle, many of his vessels were so shattered
that he found it necessary to put into Boston for repairs. He then sailed for
the West Indies on the 4th of November. After a feeble attempt to retake
Santa Lucia from Admiral Barrington, he captured St Vincent and Grenada.
On the 6th of July 1779 he fought a drawn battle with Admiral John Byron,
who retired to St Christopher. Though superior in force, D’Estaing would
not attack the English in the roadstead, but set sail to attack Savannah. All
his attempts, as well as those of the Americans, against the town were
repulsed with heavy loss, and he was finally compelled to retire. He
returned to France in 1780. He was in command of the combined fleet
before Cadiz when the peace was signed in 1783; but from that time his
chief attention was devoted to politics. In 1787 he was elected to the
assembly of the notables; in 1789 he was appointed commandant of the
national guard; and in 1792 he was chosen admiral by the National
Assembly. Though in favour of national reform he continued to cherish a
strong feeling of loyalty to the royal family, and on the trial of Marie
Antoinette in 1793 bore testimony in her favour. On this account, and
because of certain friendly letters which had passed between him and the
queen, he was himself brought to trial, and was executed on the 28th of
April 1794.
See Marins et soldats français en Amérique, by the Viscomte de
Noailles (1903); Beatson, Naval and Military Memoirs of Great
Britain, vol. v.
violent storm, which arose suddenly and compelled the two fleets to
separate before engaging in battle, many of his vessels were so shattered
that he found it necessary to put into Boston for repairs. He then sailed for
the West Indies on the 4th of November. After a feeble attempt to retake
Santa Lucia from Admiral Barrington, he captured St Vincent and Grenada.
On the 6th of July 1779 he fought a drawn battle with Admiral John Byron,
who retired to St Christopher. Though superior in force, D’Estaing would
not attack the English in the roadstead, but set sail to attack Savannah. All
his attempts, as well as those of the Americans, against the town were
repulsed with heavy loss, and he was finally compelled to retire. He
returned to France in 1780. He was in command of the combined fleet
before Cadiz when the peace was signed in 1783; but from that time his
chief attention was devoted to politics. In 1787 he was elected to the
assembly of the notables; in 1789 he was appointed commandant of the
national guard; and in 1792 he was chosen admiral by the National
Assembly. Though in favour of national reform he continued to cherish a
strong feeling of loyalty to the royal family, and on the trial of Marie
Antoinette in 1793 bore testimony in her favour. On this account, and
because of certain friendly letters which had passed between him and the
queen, he was himself brought to trial, and was executed on the 28th of
April 1794.
See Marins et soldats français en Amérique, by the Viscomte de
Noailles (1903); Beatson, Naval and Military Memoirs of Great
Britain, vol. v.
Page 378
ESTATE (through O. Fr. estat, mod. état, from Lat. status, state,
condition, position, stare, to stand), the state or condition in which a man
lives, now chiefly used poetically and in such phrases as “man’s estate,” or
“of high estate”; “state” has superseded most of the uses of the word except
(1) in property and (2) in constitutional law.
1. In the law of property the word is employed in several senses. In the
widest sense a man’s estate comprises his entire belongings; so much of it
as consists of land and certain other interests associated therewith is his
“real estate”; the rest is his “personal estate.” The word is more particularly
applied to interests in land, and in popular and general use “an estate”
means the land itself. The strict technical meaning of “an estate” is an
interest in lands, and this conception lies at the root of the English theory of
property in land. “The first thing that the student has to do,” says Joshua
Williams (Law of Real Property), “is to get rid of the idea of absolute
ownership. Such an idea is quite unknown to the English law. No man is in
law the absolute owner of lands. He can only hold an estate in them.” That
is, the notion of tenure, of holding by a tenant from a lord, prevails. The last
lord of all from whom all land was ultimately held was the king. Persons
holding directly from the king and granting to others were the king’s tenants
in capite, and were the mesne lords of their tenants.
Estates in land may be classified according to (1) the quantity of their
interest or duration, (2) the time of enjoyment, and (3) the number and
connexion of the tenants. According to (1), an estate may be either a
freehold of inheritance or a freehold not of inheritance. A freehold of
inheritance may be (a) an estate in fee simple, which is the largest estate a
man can hold in English law, and comes close to the idea of absolute
ownership, repudiated by Williams; an estate in fee simple is inheritable by
a man’s heirs generally, he has full powers of disposition over it, and may
alienate the whole or part. (b) It may also be in limited fees, which are again
condition, position, stare, to stand), the state or condition in which a man
lives, now chiefly used poetically and in such phrases as “man’s estate,” or
“of high estate”; “state” has superseded most of the uses of the word except
(1) in property and (2) in constitutional law.
1. In the law of property the word is employed in several senses. In the
widest sense a man’s estate comprises his entire belongings; so much of it
as consists of land and certain other interests associated therewith is his
“real estate”; the rest is his “personal estate.” The word is more particularly
applied to interests in land, and in popular and general use “an estate”
means the land itself. The strict technical meaning of “an estate” is an
interest in lands, and this conception lies at the root of the English theory of
property in land. “The first thing that the student has to do,” says Joshua
Williams (Law of Real Property), “is to get rid of the idea of absolute
ownership. Such an idea is quite unknown to the English law. No man is in
law the absolute owner of lands. He can only hold an estate in them.” That
is, the notion of tenure, of holding by a tenant from a lord, prevails. The last
lord of all from whom all land was ultimately held was the king. Persons
holding directly from the king and granting to others were the king’s tenants
in capite, and were the mesne lords of their tenants.
Estates in land may be classified according to (1) the quantity of their
interest or duration, (2) the time of enjoyment, and (3) the number and
connexion of the tenants. According to (1), an estate may be either a
freehold of inheritance or a freehold not of inheritance. A freehold of
inheritance may be (a) an estate in fee simple, which is the largest estate a
man can hold in English law, and comes close to the idea of absolute
ownership, repudiated by Williams; an estate in fee simple is inheritable by
a man’s heirs generally, he has full powers of disposition over it, and may
alienate the whole or part. (b) It may also be in limited fees, which are again
Page 379
subdivided into (i.) qualified or base fee, (ii.) fee conditional, so called at
the common law, afterwards, on the passing of the statute De Donis
Conditionalibus, fee tail, which may be general as to the heirs of a man’s
body, or special, as to the heirs male (or female) of his body. A freehold not
of inheritance may be either (1) conventional, as an estate for life, which
may be either an estate for one’s own life or for the life of another (pur
autre vie); (2) legal, or created by operation of law, as tenancy in tail after
possibility of issue extinct (i.e. where an estate is given to a man and the
heirs of his body by his present wife, and the wife dies without issue, the
husband becomes tenant in tail after possibility of issue extinct); tenancy by
curtesy (see Curtesy); tenancy in dower (see Dower).
Estates not of freehold or less than freehold are subdivided into (i.)
estates for years (often called estates for a term of years, the instrument
creating it being termed a lease or demise, and the estate itself a leasehold
interest); (ii.) estates at will, that is, where lands or tenements are let by one
man to another to have and to hold at the will of the lessor; (iii.) estates at
sufferance, where one comes into possession of land under a lawful title,
and continues in possession after his title has determined.
According to (2), estates are either in possession or in expectancy. Estates
in expectancy are either (a) in remainder, which may be vested or
contingent, or (b) in reversion (see Remainder, Reversion).
According to (3), estates may be either (i.) in severalty, that is, the
holding of an estate by a person in his own right only, without any other
person being joined or connected with him in point of interest therein; (ii.)
estates in joint tenancy (see Joint); (iii.) coparcenary (q.v.); and (iv.)
tenancy in common, where two or more hold the same land, by several and
distinct titles, but with unity of possession. (See also Real Property.)
the common law, afterwards, on the passing of the statute De Donis
Conditionalibus, fee tail, which may be general as to the heirs of a man’s
body, or special, as to the heirs male (or female) of his body. A freehold not
of inheritance may be either (1) conventional, as an estate for life, which
may be either an estate for one’s own life or for the life of another (pur
autre vie); (2) legal, or created by operation of law, as tenancy in tail after
possibility of issue extinct (i.e. where an estate is given to a man and the
heirs of his body by his present wife, and the wife dies without issue, the
husband becomes tenant in tail after possibility of issue extinct); tenancy by
curtesy (see Curtesy); tenancy in dower (see Dower).
Estates not of freehold or less than freehold are subdivided into (i.)
estates for years (often called estates for a term of years, the instrument
creating it being termed a lease or demise, and the estate itself a leasehold
interest); (ii.) estates at will, that is, where lands or tenements are let by one
man to another to have and to hold at the will of the lessor; (iii.) estates at
sufferance, where one comes into possession of land under a lawful title,
and continues in possession after his title has determined.
According to (2), estates are either in possession or in expectancy. Estates
in expectancy are either (a) in remainder, which may be vested or
contingent, or (b) in reversion (see Remainder, Reversion).
According to (3), estates may be either (i.) in severalty, that is, the
holding of an estate by a person in his own right only, without any other
person being joined or connected with him in point of interest therein; (ii.)
estates in joint tenancy (see Joint); (iii.) coparcenary (q.v.); and (iv.)
tenancy in common, where two or more hold the same land, by several and
distinct titles, but with unity of possession. (See also Real Property.)
Page 380
2. In constitutional law an estate is an order or class having a definite
share as such in the body politic, and participating either directly or by its
representatives in the government. The system of representation by estates
took its rise in western Europe during the 13th century, at a time when the
feudal system was being broken up through various causes, notably the
growing wealth and power of the towns. In the feudal council the clergy and
the territorial nobles had alone had a voice; but the 13th century, to quote
Stubbs (Const. Hist. ii. 168, ed. 1875), “turns the feudal council into an
assembly of estates, and draws the constitution of the third estate from the
ancient local machinery which it concentrates.” This is, allowing for
differences of detail, true of other countries as well as England. To the two
estates already existing, clergy and nobles, is added a third, that of the
commons (burgesses and knights of the shire) in England, that of the
roturiers in France (known as the tiers état). This division into three estates
became the norm, but it was not universal, nor inevitable.1 Even in England
there was a tendency to create other estates, the king for instance treating
with the merchants separately for grants of money to be raised by taxing the
general body of merchants in the country; and there was a similar tendency
on the part of the lawyers. But for the accident of their sitting and voting
together, the burgesses and knights of the shire would also have formed
separate estates. In Aragon the cortes contained four estates (brazos or
arms), the clergy, the great barons (ricos hombres), the minor barons
(knights or infanzones), and the towns. The Swedish diet had also four—
clergy, barons, burghers and peasants.
The system of estates, based on the medieval conception of society as
divided into definite orders, formed the basis of whatever constitutional
forms survived in Europe till the French Revolution. In England, of course,
it had early become obscured, the House of Commons representing the
whole nation outside the narrow order of the peers. The creation of an estate
of lesser nobles or landowners had been prevented by the fusion of the
share as such in the body politic, and participating either directly or by its
representatives in the government. The system of representation by estates
took its rise in western Europe during the 13th century, at a time when the
feudal system was being broken up through various causes, notably the
growing wealth and power of the towns. In the feudal council the clergy and
the territorial nobles had alone had a voice; but the 13th century, to quote
Stubbs (Const. Hist. ii. 168, ed. 1875), “turns the feudal council into an
assembly of estates, and draws the constitution of the third estate from the
ancient local machinery which it concentrates.” This is, allowing for
differences of detail, true of other countries as well as England. To the two
estates already existing, clergy and nobles, is added a third, that of the
commons (burgesses and knights of the shire) in England, that of the
roturiers in France (known as the tiers état). This division into three estates
became the norm, but it was not universal, nor inevitable.1 Even in England
there was a tendency to create other estates, the king for instance treating
with the merchants separately for grants of money to be raised by taxing the
general body of merchants in the country; and there was a similar tendency
on the part of the lawyers. But for the accident of their sitting and voting
together, the burgesses and knights of the shire would also have formed
separate estates. In Aragon the cortes contained four estates (brazos or
arms), the clergy, the great barons (ricos hombres), the minor barons
(knights or infanzones), and the towns. The Swedish diet had also four—
clergy, barons, burghers and peasants.
The system of estates, based on the medieval conception of society as
divided into definite orders, formed the basis of whatever constitutional
forms survived in Europe till the French Revolution. In England, of course,
it had early become obscured, the House of Commons representing the
whole nation outside the narrow order of the peers. The creation of an estate
of lesser nobles or landowners had been prevented by the fusion of the
Page 381
knights of the shire with the burgesses; the spiritual estate was ruled out by
the determination of the clergy to deliberate and tax themselves in their own
convocation, leaving the bishops, as spiritual peers, to represent their
interests in parliament.
The phrase “the three estates of the realm” still survives, but to most men
it conveys no clear meaning. The erroneous conception early arose—
Hallam says it was current among the popular lawyers of the 17th century
—that the “three estates” were king, lords and commons, as representing
the three great divisions of legislative authority. Such a conception might be
possible in Hungary, where the crown of St. Stephen symbolizes not so
much the royal power as the co-ordination of the powers of all the organs of
the state, including the king; but in England the king represents the whole
nation and in no sense a separate interest within it, which is the essence of
an estate. The phrase “three estates” as applied to the English constitution at
present is, in fact, misleading. It is now usually understood of the lords
spiritual, the lords temporal, and the commons.
The conception of the “three estates of the realm” as the great divisions
of legislative authority led in England to the coining of the phrase “fourth
estate,” to indicate some power of corresponding magnitude in the state
distinct from them. Fielding thus spoke of “the mob,” and Hazlitt of
Cobbett; but the phrase is now usually applied to the press, a usage
originating in a speech by Burke (Carlyle, Hero-worship, Lect. v.).
In the constitutional struggles of the European continent, from the
Revolution onward, the rival theories of representation by estates and of
popular representation have played a great part. The crucial moment of the
French Revolution was when the vote according to “order” was rejected and
the estates of the clergy and nobles were merged with the tiers état, the
states-general thus becoming the National Assembly. This was the
precedent followed, generally speaking, during the 19th century in the other
the determination of the clergy to deliberate and tax themselves in their own
convocation, leaving the bishops, as spiritual peers, to represent their
interests in parliament.
The phrase “the three estates of the realm” still survives, but to most men
it conveys no clear meaning. The erroneous conception early arose—
Hallam says it was current among the popular lawyers of the 17th century
—that the “three estates” were king, lords and commons, as representing
the three great divisions of legislative authority. Such a conception might be
possible in Hungary, where the crown of St. Stephen symbolizes not so
much the royal power as the co-ordination of the powers of all the organs of
the state, including the king; but in England the king represents the whole
nation and in no sense a separate interest within it, which is the essence of
an estate. The phrase “three estates” as applied to the English constitution at
present is, in fact, misleading. It is now usually understood of the lords
spiritual, the lords temporal, and the commons.
The conception of the “three estates of the realm” as the great divisions
of legislative authority led in England to the coining of the phrase “fourth
estate,” to indicate some power of corresponding magnitude in the state
distinct from them. Fielding thus spoke of “the mob,” and Hazlitt of
Cobbett; but the phrase is now usually applied to the press, a usage
originating in a speech by Burke (Carlyle, Hero-worship, Lect. v.).
In the constitutional struggles of the European continent, from the
Revolution onward, the rival theories of representation by estates and of
popular representation have played a great part. The crucial moment of the
French Revolution was when the vote according to “order” was rejected and
the estates of the clergy and nobles were merged with the tiers état, the
states-general thus becoming the National Assembly. This was the
precedent followed, generally speaking, during the 19th century in the other
Page 382
countries in which constitutional government was established. In most of
them the medieval estates lingered on in provincial diets (Landtage),2 and
the famous Article XIII. of the Federal Act (Bundesakte) of Vienna decreed
that “assemblies of estates” should be set up, wherever not already existing,
in the German states. The efforts of Metternich and the statesmen of his
school were directed, not so much to abolishing the constitutional model, as
to establishing it, if need were, on traditional and conservative lines. This is
what was meant by the famous reply of the emperor Francis I. to the
Magyar deputation; “All the world is playing the fool and demanding
fanciful constitutions.” When the need for making constitutional
concessions became urgent, the attempt was accordingly made to base them
on the system of estates. But the central diet convoked in 1847 by Frederick
William IV. to Berlin, technically a concentration of provincial estates,
quickly converted itself as Metternich had prophesied—into a national
assembly; and precisely the same thing happened in the case of the first
Austrian parliament in 1848. In Hungary the revolution was in some
respects more conservative in character. The March Laws of 1848 preserved
the general character of the House of Magnates, comparable to the British
House of Lords, but converted the Lower House from what was practically
representative of the estate of the lesser nobles into a national representative
assembly. Of all the sovereign states of Europe only the grand-duchies of
Mecklenburg still (1909) retain the ancient system of estates untouched.
The diet, which is common to the two duchies, consists of the Ritterschaft,
in which all tenants in chivalry (Rittergutsbesitzer), whether noble or non-
noble, have a voice, and the Landschaft, which consists of the chief
magistrates of the towns. The former is taken as representative of the
peasant proprietors and copy-holders (Hintersassen), the latter of the
burghers.
The plural form Estates or States (Fr. états, Ger. Stände) is the name
commonly given to an assembly of estates (assemblée des états,
them the medieval estates lingered on in provincial diets (Landtage),2 and
the famous Article XIII. of the Federal Act (Bundesakte) of Vienna decreed
that “assemblies of estates” should be set up, wherever not already existing,
in the German states. The efforts of Metternich and the statesmen of his
school were directed, not so much to abolishing the constitutional model, as
to establishing it, if need were, on traditional and conservative lines. This is
what was meant by the famous reply of the emperor Francis I. to the
Magyar deputation; “All the world is playing the fool and demanding
fanciful constitutions.” When the need for making constitutional
concessions became urgent, the attempt was accordingly made to base them
on the system of estates. But the central diet convoked in 1847 by Frederick
William IV. to Berlin, technically a concentration of provincial estates,
quickly converted itself as Metternich had prophesied—into a national
assembly; and precisely the same thing happened in the case of the first
Austrian parliament in 1848. In Hungary the revolution was in some
respects more conservative in character. The March Laws of 1848 preserved
the general character of the House of Magnates, comparable to the British
House of Lords, but converted the Lower House from what was practically
representative of the estate of the lesser nobles into a national representative
assembly. Of all the sovereign states of Europe only the grand-duchies of
Mecklenburg still (1909) retain the ancient system of estates untouched.
The diet, which is common to the two duchies, consists of the Ritterschaft,
in which all tenants in chivalry (Rittergutsbesitzer), whether noble or non-
noble, have a voice, and the Landschaft, which consists of the chief
magistrates of the towns. The former is taken as representative of the
peasant proprietors and copy-holders (Hintersassen), the latter of the
burghers.
The plural form Estates or States (Fr. états, Ger. Stände) is the name
commonly given to an assembly of estates (assemblée des états,
Page 383
Ständeversammlung). When such an assembly is not merely local or
provincial it is called the estates-general or states-general (états généraux),
e.g. in France the assembly of the deputies of the three estates of the realm
as distinct from the provincial estates which met periodically in the so-
called pays d’états.
For further details about the estates in England and elsewhere see W.
Stubbs, Constitutional History, vol. ii. (1896); H. Hallam, The Middle
Ages (1855); F.W. Maitland, Constitutional History of England (1908);
A. Luchaire, Histoire des institutions monarchiques de la France
(1883-1885); G. Waitz, Deutsche Verfassungsgeschichte (Kiel, 1865-
1878); and A.S. Rait, The Scottish Parliament (1901). See also
Representation.
1 In Scotland the three estates were the prelates, the tenants-in-chief and the burgesses,
the third estate joining the others for the first time about the beginning of the 14th century.
In 1428 commissioners of shires, men elected by the minor tenants-in-chief, were ordered
to appear in parliament; the greater tenants-in-chief then coalesced with the prelates and the
three estates were the lords, clerical and lay, the commissioners of shires and the burgesses.
From 1640 to 1660 parliament was reorganized, the prelates being excluded, but at the
Restoration the old order was re-established. The Scottish parliament was accustomed to
depute much of its work to a committee, composed of members from each of the three
orders, and the committee of the estates was very prominent during the struggle between
Charles I. and his people.
2 These diets are, wherever they still exist, survivals of the “parliaments” of separate
territorial units.
provincial it is called the estates-general or states-general (états généraux),
e.g. in France the assembly of the deputies of the three estates of the realm
as distinct from the provincial estates which met periodically in the so-
called pays d’états.
For further details about the estates in England and elsewhere see W.
Stubbs, Constitutional History, vol. ii. (1896); H. Hallam, The Middle
Ages (1855); F.W. Maitland, Constitutional History of England (1908);
A. Luchaire, Histoire des institutions monarchiques de la France
(1883-1885); G. Waitz, Deutsche Verfassungsgeschichte (Kiel, 1865-
1878); and A.S. Rait, The Scottish Parliament (1901). See also
Representation.
1 In Scotland the three estates were the prelates, the tenants-in-chief and the burgesses,
the third estate joining the others for the first time about the beginning of the 14th century.
In 1428 commissioners of shires, men elected by the minor tenants-in-chief, were ordered
to appear in parliament; the greater tenants-in-chief then coalesced with the prelates and the
three estates were the lords, clerical and lay, the commissioners of shires and the burgesses.
From 1640 to 1660 parliament was reorganized, the prelates being excluded, but at the
Restoration the old order was re-established. The Scottish parliament was accustomed to
depute much of its work to a committee, composed of members from each of the three
orders, and the committee of the estates was very prominent during the struggle between
Charles I. and his people.
2 These diets are, wherever they still exist, survivals of the “parliaments” of separate
territorial units.
Page 384
ESTATE AND HOUSE AGENTS. A person exercising the calling of a
house agent in England is required, under a penalty of £20, to take out
yearly a licence upon which £2 is charged as a duty of excise, unless he is
licensed as an auctioneer or appraiser, or is an agent employed in the
management of landed estates, or a solicitor or conveyancer who has taken
out his annual certificate as such. In this connexion a person is deemed to
be a house agent if he advertises for sale or for letting, or in any way
negotiates for the selling or letting of any furnished house or part of any
furnished house (any storey or flat rated and let as a separate tenement
being for this purpose a house); subject, however, to the qualification that
no one is to be deemed to be a house agent by reason of his letting, or
offering to let, or in any way negotiating for the letting of, any house the
annual rent or value of which does not exceed £25.
A house agent who is merely instructed to act in the usual way of his
calling has no authority to bind his employer by a contract. His business is
to endeavour to find a person willing to become a purchaser or tenant and
then to communicate his offer to the owner. Unless express authority is
given to the agent to sell or let, and for that purpose to enter into a binding
contract, the principal reserves his right to accept or refuse the offer. As a
rule, a house or estate agent has no authority to receive payment on behalf
of the principal. Where he is employed to procure a tenant, he must use
reasonable diligence to ascertain that the person to whom the property is let
through his agency is fit to be a tenant. He does not, however, in any way
guarantee the payment of the rent. A house agent may not, for or in
expectation of payment, prepare any deed relating to the sale or letting of
real or personal estate. There is, however, no similar prohibition as to
agreements not under seal, and it is a common practice for house agents to
charge for the preparation of them.
house agent in England is required, under a penalty of £20, to take out
yearly a licence upon which £2 is charged as a duty of excise, unless he is
licensed as an auctioneer or appraiser, or is an agent employed in the
management of landed estates, or a solicitor or conveyancer who has taken
out his annual certificate as such. In this connexion a person is deemed to
be a house agent if he advertises for sale or for letting, or in any way
negotiates for the selling or letting of any furnished house or part of any
furnished house (any storey or flat rated and let as a separate tenement
being for this purpose a house); subject, however, to the qualification that
no one is to be deemed to be a house agent by reason of his letting, or
offering to let, or in any way negotiating for the letting of, any house the
annual rent or value of which does not exceed £25.
A house agent who is merely instructed to act in the usual way of his
calling has no authority to bind his employer by a contract. His business is
to endeavour to find a person willing to become a purchaser or tenant and
then to communicate his offer to the owner. Unless express authority is
given to the agent to sell or let, and for that purpose to enter into a binding
contract, the principal reserves his right to accept or refuse the offer. As a
rule, a house or estate agent has no authority to receive payment on behalf
of the principal. Where he is employed to procure a tenant, he must use
reasonable diligence to ascertain that the person to whom the property is let
through his agency is fit to be a tenant. He does not, however, in any way
guarantee the payment of the rent. A house agent may not, for or in
expectation of payment, prepare any deed relating to the sale or letting of
real or personal estate. There is, however, no similar prohibition as to
agreements not under seal, and it is a common practice for house agents to
charge for the preparation of them.
Page 385
House agents are usually remunerated by way of commission. The scale
adopted by the Institute of Estate and House Agents embodies the rates
usually charged. In the absence of express provision upon the subject
between the principal and the agent, commission is payable only when the
latter has found a purchaser or tenant. If, however, he had found a person
willing to buy or take property upon the terms upon which the principal
intimated to him his willingness to sell or let it, the principal will be liable
to pay the amount of the commission, even though in fact he refuses or is
unable to sell or let it. Where the agent can show that he has brought about
a sale or tenancy he will be entitled to the commission notwithstanding the
fact that another agent has been paid, or has recovered in an action,
commission in respect of the same sale or tenancy. The agent’s authority
may be revoked at any time; but, where he has already performed the
service for which he was employed, the principal cannot defeat his right to
be paid the amount of the commission by subsequently revoking his
authority. If the agent is unsuccessful in finding a purchaser or tenant, as the
case may be, he will not, as a rule, have any right to remuneration for his
efforts in the matter.
Most auctioneers, in addition to holding auctions, carry on the business
of house and estate agency. The number of licences issued to house agents
and appraisers in England for the year ended 31st March 1899 was 4429,
and for the year ended 31st March 1909, 4618. The number of licences
issued to auctioneers in England for the corresponding periods was 6389
and 6543 respectively.
(H. Ha.)
adopted by the Institute of Estate and House Agents embodies the rates
usually charged. In the absence of express provision upon the subject
between the principal and the agent, commission is payable only when the
latter has found a purchaser or tenant. If, however, he had found a person
willing to buy or take property upon the terms upon which the principal
intimated to him his willingness to sell or let it, the principal will be liable
to pay the amount of the commission, even though in fact he refuses or is
unable to sell or let it. Where the agent can show that he has brought about
a sale or tenancy he will be entitled to the commission notwithstanding the
fact that another agent has been paid, or has recovered in an action,
commission in respect of the same sale or tenancy. The agent’s authority
may be revoked at any time; but, where he has already performed the
service for which he was employed, the principal cannot defeat his right to
be paid the amount of the commission by subsequently revoking his
authority. If the agent is unsuccessful in finding a purchaser or tenant, as the
case may be, he will not, as a rule, have any right to remuneration for his
efforts in the matter.
Most auctioneers, in addition to holding auctions, carry on the business
of house and estate agency. The number of licences issued to house agents
and appraisers in England for the year ended 31st March 1899 was 4429,
and for the year ended 31st March 1909, 4618. The number of licences
issued to auctioneers in England for the corresponding periods was 6389
and 6543 respectively.
(H. Ha.)
Page 386
ESTATE DUTY. For purposes of the national revenue in the United
Kingdom, the Finance Act 1894 imposed on all property passing by death
after the 1st of August 1894 a duty called estate duty, in lieu of certain other
duties previously payable. The objects of the act were—(1) simplification
of the death duties and equalization as between real and personal property,
and (2) aggregation of all the property passing on a death, and taxation at
rates graduated according to the value of the whole. Before the act a duty
(probate duty) was taken on the free personal property of deceased persons
in the hands of the executor or administrator, without regard to the
subsequent distribution. The legacy and succession duties were levied on
distribution of the property passing on the death, from the persons taking
any property under the will or intestacy of the deceased, or under
settlement, or by devolution of title on his death. These two latter duties
were mutually exclusive, and together covered practically all property
passing by death. They were levied at rates graduated according to
consanguinity. In 1888 an attempt was made to equalize the rates of the
death duties as between property which paid the probate and legacy duties,
and property which paid succession duty only. But the Finance Act 1894
replaced the probate duty by a duty extending to all property real or
personal passing on or by reference to death, whether by disposition of the
deceased or not, without regard to its tenure or destination. The Finance
Acts of 1907 and 1909-1910 increased the scale of duties laid down in
1894.
For this purpose all property passing on a death is aggregated to form one
estate, on the capital value of which the duty is charged, at rates graduated
from 1 to 15% according to the aggregate value. Besides the property of
which the deceased was competent to dispose at his death, the aggregated
estate includes property in which he had an interest ceasing on his death,
from the cesser of which a benefit accrues, or which was disposed of by
him within twelve months of death, or at any time, with reservation of an
Kingdom, the Finance Act 1894 imposed on all property passing by death
after the 1st of August 1894 a duty called estate duty, in lieu of certain other
duties previously payable. The objects of the act were—(1) simplification
of the death duties and equalization as between real and personal property,
and (2) aggregation of all the property passing on a death, and taxation at
rates graduated according to the value of the whole. Before the act a duty
(probate duty) was taken on the free personal property of deceased persons
in the hands of the executor or administrator, without regard to the
subsequent distribution. The legacy and succession duties were levied on
distribution of the property passing on the death, from the persons taking
any property under the will or intestacy of the deceased, or under
settlement, or by devolution of title on his death. These two latter duties
were mutually exclusive, and together covered practically all property
passing by death. They were levied at rates graduated according to
consanguinity. In 1888 an attempt was made to equalize the rates of the
death duties as between property which paid the probate and legacy duties,
and property which paid succession duty only. But the Finance Act 1894
replaced the probate duty by a duty extending to all property real or
personal passing on or by reference to death, whether by disposition of the
deceased or not, without regard to its tenure or destination. The Finance
Acts of 1907 and 1909-1910 increased the scale of duties laid down in
1894.
For this purpose all property passing on a death is aggregated to form one
estate, on the capital value of which the duty is charged, at rates graduated
from 1 to 15% according to the aggregate value. Besides the property of
which the deceased was competent to dispose at his death, the aggregated
estate includes property in which he had an interest ceasing on his death,
from the cesser of which a benefit accrues, or which was disposed of by
him within twelve months of death, or at any time, with reservation of an
Page 387
interest to himself. The extent to which property is deemed to pass on the
cesser of a limited interest is measured by the proportion of the income to
which the interest extended, without regard to the tenure of the deceased or
his successor. Property may therefore be included in the aggregate estate at
its capital value owing to the passing of a life-interest only, the property
being settled so that the absolute ownership does not pass at all. But when
the duty has once been paid on property passing under a settlement, the
property does not again become chargeable until it passes on the death of a
person who is or has been competent to dispose of it. To compensate for
this advantage, when property passing under a settlement made after the act
pays the estate duty, a further duty of 2% (settlement estate duty) is taken,
except where the only subsequent life-interest is that of the wife or husband
of the deceased.
The rate of duty being fixed according to the aggregate capital value of
the whole estate, the charge is distributed according to the different modes
of disposition of the property comprised in the estate. The duty on the
personalty which passes to the executor as such is paid by him, as the
probate duty was, and comes out of the general estate. For the other
property passing, trustees, or any person to whom it passes for a beneficial
interest in possession, are made accountable, and are required to bring in an
account of the property and pay the duty. The duty is a first charge on such
property, and, when it is paid by a person having a life-interest only, he may
charge the corpus of the property with it. The duty on real property included
in an account is payable by eight yearly or sixteen half-yearly instalments,
becoming due twelve months after the death, and bearing interest at 3%
from that date. On other property, except in a few special cases, the duty
bears interest at 3% from the date of the death. When the estate duty has
been paid no further duty is chargeable on property comprised in the estate
which passes to lineal relations of the deceased. But on property passing to
collaterals or strangers legacy or succession duty, as the case may be, is
cesser of a limited interest is measured by the proportion of the income to
which the interest extended, without regard to the tenure of the deceased or
his successor. Property may therefore be included in the aggregate estate at
its capital value owing to the passing of a life-interest only, the property
being settled so that the absolute ownership does not pass at all. But when
the duty has once been paid on property passing under a settlement, the
property does not again become chargeable until it passes on the death of a
person who is or has been competent to dispose of it. To compensate for
this advantage, when property passing under a settlement made after the act
pays the estate duty, a further duty of 2% (settlement estate duty) is taken,
except where the only subsequent life-interest is that of the wife or husband
of the deceased.
The rate of duty being fixed according to the aggregate capital value of
the whole estate, the charge is distributed according to the different modes
of disposition of the property comprised in the estate. The duty on the
personalty which passes to the executor as such is paid by him, as the
probate duty was, and comes out of the general estate. For the other
property passing, trustees, or any person to whom it passes for a beneficial
interest in possession, are made accountable, and are required to bring in an
account of the property and pay the duty. The duty is a first charge on such
property, and, when it is paid by a person having a life-interest only, he may
charge the corpus of the property with it. The duty on real property included
in an account is payable by eight yearly or sixteen half-yearly instalments,
becoming due twelve months after the death, and bearing interest at 3%
from that date. On other property, except in a few special cases, the duty
bears interest at 3% from the date of the death. When the estate duty has
been paid no further duty is chargeable on property comprised in the estate
which passes to lineal relations of the deceased. But on property passing to
collaterals or strangers legacy or succession duty, as the case may be, is
Page 388
payable by the devisees or successors, at a rate (which is the same
whichever duty be payable) fixed according to consanguinity.
For a detailed account of the provisions of the act of 1894 and
subsequent amending acts, and of the practical working of the duty,
reference is made to Austen-Cartmell, Finance Acts (1894-1907);
Hanson, Death Duties (London, 1904); Soward, Handbook to the
Estate Duty (4th ed., London, 1900); and to the reports of the
commissioners of Inland Revenue for 1894-1895 and subsequent years.
ESTCOURT, RICHARD (1668-1712), English actor, began by playing
comedy parts in Dublin. His first London appearance was in 1704 as
Dominick, in Dryden’s Spanish Friar, and he continued to take important
parts at Drury Lane, being the original Pounce in Steele’s Tender Husband
(1705), Sergeant Kite in Farquhar’s Recruiting Officer, and Sir Francis
Gripe in Mrs Centlivre’s Busybody. He was an excellent mimic and a great
favourite socially. Estcourt wrote a comedy, The Fair Example, or the
Modish Citizen (1703), and Prunella (1704), an interlude.
ESTE, one of the oldest of the former reigning houses of Italy. It is in all
probability of Lombard origin, and descended, according to Muratori, from
whichever duty be payable) fixed according to consanguinity.
For a detailed account of the provisions of the act of 1894 and
subsequent amending acts, and of the practical working of the duty,
reference is made to Austen-Cartmell, Finance Acts (1894-1907);
Hanson, Death Duties (London, 1904); Soward, Handbook to the
Estate Duty (4th ed., London, 1900); and to the reports of the
commissioners of Inland Revenue for 1894-1895 and subsequent years.
ESTCOURT, RICHARD (1668-1712), English actor, began by playing
comedy parts in Dublin. His first London appearance was in 1704 as
Dominick, in Dryden’s Spanish Friar, and he continued to take important
parts at Drury Lane, being the original Pounce in Steele’s Tender Husband
(1705), Sergeant Kite in Farquhar’s Recruiting Officer, and Sir Francis
Gripe in Mrs Centlivre’s Busybody. He was an excellent mimic and a great
favourite socially. Estcourt wrote a comedy, The Fair Example, or the
Modish Citizen (1703), and Prunella (1704), an interlude.
ESTE, one of the oldest of the former reigning houses of Italy. It is in all
probability of Lombard origin, and descended, according to Muratori, from
Page 389
the princes who governed in Tuscany in Carolingian times. The lordship of
the town of Este was first acquired by Alberto Azzo II., who also bore the
title of marquis of Italy1 (d. c. 1097); he married Kunitza or Kunegonda,
sister of Welf or Guelph III., duke of Carinthia. Welf died without issue, and
was succeeded by Welf IV., son of Kunitza, who married a daughter of Otto
II., duke of Bavaria, and who obtained the duchy of Bavaria in 1070.
Through him the house of Este became connected with the princely houses
of Brunswick and Hanover, from which the sovereigns of England are
descended. The Italian titles and estates were inherited by Folco I. (1060-
1135), son of Alberto Azzo by his second wife Gersende, daughter of
Herbert I., count of Maine.2 The house of Este played a great part in the
history of medieval and Renaissance Italy, and it first comes to the front in
the wars between the Guelphs and Ghibellines; as leaders of the former
party its princes received at different times Ferrara, Modena, Reggio and
other fiefs and territories.
Obizzo I., son of Folco, was the first to bear the title of marquis of Este.
He entered into the Guelphic league against the emperor Frederick I., and
was comprehended in the treaty of Venice of 1177 by which municipal
podestàs (foreigners chosen as heads of cities to administer justice
impartially) were instituted. He was elected podestà of Padua in 1178, and
in 1184 he was reconciled with Frederick, who created him marquis of
Genoa and Milan, a dignity somewhat similar to that of imperial vicar. By
the marriage of his son Azzo to the heiress of the Marchesella family (the
story that she was carried off to prevent her marrying an enemy of the Este
is a pure legend), he came to acquire great influence in Ferrara, although he
was opposed by the hardly less powerful house of Torelli.
Obizzo died in 1194 and Azzo V. having predeceased him, the marquisate
devolved on his grandson Azzo VI. (1170-1212), who became head of the
Guelph party, and to him the people of Ferrara sacrificed their liberty by
the town of Este was first acquired by Alberto Azzo II., who also bore the
title of marquis of Italy1 (d. c. 1097); he married Kunitza or Kunegonda,
sister of Welf or Guelph III., duke of Carinthia. Welf died without issue, and
was succeeded by Welf IV., son of Kunitza, who married a daughter of Otto
II., duke of Bavaria, and who obtained the duchy of Bavaria in 1070.
Through him the house of Este became connected with the princely houses
of Brunswick and Hanover, from which the sovereigns of England are
descended. The Italian titles and estates were inherited by Folco I. (1060-
1135), son of Alberto Azzo by his second wife Gersende, daughter of
Herbert I., count of Maine.2 The house of Este played a great part in the
history of medieval and Renaissance Italy, and it first comes to the front in
the wars between the Guelphs and Ghibellines; as leaders of the former
party its princes received at different times Ferrara, Modena, Reggio and
other fiefs and territories.
Obizzo I., son of Folco, was the first to bear the title of marquis of Este.
He entered into the Guelphic league against the emperor Frederick I., and
was comprehended in the treaty of Venice of 1177 by which municipal
podestàs (foreigners chosen as heads of cities to administer justice
impartially) were instituted. He was elected podestà of Padua in 1178, and
in 1184 he was reconciled with Frederick, who created him marquis of
Genoa and Milan, a dignity somewhat similar to that of imperial vicar. By
the marriage of his son Azzo to the heiress of the Marchesella family (the
story that she was carried off to prevent her marrying an enemy of the Este
is a pure legend), he came to acquire great influence in Ferrara, although he
was opposed by the hardly less powerful house of Torelli.
Obizzo died in 1194 and Azzo V. having predeceased him, the marquisate
devolved on his grandson Azzo VI. (1170-1212), who became head of the
Guelph party, and to him the people of Ferrara sacrificed their liberty by
Page 390
making him their first lord (1208). But during his lifetime civil war raged in
the city, between the Este and the Torelli, each party being driven out again
and again. Azzo (also called Azzolino) died in 1212 and was succeeded by
Aldobrandino I., who in 1213 concluded a treaty with Salinguerra Torelli,
the head of that house, to divide the government of the city between them.
On his death in 1215 he was succeeded by his brother Azzo VII. (1205-
1264), surnamed Novello, but Salinguerra Torelli usurped all power in
Ferrara and expelled Azzo (1222). In 1240 Pope Gregory IX. determined on
another war against the emperor Frederick II., but deemed it wise to begin
by crushing the chief Ghibelline houses. Thus Azzo found himself in league
with the pope and various Guelph cities in his attempt to regain Ferrara.
That town underwent a four months’ siege, and was at last compelled to
surrender; Salinguerra was sent to Venice as a prisoner, and Azzo ruled in
Ferrara once more. The Ghibelline party was annihilated, but the city
enjoyed peace and happiness within, although her citizens took part in the
wars raging outside. The Guelph cause triumphed, Frederick being defeated
several times, and after his death Azzo helped in crushing the terrible
Eccelino da Romano (q.v.) who upheld the imperial cause, at the battle of
Cassano (1259). He died in 1264 and was succeeded by Obizzo II. (1240-
1293) his grandson, who in 1288 received the lordship of Modena, and that
of Reggio in 1289. He was a capable but cruel ruler, and while professing
devotion to the Guelph cause, did homage to the German king Rudolph I.
when he descended into Italy.
Obizzo II. died in 1293 and was succeeded by his son Azzo VIII., but the
latter’s brothers, Aldobrandino and Francesco, who were to have shared in
the government, were expelled and became his bitter enemies. The
misgovernment of Azzo led to the revolt of Reggio and Modena, which
shook off his yoke. Enemies arose on all sides, and he spent his last years in
perpetual fighting. He died in 1308, and having no legitimate children, his
brothers, his natural son Fresco, and others disputed the succession. A papal
the city, between the Este and the Torelli, each party being driven out again
and again. Azzo (also called Azzolino) died in 1212 and was succeeded by
Aldobrandino I., who in 1213 concluded a treaty with Salinguerra Torelli,
the head of that house, to divide the government of the city between them.
On his death in 1215 he was succeeded by his brother Azzo VII. (1205-
1264), surnamed Novello, but Salinguerra Torelli usurped all power in
Ferrara and expelled Azzo (1222). In 1240 Pope Gregory IX. determined on
another war against the emperor Frederick II., but deemed it wise to begin
by crushing the chief Ghibelline houses. Thus Azzo found himself in league
with the pope and various Guelph cities in his attempt to regain Ferrara.
That town underwent a four months’ siege, and was at last compelled to
surrender; Salinguerra was sent to Venice as a prisoner, and Azzo ruled in
Ferrara once more. The Ghibelline party was annihilated, but the city
enjoyed peace and happiness within, although her citizens took part in the
wars raging outside. The Guelph cause triumphed, Frederick being defeated
several times, and after his death Azzo helped in crushing the terrible
Eccelino da Romano (q.v.) who upheld the imperial cause, at the battle of
Cassano (1259). He died in 1264 and was succeeded by Obizzo II. (1240-
1293) his grandson, who in 1288 received the lordship of Modena, and that
of Reggio in 1289. He was a capable but cruel ruler, and while professing
devotion to the Guelph cause, did homage to the German king Rudolph I.
when he descended into Italy.
Obizzo II. died in 1293 and was succeeded by his son Azzo VIII., but the
latter’s brothers, Aldobrandino and Francesco, who were to have shared in
the government, were expelled and became his bitter enemies. The
misgovernment of Azzo led to the revolt of Reggio and Modena, which
shook off his yoke. Enemies arose on all sides, and he spent his last years in
perpetual fighting. He died in 1308, and having no legitimate children, his
brothers, his natural son Fresco, and others disputed the succession. A papal
Page 391
legate was appointed, and though the Este returned they were placed under
pontifical tutelage.
The history of the house now becomes involved and of little interest until
we come to Nicholas III. (1384-1441), who exercised sway over Ferrara,
Modena, Parma and Reggio, waged many wars, was made general of the
army of the Church, and in his later years governor of Milan, where he died,
not without suspicion of poison. To him succeeded Lionello (1407-1450), a
wise and virtuous ruler and a patron of literature and art; then Borso (1413-
1471), his brother, who was created duke of Modena and Reggio by the
emperor Frederick III., and duke of Ferrara by the pope. In spite of the wars
by which all Italy was torn, Ferrara enjoyed a period of peace and
prosperity under Borso; he patronized literature, established a printing-press
at Ferrara, surrounded himself with learned men, and his court was of
unparalleled splendour. He also protected industry and commerce, and ruled
with great wisdom. His brother Ercole I. (1431-1505), who succeeded him
in 1471, was less fortunate, and had to engage in a war with Venice, owing
to a dispute about the salt monopoly, with the result that by the peace of
1484 he was forced to cede the district of Polesine to the republic. But the
last years of his life were peaceful and prosperous, so that afterwards men
looked back to the days of Ercole I. as to a golden age; his capital was noted
both for its luxury and as the resort of men eminent in literature and art.
Boiardo the poet was his minister, and Ariosto obtained his patronage.
Ercole’s daughter Beatrice d’Este (1475-1497), duchess of Milan, one of
the most beautiful and accomplished princesses of the Italian Renaissance,
was bethrothed at the age of five to Lodovico Sforza (known as il Moro),
duke of Bari, regent and afterwards duke of Milan, and was married to him
in January 1491. She had been carefully educated, and availed herself of her
position as mistress of one of the most splendid courts of Italy to surround
herself with learned men, poets and artists, such as Niccolò da Correggio,
pontifical tutelage.
The history of the house now becomes involved and of little interest until
we come to Nicholas III. (1384-1441), who exercised sway over Ferrara,
Modena, Parma and Reggio, waged many wars, was made general of the
army of the Church, and in his later years governor of Milan, where he died,
not without suspicion of poison. To him succeeded Lionello (1407-1450), a
wise and virtuous ruler and a patron of literature and art; then Borso (1413-
1471), his brother, who was created duke of Modena and Reggio by the
emperor Frederick III., and duke of Ferrara by the pope. In spite of the wars
by which all Italy was torn, Ferrara enjoyed a period of peace and
prosperity under Borso; he patronized literature, established a printing-press
at Ferrara, surrounded himself with learned men, and his court was of
unparalleled splendour. He also protected industry and commerce, and ruled
with great wisdom. His brother Ercole I. (1431-1505), who succeeded him
in 1471, was less fortunate, and had to engage in a war with Venice, owing
to a dispute about the salt monopoly, with the result that by the peace of
1484 he was forced to cede the district of Polesine to the republic. But the
last years of his life were peaceful and prosperous, so that afterwards men
looked back to the days of Ercole I. as to a golden age; his capital was noted
both for its luxury and as the resort of men eminent in literature and art.
Boiardo the poet was his minister, and Ariosto obtained his patronage.
Ercole’s daughter Beatrice d’Este (1475-1497), duchess of Milan, one of
the most beautiful and accomplished princesses of the Italian Renaissance,
was bethrothed at the age of five to Lodovico Sforza (known as il Moro),
duke of Bari, regent and afterwards duke of Milan, and was married to him
in January 1491. She had been carefully educated, and availed herself of her
position as mistress of one of the most splendid courts of Italy to surround
herself with learned men, poets and artists, such as Niccolò da Correggio,
Page 392
Bernardo Castiglione, Bramante, Leonardo da Vinci and many others. In
1492 she visited Venice as ambassador for her husband in his political
schemes, which consisted chiefly in a desire to be recognized as duke of
Milan. On the death of Gian Galeazzo Sforza, Lodovico’s usurpation was
legalized, and after the battle of Fornovo (1495) both he and his wife took
part in the peace congress of Vercelli between Charles VIII. of France and
the Italian princes, at which Beatrice showed great political ability. But her
brilliant career was cut short by death through childbirth, on the 3rd of
January 1497. She belongs to the best class of Renaissance women, and was
one of the culture influences of the age; to her patronage and good taste are
due to a great extent the splendour of the Castello of Milan, of the Certosa
of Pavia and of many other famous buildings in Lombardy.
Her sister Isabella d’Este (1474-1539), marchioness of Mantua, was
carefully educated both in letters and in the arts like Beatrice, and was
married when barely sixteen to Francesco Gonzaga, marquis of Mantua
(1490). She showed great diplomatic and political skill, especially in her
negotiations with Cesare Borgia (q.v.), who had dispossessed Guidobaldo
da Montefeltro, duke of Urbino, the husband of her sister-in-law and
intimate friend Elisabetta Gonzaga (1502). She received the deposed duke
and duchess, as well as other princes in the same condition, at her court of
Mantua, which was one of the most brilliant in Italy, and like her sister she
gathered together many eminent men of letters and artists, Raphael, Andrea
Mantegna and Giulio Romano being among those whom she employed.
Both she and her husband were greatly influenced by Baldassare
Castiglione (1478-1529), author of Il Cortigiano, and it was at his
suggestion that Giulio Romano was summoned to Mantua to enlarge the
Castello and other buildings. Isabella was “undoubtedly, among all the
princesses of the 15th and 16th centuries, the one who most strikingly and
perfectly personified the aspirations of the Renaissance” (Eugène Müntz);
but her character was less attractive than that of her sister, and in her love of
1492 she visited Venice as ambassador for her husband in his political
schemes, which consisted chiefly in a desire to be recognized as duke of
Milan. On the death of Gian Galeazzo Sforza, Lodovico’s usurpation was
legalized, and after the battle of Fornovo (1495) both he and his wife took
part in the peace congress of Vercelli between Charles VIII. of France and
the Italian princes, at which Beatrice showed great political ability. But her
brilliant career was cut short by death through childbirth, on the 3rd of
January 1497. She belongs to the best class of Renaissance women, and was
one of the culture influences of the age; to her patronage and good taste are
due to a great extent the splendour of the Castello of Milan, of the Certosa
of Pavia and of many other famous buildings in Lombardy.
Her sister Isabella d’Este (1474-1539), marchioness of Mantua, was
carefully educated both in letters and in the arts like Beatrice, and was
married when barely sixteen to Francesco Gonzaga, marquis of Mantua
(1490). She showed great diplomatic and political skill, especially in her
negotiations with Cesare Borgia (q.v.), who had dispossessed Guidobaldo
da Montefeltro, duke of Urbino, the husband of her sister-in-law and
intimate friend Elisabetta Gonzaga (1502). She received the deposed duke
and duchess, as well as other princes in the same condition, at her court of
Mantua, which was one of the most brilliant in Italy, and like her sister she
gathered together many eminent men of letters and artists, Raphael, Andrea
Mantegna and Giulio Romano being among those whom she employed.
Both she and her husband were greatly influenced by Baldassare
Castiglione (1478-1529), author of Il Cortigiano, and it was at his
suggestion that Giulio Romano was summoned to Mantua to enlarge the
Castello and other buildings. Isabella was “undoubtedly, among all the
princesses of the 15th and 16th centuries, the one who most strikingly and
perfectly personified the aspirations of the Renaissance” (Eugène Müntz);
but her character was less attractive than that of her sister, and in her love of
Page 393
collecting works of art she showed a somewhat grasping nature, being ever
anxious to cut down the prices of the artists who worked for her.
To Ercole I. succeeded his son Alphonso I. (1486-1534), the husband of
Lucrezia Borgia (q.v.), daughter of Pope Alexander VI. During nearly the
whole of his reign he was engaged in the Italian wars, but by his diplomatic
skill and his military ability he was for many years almost always
successful. He was gifted with great mechanical skill, and his artillery was
of world-wide reputation. On the formation of the league of Cambrai
against Venice in 1508, he was appointed to the supreme command of the
papal troops by Julius II.; but after the Venetians had sustained a number of
reverses they made peace with the pope and joined him against the French.
Alphonso was invited to co-operate in the new combination, and on his
refusal war was declared against him; but although he began by losing
Modena and Reggio, he subsequently inflicted several defeats on the papal
troops. He fought on the side of the French at the battle of Ravenna (1512),
from which, although victorious, they derived no advantage. Soon
afterwards they retired from Italy, and Alphonso, finding himself
abandoned, tried to make his peace with the pope, through the mediation of
Fabrizio Colonna. He went to Rome for the purpose and received
absolution, but on discovering that Julius meant to detain him a prisoner, he
escaped in disguise, and the pope’s death in 1513 gave him a brief respite.
But Leo X. proved equally bent on the destruction of the house of Este,
when he too was cut off by death. Alphonso availed himself of the troubles
of the papacy during the reign of the equally hostile Clement VII. to
recapture Reggio (1523) and Modena (1527), and was confirmed in his
possession of them by the emperor Charles V., in spite of Clement’s
opposition.
He died in 1534, and was succeeded by his son Ercole II. (1508-1559),
who married Renée, daughter of Louis XII. of France, a princess of
anxious to cut down the prices of the artists who worked for her.
To Ercole I. succeeded his son Alphonso I. (1486-1534), the husband of
Lucrezia Borgia (q.v.), daughter of Pope Alexander VI. During nearly the
whole of his reign he was engaged in the Italian wars, but by his diplomatic
skill and his military ability he was for many years almost always
successful. He was gifted with great mechanical skill, and his artillery was
of world-wide reputation. On the formation of the league of Cambrai
against Venice in 1508, he was appointed to the supreme command of the
papal troops by Julius II.; but after the Venetians had sustained a number of
reverses they made peace with the pope and joined him against the French.
Alphonso was invited to co-operate in the new combination, and on his
refusal war was declared against him; but although he began by losing
Modena and Reggio, he subsequently inflicted several defeats on the papal
troops. He fought on the side of the French at the battle of Ravenna (1512),
from which, although victorious, they derived no advantage. Soon
afterwards they retired from Italy, and Alphonso, finding himself
abandoned, tried to make his peace with the pope, through the mediation of
Fabrizio Colonna. He went to Rome for the purpose and received
absolution, but on discovering that Julius meant to detain him a prisoner, he
escaped in disguise, and the pope’s death in 1513 gave him a brief respite.
But Leo X. proved equally bent on the destruction of the house of Este,
when he too was cut off by death. Alphonso availed himself of the troubles
of the papacy during the reign of the equally hostile Clement VII. to
recapture Reggio (1523) and Modena (1527), and was confirmed in his
possession of them by the emperor Charles V., in spite of Clement’s
opposition.
He died in 1534, and was succeeded by his son Ercole II. (1508-1559),
who married Renée, daughter of Louis XII. of France, a princess of
Page 394
Protestant proclivities and a friend of Calvin. On joining the league of
France and the papacy against Spain, Ercole was appointed lieutenant-
general of the French army in Italy. The war was prosecuted, however, with
little vigour, and peace was made with Spain in 1558. The duke and his
brother, Cardinal Ippolito the Younger, were patrons of literature and art,
and the latter built the magnificent Villa d’ Este at Tivoli. He was succeeded
by Alphonso II. (1533-1597), remembered for his patronage of Tasso,
whom he afterwards imprisoned. He reorganized the army, enriched the
public library, encouraged agriculture, but was extravagant and dissipated.
With him the main branch of the family came to an end, and although at his
death he bequeathed the duchy to his cousin Cesare (1533-1628), Pope
Clement VIII., renewing the Church’s hostility to the house of Este,
declared that prince to be of illegitimate birth (a doubtful contention), and
by a treaty with Lucrezia, Alphonso’s sister, Ferrara was made over to the
Holy See. Cesare held Modena and Reggio, but with him the Estensi cease
to play an important part in Italian politics. For two centuries this dynasty
had been one of the greatest powers in Italy, and its court was perhaps the
most splendid in Europe, both as regards pomp and luxury and on account
of the eminent artists, poets and scholars which it attracted.
The subsequent heads of the family were: Alphonso III., who retired to a
monastery in 1629 and died in 1644; Francis I. (1610-1658), who
commanded the French army in Italy in 1647; Alphonso IV. (1634-1662),
the father of Mary Beatrice, the queen of James II. of England, who fought
in the French army during the Spanish War, and founded the picture gallery
of Modena; Francis II. (1660-1694), who originated the Este library, also at
Modena, and founded the university; Rinaldo (1655-1737), through whose
marriage with Charlotte Felicitas of Brunswick-Lüneburg the long-
separated branches of the house of Este were reunited; Francis III. (1698-
1780), who married the daughter of the regent Philip of Orleans. Francis III.
wished to remain neutral during the war between Spain and Austria (1740),
France and the papacy against Spain, Ercole was appointed lieutenant-
general of the French army in Italy. The war was prosecuted, however, with
little vigour, and peace was made with Spain in 1558. The duke and his
brother, Cardinal Ippolito the Younger, were patrons of literature and art,
and the latter built the magnificent Villa d’ Este at Tivoli. He was succeeded
by Alphonso II. (1533-1597), remembered for his patronage of Tasso,
whom he afterwards imprisoned. He reorganized the army, enriched the
public library, encouraged agriculture, but was extravagant and dissipated.
With him the main branch of the family came to an end, and although at his
death he bequeathed the duchy to his cousin Cesare (1533-1628), Pope
Clement VIII., renewing the Church’s hostility to the house of Este,
declared that prince to be of illegitimate birth (a doubtful contention), and
by a treaty with Lucrezia, Alphonso’s sister, Ferrara was made over to the
Holy See. Cesare held Modena and Reggio, but with him the Estensi cease
to play an important part in Italian politics. For two centuries this dynasty
had been one of the greatest powers in Italy, and its court was perhaps the
most splendid in Europe, both as regards pomp and luxury and on account
of the eminent artists, poets and scholars which it attracted.
The subsequent heads of the family were: Alphonso III., who retired to a
monastery in 1629 and died in 1644; Francis I. (1610-1658), who
commanded the French army in Italy in 1647; Alphonso IV. (1634-1662),
the father of Mary Beatrice, the queen of James II. of England, who fought
in the French army during the Spanish War, and founded the picture gallery
of Modena; Francis II. (1660-1694), who originated the Este library, also at
Modena, and founded the university; Rinaldo (1655-1737), through whose
marriage with Charlotte Felicitas of Brunswick-Lüneburg the long-
separated branches of the house of Este were reunited; Francis III. (1698-
1780), who married the daughter of the regent Philip of Orleans. Francis III.
wished to remain neutral during the war between Spain and Austria (1740),
Page 395
but the imperialists having occupied and devastated his duchy, he took the
Spanish side and was appointed generalissimo of the Spanish army in Italy.
He was re-established in his possessions by the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle
(1748), and on being reconciled with the empress Maria Theresa, he
received from her the title of governor of Lombardy in 1754. With his son
Ercole III. Rinaldo (1727-1803), who at the peace of Campoformio lost his
duchy, the male line of the Estensi came to an end. His only daughter, Marie
Beatrice (d. 1829), was married to the archduke Ferdinand, third son of the
emperor Francis I. Ferdinand was created duke of Breisgau in 1803, and at
his death in 1806 he was succeeded by his son Francis IV. (q.v.), to whom
the duchy of Modena was given at the treaty of Vienna in 1814. He died in
1846 and was succeeded by Francis V. (q.v.), who lost his possessions by
the events of 1859. With his death in 1875 the title and estates passed to the
archduke Francis Ferdinand, heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne. The
children of Lady Augusta Murray, daughter of the earl of Dunmore, by her
marriage with Augustus Frederick, duke of Sussex, sixth son of George III.
of Great Britain, assumed the old name of d’ Este, and claimed recognition
as members of the royal family; but as the marriage was in violation of the
royal marriages act of 1773, it was declared invalid, and their claims were
set aside.
Bibliography.—G. Antonelli, Saggio di una bibliografia storica
ferrarese (Ferrara, 1851); L.A. Muratori, Delle antichità estensi ed
italiane (3 vols., 1717, &c.), the chief and most reliable authority on
the subject, containing a quantity of documents; A. Frizzi, Memorie per
la storia di Ferrara (2nd ed., Ferrara, 1847); A. Solerti, Ferrara e la
corte estense nella seconda metà del sec. XVI. (Città di Castello, 1900);
C. Antolini, Il dominio estense in Ferrara (Ferrara, 1896), which deals
with the siege of 1240 and other special points; E.G. Gardner, Princes
and Poets of Ferrara (London, 1904), a bulky volume dealing only
with the Renaissance period, full of interesting and unpublished matter,
Spanish side and was appointed generalissimo of the Spanish army in Italy.
He was re-established in his possessions by the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle
(1748), and on being reconciled with the empress Maria Theresa, he
received from her the title of governor of Lombardy in 1754. With his son
Ercole III. Rinaldo (1727-1803), who at the peace of Campoformio lost his
duchy, the male line of the Estensi came to an end. His only daughter, Marie
Beatrice (d. 1829), was married to the archduke Ferdinand, third son of the
emperor Francis I. Ferdinand was created duke of Breisgau in 1803, and at
his death in 1806 he was succeeded by his son Francis IV. (q.v.), to whom
the duchy of Modena was given at the treaty of Vienna in 1814. He died in
1846 and was succeeded by Francis V. (q.v.), who lost his possessions by
the events of 1859. With his death in 1875 the title and estates passed to the
archduke Francis Ferdinand, heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne. The
children of Lady Augusta Murray, daughter of the earl of Dunmore, by her
marriage with Augustus Frederick, duke of Sussex, sixth son of George III.
of Great Britain, assumed the old name of d’ Este, and claimed recognition
as members of the royal family; but as the marriage was in violation of the
royal marriages act of 1773, it was declared invalid, and their claims were
set aside.
Bibliography.—G. Antonelli, Saggio di una bibliografia storica
ferrarese (Ferrara, 1851); L.A. Muratori, Delle antichità estensi ed
italiane (3 vols., 1717, &c.), the chief and most reliable authority on
the subject, containing a quantity of documents; A. Frizzi, Memorie per
la storia di Ferrara (2nd ed., Ferrara, 1847); A. Solerti, Ferrara e la
corte estense nella seconda metà del sec. XVI. (Città di Castello, 1900);
C. Antolini, Il dominio estense in Ferrara (Ferrara, 1896), which deals
with the siege of 1240 and other special points; E.G. Gardner, Princes
and Poets of Ferrara (London, 1904), a bulky volume dealing only
with the Renaissance period, full of interesting and unpublished matter,
Page 396
especially about the literary and artistic associations of the house, but
not well put together (contains good bibliography); G. Bertoni, La
Biblioteca estense e la coltura ferrarese ai tempi del duca Ercole I.
(Turin, 1903), useful for the literary aspect of the subject; P. Litta, Le
Celebri Famiglie italiane, vol. iii. (Milan, 1831), still a valuable work;
E. Noyes, The Story of Ferrara (London, 1904); Julia Cartwright’s
Isabella d’Este (London, 1903), and Beatrice d’Este (1899), pleasantly
written but amateurish volumes based on A. Luzio’s Mantova e Urbino
(Turin, 1893); A. Luzio and R. Renier, “Delle relazioni di Isabella
d’Este Gonzaga con Lodovico e Beatrice Sforza” (Milan, 1890,
Archivio Storico Lombardo, xvii.). (L. V.*)
1 i.e. Margrave of the Empire (marchio Sancti Imperii) in Italy. (See Marquess.)
2 Another son of Azzo and Gersende became count of Maine as Hugh III. (d. 1131).
ESTE (anc. Ateste, q.v.), a town and episcopal see of Venetia, Italy, in the
province of Padua, 20 m. S.S.W. of it by rail. Pop. (1901) 8671 (town);
10,779 (commune). It lies 49 ft. above sea-level below the southern slopes
of the Euganean Hills. The external walls of the castle still rise above the
town on the N., but the interior is now occupied by the cattle-market. A
fragment of the once enormous Palazzo Mocenigo, of the 16th century, is
now occupied by the important archaeological museum (see Ateste). The
cathedral was erected in 1690-1720, on the site of an older building
destroyed by an earthquake in 1688. S. Martino is a church in the Lombard
Romanesque style. The archives in the Palazzo Comunale are important.
not well put together (contains good bibliography); G. Bertoni, La
Biblioteca estense e la coltura ferrarese ai tempi del duca Ercole I.
(Turin, 1903), useful for the literary aspect of the subject; P. Litta, Le
Celebri Famiglie italiane, vol. iii. (Milan, 1831), still a valuable work;
E. Noyes, The Story of Ferrara (London, 1904); Julia Cartwright’s
Isabella d’Este (London, 1903), and Beatrice d’Este (1899), pleasantly
written but amateurish volumes based on A. Luzio’s Mantova e Urbino
(Turin, 1893); A. Luzio and R. Renier, “Delle relazioni di Isabella
d’Este Gonzaga con Lodovico e Beatrice Sforza” (Milan, 1890,
Archivio Storico Lombardo, xvii.). (L. V.*)
1 i.e. Margrave of the Empire (marchio Sancti Imperii) in Italy. (See Marquess.)
2 Another son of Azzo and Gersende became count of Maine as Hugh III. (d. 1131).
ESTE (anc. Ateste, q.v.), a town and episcopal see of Venetia, Italy, in the
province of Padua, 20 m. S.S.W. of it by rail. Pop. (1901) 8671 (town);
10,779 (commune). It lies 49 ft. above sea-level below the southern slopes
of the Euganean Hills. The external walls of the castle still rise above the
town on the N., but the interior is now occupied by the cattle-market. A
fragment of the once enormous Palazzo Mocenigo, of the 16th century, is
now occupied by the important archaeological museum (see Ateste). The
cathedral was erected in 1690-1720, on the site of an older building
destroyed by an earthquake in 1688. S. Martino is a church in the Lombard
Romanesque style. The archives in the Palazzo Comunale are important.
Page 397
After the Roman period the history of Este is a blank until the Lombard
period, in which it was dependent on Monselice. In the 10th century the
family of Este (see above) established itself in the castle above the town. At
the end of the 13th century Padua, which had already captured Este more
than once, became definitely mistress of it. When the Carrara family
succumbed in 1405, Este voluntarily surrendered to Venice and was allowed
its independence, under a podestà; and thenceforth it followed the fortunes
of Venetia.
ESTÉBANEZ CALDERÓN, SERAFÍN (1799-1867), a Spanish author,
best known by the pseudonym of “El Solitario,” was born at Málaga on the
27th of December 1799. His first literary effort was El Listón verde, a poem
signed “Safinio” and written to celebrate the revolution of 1820. He was
called to the bar, and settled for some time at Madrid, where he published a
volume of verses in 1831 under the assumed name of “El Solitario.” He
obtained an exaggerated reputation as an Arabic scholar, and played a minor
part in the political movements of his time. He died at Madrid on the 5th of
February 1867. His most interesting work, Escenas andaluzas (1847), is in
a curiously affected style, the vocabulary being partly archaic and partly
provincial; but, despite its eccentric mannerisms, it is a vivid record of
picturesque scenes and local customs. Estébanez Calderón is also the author
of an unfinished history, De la conquista y pérdida de Portugal (1883),
issued posthumously under the editorship of his nephew, Antonio Cánovas
del Castillo.
period, in which it was dependent on Monselice. In the 10th century the
family of Este (see above) established itself in the castle above the town. At
the end of the 13th century Padua, which had already captured Este more
than once, became definitely mistress of it. When the Carrara family
succumbed in 1405, Este voluntarily surrendered to Venice and was allowed
its independence, under a podestà; and thenceforth it followed the fortunes
of Venetia.
ESTÉBANEZ CALDERÓN, SERAFÍN (1799-1867), a Spanish author,
best known by the pseudonym of “El Solitario,” was born at Málaga on the
27th of December 1799. His first literary effort was El Listón verde, a poem
signed “Safinio” and written to celebrate the revolution of 1820. He was
called to the bar, and settled for some time at Madrid, where he published a
volume of verses in 1831 under the assumed name of “El Solitario.” He
obtained an exaggerated reputation as an Arabic scholar, and played a minor
part in the political movements of his time. He died at Madrid on the 5th of
February 1867. His most interesting work, Escenas andaluzas (1847), is in
a curiously affected style, the vocabulary being partly archaic and partly
provincial; but, despite its eccentric mannerisms, it is a vivid record of
picturesque scenes and local customs. Estébanez Calderón is also the author
of an unfinished history, De la conquista y pérdida de Portugal (1883),
issued posthumously under the editorship of his nephew, Antonio Cánovas
del Castillo.
Page 398
ESTELLA, a town of northern Spain, in the province of Navarre, on the
left bank of the river Ega, 15 m. W.S.W. of Pamplona. Pop. (1900) 5736.
Estella, which occupies the site of a Roman town of uncertain name,
contains several monasteries and churches, a medieval citadel, and a college
which was formerly a university. Its principal industries are the manufacture
of woollen and linen fabrics and brandy-making; and it has a considerable
trade in fruit, wine and cattle. Estella commands several defiles on the roads
from Castile and Aragon, and on that account occupies a position of
considerable strategic importance. It was long the headquarters of Don
Carlos, who was proclaimed king here in 1833. In 1873 it was the chief
stronghold of the Carlists, and in 1874, when driven from other places, they
succeeded in retiring to Estella. On the 16th of February 1876 the Carlists
in the town surrendered unconditionally. For an account of the Carlist rising
see Spain: History.
ESTERHÁZY OF GALÁNTHA, a noble Magyar family. Its origin has
been traced, not without some uncertainty, to Salamon of Estoras, whose
sons Péter and Illyés divided their patrimony in 1238. Péter founded the
family of Zerházy, and Illyés that of Illyesházy, which became extinct in the
male line in 1838. The first member of the family to emerge definitely into
history was Ferencz Zerházy (1563-1594), vice lord-lieutenant of the
county of Pressburg, who took the name of Esterházy when he was created
Freiherr of Galántha, an estate acquired by the family in 1421. His eldest
son, Dániel (d. 1654), founded the house of Czesznek, the third, Pál (d.
1641), the line of Zólyom (Altsohl), and the fourth, Miklós, that branch of
left bank of the river Ega, 15 m. W.S.W. of Pamplona. Pop. (1900) 5736.
Estella, which occupies the site of a Roman town of uncertain name,
contains several monasteries and churches, a medieval citadel, and a college
which was formerly a university. Its principal industries are the manufacture
of woollen and linen fabrics and brandy-making; and it has a considerable
trade in fruit, wine and cattle. Estella commands several defiles on the roads
from Castile and Aragon, and on that account occupies a position of
considerable strategic importance. It was long the headquarters of Don
Carlos, who was proclaimed king here in 1833. In 1873 it was the chief
stronghold of the Carlists, and in 1874, when driven from other places, they
succeeded in retiring to Estella. On the 16th of February 1876 the Carlists
in the town surrendered unconditionally. For an account of the Carlist rising
see Spain: History.
ESTERHÁZY OF GALÁNTHA, a noble Magyar family. Its origin has
been traced, not without some uncertainty, to Salamon of Estoras, whose
sons Péter and Illyés divided their patrimony in 1238. Péter founded the
family of Zerházy, and Illyés that of Illyesházy, which became extinct in the
male line in 1838. The first member of the family to emerge definitely into
history was Ferencz Zerházy (1563-1594), vice lord-lieutenant of the
county of Pressburg, who took the name of Esterházy when he was created
Freiherr of Galántha, an estate acquired by the family in 1421. His eldest
son, Dániel (d. 1654), founded the house of Czesznek, the third, Pál (d.
1641), the line of Zólyom (Altsohl), and the fourth, Miklós, that branch of
Page 399
the family which occupies the most considerable place in Hungarian
history, that of Fraknó or Forchtenstein.
This Miklós [Nicholas] Esterházy of Galántha (1582-1645) was born at
Galántha on the 8th of April 1582. His parents were Protestants, and he
himself, at first, followed the Protestant persuasion; but he subsequently
went over to Catholicism and, along with Cardinal Pázmány, his most
serious rival at court, became a pillar of Catholicism, both religiously and
politically, and a worthy opponent of the two great Protestant champions of
the period, Gabriel Bethlen and George I. Rákóczy. In 1611 he married
Orsolyá, the widow of the wealthy Ferencz Mágocsy, thus coming into
possession of her gigantic estates, and in 1622 he acquired Fraknó. Matthias
II. made him a baron (1613), count of Beregh (1617), and lord-lieutenant of
the county of Zólyom and magister curiae regiae (1618). At the coronation
of Ferdinand II., when he officiated as grand-standard-bearer, he received
the order of the Golden Fleece and fresh donations. At the diet of Sopron,
1625, he was elected palatine of Hungary. As a diplomatist he powerfully
contributed to bring about the peace of Nikolsburg (1622) and the peace of
Linz (1645) (see Hungary: History). His political ideal was the
consolidation of the Habsburg dynasty as a means towards freeing Hungary
from the Turkish yoke. He himself, on one occasion (1623), defeated the
Turks on the banks of the Nyitra; but anything like sustained operations
against them was then impossible. He was also one of the most eminent
writers of his day. He died at Nagy-Heflán on the 11th of September 1645,
leaving five sons.
See Works of Nicholas Esterházy, with a biography by Ferencz Toldi
(Hung.) (Pest, 1852); Nicholas Count Esterházy, Palatine of Hungary
(a biography, Hung.) (Pest, 1863-1870).
His third son Pál [Paul] (1635-1713), prince palatine, founded the
princely branch of the family of Esterházy. He was born at Kis Marton
history, that of Fraknó or Forchtenstein.
This Miklós [Nicholas] Esterházy of Galántha (1582-1645) was born at
Galántha on the 8th of April 1582. His parents were Protestants, and he
himself, at first, followed the Protestant persuasion; but he subsequently
went over to Catholicism and, along with Cardinal Pázmány, his most
serious rival at court, became a pillar of Catholicism, both religiously and
politically, and a worthy opponent of the two great Protestant champions of
the period, Gabriel Bethlen and George I. Rákóczy. In 1611 he married
Orsolyá, the widow of the wealthy Ferencz Mágocsy, thus coming into
possession of her gigantic estates, and in 1622 he acquired Fraknó. Matthias
II. made him a baron (1613), count of Beregh (1617), and lord-lieutenant of
the county of Zólyom and magister curiae regiae (1618). At the coronation
of Ferdinand II., when he officiated as grand-standard-bearer, he received
the order of the Golden Fleece and fresh donations. At the diet of Sopron,
1625, he was elected palatine of Hungary. As a diplomatist he powerfully
contributed to bring about the peace of Nikolsburg (1622) and the peace of
Linz (1645) (see Hungary: History). His political ideal was the
consolidation of the Habsburg dynasty as a means towards freeing Hungary
from the Turkish yoke. He himself, on one occasion (1623), defeated the
Turks on the banks of the Nyitra; but anything like sustained operations
against them was then impossible. He was also one of the most eminent
writers of his day. He died at Nagy-Heflán on the 11th of September 1645,
leaving five sons.
See Works of Nicholas Esterházy, with a biography by Ferencz Toldi
(Hung.) (Pest, 1852); Nicholas Count Esterházy, Palatine of Hungary
(a biography, Hung.) (Pest, 1863-1870).
His third son Pál [Paul] (1635-1713), prince palatine, founded the
princely branch of the family of Esterházy. He was born at Kis Marton
Page 400
(Eisenstadt) on the 7th of September 1635. In 1663 he fought, along with
Miklós Zrinyi, against the Turks, and distinguished himself under
Montecuculi. In 1667 he was appointed commander-in-chief in south
Hungary, where he defeated the malcontents at Leutschau and Györk. In
1681 he was elected palatine. In 1683 he participated in the deliverance of
Vienna from the Turks, and entered Buda in 1686 at the head of 20,000
men. Thoroughly reactionary, and absolutely devoted to the Habsburgs, he
contributed more than any one else to the curtailing of the privileges of the
Magyar gentry in 1687, when he was created a prince of the Empire, with
(in 1712) succession to the first-born of his house. His “aulic tendencies”
made him so unpopular that his offer of mediation between the Rákóczy
insurgents and the government was rejected by the Hungarian diet, and the
negotiations, which led to the peace of Szatmár (see Hungary: History),
were entrusted to János Pállfy. He died on the 26th of March 1713. He
loved the arts and sciences, wrote several religious works, and was one of
the chief compilers of the Trophaeum Domus Inclytae Estoratianae.
See Lajos Merényi, Prince Paul Esterházy (Hung.) (Budapest,
1895).
Prince Pál Antal, grandson of the prince palatine Pál, was a
distinguished soldier, who rose to the rank of field-marshal in 1758. On his
death in 1762 he was succeeded by his brother.
Prince Miklós József [Nicholas Joseph] (1714-1790), also a brilliant
soldier, is perhaps best remembered as a patron of the fine arts. For his
services in command of an infantry brigade at Kolin (1757) he was
specially mentioned by Count Daun, and became one of the original
members of the order of Maria Theresa. In 1762 he was appointed captain
of Maria Theresa’s Hungarian body-guard, in 1764 Feldzeugmeister, and in
1768 field marshal. His other honours included the Golden Fleece and the
grade of commander in the order of Maria Theresa. Joseph II. conferred the
Miklós Zrinyi, against the Turks, and distinguished himself under
Montecuculi. In 1667 he was appointed commander-in-chief in south
Hungary, where he defeated the malcontents at Leutschau and Györk. In
1681 he was elected palatine. In 1683 he participated in the deliverance of
Vienna from the Turks, and entered Buda in 1686 at the head of 20,000
men. Thoroughly reactionary, and absolutely devoted to the Habsburgs, he
contributed more than any one else to the curtailing of the privileges of the
Magyar gentry in 1687, when he was created a prince of the Empire, with
(in 1712) succession to the first-born of his house. His “aulic tendencies”
made him so unpopular that his offer of mediation between the Rákóczy
insurgents and the government was rejected by the Hungarian diet, and the
negotiations, which led to the peace of Szatmár (see Hungary: History),
were entrusted to János Pállfy. He died on the 26th of March 1713. He
loved the arts and sciences, wrote several religious works, and was one of
the chief compilers of the Trophaeum Domus Inclytae Estoratianae.
See Lajos Merényi, Prince Paul Esterházy (Hung.) (Budapest,
1895).
Prince Pál Antal, grandson of the prince palatine Pál, was a
distinguished soldier, who rose to the rank of field-marshal in 1758. On his
death in 1762 he was succeeded by his brother.
Prince Miklós József [Nicholas Joseph] (1714-1790), also a brilliant
soldier, is perhaps best remembered as a patron of the fine arts. For his
services in command of an infantry brigade at Kolin (1757) he was
specially mentioned by Count Daun, and became one of the original
members of the order of Maria Theresa. In 1762 he was appointed captain
of Maria Theresa’s Hungarian body-guard, in 1764 Feldzeugmeister, and in
1768 field marshal. His other honours included the Golden Fleece and the
grade of commander in the order of Maria Theresa. Joseph II. conferred the
Page 401
princely title, which had previously been limited to the eldest-born of the
house, on all his descendants, male and female. Esterházy died in Vienna on
the 28th of September 1790. He rebuilt in the Renaissance style Schloss
Esterházy, the splendour of which won for it the name of the Hungarian
Versailles. Haydn was for thirty years conductor of his private orchestra and
general musical director, and many of his compositions were written for the
private theatre and the concerts of this prince.
His grandson, Prince Miklós [Nicholas] (1765-1833) was born on the
12th of December 1765. He began life as an officer in the guards,
subsequently making the grand tour, which first awakened his deep interest
in art. He quitted the army for diplomacy after reaching the rank of
Feldzeugmeister, and was employed as extraordinary ambassador, on
special occasions, when he displayed a magnificence extraordinary even for
the Esterházys. He made at Vienna an important collection of paintings and
engravings, which came into the possession of the Hungarian Academy at
Budapest in 1865. At his summer palace of Kis Marton (Eisenstadt) he
erected a monument to Haydn. His immense expenditure on building and
the arts involved the family in financial difficulties for two generations.
When the French invaded Austria in 1797, he raised a regiment of 1000
men at his own expense. In 1809, when Napoleon invited the Magyars to
elect a new king to replace the Habsburgs, overtures were made to Prince
Nicholas, who refused the honour and, further, raised a regiment of
volunteers in defence of Austrian interests. He died at Como on the 24th of
November 1833.
His son, Prince Pál Antal [Paul Anthony] (1786-1866), entered the
diplomatic service. In 1806 he was secretary of the embassy in London, and
in 1807 worked with Prince Metternich in the same capacity in Paris. In
1810 he was accredited to the court of Dresden, where he tried in vain to
detach Saxony from Napoleon, and in 1814 he accompanied his father on a
house, on all his descendants, male and female. Esterházy died in Vienna on
the 28th of September 1790. He rebuilt in the Renaissance style Schloss
Esterházy, the splendour of which won for it the name of the Hungarian
Versailles. Haydn was for thirty years conductor of his private orchestra and
general musical director, and many of his compositions were written for the
private theatre and the concerts of this prince.
His grandson, Prince Miklós [Nicholas] (1765-1833) was born on the
12th of December 1765. He began life as an officer in the guards,
subsequently making the grand tour, which first awakened his deep interest
in art. He quitted the army for diplomacy after reaching the rank of
Feldzeugmeister, and was employed as extraordinary ambassador, on
special occasions, when he displayed a magnificence extraordinary even for
the Esterházys. He made at Vienna an important collection of paintings and
engravings, which came into the possession of the Hungarian Academy at
Budapest in 1865. At his summer palace of Kis Marton (Eisenstadt) he
erected a monument to Haydn. His immense expenditure on building and
the arts involved the family in financial difficulties for two generations.
When the French invaded Austria in 1797, he raised a regiment of 1000
men at his own expense. In 1809, when Napoleon invited the Magyars to
elect a new king to replace the Habsburgs, overtures were made to Prince
Nicholas, who refused the honour and, further, raised a regiment of
volunteers in defence of Austrian interests. He died at Como on the 24th of
November 1833.
His son, Prince Pál Antal [Paul Anthony] (1786-1866), entered the
diplomatic service. In 1806 he was secretary of the embassy in London, and
in 1807 worked with Prince Metternich in the same capacity in Paris. In
1810 he was accredited to the court of Dresden, where he tried in vain to
detach Saxony from Napoleon, and in 1814 he accompanied his father on a
Page 402
secret mission to Rome. He took a leading part in all the diplomatic
negotiations consequent upon the wars of 1813-1815, especially at the
congress of Châtillon, and on the conclusion of peace was, at the express
desire of the prince regent, sent as ambassador to London. In 1824 he
represented Austria as ambassador extraordinary at the coronation of
Charles X., and was the premier Austrian commissioner at the London
conferences of 1830-1836. In 1842 he quitted diplomacy for politics and
attached himself to “the free-principles party.” He was minister for foreign
affairs in the first responsible Hungarian ministry (1848), but resigned his
post in September because he could see no way of reconciling the court
with the nation. The last years of his life were spent in comparative poverty
and isolation, as even the Esterházy-Forchtenstein estates were unequal to
the burden of supporting his fabulous extravagance and had to be placed in
the hands of curators.
The cadet branch of the house of Fraknó, the members of which bear the
title of count, was divided into three lines by the sons of Ferencz Esterházy
(1641-1683).
The eldest of these, Count Antal (1676-1722), distinguished himself in
the war against Rákóczy in 1703, but changed sides in 1704 and
commanded the left wing of the Kuruczis at the engagements of
Nagyszombat (1704) and Vereskö (1705). In 1706 he defeated the
imperialist general Guido Stahremberg and penetrated to the walls of
Vienna. Still more successful were his operations in the campaign of 1708,
when he ravaged Styria, twice invaded Austria, and again threatened
Vienna, on which occasion the emperor Joseph narrowly escaped falling
into his hands. In 1709 he was routed by the superior forces of General
Sigbert Heister at Palota, but brought off the remainder of his arms very
skilfully. In 1710 he joined Rákóczy in Poland and accompanied him to
France and Turkey. He died in exile at Rodosto on the shores of the Black
negotiations consequent upon the wars of 1813-1815, especially at the
congress of Châtillon, and on the conclusion of peace was, at the express
desire of the prince regent, sent as ambassador to London. In 1824 he
represented Austria as ambassador extraordinary at the coronation of
Charles X., and was the premier Austrian commissioner at the London
conferences of 1830-1836. In 1842 he quitted diplomacy for politics and
attached himself to “the free-principles party.” He was minister for foreign
affairs in the first responsible Hungarian ministry (1848), but resigned his
post in September because he could see no way of reconciling the court
with the nation. The last years of his life were spent in comparative poverty
and isolation, as even the Esterházy-Forchtenstein estates were unequal to
the burden of supporting his fabulous extravagance and had to be placed in
the hands of curators.
The cadet branch of the house of Fraknó, the members of which bear the
title of count, was divided into three lines by the sons of Ferencz Esterházy
(1641-1683).
The eldest of these, Count Antal (1676-1722), distinguished himself in
the war against Rákóczy in 1703, but changed sides in 1704 and
commanded the left wing of the Kuruczis at the engagements of
Nagyszombat (1704) and Vereskö (1705). In 1706 he defeated the
imperialist general Guido Stahremberg and penetrated to the walls of
Vienna. Still more successful were his operations in the campaign of 1708,
when he ravaged Styria, twice invaded Austria, and again threatened
Vienna, on which occasion the emperor Joseph narrowly escaped falling
into his hands. In 1709 he was routed by the superior forces of General
Sigbert Heister at Palota, but brought off the remainder of his arms very
skilfully. In 1710 he joined Rákóczy in Poland and accompanied him to
France and Turkey. He died in exile at Rodosto on the shores of the Black
Page 403
Sea. His son Bálint József [Valentine Joseph], by Anna Maria Nigrelli,
entered the French army, and was the founder of the Hallewyll, or French,
branch of the family, which became extinct in the male line in 1876 with
Count Ladislas.
See Count Esterházy’s Campaign Diary (Hung.), ed. by K. Thaly
(Pest, 1901).
Count Bálint Miklós (1740-1805), son of Bálint József, was an
enthusiastic partisan of the duc de Choiseul, on whose dismissal, in 1764,
he resigned the command of the French regiment of which he was the
colonel. It was Esterházy who conveyed to Marie Antoinette the portrait of
Louis XVI. on the occasion of their betrothal, and the close relations he
maintained with her after her marriage were more than once the occasion of
remonstrance on the part of Maria Theresa, who never seems to have
forgotten that he was the grandson of a rebel. At the French court he stood
in high favour with the comte d’Artois. He was raised to the rank of
maréchal de camp, and made inspector of troops in the French service in
1780. At the outbreak of the French Revolution, he was stationed at
Valenciennes, where he contrived for a time to keep order, and facilitated
the escape of the French emigrés by way of Namur; but, in 1790, he
hastened back to Paris to assist the king. At the urgent entreaty of the comte
d’Artois in 1791 he quitted Paris for Coblenz, accompanied Artois to
Vienna, and was sent to the court of St Petersburg the same year to enlist
the sympathies of Catherine II. for the Bourbons. He received an estate
from Catherine II., and although the gift was rescinded by Paul I., another
was eventually granted him. He died at Grodek in Volhynia on the 23rd of
July 1805.
See Mémoires, ed. by E. Daudet (Fr.) (Paris, 1905), and Lettres
(Paris, 1906).
entered the French army, and was the founder of the Hallewyll, or French,
branch of the family, which became extinct in the male line in 1876 with
Count Ladislas.
See Count Esterházy’s Campaign Diary (Hung.), ed. by K. Thaly
(Pest, 1901).
Count Bálint Miklós (1740-1805), son of Bálint József, was an
enthusiastic partisan of the duc de Choiseul, on whose dismissal, in 1764,
he resigned the command of the French regiment of which he was the
colonel. It was Esterházy who conveyed to Marie Antoinette the portrait of
Louis XVI. on the occasion of their betrothal, and the close relations he
maintained with her after her marriage were more than once the occasion of
remonstrance on the part of Maria Theresa, who never seems to have
forgotten that he was the grandson of a rebel. At the French court he stood
in high favour with the comte d’Artois. He was raised to the rank of
maréchal de camp, and made inspector of troops in the French service in
1780. At the outbreak of the French Revolution, he was stationed at
Valenciennes, where he contrived for a time to keep order, and facilitated
the escape of the French emigrés by way of Namur; but, in 1790, he
hastened back to Paris to assist the king. At the urgent entreaty of the comte
d’Artois in 1791 he quitted Paris for Coblenz, accompanied Artois to
Vienna, and was sent to the court of St Petersburg the same year to enlist
the sympathies of Catherine II. for the Bourbons. He received an estate
from Catherine II., and although the gift was rescinded by Paul I., another
was eventually granted him. He died at Grodek in Volhynia on the 23rd of
July 1805.
See Mémoires, ed. by E. Daudet (Fr.) (Paris, 1905), and Lettres
(Paris, 1906).
Page 404
Two other sons of Count Ferencz (d. 1685), Ferencz and József, founded
the houses of Dotis and Cseklész (Landschütz) respectively. Of their
descendants, Count Móricz (1807-1890) of Dotis, Austrian ambassador in
Rome until 1856, became in 1861 a member of the ministry formed by
Anton Schmerling and in 1865 joined the clerical cabinet of Richard
Belcredi. His bitter hostility to Prussia helped to force the government of
Vienna into the war of 1866. His official career closed in 1866, but he
remained one of the leaders of the clerical party.
See also Count János Esterházy, Description of the Esterházy Family
(Hung., Budapest, 1901).
(R. N. B.)
ESTERS, in organic chemistry, compounds formed by the condensation
of an alcohol and an acid, with elimination of water; they may also be
considered as derivatives of alcohols, in which the hydroxylic hydrogen has
been replaced by an acid radical, or as acids in which the hydrogen of the
carboxyl group has been replaced by an alkyl or aryl group. In the case of
the polybasic acids, all the hydrogen atoms can be replaced in this way, and
the compounds formed are known as “neutral esters.” If, however, some of
the hydrogen of the acid remain undisplaced, then “acid esters” result.
These acid esters retain some of the characteristic properties of the acids,
forming, for example, salts, with basic oxides. Esters may be prepared by
heating the silver salt of an acid with an alkyl iodide; by heating the
alcohols or alcoholates with an acid chloride; by distilling the anhydrous
sodium salt of an acid with a mixture of the alcohol and concentrated
the houses of Dotis and Cseklész (Landschütz) respectively. Of their
descendants, Count Móricz (1807-1890) of Dotis, Austrian ambassador in
Rome until 1856, became in 1861 a member of the ministry formed by
Anton Schmerling and in 1865 joined the clerical cabinet of Richard
Belcredi. His bitter hostility to Prussia helped to force the government of
Vienna into the war of 1866. His official career closed in 1866, but he
remained one of the leaders of the clerical party.
See also Count János Esterházy, Description of the Esterházy Family
(Hung., Budapest, 1901).
(R. N. B.)
ESTERS, in organic chemistry, compounds formed by the condensation
of an alcohol and an acid, with elimination of water; they may also be
considered as derivatives of alcohols, in which the hydroxylic hydrogen has
been replaced by an acid radical, or as acids in which the hydrogen of the
carboxyl group has been replaced by an alkyl or aryl group. In the case of
the polybasic acids, all the hydrogen atoms can be replaced in this way, and
the compounds formed are known as “neutral esters.” If, however, some of
the hydrogen of the acid remain undisplaced, then “acid esters” result.
These acid esters retain some of the characteristic properties of the acids,
forming, for example, salts, with basic oxides. Esters may be prepared by
heating the silver salt of an acid with an alkyl iodide; by heating the
alcohols or alcoholates with an acid chloride; by distilling the anhydrous
sodium salt of an acid with a mixture of the alcohol and concentrated
Page 405
sulphuric acid; or by heating for some hours on the water bath, a mixture of
an acid and an alcohol, with a small quantity of hydrochloric or sulphuric
acids (E. Fischer and A. Speier, Ber., 1896, 28, p. 3252).
The esters of the aliphatic and aromatic acids are colourless neutral
liquids, which are generally insoluble in water, but readily dissolve in
alcohol and ether. Many possess a fragrant odour and are prepared in large
quantities for use as artificial fruit essences. They hydrolyse readily when
boiled with solutions of caustic alkalies or mineral acids, yielding the
constituent acid and alcohol. When heated with ammonia, they yield acid
amides (q.v.). They form unstable addition products with sodium ethylate or
methylate. With the Grignard reagent, they form addition compounds which
on the addition of water yield tertiary alcohols, except in the case of ethyl
formate, where a secondary alcohol is obtained.
N. Menschutkin (Ber., 1882, 15, p. 1445; Ann., 1879, 195, p. 334)
examined the rate of esterification of many acids with alcohols. It was
found that the normal primary alcohols were all esterified at about the
same rate, the secondary alcohols more slowly than the primary, and
the tertiary alcohols still more slowly. The investigation also showed
that the nature of the acid used affected the result, for in an
homologous series of acids it was found that as the molecule of the
acid became more complex, the rate of esterification became less. The
formation of an ester by the interaction of an acid with an alcohol is a
an acid and an alcohol, with a small quantity of hydrochloric or sulphuric
acids (E. Fischer and A. Speier, Ber., 1896, 28, p. 3252).
The esters of the aliphatic and aromatic acids are colourless neutral
liquids, which are generally insoluble in water, but readily dissolve in
alcohol and ether. Many possess a fragrant odour and are prepared in large
quantities for use as artificial fruit essences. They hydrolyse readily when
boiled with solutions of caustic alkalies or mineral acids, yielding the
constituent acid and alcohol. When heated with ammonia, they yield acid
amides (q.v.). They form unstable addition products with sodium ethylate or
methylate. With the Grignard reagent, they form addition compounds which
on the addition of water yield tertiary alcohols, except in the case of ethyl
formate, where a secondary alcohol is obtained.
N. Menschutkin (Ber., 1882, 15, p. 1445; Ann., 1879, 195, p. 334)
examined the rate of esterification of many acids with alcohols. It was
found that the normal primary alcohols were all esterified at about the
same rate, the secondary alcohols more slowly than the primary, and
the tertiary alcohols still more slowly. The investigation also showed
that the nature of the acid used affected the result, for in an
homologous series of acids it was found that as the molecule of the
acid became more complex, the rate of esterification became less. The
formation of an ester by the interaction of an acid with an alcohol is a
Page 406
“reversible” or “balanced” action, for as M. Berthelot and L. Péan de St
Gilles (Ann. Chim. Phys., 1862 (3), 65, p. 385 et seq.) have shown in
the case of the formation of ethyl acetate from ethyl alcohol and acetic
acid, a point of equilibrium is reached, beyond which the reacting
system cannot pass, unless the system be disturbed in some way by the
removal of one of the products of the reaction. V. Meyer (Ber., 1894,
27, p. 510 et seq.) showed that in benzenoid compounds ortho-
substituents exert a great hindering effect on the esterification of
alcohols by acids in the presence of hydrochloric acid, this hindering
being particularly marked when two substituents are present in the
ortho positions to the carboxyl group. In such a case the ester is best
prepared by the action of an alkyl halide on the silver salt of the acid,
and when once prepared, can only be hydrolysed with great difficulty.
Ethyl formate, H·CO2C2H5, boils at 55° C. and has been used in the
artificial preparation of rum. Ethyl acetate (acetic ether),
CH3·CO2C2H5, boils at 75° C. Isoamylisovalerate, C4H9·CO2C5H11,
boils at 196° C. and has an odour of apples. Ethyl butyrate,
C3H7·CO2C2H5, boils at 121° C. and has an odour of pineapple. The
fats (q.v.) and waxes (q.v.) are the esters of the higher fatty acids and
alcohols. The esters of the higher fatty acids, when distilled under
atmospheric pressure, are decomposed, and yield an olefine and a fatty
acid.
Esters of the mineral acids are also known and may be prepared by
the ordinary methods as given above. The neutral esters are as a rule
insoluble in water and distil unchanged; on the other hand, the acid
esters are generally soluble in water, are non-volatile, and form salts
with bases. Ethyl hydrogen sulphate (sulphovinic acid), C2H5·HSO4, is
obtained by the action of concentrated sulphuric acid on alcohol. The
ester is separated from the solution by means of its barium salt, and the
Gilles (Ann. Chim. Phys., 1862 (3), 65, p. 385 et seq.) have shown in
the case of the formation of ethyl acetate from ethyl alcohol and acetic
acid, a point of equilibrium is reached, beyond which the reacting
system cannot pass, unless the system be disturbed in some way by the
removal of one of the products of the reaction. V. Meyer (Ber., 1894,
27, p. 510 et seq.) showed that in benzenoid compounds ortho-
substituents exert a great hindering effect on the esterification of
alcohols by acids in the presence of hydrochloric acid, this hindering
being particularly marked when two substituents are present in the
ortho positions to the carboxyl group. In such a case the ester is best
prepared by the action of an alkyl halide on the silver salt of the acid,
and when once prepared, can only be hydrolysed with great difficulty.
Ethyl formate, H·CO2C2H5, boils at 55° C. and has been used in the
artificial preparation of rum. Ethyl acetate (acetic ether),
CH3·CO2C2H5, boils at 75° C. Isoamylisovalerate, C4H9·CO2C5H11,
boils at 196° C. and has an odour of apples. Ethyl butyrate,
C3H7·CO2C2H5, boils at 121° C. and has an odour of pineapple. The
fats (q.v.) and waxes (q.v.) are the esters of the higher fatty acids and
alcohols. The esters of the higher fatty acids, when distilled under
atmospheric pressure, are decomposed, and yield an olefine and a fatty
acid.
Esters of the mineral acids are also known and may be prepared by
the ordinary methods as given above. The neutral esters are as a rule
insoluble in water and distil unchanged; on the other hand, the acid
esters are generally soluble in water, are non-volatile, and form salts
with bases. Ethyl hydrogen sulphate (sulphovinic acid), C2H5·HSO4, is
obtained by the action of concentrated sulphuric acid on alcohol. The
ester is separated from the solution by means of its barium salt, and the
Page 407
salt decomposed by the addition of the calculated amount of sulphuric
acid. It is a colourless oily liquid of strongly acid reaction; its aqueous
solution decomposes on standing and on heating it forms diethyl
sulphate and sulphuric acid. Dimethyl sulphate, (CH3)2SO4, is a
colourless liquid which boils at 187°-188° C., with partial
decomposition. It is used as a methylating agent (F. Ullmann). Great
care should be taken in using dimethyl and diethyl sulphates, as the
respiratory organs are affected by the vapours, leading to severe attacks
of pneumonia. Ethyl nitrate, C2H5·ONO2, is a colourless liquid which
boils at 86.3° C. It is prepared by the action of nitric acid on ethyl
alcohol (some urea being added to the nitric acid, in order to destroy
any nitrous acid that might be produced in secondary reactions and
which, if not removed, would cause explosive decomposition of the
ethyl nitrate). It burns with a white flame and is soluble in water. When
heated with ammonia it yields ethylamine nitrate, and when reduced
with tin and hydrochloric acid it forms hydroxylamine (q.v.) (W.C.
Lossen). Ethyl nitrite, C2H5·ONO, is a liquid which boils at 18° C.; the
crude product obtained by distilling a mixture of alcohol, sulphuric and
nitric acids and copper turnings is used in medicine under the name of
“sweet spirits of nitre.” Amyl nitrite, C5H11·ONO, boils at 96° C. and is
used in the preparation of the anhydrous diazonium salts (E.
Knoevenagel, Ber., 1890, 23, p. 2094). It is also used in medicine.
ESTHER. The Book of Esther, in the Bible, relates how a Jewish
maiden, Esther, cousin and foster-daughter of Mordecai, was made his
acid. It is a colourless oily liquid of strongly acid reaction; its aqueous
solution decomposes on standing and on heating it forms diethyl
sulphate and sulphuric acid. Dimethyl sulphate, (CH3)2SO4, is a
colourless liquid which boils at 187°-188° C., with partial
decomposition. It is used as a methylating agent (F. Ullmann). Great
care should be taken in using dimethyl and diethyl sulphates, as the
respiratory organs are affected by the vapours, leading to severe attacks
of pneumonia. Ethyl nitrate, C2H5·ONO2, is a colourless liquid which
boils at 86.3° C. It is prepared by the action of nitric acid on ethyl
alcohol (some urea being added to the nitric acid, in order to destroy
any nitrous acid that might be produced in secondary reactions and
which, if not removed, would cause explosive decomposition of the
ethyl nitrate). It burns with a white flame and is soluble in water. When
heated with ammonia it yields ethylamine nitrate, and when reduced
with tin and hydrochloric acid it forms hydroxylamine (q.v.) (W.C.
Lossen). Ethyl nitrite, C2H5·ONO, is a liquid which boils at 18° C.; the
crude product obtained by distilling a mixture of alcohol, sulphuric and
nitric acids and copper turnings is used in medicine under the name of
“sweet spirits of nitre.” Amyl nitrite, C5H11·ONO, boils at 96° C. and is
used in the preparation of the anhydrous diazonium salts (E.
Knoevenagel, Ber., 1890, 23, p. 2094). It is also used in medicine.
ESTHER. The Book of Esther, in the Bible, relates how a Jewish
maiden, Esther, cousin and foster-daughter of Mordecai, was made his
Page 408
queen by the Persian king Ahasuerus (Xerxes) after he had divorced Vashti;
next, how Esther and Mordecai frustrated Haman’s endeavour to extirpate
the Jews; how Haman, the grand-vizier, fell, and Mordecai succeeded him;
how Esther obtained the king’s permission for the Jews to destroy all who
might attack them on the day which Haman had appointed by lot for their
destruction; and lastly, how the feast of Purim (Lots?) was instituted to
commemorate their deliverance. Frequent incidental references are made to
Persian court-usages (explanations are given in i. 13, viii. 8), while on the
other hand the religious rites of the Jews (except fasting), and even
Jerusalem and the temple, and the name of Israel, are studiously ignored.
Even the name of God is not once mentioned, perhaps from a dread of its
profanation during the Saturnalia of Purim. The early popularity of the book
is shown by the interpolated passages in the Septuagint and the Old Latin
versions.
The criticism of Esther began in the 18th century. As soon as the
questioning spirit arose, the strangeness of many statements in the book
leaped into view. A moderate scholar of our day can find no historical
nucleus, and calls it a sort of historical romance.1 The very first verses in
the book startle the reader by their exaggerations, e.g. a banquet lasting 180
days, “127 provinces.” Farther on, the improbabilities of the plot are
noticeable. Esther, on her elevation, keeps her Jewish origin secret (ii. 10;
cf. vii. 3 ff.), although she has been taken from the house of her uncle, who
is known to be a Jew (iii. 4; cf. vi. 13), and has remained in constant
intercourse with him (ii. 11, 19, 20, 22; cf. iv. 4-17). We are further told that
the grand-vizier was an Agagite or Amalekite (iii. 1, &c.); would the
nobility of Persia have tolerated this? Or did Haman too keep his non-
Persian origin secret? Also that Mordecai offered a gross affront to Haman,
for which no slighter punishment would satisfy Haman than the destruction
of the whole Jewish race (iii. 2-6). Of this savage design eleven months’
notice is given (iii. 12-14); and when the danger has been averted by the
next, how Esther and Mordecai frustrated Haman’s endeavour to extirpate
the Jews; how Haman, the grand-vizier, fell, and Mordecai succeeded him;
how Esther obtained the king’s permission for the Jews to destroy all who
might attack them on the day which Haman had appointed by lot for their
destruction; and lastly, how the feast of Purim (Lots?) was instituted to
commemorate their deliverance. Frequent incidental references are made to
Persian court-usages (explanations are given in i. 13, viii. 8), while on the
other hand the religious rites of the Jews (except fasting), and even
Jerusalem and the temple, and the name of Israel, are studiously ignored.
Even the name of God is not once mentioned, perhaps from a dread of its
profanation during the Saturnalia of Purim. The early popularity of the book
is shown by the interpolated passages in the Septuagint and the Old Latin
versions.
The criticism of Esther began in the 18th century. As soon as the
questioning spirit arose, the strangeness of many statements in the book
leaped into view. A moderate scholar of our day can find no historical
nucleus, and calls it a sort of historical romance.1 The very first verses in
the book startle the reader by their exaggerations, e.g. a banquet lasting 180
days, “127 provinces.” Farther on, the improbabilities of the plot are
noticeable. Esther, on her elevation, keeps her Jewish origin secret (ii. 10;
cf. vii. 3 ff.), although she has been taken from the house of her uncle, who
is known to be a Jew (iii. 4; cf. vi. 13), and has remained in constant
intercourse with him (ii. 11, 19, 20, 22; cf. iv. 4-17). We are further told that
the grand-vizier was an Agagite or Amalekite (iii. 1, &c.); would the
nobility of Persia have tolerated this? Or did Haman too keep his non-
Persian origin secret? Also that Mordecai offered a gross affront to Haman,
for which no slighter punishment would satisfy Haman than the destruction
of the whole Jewish race (iii. 2-6). Of this savage design eleven months’
notice is given (iii. 12-14); and when the danger has been averted by the
Page 409
cleverness of Esther, the provincial Jews are allowed to butcher 75,000, and
those in the capital 800 of their Persian fellow-subjects (ix. 6-16).
It is urged, on the other hand, that the assembly mentioned in i. 3 may be
that referred to by Herodotus (vii. 8) as having preceded the expedition
against Greece. This hypothesis, however, requires us to suppose that
Xerxes had returned from Sardis to Susa by the tenth month of the seventh
year of his reign, which is barely credible. In the reckoning of 127
provinces (cf. Dan. vi. 1; 1 Esd. iii. 2) satrapies and sub-satrapies may be
confounded. It is at any rate correct to include India among the provinces;
this is justified, not only by Herodotus (iii. 94), but by the inscriptions of
Darius at Persepolis and Naksh-i-Rustam. Herodotus again (vii. 8) confirms
the custom referred to in Esth. ii. 12. But what authority can make the
conduct of Mordecai credible? To-day the harem is impenetrable, while
“any one declining to stand as the grand-vizier passes is almost beaten to
death.”2 This, surely, is what a real Mordecai would have suffered from a
real Haman. Even the capricious Xerxes would never have permitted the
entire destruction of one of the races of the empire, nor would a vizier have
proposed it.
Serious difficulties of another kind remain. Mordecai is represented as a
fellow-captive of Jeconiah (597 b.c.), and grand-vizier in Xerxes’s twelfth
year (474 b.c.)! This is parallel to the strange statement in Tobit xiv. 15. And
how can we find room for Esther as queen by the side of Amestris (Herod.
vii. 14, ix. 112)? How, too, can a Jewess have been a legal queen (see
Herod. iii. 84)? Then take the supposed Persian proper names. “Ahasuerus”
may no doubt stand, but very few of the rest (see Nöldeke, Ency. Bib. col.
1402). As to the style, the general verdict is that it points to a late date (see
Driver, Introd.6, p. 484). Altogether, critics decline to date the book earlier
than the 3rd or even 2nd century b.c.
those in the capital 800 of their Persian fellow-subjects (ix. 6-16).
It is urged, on the other hand, that the assembly mentioned in i. 3 may be
that referred to by Herodotus (vii. 8) as having preceded the expedition
against Greece. This hypothesis, however, requires us to suppose that
Xerxes had returned from Sardis to Susa by the tenth month of the seventh
year of his reign, which is barely credible. In the reckoning of 127
provinces (cf. Dan. vi. 1; 1 Esd. iii. 2) satrapies and sub-satrapies may be
confounded. It is at any rate correct to include India among the provinces;
this is justified, not only by Herodotus (iii. 94), but by the inscriptions of
Darius at Persepolis and Naksh-i-Rustam. Herodotus again (vii. 8) confirms
the custom referred to in Esth. ii. 12. But what authority can make the
conduct of Mordecai credible? To-day the harem is impenetrable, while
“any one declining to stand as the grand-vizier passes is almost beaten to
death.”2 This, surely, is what a real Mordecai would have suffered from a
real Haman. Even the capricious Xerxes would never have permitted the
entire destruction of one of the races of the empire, nor would a vizier have
proposed it.
Serious difficulties of another kind remain. Mordecai is represented as a
fellow-captive of Jeconiah (597 b.c.), and grand-vizier in Xerxes’s twelfth
year (474 b.c.)! This is parallel to the strange statement in Tobit xiv. 15. And
how can we find room for Esther as queen by the side of Amestris (Herod.
vii. 14, ix. 112)? How, too, can a Jewess have been a legal queen (see
Herod. iii. 84)? Then take the supposed Persian proper names. “Ahasuerus”
may no doubt stand, but very few of the rest (see Nöldeke, Ency. Bib. col.
1402). As to the style, the general verdict is that it points to a late date (see
Driver, Introd.6, p. 484). Altogether, critics decline to date the book earlier
than the 3rd or even 2nd century b.c.
Page 410
So far we have only been carrying on 18th-century criticism. In more
recent years, however, new lines of inquiry have been opened up. First of
all by the great Semitic scholar Lagarde. His thesis (seldom defended now)
was that Purim corresponds to Fūrdigan, the name of the old Persian New
Year’s and All Souls’ festival held in spring, on which the Persians were
wont to exchange presents (cf. Esth. ix. 19). In 1891 came a new
explanation of Esther from Zimmern. It is true that in its earlier form his
theory was very incomplete. But in justice to this scholar we may notice
that from the first he looked for light to Babylonia, and that many other
critics now take up the same position. There is also another new point
which has to be mentioned, viz. that, judging from our experience
elsewhere, the Book of Esther has probably passed through various stages
of development. Here, then, are two points which call for investigation, viz.
(1) a possible mythological element in Esther, and (2) possible stages of
development prior to that represented by the Hebrew text.
As to the first point. The Second Targum (on Esth. ii. 7) long ago
declared that Esther was so called “because she was like the planet Venus.”
Recent scholars have expressed the same idea more critically. Esther is a
modification of Ishtar, the name of the Babylonian goddess of fertility and
of the planet Venus, whose myth must have been partially known to the
Israelites even in pre-exilic times,3 and after the fall of the state must have
acquired a still stronger hold on Jewish exiles. A general knowledge of the
myth of Marduk among the Israelites cannot indeed be proved. Singularly
enough, the Babylonian colonists in the cities of Samaria are said to have
made idols, not of Marduk, but of a deity called Succoth-benoth4 (2 Kings
xvii. 30). Nor does the Second Targum help us here; it gives a wild
explanation of Mordecai as “pure myrrh.” Still it is plain that the name of
the god Marduk (Merodach) was known to the Jews, and the Cosmogony in
Gen. i. is considered by critics to have ultimately arisen out of the myth of
Marduk’s conflict with the dragon (see Cosmogony). At any rate the name
recent years, however, new lines of inquiry have been opened up. First of
all by the great Semitic scholar Lagarde. His thesis (seldom defended now)
was that Purim corresponds to Fūrdigan, the name of the old Persian New
Year’s and All Souls’ festival held in spring, on which the Persians were
wont to exchange presents (cf. Esth. ix. 19). In 1891 came a new
explanation of Esther from Zimmern. It is true that in its earlier form his
theory was very incomplete. But in justice to this scholar we may notice
that from the first he looked for light to Babylonia, and that many other
critics now take up the same position. There is also another new point
which has to be mentioned, viz. that, judging from our experience
elsewhere, the Book of Esther has probably passed through various stages
of development. Here, then, are two points which call for investigation, viz.
(1) a possible mythological element in Esther, and (2) possible stages of
development prior to that represented by the Hebrew text.
As to the first point. The Second Targum (on Esth. ii. 7) long ago
declared that Esther was so called “because she was like the planet Venus.”
Recent scholars have expressed the same idea more critically. Esther is a
modification of Ishtar, the name of the Babylonian goddess of fertility and
of the planet Venus, whose myth must have been partially known to the
Israelites even in pre-exilic times,3 and after the fall of the state must have
acquired a still stronger hold on Jewish exiles. A general knowledge of the
myth of Marduk among the Israelites cannot indeed be proved. Singularly
enough, the Babylonian colonists in the cities of Samaria are said to have
made idols, not of Marduk, but of a deity called Succoth-benoth4 (2 Kings
xvii. 30). Nor does the Second Targum help us here; it gives a wild
explanation of Mordecai as “pure myrrh.” Still it is plain that the name of
the god Marduk (Merodach) was known to the Jews, and the Cosmogony in
Gen. i. is considered by critics to have ultimately arisen out of the myth of
Marduk’s conflict with the dragon (see Cosmogony). At any rate the name
Page 411
Mordecai (the vocalization is uncertain) looks very much like Marduk,
which, with terminations added, often occurs in cuneiform documents as a
personal name.5 Add to this, that, according to Jensen, Ishtar in mythology
was the cousin of Marduk, just as the legend represents Esther as the cousin
of Mordecai.6 The same scholar also accounts for Esther’s other name
Hadassah (Esth. ii. 7); hadasshatu in Babylonian means “bride,” which may
have been a title of Ishtar.
But we cannot stop short here. Unless the mythological key can also
explain Haman and Vashti, it is of no use. Jensen, now followed by
Zimmern, is equal to the occasion. Haman, he says, is a corruption of
Hamman or Humman or Uman, the name of the chief deity of the Elamites,
in whose capital (Susa) the scene of the narrative is laid, while Vashti is
Mashti (or Vashti), probably the name of an Elamite goddess.
Following the real or fancied light of these names, Prof. Jensen holds that
the Esther-legend is based on a mythological account of the victory of the
Babylonian deities over those of Elam, which in plain prose means the
deliverance of ancient Babylonia from its Elamite oppressors, and that such
an account was closely connected with the Babylonian New Year’s festival,
called Zagmuk, just as the Esther-legend is connected with the festival of
Purim.
We are bound, however, to mention some critical objections. (1) The
Babylonian festival corresponding to Purim was not the spring festival of
Zagmuk, but the summer festival of Ishtar, which is probably the Sacaea of
Berossus, an orgiastic festival analogous to Purim. (2) According to
Jensen’s theory, Mordecai, and not Esther, ought to be the direct cause of
Haman’s ruin. (3) No such Babylonian account as Jensen postulates can be
indicated. (4) The identifications of names are hazardous. Fancy a
descendant of Kish called Marduk, and an “Agagite” called Hamman!
Elsewhere Mordecai (Ezra ii. 2; Neh. vii. 7) occurs among names which are
which, with terminations added, often occurs in cuneiform documents as a
personal name.5 Add to this, that, according to Jensen, Ishtar in mythology
was the cousin of Marduk, just as the legend represents Esther as the cousin
of Mordecai.6 The same scholar also accounts for Esther’s other name
Hadassah (Esth. ii. 7); hadasshatu in Babylonian means “bride,” which may
have been a title of Ishtar.
But we cannot stop short here. Unless the mythological key can also
explain Haman and Vashti, it is of no use. Jensen, now followed by
Zimmern, is equal to the occasion. Haman, he says, is a corruption of
Hamman or Humman or Uman, the name of the chief deity of the Elamites,
in whose capital (Susa) the scene of the narrative is laid, while Vashti is
Mashti (or Vashti), probably the name of an Elamite goddess.
Following the real or fancied light of these names, Prof. Jensen holds that
the Esther-legend is based on a mythological account of the victory of the
Babylonian deities over those of Elam, which in plain prose means the
deliverance of ancient Babylonia from its Elamite oppressors, and that such
an account was closely connected with the Babylonian New Year’s festival,
called Zagmuk, just as the Esther-legend is connected with the festival of
Purim.
We are bound, however, to mention some critical objections. (1) The
Babylonian festival corresponding to Purim was not the spring festival of
Zagmuk, but the summer festival of Ishtar, which is probably the Sacaea of
Berossus, an orgiastic festival analogous to Purim. (2) According to
Jensen’s theory, Mordecai, and not Esther, ought to be the direct cause of
Haman’s ruin. (3) No such Babylonian account as Jensen postulates can be
indicated. (4) The identifications of names are hazardous. Fancy a
descendant of Kish called Marduk, and an “Agagite” called Hamman!
Elsewhere Mordecai (Ezra ii. 2; Neh. vii. 7) occurs among names which are
Page 412
certainly not Persian (Bigvai is no exception), and Haman (Tobit xiv. 10)
appears as a nephew of Achiachar, which is not a Persian name. Esther,
moreover, ought to be parallel to Judith; fancy likening the representative of
Israel to the goddess Ishtar!
Next, as to the preliminary literary phases of Esther. Such phases are
probable, considering the later phases represented in the Septuagint. There
may have once existed in Hebrew a story of the deadly feud between
Mordecai (if that be the original name) and Haman, with elements
suggested by the story of the battle between the Supreme God and the
dragon (see Cosmogony). As the legend stands, Mordecai and Esther seem
to be in each other’s way. In a passage (i. 5 in LXX.) only found in the
Septuagint, but which may have belonged to the original Esther, reference is
made to a dream of Mordecai respecting two great dragons, i.e. Mordecai
and Haman (x. 7). This seems to confirm the view here mentioned. If so,
however, there must also have been an Esther-legend, which was afterwards
worked up with that of Mordecai. This is, in fact, the view of Erbt. Winckler
takes a different line. Linguistic facts and certain points in the contents
seem to him to show that our Esther is a work of the age of the Seleucidae;
more precisely he thinks of the time of the revolt of Molon under Antiochus
III. Of course there was a Book of Esther before this, and even in its
redacted form our Esther reflects the period of three Persian kings, viz.
Cyrus, Cambyses and Darius. Lastly, Cheyne (Ency. Bib. “Purim,” § 7),
while agreeing with Winckler that the book is based on an earlier narrative,
holds that that earlier text differed more widely from the present in its
geographical and historical setting than Winckler seems to suppose. The
problem of the origin of the name Purim, however, can hardly be said to
have received a final solution.
appears as a nephew of Achiachar, which is not a Persian name. Esther,
moreover, ought to be parallel to Judith; fancy likening the representative of
Israel to the goddess Ishtar!
Next, as to the preliminary literary phases of Esther. Such phases are
probable, considering the later phases represented in the Septuagint. There
may have once existed in Hebrew a story of the deadly feud between
Mordecai (if that be the original name) and Haman, with elements
suggested by the story of the battle between the Supreme God and the
dragon (see Cosmogony). As the legend stands, Mordecai and Esther seem
to be in each other’s way. In a passage (i. 5 in LXX.) only found in the
Septuagint, but which may have belonged to the original Esther, reference is
made to a dream of Mordecai respecting two great dragons, i.e. Mordecai
and Haman (x. 7). This seems to confirm the view here mentioned. If so,
however, there must also have been an Esther-legend, which was afterwards
worked up with that of Mordecai. This is, in fact, the view of Erbt. Winckler
takes a different line. Linguistic facts and certain points in the contents
seem to him to show that our Esther is a work of the age of the Seleucidae;
more precisely he thinks of the time of the revolt of Molon under Antiochus
III. Of course there was a Book of Esther before this, and even in its
redacted form our Esther reflects the period of three Persian kings, viz.
Cyrus, Cambyses and Darius. Lastly, Cheyne (Ency. Bib. “Purim,” § 7),
while agreeing with Winckler that the book is based on an earlier narrative,
holds that that earlier text differed more widely from the present in its
geographical and historical setting than Winckler seems to suppose. The
problem of the origin of the name Purim, however, can hardly be said to
have received a final solution.
Page 413
Bibliography.—Kuenen, History of Israel, iii. (1875), 148-153; Lagarde,
Purim (1887); Zimmern in Stade’s Zeitschrift, xi. (1891), pp. 157-169, and
Keilinschriften und das Alte Testament(3), 485, 515-520, Jensen in Wildeboer’s
Esther (in Marti’s series, 1898), pp. 173-175; Winckler, Keilinschriften und das
Alte Testament(3), p. 288, Altorientalische Forschungen, 3rd ser. i. 1-64; Erbt,
Die Purimsage (1900); Ency. Biblica, articles “Esther” and “Purim” (a composite
article).
(T. K. C.)
Additions to Book of Esther. These “additions” were written originally in Greek
and subsequently interpolated in the Greek translation of the Book of Esther. Here the
principle of interpolation has reached its maximum. Of 270 verses, 107 are not to be
found in the Hebrew text. These additions are distributed throughout the book in the
Greek, but in the Latin Bible they were relegated to the end of the canonical book by
Jerome—an action that has rendered them meaningless. In the Greek the additions
form with the canonical text a consecutive history. They were made probably in the
time of the Maccabees, and their aim was to supply the religious element which is so
completely lacking in the canonical work. The first, which gives the dream of
Mordecai and the events which led to his advancement at the court of Artaxerxes,
precedes chap. i. of the canonical text: the second and fifth, which follow iii. 13 and
viii. 12, furnish copies of the letters of Artaxerxes referred to in these verses; the third
and fourth, which are inserted after chap. iv., consist of the prayers of Mordecai and
Esther, with an account of Esther’s approach to the king. The last, which closes the
book, tells of the institution of the feast of Purim. The Greek text appears in two
widely-differing recensions. The one is supported by ABא, and the other—a revision
of the first—by codices 19, 93a, 108b. The latter is believed to have been the work of
Lucian. Swete, Old Test. in Greek, ii. 755, has given the former, while Lagarde has
published both texts with critical annotations in his Librorum Veteris Testamenti
Canonicorum, i. 504-541 (1883), and Scholz in his Kommentar über das Buch Esther
(1892).
For an account of the Latin and Syriac versions, the Targums, and the later
Rabbinic literature connected with this subject, and other questions relating to
these additions, see Fritzsche, Exeget. Handbuch zu den Apok. (1851), i. 67-108;
Schürer(3), iii. 330-332; Fuller in Speaker’s Apocr. i. 360-402; Ryssel in
Purim (1887); Zimmern in Stade’s Zeitschrift, xi. (1891), pp. 157-169, and
Keilinschriften und das Alte Testament(3), 485, 515-520, Jensen in Wildeboer’s
Esther (in Marti’s series, 1898), pp. 173-175; Winckler, Keilinschriften und das
Alte Testament(3), p. 288, Altorientalische Forschungen, 3rd ser. i. 1-64; Erbt,
Die Purimsage (1900); Ency. Biblica, articles “Esther” and “Purim” (a composite
article).
(T. K. C.)
Additions to Book of Esther. These “additions” were written originally in Greek
and subsequently interpolated in the Greek translation of the Book of Esther. Here the
principle of interpolation has reached its maximum. Of 270 verses, 107 are not to be
found in the Hebrew text. These additions are distributed throughout the book in the
Greek, but in the Latin Bible they were relegated to the end of the canonical book by
Jerome—an action that has rendered them meaningless. In the Greek the additions
form with the canonical text a consecutive history. They were made probably in the
time of the Maccabees, and their aim was to supply the religious element which is so
completely lacking in the canonical work. The first, which gives the dream of
Mordecai and the events which led to his advancement at the court of Artaxerxes,
precedes chap. i. of the canonical text: the second and fifth, which follow iii. 13 and
viii. 12, furnish copies of the letters of Artaxerxes referred to in these verses; the third
and fourth, which are inserted after chap. iv., consist of the prayers of Mordecai and
Esther, with an account of Esther’s approach to the king. The last, which closes the
book, tells of the institution of the feast of Purim. The Greek text appears in two
widely-differing recensions. The one is supported by ABא, and the other—a revision
of the first—by codices 19, 93a, 108b. The latter is believed to have been the work of
Lucian. Swete, Old Test. in Greek, ii. 755, has given the former, while Lagarde has
published both texts with critical annotations in his Librorum Veteris Testamenti
Canonicorum, i. 504-541 (1883), and Scholz in his Kommentar über das Buch Esther
(1892).
For an account of the Latin and Syriac versions, the Targums, and the later
Rabbinic literature connected with this subject, and other questions relating to
these additions, see Fritzsche, Exeget. Handbuch zu den Apok. (1851), i. 67-108;
Schürer(3), iii. 330-332; Fuller in Speaker’s Apocr. i. 360-402; Ryssel in
Page 414
Kautzsch’s Apok. u. Pseud. i. 193-212; Siegfried in Jewish Encyc. v. 237 sqq.;
Swete, Introd. to the Old Test. in Greek, 257 seq.; L.B. Paton, “A Text-Critical
Apparatus to the Book of Esther” in O.T. and Semitic Studies in Memory of W.R.
Harper (Chicago, 1908). (R. H. C.)
1 Kautzsch, Old Testament Literature (1898), p. 130.
2 So Morier, the English minister to the Persian court, quoted by Dean Stanley.
3 See Zimmern, Die Keilinschriften und das Alte Test.(3), p. 438.
4 Ibid. p. 396.
5 Johns, Assyrian Deeds, iii. 198-199; Amer. Journ. of Sem. Languages (April 1902), p. 158.
6 So too Zimmern, in Gunkel’s Schöpfung und Chaos, p. 313, note 2.
ESTHONIA (Ger. Ehstland and Esthland, Esthonian Eestimaa and Meie-maa, also
Viroma and Rahvama; Lettish Iggaun Senna), a Baltic province of Russia, stretching
along the south coast of the Gulf of Finland, and having Lake Peipus and Livonia on
the S. and the government of St Petersburg on the E. An archipelago of islands, of
which Dagö is the largest, belongs to this government (Oesel belongs to Livonia). The
area is 7818 sq. m., 503 sq. m. of this being insular. The surface is low, not exceeding
100 ft. in altitude along the coast and alongside Lake Peipus, while in the interior the
average elevation ranges from 200 to 300 ft., and nowhere exceeds 450 ft. It was
entirely covered with the bottom moraine of the great ice-sheet of the Glacial Epoch,
resting upon Silurian sandstones and limestones. In places sands and clays overlie the
glacial deposits. The principal stream is the Narova, which issues from Lake Peipus,
flows along the eastern border, and empties into the Gulf of Finland. The other
drainage arteries are all small, but many in number; while lakes and marshes
aggregate fully 22½% of the total surface. The climate is severe, great cold being
experienced in winter, though moist west winds exercise a moderating influence.
Nevertheless the annual mean temperature ranges between 39° and 43° Fahr. In 1878
the nobility, mostly of German descent, owned and farmed 52% of the land; 42% was
Swete, Introd. to the Old Test. in Greek, 257 seq.; L.B. Paton, “A Text-Critical
Apparatus to the Book of Esther” in O.T. and Semitic Studies in Memory of W.R.
Harper (Chicago, 1908). (R. H. C.)
1 Kautzsch, Old Testament Literature (1898), p. 130.
2 So Morier, the English minister to the Persian court, quoted by Dean Stanley.
3 See Zimmern, Die Keilinschriften und das Alte Test.(3), p. 438.
4 Ibid. p. 396.
5 Johns, Assyrian Deeds, iii. 198-199; Amer. Journ. of Sem. Languages (April 1902), p. 158.
6 So too Zimmern, in Gunkel’s Schöpfung und Chaos, p. 313, note 2.
ESTHONIA (Ger. Ehstland and Esthland, Esthonian Eestimaa and Meie-maa, also
Viroma and Rahvama; Lettish Iggaun Senna), a Baltic province of Russia, stretching
along the south coast of the Gulf of Finland, and having Lake Peipus and Livonia on
the S. and the government of St Petersburg on the E. An archipelago of islands, of
which Dagö is the largest, belongs to this government (Oesel belongs to Livonia). The
area is 7818 sq. m., 503 sq. m. of this being insular. The surface is low, not exceeding
100 ft. in altitude along the coast and alongside Lake Peipus, while in the interior the
average elevation ranges from 200 to 300 ft., and nowhere exceeds 450 ft. It was
entirely covered with the bottom moraine of the great ice-sheet of the Glacial Epoch,
resting upon Silurian sandstones and limestones. In places sands and clays overlie the
glacial deposits. The principal stream is the Narova, which issues from Lake Peipus,
flows along the eastern border, and empties into the Gulf of Finland. The other
drainage arteries are all small, but many in number; while lakes and marshes
aggregate fully 22½% of the total surface. The climate is severe, great cold being
experienced in winter, though moist west winds exercise a moderating influence.
Nevertheless the annual mean temperature ranges between 39° and 43° Fahr. In 1878
the nobility, mostly of German descent, owned and farmed 52% of the land; 42% was
Page 415
farmed, but not owned, by the peasants, mostly Esths or Ehsts, and only 3% was
owned by persons outside the ranks of the nobility. Since then one-fourth of the
peasantry have been enabled to purchase their holdings, more than half a million acres
having passed into their possession. Agriculture is the chief occupation, and it is, on
all the larger holdings, carried on with greater scientific knowledge than in any other
part of Russia. Of the total area about 16.6% is under cultivation; meadows and grass-
lands amount to 41.7%; and forests cover 19%. The principal crops are rye, oats,
barley and potatoes, with large quantities of vegetables. Cattle-breeding flourishes,
and meat and butter are constantly increasing items of export. The manufactories
consist chiefly of distilleries (over 13,500,000 gallons annually), cotton (at Kränholm
falls on the Narova), woollen, flour, paper and saw mills, iron and machinery works,
and match factories. Fishing is active along the coast, especially for anchovies. The
province is intersected by a railway running from St Petersburg to Reval, with
branches from the latter city westwards to Baltic Port and southwards into Livonia,
and from Taps south to Yuryev (Dorpat). The chief seaports are Reval, Baltic Port,
Hapsal, Kunda and Dagö. Esthonia is divided into four districts, the chief towns of
which are Reval (pop. in 1897, 66,292), the capital of the province; Hapsal, a lively
watering-place (3238); Weissenstein (2509); and Wesenberg (5560). The population,
which consists chiefly of Ehstes (365,959 in 1897), Russians (18,000), Germans
(16,000), Swedes (5800), and some Jews, is growing fairly fast: in 1870 it numbered
323,960, and in 1897 413,747, of whom 210,199 were women and 76,315 lived in
towns; in 1906 it was estimated at 451,700. Ninety-six per cent. of the whole belong
to the Lutheran Church. Education is, for Russia, relatively high.
The Esths, Ehsts or Esthonians, who call themselves Tallopoeg and Maamees, are
known to the Russians as Chukhni or Chukhontsi, to the Letts as Iggauni, and to the
Finns as Virolaiset. They belong to the Finnish family, and consequently to the Ural-
Altaic division of the human race. Altogether they number close upon one million,
and are thus distributed: 365,959 in Esthonia (in 1897), 518,594 in Livonia, 64,116 in
the government of St Petersburg, 25,458 in that of Pskov, and 12,855 in other parts of
Russia. As a race they exhibit manifest evidences of their Ural-Altaic or Mongolic
descent in their short stature, absence of beard, oblique eyes, broad face, low forehead
and small mouth. In addition to that they are an under-sized, ill-thriven people, with
long arms and thin, short legs. They cling tenaciously to their native language, which
is closely allied to the Finnish, and divisible into two, or according to some authorities
owned by persons outside the ranks of the nobility. Since then one-fourth of the
peasantry have been enabled to purchase their holdings, more than half a million acres
having passed into their possession. Agriculture is the chief occupation, and it is, on
all the larger holdings, carried on with greater scientific knowledge than in any other
part of Russia. Of the total area about 16.6% is under cultivation; meadows and grass-
lands amount to 41.7%; and forests cover 19%. The principal crops are rye, oats,
barley and potatoes, with large quantities of vegetables. Cattle-breeding flourishes,
and meat and butter are constantly increasing items of export. The manufactories
consist chiefly of distilleries (over 13,500,000 gallons annually), cotton (at Kränholm
falls on the Narova), woollen, flour, paper and saw mills, iron and machinery works,
and match factories. Fishing is active along the coast, especially for anchovies. The
province is intersected by a railway running from St Petersburg to Reval, with
branches from the latter city westwards to Baltic Port and southwards into Livonia,
and from Taps south to Yuryev (Dorpat). The chief seaports are Reval, Baltic Port,
Hapsal, Kunda and Dagö. Esthonia is divided into four districts, the chief towns of
which are Reval (pop. in 1897, 66,292), the capital of the province; Hapsal, a lively
watering-place (3238); Weissenstein (2509); and Wesenberg (5560). The population,
which consists chiefly of Ehstes (365,959 in 1897), Russians (18,000), Germans
(16,000), Swedes (5800), and some Jews, is growing fairly fast: in 1870 it numbered
323,960, and in 1897 413,747, of whom 210,199 were women and 76,315 lived in
towns; in 1906 it was estimated at 451,700. Ninety-six per cent. of the whole belong
to the Lutheran Church. Education is, for Russia, relatively high.
The Esths, Ehsts or Esthonians, who call themselves Tallopoeg and Maamees, are
known to the Russians as Chukhni or Chukhontsi, to the Letts as Iggauni, and to the
Finns as Virolaiset. They belong to the Finnish family, and consequently to the Ural-
Altaic division of the human race. Altogether they number close upon one million,
and are thus distributed: 365,959 in Esthonia (in 1897), 518,594 in Livonia, 64,116 in
the government of St Petersburg, 25,458 in that of Pskov, and 12,855 in other parts of
Russia. As a race they exhibit manifest evidences of their Ural-Altaic or Mongolic
descent in their short stature, absence of beard, oblique eyes, broad face, low forehead
and small mouth. In addition to that they are an under-sized, ill-thriven people, with
long arms and thin, short legs. They cling tenaciously to their native language, which
is closely allied to the Finnish, and divisible into two, or according to some authorities
Page 416
into three, principal dialects—Dorpat Esthonian and Reval Esthonian, with Pernau
Esthonian. Reval Esthonian, which preserves more carefully the full inflectional
forms and pays greater attention to the laws of euphony, is recognized as the literary
language. Since 1873 the cultivation of their mother-tongue has been sedulously
promoted by an Esthonian Literary Society (Eesti Korjameeste Selts), which publishes
Toimetused, or “Instructions” in all sorts of subjects. They have a decided love of
poetry, and exhibit great facility in improvising verses and poems on all occasions,
and they sing, everywhere, from morning to night. Like the Finns they possess rich
stores of national songs. These, which bear an unmistakable family likeness to those
of the great Finnish epic of the Kalevala, were collected as the Kalevi Poëg, and
edited by Kreutswald (1857), and translated into German by Reinthal (1857-1859)
and Bertram (1861) and by Löwe (1900). Other collections of Esthnische Volkslieder
have been published by Neuss (1850-1852) and Kreutzwald and Neuss (1854); while
Kreutzwald (1866) and Jannsen (1888) have published collections of legends and
national tales. The earliest publication in Esthonian was a Lutheran catechism in the
16th century. An Esthonian translation of the New Testament was printed at Reval in
1715. Between 1813 and 1832 there appeared at Pernau twenty volumes of Beiträge
zur genauern Kenntniss der esthnischen Sprache, by Rosenplänter, and from 1840
onwards many valuable papers on Esthonian subjects were contributed to the
Verhandlungen der gelehrten esthnischen Gesellschaft zu Dorpat. F.J. Wiedemann,
who laboured indefatigably in the registration and preservation of matters connected
with Esthonian language and lore, published an Esthnisch-deutsches Wörterbuch
(1865; 2nd ed. by Hurt, 1891, &c.), and in 1903 there appeared at Reval a Deutsch-
esthnisches Wörterbuch, by Ploompun and Kann.
The Esthonians first appear in history as a warlike and predatory race, the terror of
the Baltic seamen in consequence of their piracies. More than one of the Danish kings
made serious attempts to subdue them. Canute VI. invaded their country (1194-1196)
and forced baptism upon many of them, but no sooner did his war-ships disappear
than they reverted to their former heathenism. In 1219 Waldemar II. undertook a more
formidable crusade against them, in the course of which he founded the town and
episcopal see of Reval. By his efforts the northern portion of the race were made
submissive to the Danish crown; but, though conquered, they were by no means
subdued, and were incessantly in revolt, until, after a great rebellion in 1343,
Waldemar IV. Atterdag sold for 19,000 marks his portion of Esthonia in 1346, to the
Esthonian. Reval Esthonian, which preserves more carefully the full inflectional
forms and pays greater attention to the laws of euphony, is recognized as the literary
language. Since 1873 the cultivation of their mother-tongue has been sedulously
promoted by an Esthonian Literary Society (Eesti Korjameeste Selts), which publishes
Toimetused, or “Instructions” in all sorts of subjects. They have a decided love of
poetry, and exhibit great facility in improvising verses and poems on all occasions,
and they sing, everywhere, from morning to night. Like the Finns they possess rich
stores of national songs. These, which bear an unmistakable family likeness to those
of the great Finnish epic of the Kalevala, were collected as the Kalevi Poëg, and
edited by Kreutswald (1857), and translated into German by Reinthal (1857-1859)
and Bertram (1861) and by Löwe (1900). Other collections of Esthnische Volkslieder
have been published by Neuss (1850-1852) and Kreutzwald and Neuss (1854); while
Kreutzwald (1866) and Jannsen (1888) have published collections of legends and
national tales. The earliest publication in Esthonian was a Lutheran catechism in the
16th century. An Esthonian translation of the New Testament was printed at Reval in
1715. Between 1813 and 1832 there appeared at Pernau twenty volumes of Beiträge
zur genauern Kenntniss der esthnischen Sprache, by Rosenplänter, and from 1840
onwards many valuable papers on Esthonian subjects were contributed to the
Verhandlungen der gelehrten esthnischen Gesellschaft zu Dorpat. F.J. Wiedemann,
who laboured indefatigably in the registration and preservation of matters connected
with Esthonian language and lore, published an Esthnisch-deutsches Wörterbuch
(1865; 2nd ed. by Hurt, 1891, &c.), and in 1903 there appeared at Reval a Deutsch-
esthnisches Wörterbuch, by Ploompun and Kann.
The Esthonians first appear in history as a warlike and predatory race, the terror of
the Baltic seamen in consequence of their piracies. More than one of the Danish kings
made serious attempts to subdue them. Canute VI. invaded their country (1194-1196)
and forced baptism upon many of them, but no sooner did his war-ships disappear
than they reverted to their former heathenism. In 1219 Waldemar II. undertook a more
formidable crusade against them, in the course of which he founded the town and
episcopal see of Reval. By his efforts the northern portion of the race were made
submissive to the Danish crown; but, though conquered, they were by no means
subdued, and were incessantly in revolt, until, after a great rebellion in 1343,
Waldemar IV. Atterdag sold for 19,000 marks his portion of Esthonia in 1346, to the
Page 417
order of the Knights of the Sword. These German crusaders had already, after a
quarter of a century’s fighting, in 1224 gained possession of the regions inhabited by
the southern portion of the race, that is those now included in Livonia. From that time
for nearly six hundred years or more the Esthonians were practically reduced to a state
of serfdom to the German landowners. In 1521 the nobles and cities of Esthonia
voluntarily placed themselves under the protection of the crown of Sweden; but after
the wars of Charles XII., Esthonia was formally ceded to his victorious rival, Peter the
Great, by the peace of Nystad (1721). Serfdom was abolished in 1817 by Tsar
Alexander I.; but the condition of the peasants was so little improved that they rose in
open revolt in 1859. Since 1878, however, a vast change for the better has been
effected in their economic position (see above). The determining feature of their
recent history has been the attempt made by the Russian government (since 1881) and
the Orthodox Greek Church (since 1883) to russify and convert the inhabitants of the
province, Germans and Esths alike, by enforcing the use of Russian in the schools and
by harsh and repressive measures aimed at their native language.
See Merkel, Die freien Letten und Esthen (1820); Parrot, Versuch einer
Entwickelung der Sprache, Abstammung, &c., der Liwen, Lätten, Eesten (1839);
F. Kruse, Urgeschichte des esthnischen Volksstammes (1846); Wiedemann,
Grammatik der esthnischen Sprache (1875), and Aus dem innern und äussern
Leben der Esthen (1876); Köppen, Die Bewohner Esthlands (1847); F. Müller,
Beiträge zur Orographie und Hydrographie von Esthland (1869-1871); Bunge,
Das Herzogthum Esthland unter den Königen von Dänemark (1877); and
Seraphim, Geschichte Liv-, Est-, und Kurlands (2nd ed., 1897) and various
papers in the Finnisch-Ugrische Forschungen.
(P. A. K.; J. T. Be.; C. El.)
ESTIENNE (or Étienne; the French form of the name; anglicized to Stephens, and
latinized to Stephanus), a French family of scholars and printers.
quarter of a century’s fighting, in 1224 gained possession of the regions inhabited by
the southern portion of the race, that is those now included in Livonia. From that time
for nearly six hundred years or more the Esthonians were practically reduced to a state
of serfdom to the German landowners. In 1521 the nobles and cities of Esthonia
voluntarily placed themselves under the protection of the crown of Sweden; but after
the wars of Charles XII., Esthonia was formally ceded to his victorious rival, Peter the
Great, by the peace of Nystad (1721). Serfdom was abolished in 1817 by Tsar
Alexander I.; but the condition of the peasants was so little improved that they rose in
open revolt in 1859. Since 1878, however, a vast change for the better has been
effected in their economic position (see above). The determining feature of their
recent history has been the attempt made by the Russian government (since 1881) and
the Orthodox Greek Church (since 1883) to russify and convert the inhabitants of the
province, Germans and Esths alike, by enforcing the use of Russian in the schools and
by harsh and repressive measures aimed at their native language.
See Merkel, Die freien Letten und Esthen (1820); Parrot, Versuch einer
Entwickelung der Sprache, Abstammung, &c., der Liwen, Lätten, Eesten (1839);
F. Kruse, Urgeschichte des esthnischen Volksstammes (1846); Wiedemann,
Grammatik der esthnischen Sprache (1875), and Aus dem innern und äussern
Leben der Esthen (1876); Köppen, Die Bewohner Esthlands (1847); F. Müller,
Beiträge zur Orographie und Hydrographie von Esthland (1869-1871); Bunge,
Das Herzogthum Esthland unter den Königen von Dänemark (1877); and
Seraphim, Geschichte Liv-, Est-, und Kurlands (2nd ed., 1897) and various
papers in the Finnisch-Ugrische Forschungen.
(P. A. K.; J. T. Be.; C. El.)
ESTIENNE (or Étienne; the French form of the name; anglicized to Stephens, and
latinized to Stephanus), a French family of scholars and printers.
Page 418
The founder of the race was Henri Estienne (d. 1520), the scion of a noble family
of Provence, who came to Paris in 1502, and soon afterwards set up a printing
establishment at the top of the rue Saint-Jean de Beauvais, on the hill of Saint-
Geneviève opposite the law school. He died in 1520, and, his three sons being minors,
the business was carried on by his foreman Simon de Colines, who in 1521 married
his widow.
Robert Estienne (1503-1559) was Henri’s second son. After his father’s death he
acted as assistant to his stepfather, and in this capacity superintended the printing of a
Latin edition of the New Testament in 16mo (1523). Some slight alterations which he
had introduced into the text brought upon him the censures of the faculty of theology.
It was the first of a long series of disputes between him and that body. It appears that
he had intimate relations with the new Evangelical preachers almost from the
beginning of the movement, and that soon after this time he definitely joined the
Reformed Church. In 1526 he entered into possession of his father’s printing
establishment, and adopted as his device the celebrated olive-tree (a reminiscence
doubtless of his grandmother’s family of Montolivet), with the motto from the epistle
to the Romans (xi. 20), Noli altum sapere, sometimes with the addition sed time. In
1528 he married Perrette, a daughter of the scholar and printer Josse Bade (Jodocus
Badius), and in the same year he published his first Latin Bible, an edition in folio,
upon which he had been at work for the last four years. In 1532 appeared his
Thesaurus linguae Latinae, a dictionary of Latin words and phrases, upon which for
two years he had toiled incessantly, with no other assistance than that of Thierry of
Beauvais. A second edition, greatly enlarged and improved, appeared in 1536, and a
third, still further improved, in 3 vols. folio, in 1543. Though the Thesaurus is now
superseded, its merits must not be forgotten. It was vastly superior to anything of the
kind that had appeared before; it formed the basis of future labours, and even as late
as 1734 was considered worthy of being re-edited. In 1539 Robert was appointed
king’s printer for Hebrew and Latin, an office to which, after the death of Conrad
Neobar in 1540, he united that of king’s printer for Greek. In 1541 he was entrusted
by Francis I. with the task of procuring from Claude Garamond, the engraver and
type-founder, three sets of Greek type for the royal press. The middle size were the
first ready, and with these Robert printed the editio princeps of the Ecclesiasticae
Historiae of Eusebius and others (1544). The smallest size were first used for the
16mo edition of the New Testament known as the O mirificam (1546), while with the
of Provence, who came to Paris in 1502, and soon afterwards set up a printing
establishment at the top of the rue Saint-Jean de Beauvais, on the hill of Saint-
Geneviève opposite the law school. He died in 1520, and, his three sons being minors,
the business was carried on by his foreman Simon de Colines, who in 1521 married
his widow.
Robert Estienne (1503-1559) was Henri’s second son. After his father’s death he
acted as assistant to his stepfather, and in this capacity superintended the printing of a
Latin edition of the New Testament in 16mo (1523). Some slight alterations which he
had introduced into the text brought upon him the censures of the faculty of theology.
It was the first of a long series of disputes between him and that body. It appears that
he had intimate relations with the new Evangelical preachers almost from the
beginning of the movement, and that soon after this time he definitely joined the
Reformed Church. In 1526 he entered into possession of his father’s printing
establishment, and adopted as his device the celebrated olive-tree (a reminiscence
doubtless of his grandmother’s family of Montolivet), with the motto from the epistle
to the Romans (xi. 20), Noli altum sapere, sometimes with the addition sed time. In
1528 he married Perrette, a daughter of the scholar and printer Josse Bade (Jodocus
Badius), and in the same year he published his first Latin Bible, an edition in folio,
upon which he had been at work for the last four years. In 1532 appeared his
Thesaurus linguae Latinae, a dictionary of Latin words and phrases, upon which for
two years he had toiled incessantly, with no other assistance than that of Thierry of
Beauvais. A second edition, greatly enlarged and improved, appeared in 1536, and a
third, still further improved, in 3 vols. folio, in 1543. Though the Thesaurus is now
superseded, its merits must not be forgotten. It was vastly superior to anything of the
kind that had appeared before; it formed the basis of future labours, and even as late
as 1734 was considered worthy of being re-edited. In 1539 Robert was appointed
king’s printer for Hebrew and Latin, an office to which, after the death of Conrad
Neobar in 1540, he united that of king’s printer for Greek. In 1541 he was entrusted
by Francis I. with the task of procuring from Claude Garamond, the engraver and
type-founder, three sets of Greek type for the royal press. The middle size were the
first ready, and with these Robert printed the editio princeps of the Ecclesiasticae
Historiae of Eusebius and others (1544). The smallest size were first used for the
16mo edition of the New Testament known as the O mirificam (1546), while with the
Page 419
largest size was printed the magnificent folio of 1550. This edition involved the
printer in fresh disputes with the faculty of theology, and towards the end of the
following year he left his native town for ever, and took refuge at Geneva, where he
published in 1552 a caustic and effective answer to his persecutors under the title Ad
censuras theologorum Parisiensium, quibus Biblia a R. Stephano, Typographo Regio,
ex usa calumniose notarunt, eiusdem R. S. responsio. A French translation, which is
remarkable for the excellence of its style, was published by him in the same year
(printed in Rénouard’s Annales de l’imprimerie des Estienne). At Geneva Robert
proved himself an ardent partisan of Calvin, several of whose works he published. He
died there on the 7th of September 1559.
It is by his work in connexion with the Bible, and especially as an editor of the
New Testament, that he is on the whole best known. The text of his New
Testament of 1550, either in its original form or in such slightly modified form
as it assumed in the Elzevir text of 1634, remains to this day the traditional text.
But this is due rather to its typographical beauty than to any critical merit. The
readings of the fifteen MSS. which Robert’s son Henri had collated for the
purpose were merely introduced into the margin. The text was still almost
exactly that of Erasmus. It was, however, the first edition ever published with a
critical apparatus of any sort. Of the whole Bible Robert printed eleven editions
—eight in Latin, two in Hebrew and one in French; while of the New Testament
alone he printed twelve—five in Greek, five in Latin and two in French. In the
Greek New Testament of 1551 (printed at Geneva) the present division into
verses was introduced for the first time. The editiones principes which issued
from Robert’s press were eight in number, viz. Eusebius, including the
Praeparatio evangelica and the Demonstratio evangelica as well as the Historia
ecclesiastica already mentioned (1544-1546), Moschopulus (1545), Dionysius of
Halicarnassus (February 1547), Alexander Trallianus (January 1548), Dio
Cassius (January 1548), Justin Martyr (1551), Xiphilinus (1551), Appian (1551),
the last being completed, after Robert’s departure from Paris, by his brother
Charles, and appearing under his name. These editions, all in folio, except the
Moschopulus, which is in 4to, are unrivalled for beauty. Robert also printed
numerous editions of Latin classics, of which perhaps the folio Virgil of 1532 is
the most noteworthy, and a large quantity of Latin grammars and other
printer in fresh disputes with the faculty of theology, and towards the end of the
following year he left his native town for ever, and took refuge at Geneva, where he
published in 1552 a caustic and effective answer to his persecutors under the title Ad
censuras theologorum Parisiensium, quibus Biblia a R. Stephano, Typographo Regio,
ex usa calumniose notarunt, eiusdem R. S. responsio. A French translation, which is
remarkable for the excellence of its style, was published by him in the same year
(printed in Rénouard’s Annales de l’imprimerie des Estienne). At Geneva Robert
proved himself an ardent partisan of Calvin, several of whose works he published. He
died there on the 7th of September 1559.
It is by his work in connexion with the Bible, and especially as an editor of the
New Testament, that he is on the whole best known. The text of his New
Testament of 1550, either in its original form or in such slightly modified form
as it assumed in the Elzevir text of 1634, remains to this day the traditional text.
But this is due rather to its typographical beauty than to any critical merit. The
readings of the fifteen MSS. which Robert’s son Henri had collated for the
purpose were merely introduced into the margin. The text was still almost
exactly that of Erasmus. It was, however, the first edition ever published with a
critical apparatus of any sort. Of the whole Bible Robert printed eleven editions
—eight in Latin, two in Hebrew and one in French; while of the New Testament
alone he printed twelve—five in Greek, five in Latin and two in French. In the
Greek New Testament of 1551 (printed at Geneva) the present division into
verses was introduced for the first time. The editiones principes which issued
from Robert’s press were eight in number, viz. Eusebius, including the
Praeparatio evangelica and the Demonstratio evangelica as well as the Historia
ecclesiastica already mentioned (1544-1546), Moschopulus (1545), Dionysius of
Halicarnassus (February 1547), Alexander Trallianus (January 1548), Dio
Cassius (January 1548), Justin Martyr (1551), Xiphilinus (1551), Appian (1551),
the last being completed, after Robert’s departure from Paris, by his brother
Charles, and appearing under his name. These editions, all in folio, except the
Moschopulus, which is in 4to, are unrivalled for beauty. Robert also printed
numerous editions of Latin classics, of which perhaps the folio Virgil of 1532 is
the most noteworthy, and a large quantity of Latin grammars and other
Page 420
educational works, many of which were written by Maturin Cordier, his friend
and co-worker in the cause of humanism.
Charles Estienne (1504 or 1505-1564), the third son of Henri, was, like his brother
Robert, a man of considerable learning. After the usual humanistic training he studied
medicine, and took his doctor’s degree at Paris. He was for a time tutor to Jean
Antoine de Baïf, the future poet. In 1551, when Robert Estienne left Paris for Geneva,
Charles, who had remained a Catholic, took charge of his printing establishment, and
in the same year was appointed king’s printer. In 1561 he became bankrupt, and he is
said to have died in a debtors’ prison.
His principal works are Praedium Rusticum (1554), a collection of tracts
which he had compiled from ancient writers on various branches of agriculture,
and which continued to be a favourite book down to the end of the 17th century;
Dictionarium historicum ac poëticum (1553), the first French encyclopaedia;
Thesaurus Ciceronianus (1557), and De dissectione partium corporis humani
libri tres, with well-drawn woodcuts (1548). He also published a translation of
an Italian comedy, Gli Ingannati, under the title of Le Sacrifice (1543;
republished as Les Abusez, 1549), which had some influence on the development
of French comedy; and Paradoxes (1553), an imitation of the Paradossi of
Ortensio Landi.
Henri Estienne (1531-1598), sometimes called Henri II., was the eldest son of
Robert. In the preface to his edition of Aulus Gellius (1585), addressed to his son
Paul, he gives an interesting account of his father’s household, in which, owing to the
various nationalities of those who were employed on the press, Latin was used as a
common language. Henri thus picked up Latin as a child, but by his own request he
was allowed to learn Greek as a serious study before Latin. At the age of fifteen he
become a pupil of Pierre Danès, at that time the first Greek scholar in France. Two
years later he began to attend the lectures of Jacques Toussain, one of the royal
professors of Greek, and in the same year (1545) was employed by his father to
collate a MS. of Dionysius of Halicarnassus. In 1547 he went to Italy, where he spent
three years in hunting for and collating MSS. and in intercourse with learned men. In
1550 he visited England, where he was favourably received by Edward VI., and then
Flanders, where he learnt Spanish. In 1551 he joined his father at Geneva, which
henceforth became his home. In 1554 he gave to the world, as the first fruits of his
and co-worker in the cause of humanism.
Charles Estienne (1504 or 1505-1564), the third son of Henri, was, like his brother
Robert, a man of considerable learning. After the usual humanistic training he studied
medicine, and took his doctor’s degree at Paris. He was for a time tutor to Jean
Antoine de Baïf, the future poet. In 1551, when Robert Estienne left Paris for Geneva,
Charles, who had remained a Catholic, took charge of his printing establishment, and
in the same year was appointed king’s printer. In 1561 he became bankrupt, and he is
said to have died in a debtors’ prison.
His principal works are Praedium Rusticum (1554), a collection of tracts
which he had compiled from ancient writers on various branches of agriculture,
and which continued to be a favourite book down to the end of the 17th century;
Dictionarium historicum ac poëticum (1553), the first French encyclopaedia;
Thesaurus Ciceronianus (1557), and De dissectione partium corporis humani
libri tres, with well-drawn woodcuts (1548). He also published a translation of
an Italian comedy, Gli Ingannati, under the title of Le Sacrifice (1543;
republished as Les Abusez, 1549), which had some influence on the development
of French comedy; and Paradoxes (1553), an imitation of the Paradossi of
Ortensio Landi.
Henri Estienne (1531-1598), sometimes called Henri II., was the eldest son of
Robert. In the preface to his edition of Aulus Gellius (1585), addressed to his son
Paul, he gives an interesting account of his father’s household, in which, owing to the
various nationalities of those who were employed on the press, Latin was used as a
common language. Henri thus picked up Latin as a child, but by his own request he
was allowed to learn Greek as a serious study before Latin. At the age of fifteen he
become a pupil of Pierre Danès, at that time the first Greek scholar in France. Two
years later he began to attend the lectures of Jacques Toussain, one of the royal
professors of Greek, and in the same year (1545) was employed by his father to
collate a MS. of Dionysius of Halicarnassus. In 1547 he went to Italy, where he spent
three years in hunting for and collating MSS. and in intercourse with learned men. In
1550 he visited England, where he was favourably received by Edward VI., and then
Flanders, where he learnt Spanish. In 1551 he joined his father at Geneva, which
henceforth became his home. In 1554 he gave to the world, as the first fruits of his
Page 421
researches, two first editions, viz. a tract of Dionysius of Halicarnassus and the so-
called “Anacreon.” In 1556 he discovered at Rome ten new books (xi.-xx.) of
Diodorus Siculus. In 1557 he issued from the press which in the previous year he had
set up at Geneva three first editions, viz. Athenagoras, Maximus Tyrius, and some
fragments of Greek historians, including Appian’s Ἀννιβαλική, and Ἰβηρική and an
edition of Aeschylus, in which for the first time the Agamemnon was printed in
entirety and as a separate play. In 1559 he printed a Latin translation from his own pen
of Sextus Empiricus, and an edition of Diodorus Siculus with the new books. His
father dying in the same year, he became under his will owner of his press, subject,
however, to the condition of keeping it at Geneva. In 1566 he published his best-
known French work, the Apologie pour Hérodote, or, as he himself called it,
L’Introduction au traité de la conformité des merveilles anciennes avec les modernes
ou Traité préparatif à l’Apologie pour Hérodote. Some passages being considered
objectionable by the Geneva consistory, he was compelled to cancel the pages
containing them. The book became highly popular, and within sixteen years twelve
editions were printed. In 1572 he published the great work upon which he had been
labouring for many years, the Thesaurus Graecae linguae, in 5 vols. fol. The
publication in 1578 of his Deux Dialogues du nouveau françois ilalianizé brought him
into a fresh dispute with the consistory. To avoid their censure he went to Paris, and
resided at the French court for a year. On his return to Geneva he was summoned
before the consistory, and, proving contumacious, was imprisoned for a week. From
this time his life became more and more of a nomad one. He is to be found at Basel,
Heidelberg, Vienna, Pest, everywhere but at Geneva, these journeys being undertaken
partly in the hope of procuring patrons and purchasers, for the large sums which he
had spent on such publications as the Thesaurus and the Plato of 1578 had almost
ruined him. His press stood nearly at a standstill. A few editions of classical authors
were brought out, but each successive one showed a falling off. Such value as the later
ones had was chiefly due to the notes furnished by Casaubon, who in 1586 had
married his daughter Florence. His last years were marked by ever-increasing
infirmity of mind and temper. In 1597 he left Geneva for the last time. After visiting
Montpellier, where Casaubon was now professor, he started for Paris, but was seized
with sudden illness at Lyons, and died there at the end of January 1598.
Few men have ever served the cause of learning more devotedly. For over
thirty years the amount which he produced, whether as printer, editor or original
called “Anacreon.” In 1556 he discovered at Rome ten new books (xi.-xx.) of
Diodorus Siculus. In 1557 he issued from the press which in the previous year he had
set up at Geneva three first editions, viz. Athenagoras, Maximus Tyrius, and some
fragments of Greek historians, including Appian’s Ἀννιβαλική, and Ἰβηρική and an
edition of Aeschylus, in which for the first time the Agamemnon was printed in
entirety and as a separate play. In 1559 he printed a Latin translation from his own pen
of Sextus Empiricus, and an edition of Diodorus Siculus with the new books. His
father dying in the same year, he became under his will owner of his press, subject,
however, to the condition of keeping it at Geneva. In 1566 he published his best-
known French work, the Apologie pour Hérodote, or, as he himself called it,
L’Introduction au traité de la conformité des merveilles anciennes avec les modernes
ou Traité préparatif à l’Apologie pour Hérodote. Some passages being considered
objectionable by the Geneva consistory, he was compelled to cancel the pages
containing them. The book became highly popular, and within sixteen years twelve
editions were printed. In 1572 he published the great work upon which he had been
labouring for many years, the Thesaurus Graecae linguae, in 5 vols. fol. The
publication in 1578 of his Deux Dialogues du nouveau françois ilalianizé brought him
into a fresh dispute with the consistory. To avoid their censure he went to Paris, and
resided at the French court for a year. On his return to Geneva he was summoned
before the consistory, and, proving contumacious, was imprisoned for a week. From
this time his life became more and more of a nomad one. He is to be found at Basel,
Heidelberg, Vienna, Pest, everywhere but at Geneva, these journeys being undertaken
partly in the hope of procuring patrons and purchasers, for the large sums which he
had spent on such publications as the Thesaurus and the Plato of 1578 had almost
ruined him. His press stood nearly at a standstill. A few editions of classical authors
were brought out, but each successive one showed a falling off. Such value as the later
ones had was chiefly due to the notes furnished by Casaubon, who in 1586 had
married his daughter Florence. His last years were marked by ever-increasing
infirmity of mind and temper. In 1597 he left Geneva for the last time. After visiting
Montpellier, where Casaubon was now professor, he started for Paris, but was seized
with sudden illness at Lyons, and died there at the end of January 1598.
Few men have ever served the cause of learning more devotedly. For over
thirty years the amount which he produced, whether as printer, editor or original
Page 422
writer, was enormous. The productions of his press, though printed with the
same beautiful type as his father’s books, are, owing to the poorness of the paper
and ink, inferior to them in general beauty. The best, perhaps, from a
typographical point of view, are the Poëtae Graeci principes (folio, 1566), the
Plutarch (13 vols. 8vo, 1572), and the Plato (3 vols. folio, 1578). It was rather
his scholarship which gave value to his editions. He was not only his own press-
corrector but his own editor. Though by the latter half of the 16th century nearly
all the important Greek and Latin authors that we now possess had been
published, his untiring activity still found some gleanings. Eighteen first editions
of Greek authors and one of a Latin author are due to his press. The most
important have been already mentioned. Henri’s reputation as a scholar and
editor has increased of late years. His familiarity with the Greek language has
always been admitted to have been quite exceptional; but he has been accused of
want of taste and judgment, of carelessness and rashness. Special censure has
been passed on his Plutarch, in which he is said to have introduced conjectures
of his own into the text, while pretending to have derived them from MS.
authority. But a late editor, Sintenis, has shown that, though like all the other
editors of his day he did not give references to his authorities, every one of his
supposed conjectures can be traced to some MS. Whatever may be said as to his
taste or his judgment, it seems that he was both careful and scrupulous, and that
he only resorted to conjecture when authority failed him. And, whatever the
merit of his conjectures, he was at any rate the first to show what conjecture
could do towards restoring a hopelessly corrupt passage. The work, however, on
which his fame as a scholar is most surely based is the Thesaurus Graecae
linguae. After making due allowance for the fact that considerable materials for
the work had been already collected by his father, and that he received
considerable assistance from the German scholar Sylburg, he is still entitled to
the very highest praise as the producer of a work which was of the greatest
service to scholarship and which in those early days of Greek learning could
have been produced by no one but a giant. Two editions of the Thesaurus were
published in the 19th century—at London by Valpy (1815-1825) and at Paris by
Didot (1831-1863).
It was one of Henri Estienne’s great merits that, unlike nearly all the French
scholars who preceded him, he did not neglect his own language. In the Traité de
same beautiful type as his father’s books, are, owing to the poorness of the paper
and ink, inferior to them in general beauty. The best, perhaps, from a
typographical point of view, are the Poëtae Graeci principes (folio, 1566), the
Plutarch (13 vols. 8vo, 1572), and the Plato (3 vols. folio, 1578). It was rather
his scholarship which gave value to his editions. He was not only his own press-
corrector but his own editor. Though by the latter half of the 16th century nearly
all the important Greek and Latin authors that we now possess had been
published, his untiring activity still found some gleanings. Eighteen first editions
of Greek authors and one of a Latin author are due to his press. The most
important have been already mentioned. Henri’s reputation as a scholar and
editor has increased of late years. His familiarity with the Greek language has
always been admitted to have been quite exceptional; but he has been accused of
want of taste and judgment, of carelessness and rashness. Special censure has
been passed on his Plutarch, in which he is said to have introduced conjectures
of his own into the text, while pretending to have derived them from MS.
authority. But a late editor, Sintenis, has shown that, though like all the other
editors of his day he did not give references to his authorities, every one of his
supposed conjectures can be traced to some MS. Whatever may be said as to his
taste or his judgment, it seems that he was both careful and scrupulous, and that
he only resorted to conjecture when authority failed him. And, whatever the
merit of his conjectures, he was at any rate the first to show what conjecture
could do towards restoring a hopelessly corrupt passage. The work, however, on
which his fame as a scholar is most surely based is the Thesaurus Graecae
linguae. After making due allowance for the fact that considerable materials for
the work had been already collected by his father, and that he received
considerable assistance from the German scholar Sylburg, he is still entitled to
the very highest praise as the producer of a work which was of the greatest
service to scholarship and which in those early days of Greek learning could
have been produced by no one but a giant. Two editions of the Thesaurus were
published in the 19th century—at London by Valpy (1815-1825) and at Paris by
Didot (1831-1863).
It was one of Henri Estienne’s great merits that, unlike nearly all the French
scholars who preceded him, he did not neglect his own language. In the Traité de
Page 423
la conformité du langage françois avec le Grec (published in 1565, but without
date; ed. L. Feugère, 1850), French is asserted to have, among modern
languages, the most affinity with Greek, the first of all languages. Deux
Dialogues du nouveau françois italianizé (Geneva, 1578; ed. P. Ristelhuber, 2
vols., 1885) was directed against the fashion prevailing in the court of Catherine
de’ Medici of using Italian words and forms. The Project du livre intitulé de la
Précellence du langage françois (Paris, 1579; ed. E. Huguet, 1896) treats of the
superiority of French to Italian. An interesting feature of the Précellence is the
account of French proverbs, and, Henry III. having expressed some doubts as to
the genuineness of some of them, Henri Estienne published, in 1594, Les
Premices ou le I. livre des Proverbes epigrammatizez (never reprinted and very
rare).
Finally, there remains the Apologie pour Hérodote, his most famous work. The
ostensible object of the book is to show that the strange stories in Herodotus may
be paralleled by equally strange ones of modern times. Virtually it is a bitter
satire on the writer’s age, especially on the Roman Church. Put together without
any method, its extreme desultoriness makes it difficult to read continuously, but
the numerous stories, collected partly from various literary sources, notably from
the preachers Menot and Maillard, partly from the writer’s own multifarious
experience, with which it is packed, make it an interesting commentary on the
manners and fashions of the time. But satire, to be effective, should be either
humorous or righteously indignant, and, while such humour as there is in the
Apologie is decidedly heavy, the writer’s indignation is generally forgotten in his
evident relish for scandal. The style is, after all, its chief merit. Though it bears
evident traces of hurry, it is, like that of all Henri Estienne’s French writings,
clear, easy and vigorous, uniting the directness and sensuousness of the older
writers with a suppleness and logical precision which at this time were almost
new elements in French prose. An edition of the Apologie has recently been
published by Liseux (ed. Ristelhuber, 2 vols., 1879), after one of the only two
copies of the original uncancelled edition that are known to exist. The very
remarkable political pamphlet entitled Dìscours merveilleux de la vie et actions
et déportemens de Catherine de Medicis, which appeared in 1574, has been
ascribed to Henri Estienne, but the evidence both internal and external is
conclusive against his being the author of it. Of his Latin writings the most
date; ed. L. Feugère, 1850), French is asserted to have, among modern
languages, the most affinity with Greek, the first of all languages. Deux
Dialogues du nouveau françois italianizé (Geneva, 1578; ed. P. Ristelhuber, 2
vols., 1885) was directed against the fashion prevailing in the court of Catherine
de’ Medici of using Italian words and forms. The Project du livre intitulé de la
Précellence du langage françois (Paris, 1579; ed. E. Huguet, 1896) treats of the
superiority of French to Italian. An interesting feature of the Précellence is the
account of French proverbs, and, Henry III. having expressed some doubts as to
the genuineness of some of them, Henri Estienne published, in 1594, Les
Premices ou le I. livre des Proverbes epigrammatizez (never reprinted and very
rare).
Finally, there remains the Apologie pour Hérodote, his most famous work. The
ostensible object of the book is to show that the strange stories in Herodotus may
be paralleled by equally strange ones of modern times. Virtually it is a bitter
satire on the writer’s age, especially on the Roman Church. Put together without
any method, its extreme desultoriness makes it difficult to read continuously, but
the numerous stories, collected partly from various literary sources, notably from
the preachers Menot and Maillard, partly from the writer’s own multifarious
experience, with which it is packed, make it an interesting commentary on the
manners and fashions of the time. But satire, to be effective, should be either
humorous or righteously indignant, and, while such humour as there is in the
Apologie is decidedly heavy, the writer’s indignation is generally forgotten in his
evident relish for scandal. The style is, after all, its chief merit. Though it bears
evident traces of hurry, it is, like that of all Henri Estienne’s French writings,
clear, easy and vigorous, uniting the directness and sensuousness of the older
writers with a suppleness and logical precision which at this time were almost
new elements in French prose. An edition of the Apologie has recently been
published by Liseux (ed. Ristelhuber, 2 vols., 1879), after one of the only two
copies of the original uncancelled edition that are known to exist. The very
remarkable political pamphlet entitled Dìscours merveilleux de la vie et actions
et déportemens de Catherine de Medicis, which appeared in 1574, has been
ascribed to Henri Estienne, but the evidence both internal and external is
conclusive against his being the author of it. Of his Latin writings the most
Page 424
worthy of notice are the De Latinitate falso suspecta (1576), the Pseudo-Cicero
(1577) and the Nizoliodidascalus (1578), all three written against the
Ciceronians, and the Francofordiense Emporium (1574), a panegyric on the
Frankfort fair (reprinted with a French translation by Liseux, 1875). He also
wrote a large quantity of indifferent Latin verses, including a long poem entitled
Musa monitrix Principum (Basel, 1590).
The primary authorities for an account of the Estiennes are their own works.
In the garrulous and egotistical prefaces which Henri was in the habit of
prefixing to his editions will be found many scattered biographical details.
Twenty-seven letters from Henri to John Crato of Crafftheim (ed. F. Passow,
1830) have been printed, and there is one of Robert’s in Herminjard’s
Correspondence des Réformateurs dans de pays de langue française (9 vols.
published 1866-1897), while a few other contemporary references to him will be
found in the same work. The secondary authorities are Janssen van Almeloveen,
De vitis Stephanorum (Amsterdam, 1683); Maittaire, Stephanorum historia
(London, 1709); A.A. Rénouard, Annales de l’imprimerie des Estienne (2nd ed.,
Paris, 1843); the article on Estienne by A.F. Didot in the Nouv. Biog. gén.; Mark
Pattison, Essays, i. 67 ff. (1889); L. Clément, Henri Estienne et son œuvre
française (Paris, 1899). There is a good account of Henri’s Thesaurus in the
Quart. Rev. for January 1820, written by Bishop Bromfield. (A. A. T.)
ESTON, an urban district in the Cleveland parliamentary division of the North
Riding of Yorkshire, England, 4 m. S.E. of Middlesbrough, on a branch of the North
Eastern railway. Pop. (1901) 11,199. This is one of the principal centres from which
the great ironstone deposits of the Cleveland Hills are worked, and there are extensive
blast-furnaces, iron-foundries and steam sawing-mills in the district. Immediately W.
of Eston lies the urban district of Ormesby (pop. 9482), and the whole district is
densely populated (see Middlesbrough). Marton, west of Ormesby, was the birthplace
of Captain Cook (1728). Numerous early earthworks fringe the hills to the south.
(1577) and the Nizoliodidascalus (1578), all three written against the
Ciceronians, and the Francofordiense Emporium (1574), a panegyric on the
Frankfort fair (reprinted with a French translation by Liseux, 1875). He also
wrote a large quantity of indifferent Latin verses, including a long poem entitled
Musa monitrix Principum (Basel, 1590).
The primary authorities for an account of the Estiennes are their own works.
In the garrulous and egotistical prefaces which Henri was in the habit of
prefixing to his editions will be found many scattered biographical details.
Twenty-seven letters from Henri to John Crato of Crafftheim (ed. F. Passow,
1830) have been printed, and there is one of Robert’s in Herminjard’s
Correspondence des Réformateurs dans de pays de langue française (9 vols.
published 1866-1897), while a few other contemporary references to him will be
found in the same work. The secondary authorities are Janssen van Almeloveen,
De vitis Stephanorum (Amsterdam, 1683); Maittaire, Stephanorum historia
(London, 1709); A.A. Rénouard, Annales de l’imprimerie des Estienne (2nd ed.,
Paris, 1843); the article on Estienne by A.F. Didot in the Nouv. Biog. gén.; Mark
Pattison, Essays, i. 67 ff. (1889); L. Clément, Henri Estienne et son œuvre
française (Paris, 1899). There is a good account of Henri’s Thesaurus in the
Quart. Rev. for January 1820, written by Bishop Bromfield. (A. A. T.)
ESTON, an urban district in the Cleveland parliamentary division of the North
Riding of Yorkshire, England, 4 m. S.E. of Middlesbrough, on a branch of the North
Eastern railway. Pop. (1901) 11,199. This is one of the principal centres from which
the great ironstone deposits of the Cleveland Hills are worked, and there are extensive
blast-furnaces, iron-foundries and steam sawing-mills in the district. Immediately W.
of Eston lies the urban district of Ormesby (pop. 9482), and the whole district is
densely populated (see Middlesbrough). Marton, west of Ormesby, was the birthplace
of Captain Cook (1728). Numerous early earthworks fringe the hills to the south.
Page 425
ESTOPPEL (from O. Fr. estopper, to stop, bar; estoupe, mod. étoupe, a plug of
tow; Lat. stuppa), a rule in the law of evidence by which a party in litigation is
prohibited from asserting or denying something, when such assertion or denial would
be inconsistent with his own previous statements or conduct. Estoppel is said to arise
in three ways—(1) by record or judgment, (2) by deed, and (3) by matter in pais or
conduct. (1) Where a cause of action has been tried and final judgment has been
pronounced, the judgment is conclusive—either party attempting to renew the
litigation by a new action would be estopped by the judgment. “Every judgment is
conclusive proof as against parties and privies, of facts directly in issue in the case,
actually decided by the court, and appearing from the judgment itself to be the ground
on which it was based.”—Stephen’s Digest of the Law of Evidence, Art. 41. (2) It is
one of the privileges of deeds as distinguished from simple contracts that they operate
by way of estoppel. “A man shall always be estopped by his own deed, or not
permitted to aver or prove anything in contradiction to what he has once so solemnly
and deliberately avowed” (Blackstone, 2 Com. 295); e.g. where a bond recited that the
defendants were authorized by acts of parliament to borrow money, and that under
such authority they had borrowed money from a certain person, they were estopped
from setting up as a defence that they did not in fact so borrow money, as stated by
their deed. (3) Estoppel by conduct, or, as it is still sometimes called, estoppel by
matter in pais, is the most important head. The rule practically comes to this that,
when a person in his dealings with others has acted so as to induce them to believe a
thing to be true and to act on such belief, he may not in any proceeding between
himself and them deny the thing to be true: e.g. a partner retiring from a firm without
giving notice to the customers, cannot, as against a customer having no knowledge of
his retirement, deny that he is a partner. As between landlord and tenant the principle
operates to prevent the denial by the tenant of the landlord’s title. So if a person comes
upon land by the licence of the person in possession, he cannot deny that the licenser
had a title to the possession at the time the licence was given. Again, if a man accepts
a bill of exchange he may not deny the signature or the capacity of the drawer. So a
tow; Lat. stuppa), a rule in the law of evidence by which a party in litigation is
prohibited from asserting or denying something, when such assertion or denial would
be inconsistent with his own previous statements or conduct. Estoppel is said to arise
in three ways—(1) by record or judgment, (2) by deed, and (3) by matter in pais or
conduct. (1) Where a cause of action has been tried and final judgment has been
pronounced, the judgment is conclusive—either party attempting to renew the
litigation by a new action would be estopped by the judgment. “Every judgment is
conclusive proof as against parties and privies, of facts directly in issue in the case,
actually decided by the court, and appearing from the judgment itself to be the ground
on which it was based.”—Stephen’s Digest of the Law of Evidence, Art. 41. (2) It is
one of the privileges of deeds as distinguished from simple contracts that they operate
by way of estoppel. “A man shall always be estopped by his own deed, or not
permitted to aver or prove anything in contradiction to what he has once so solemnly
and deliberately avowed” (Blackstone, 2 Com. 295); e.g. where a bond recited that the
defendants were authorized by acts of parliament to borrow money, and that under
such authority they had borrowed money from a certain person, they were estopped
from setting up as a defence that they did not in fact so borrow money, as stated by
their deed. (3) Estoppel by conduct, or, as it is still sometimes called, estoppel by
matter in pais, is the most important head. The rule practically comes to this that,
when a person in his dealings with others has acted so as to induce them to believe a
thing to be true and to act on such belief, he may not in any proceeding between
himself and them deny the thing to be true: e.g. a partner retiring from a firm without
giving notice to the customers, cannot, as against a customer having no knowledge of
his retirement, deny that he is a partner. As between landlord and tenant the principle
operates to prevent the denial by the tenant of the landlord’s title. So if a person comes
upon land by the licence of the person in possession, he cannot deny that the licenser
had a title to the possession at the time the licence was given. Again, if a man accepts
a bill of exchange he may not deny the signature or the capacity of the drawer. So a
Page 426
person receiving goods as baillee from another cannot deny the title of that other to
the goods at the time they were entrusted to him.
Estoppel of whatever kind is subject to one general rule, that it cannot override the
law of the land; for example, a corporation would not be estopped as to acts which are
ultra vires.
See L.F. Everest and E. Strode, The Law of Estoppel; M. Cababé, Principles of
Estoppel.
ESTOUTEVILLE, GUILLAUME D’ (1403-1483), French ecclesiastic, was
bishop of Angers, of Digne, of Porto and Santa Rufina, of Ostia and Velletri,
archbishop of Rouen, prior of Saint Martin des Champs, abbot of Mont St Michel, of
St Ouen at Rouen, and of Montebourg. He was sent to France as legate by Pope
Nicholas V. to make peace between Charles VII. and England (1451), and undertook,
ex officio, the revision of the trial of Joan of Arc; he afterwards reformed the statutes
of the university of Paris. He then went to preside over the assembly of clergy which
met at Bourges to discuss the observation of the Pragmatic Sanction (see Basel,
Council of), finally returning to Rome, where he passed almost all the rest of his life.
He was a great builder, Rouen, Mont St Michel, Pontoise and Gaillon owing many
noble buildings to his initiative.
ESTOVERS (from the O. Fr. estover, estovoir, a verb used as a substantive in the
sense of that which is necessary; the word is of disputed origin; it has been referred to
the Lat. stare, to stand, or studere, to desire), a term, in English law, for the wood
which a tenant for life or years may take from the land he holds for repair of his
the goods at the time they were entrusted to him.
Estoppel of whatever kind is subject to one general rule, that it cannot override the
law of the land; for example, a corporation would not be estopped as to acts which are
ultra vires.
See L.F. Everest and E. Strode, The Law of Estoppel; M. Cababé, Principles of
Estoppel.
ESTOUTEVILLE, GUILLAUME D’ (1403-1483), French ecclesiastic, was
bishop of Angers, of Digne, of Porto and Santa Rufina, of Ostia and Velletri,
archbishop of Rouen, prior of Saint Martin des Champs, abbot of Mont St Michel, of
St Ouen at Rouen, and of Montebourg. He was sent to France as legate by Pope
Nicholas V. to make peace between Charles VII. and England (1451), and undertook,
ex officio, the revision of the trial of Joan of Arc; he afterwards reformed the statutes
of the university of Paris. He then went to preside over the assembly of clergy which
met at Bourges to discuss the observation of the Pragmatic Sanction (see Basel,
Council of), finally returning to Rome, where he passed almost all the rest of his life.
He was a great builder, Rouen, Mont St Michel, Pontoise and Gaillon owing many
noble buildings to his initiative.
ESTOVERS (from the O. Fr. estover, estovoir, a verb used as a substantive in the
sense of that which is necessary; the word is of disputed origin; it has been referred to
the Lat. stare, to stand, or studere, to desire), a term, in English law, for the wood
which a tenant for life or years may take from the land he holds for repair of his
Page 427
house, the implements of husbandry, and the hedges and fences, and for firewood. The
O. Eng. word for estover was bote or boot (literally meaning “good,” “profit,” the
same word as seen in “better”). The various kinds of estovers were thus known as
house-bote, cart or plough-bote, hedge or hay-bote, and fire-bote respectively. These
rights may, of course, be restricted by express covenants. Copyholders have similar
rights over the land they occupy and over the waste of the manor, in which case the
rights are known as “Commons of estovers.” (See Commons.)
ESTRADA, LA, a town of north-western Spain, in the province of Pontevedra, 15
m. S. by E. of Santiago de Compostela. Pop. (1900) 23,916. La Estrada is the chief
town of a densely-populated mountainous district; its industries are agriculture, stock-
breeding, and the manufacture of linen and woollen cloth. Timber from the mountain
forests is conveyed from La Estrada to the river Ulla, 4 m. N., and thence floated
down to the seaports on Arosa Bay. The nearest railway-station is Requeijo, 7 m. W.,
on the Pontevedra-Santiago railway. There are mineral springs at La Estrada and at
Caldas de Reyes, 11 m. W.S.W.
ESTRADE, a French architectural term for a raised platform (see Dais). In the
Levant the estrade of a divan is called Sopha (Blondel), from which comes our “sofa.”
O. Eng. word for estover was bote or boot (literally meaning “good,” “profit,” the
same word as seen in “better”). The various kinds of estovers were thus known as
house-bote, cart or plough-bote, hedge or hay-bote, and fire-bote respectively. These
rights may, of course, be restricted by express covenants. Copyholders have similar
rights over the land they occupy and over the waste of the manor, in which case the
rights are known as “Commons of estovers.” (See Commons.)
ESTRADA, LA, a town of north-western Spain, in the province of Pontevedra, 15
m. S. by E. of Santiago de Compostela. Pop. (1900) 23,916. La Estrada is the chief
town of a densely-populated mountainous district; its industries are agriculture, stock-
breeding, and the manufacture of linen and woollen cloth. Timber from the mountain
forests is conveyed from La Estrada to the river Ulla, 4 m. N., and thence floated
down to the seaports on Arosa Bay. The nearest railway-station is Requeijo, 7 m. W.,
on the Pontevedra-Santiago railway. There are mineral springs at La Estrada and at
Caldas de Reyes, 11 m. W.S.W.
ESTRADE, a French architectural term for a raised platform (see Dais). In the
Levant the estrade of a divan is called Sopha (Blondel), from which comes our “sofa.”
Page 428
ESTRADES, GODEFROI, Comte d’ (1607-1686), French diplomatist and
marshal, was born at Agen. He was the son of François d’Estrades (d. 1653), a
partisan of Henry IV., and brother of Jean d’Estrades, bishop of Condom. He became
a page to Louis XIII., and at the age of nineteen was sent on a mission to Maurice of
Holland. In 1646 he was named ambassador extraordinary to Holland, and took part in
the conferences at Münster. Sent in 1661 to England, he obtained in 1662 the
restitution of Dunkirk. In 1667 he negotiated the treaty of Breda with the king of
Denmark, and in 1678 the treaty of Nijmwegen, which ended the war with Holland.
Independently of these diplomatic missions, he took part in the principal campaigns of
Louis XIV., in Italy (1648), in Catalonia (1655), in Holland (1672); and was created
marshal of France in 1675. He left Lettres, mémoires et négociations en qualité
d’ambassadeur en Hollande depuis 1663 jusqu’ en 1668, of which the first edition in
1700 was followed by a nine-volume edition (London (the Hague), 1743).
Of the sons of Godefroi d’Estrades, Jean François d’Estrades was ambassador to
Venice and Piedmont; Louis, marquis d’Estrades (d. 1711), succeeded his father as
governor of Dunkirk, and was the father of Godefroi Louis, comte d’Estrades,
lieutenant-general, who was killed at the siege of Belgrade, 1717.
See Felix Salomon, Frankreichs Beziehungen zu dem Scottischen Aufstand
(1637-1640), containing an excursus on the falsification of the letters of the
comte d’Estrades; Philippe Lauzun, Le Maréchal d’Estrades (Agen, 1896).
ESTREAT (O. Fr. estrait, Lat. extracta), originally, a true copy or duplicate of
some original writing or record; now used only with reference to the enforcement of a
forfeited recognizance. At one time it was the practice to extract and certify into the
exchequer copies of entries in court roils which contained provisions or orders in
favour of the treasury, hence the estreating of a recognizance was the taking out from
among the other records of the court in which it was filed and sending it to the
marshal, was born at Agen. He was the son of François d’Estrades (d. 1653), a
partisan of Henry IV., and brother of Jean d’Estrades, bishop of Condom. He became
a page to Louis XIII., and at the age of nineteen was sent on a mission to Maurice of
Holland. In 1646 he was named ambassador extraordinary to Holland, and took part in
the conferences at Münster. Sent in 1661 to England, he obtained in 1662 the
restitution of Dunkirk. In 1667 he negotiated the treaty of Breda with the king of
Denmark, and in 1678 the treaty of Nijmwegen, which ended the war with Holland.
Independently of these diplomatic missions, he took part in the principal campaigns of
Louis XIV., in Italy (1648), in Catalonia (1655), in Holland (1672); and was created
marshal of France in 1675. He left Lettres, mémoires et négociations en qualité
d’ambassadeur en Hollande depuis 1663 jusqu’ en 1668, of which the first edition in
1700 was followed by a nine-volume edition (London (the Hague), 1743).
Of the sons of Godefroi d’Estrades, Jean François d’Estrades was ambassador to
Venice and Piedmont; Louis, marquis d’Estrades (d. 1711), succeeded his father as
governor of Dunkirk, and was the father of Godefroi Louis, comte d’Estrades,
lieutenant-general, who was killed at the siege of Belgrade, 1717.
See Felix Salomon, Frankreichs Beziehungen zu dem Scottischen Aufstand
(1637-1640), containing an excursus on the falsification of the letters of the
comte d’Estrades; Philippe Lauzun, Le Maréchal d’Estrades (Agen, 1896).
ESTREAT (O. Fr. estrait, Lat. extracta), originally, a true copy or duplicate of
some original writing or record; now used only with reference to the enforcement of a
forfeited recognizance. At one time it was the practice to extract and certify into the
exchequer copies of entries in court roils which contained provisions or orders in
favour of the treasury, hence the estreating of a recognizance was the taking out from
among the other records of the court in which it was filed and sending it to the
Page 429
exchequer to be enforced, or sending it to the sheriff to be levied by him, and then
returned by the clerk of the peace to the lords of the treasury. (See Recognizance.)
ESTRÉES, GABRIELLE D’ (1573-1599), mistress of Henry IV. of France, was
the daughter of Antoine d’Estrées, marquis of Cœuvres, and Françoise Babou de la
Bourdaisière. Henry IV., who in November 1590 stayed at the castle of Cœuvres,
became violently enamoured of her. Her father, anxious to save his daughter from so
perilous an entanglement, married her to Nicholas d’Amerval, seigneur de Liancourt,
but the union proved unhappy, and in December 1592, Gabrielle, whose affection for
the king was sincere, became his mistress. She lived with him from December 1592
onwards, and bore him several children, who were recognized and legitimized by him.
She possessed the king’s entire confidence; he willingly listened to her advice, and
created her marchioness of Monceaux, duchess of Beaufort (1597) and Étampes
(1598), a peeress of France. The king even proposed to marry her in the event of the
success of his suit for the nullification by the Holy See of his marriage with Margaret
of Valois; but before the question was settled Gabrielle died, on the 10th of April
1599. Poison was of course suspected; but her death was really caused by puerperal
convulsions (eclampsia).
See Adrien Desclozeaux, Gabrielle d’Estrées, Marquise de Monceaux, &c.
(Paris, 1889).
ESTREMADURA, or Extremadura, an ancient territorial division of central and
western Portugal, and of western Spain; comprising the modern districts of Leiria,
Santarem and Lisbon, in Portugal, and the modern provinces of Badajoz and Cáceres
returned by the clerk of the peace to the lords of the treasury. (See Recognizance.)
ESTRÉES, GABRIELLE D’ (1573-1599), mistress of Henry IV. of France, was
the daughter of Antoine d’Estrées, marquis of Cœuvres, and Françoise Babou de la
Bourdaisière. Henry IV., who in November 1590 stayed at the castle of Cœuvres,
became violently enamoured of her. Her father, anxious to save his daughter from so
perilous an entanglement, married her to Nicholas d’Amerval, seigneur de Liancourt,
but the union proved unhappy, and in December 1592, Gabrielle, whose affection for
the king was sincere, became his mistress. She lived with him from December 1592
onwards, and bore him several children, who were recognized and legitimized by him.
She possessed the king’s entire confidence; he willingly listened to her advice, and
created her marchioness of Monceaux, duchess of Beaufort (1597) and Étampes
(1598), a peeress of France. The king even proposed to marry her in the event of the
success of his suit for the nullification by the Holy See of his marriage with Margaret
of Valois; but before the question was settled Gabrielle died, on the 10th of April
1599. Poison was of course suspected; but her death was really caused by puerperal
convulsions (eclampsia).
See Adrien Desclozeaux, Gabrielle d’Estrées, Marquise de Monceaux, &c.
(Paris, 1889).
ESTREMADURA, or Extremadura, an ancient territorial division of central and
western Portugal, and of western Spain; comprising the modern districts of Leiria,
Santarem and Lisbon, in Portugal, and the modern provinces of Badajoz and Cáceres
Page 430
in Spain. Pop. (1900) 2,095,818; area, 23,055 sq. m. The name of Estremadura
appears to be of early Romance or Late Latin origin, and probably was applied to all
the far western lands (extrema ora) bordering upon the lower Tagus, as far as the
Atlantic Ocean. It is thus equivalent to Land’s End, or Finistère. In popular speech it
is more commonly used than the names of the modern divisions mentioned above,
which were created in the 19th century. As, however, there are many racial, economic
and historic differences between Portuguese and Spanish Estremadura, the two
provinces are separately described below.
1. Portuguese Estremadura is bounded on the N. by Beira, E. and S. by Alemtejo,
and W. by the Atlantic Ocean. Pop. (1900) 1,221,418; area, 6937 sq. m. The greatest
length of the province, from N. to S., is 165 m.; its greatest breadth, from E. to W., is
72 m. The general uniformity of the coast-line is broken by the broad and deep
estuaries of the Tagus and the Sado, and by the four conspicuous promontories of
Cape Carvoeiro, Cape da Roca, Cape Espichel and Cape de Sines. The Tagus is the
great navigable waterway of Portuguese Estremadura, flowing from north-east to
south-west, and fed by many minor tributaries, notably the Zezere on the right and the
Zatas on the left. It divides the country into two nearly equal portions, wholly
dissimilar in surface and character. South of the Tagus the land is almost everywhere
low, flat and monotonous, while in several places it is rendered unhealthy by
undrained marshes. The Sado, which issues into Setubal Bay, is the only important
river of this region. North of the Tagus, and parallel with its right bank, extends the
mountain chain which is known at its northern extremity as the Serra do Aire and,
where it terminates above Cape da Roca, as the Serra da Cintra. This ridge, which is
buttressed on all sides by lesser groups of hills, and includes part of the famous lines
of Torres Vedras (q.v.), exceeds 2200 ft. in height, and constitutes the watershed
between the right-hand tributaries of the Tagus and the Liz, Sizandro and other small
rivers which flow into the Atlantic. On its seaward side, except for the line of sheer
and lofty cliffs between Cape Carvoeiro and Cape da Roca, the country is mostly flat
and sandy, with extensive heaths and pine forests; but along the fertile and well-
cultivated right bank of the Tagus the river scenery, with its terraced hills of vines,
olives and fruit trees, often resembles that of the Rhine in Germany. The natural
resources of Portuguese Estremadura, with its inhabitants, industries, commerce,
communications, &c., are described under Portugal; for on such matters there is little
to be said of this central and most characteristic province which does not apply to the
appears to be of early Romance or Late Latin origin, and probably was applied to all
the far western lands (extrema ora) bordering upon the lower Tagus, as far as the
Atlantic Ocean. It is thus equivalent to Land’s End, or Finistère. In popular speech it
is more commonly used than the names of the modern divisions mentioned above,
which were created in the 19th century. As, however, there are many racial, economic
and historic differences between Portuguese and Spanish Estremadura, the two
provinces are separately described below.
1. Portuguese Estremadura is bounded on the N. by Beira, E. and S. by Alemtejo,
and W. by the Atlantic Ocean. Pop. (1900) 1,221,418; area, 6937 sq. m. The greatest
length of the province, from N. to S., is 165 m.; its greatest breadth, from E. to W., is
72 m. The general uniformity of the coast-line is broken by the broad and deep
estuaries of the Tagus and the Sado, and by the four conspicuous promontories of
Cape Carvoeiro, Cape da Roca, Cape Espichel and Cape de Sines. The Tagus is the
great navigable waterway of Portuguese Estremadura, flowing from north-east to
south-west, and fed by many minor tributaries, notably the Zezere on the right and the
Zatas on the left. It divides the country into two nearly equal portions, wholly
dissimilar in surface and character. South of the Tagus the land is almost everywhere
low, flat and monotonous, while in several places it is rendered unhealthy by
undrained marshes. The Sado, which issues into Setubal Bay, is the only important
river of this region. North of the Tagus, and parallel with its right bank, extends the
mountain chain which is known at its northern extremity as the Serra do Aire and,
where it terminates above Cape da Roca, as the Serra da Cintra. This ridge, which is
buttressed on all sides by lesser groups of hills, and includes part of the famous lines
of Torres Vedras (q.v.), exceeds 2200 ft. in height, and constitutes the watershed
between the right-hand tributaries of the Tagus and the Liz, Sizandro and other small
rivers which flow into the Atlantic. On its seaward side, except for the line of sheer
and lofty cliffs between Cape Carvoeiro and Cape da Roca, the country is mostly flat
and sandy, with extensive heaths and pine forests; but along the fertile and well-
cultivated right bank of the Tagus the river scenery, with its terraced hills of vines,
olives and fruit trees, often resembles that of the Rhine in Germany. The natural
resources of Portuguese Estremadura, with its inhabitants, industries, commerce,
communications, &c., are described under Portugal; for on such matters there is little
to be said of this central and most characteristic province which does not apply to the
Page 431
whole kingdom. Separate articles are also devoted to Lisbon, the capital, and
Abrantes, Cintra, Leiria, Mafra, Santarem, Setubal, Thomar, Torres Novas and Torres
Vedras, the other chief towns. The women of Peniche, a small fishing village on the
promontory of Cape Carvoeiro, have long been celebrated throughout Portugal for
their skill in the manufacture of fine laces.
2. Spanish Estremadura is bounded on the N. by Leon and Old Castile, E. by New
Castile, S. by Andalusia, and W. by the Portuguese province of Beira and Alemtejo,
which separate it from Portuguese Estremadura. Pop. (1900) 882,410; area, 16,118 sq.
m. Spanish Estremadura consists of a tableland separated from Leon and Old Castile
by the lofty Sierra de Gredos, the plateau of Béjar and the Sierra de Gata, which form
an almost continuous barrier along the northern frontier, with its summits ranging
from 6000 to more than 8500 ft. in altitude. On the south the comparatively low range
of the Sierra Morena constitutes the frontier of Andalusia; on the east and west there is
a still more gradual transition to the plateau of New Castile and the central plains of
Portugal. The tableland of Spanish Estremadura is itself bisected from east to west by
a line of mountains, the Sierras of San Pedro, Montanchez and Guadalupe (4000-6000
ft.), which separate its northern half, drained by the river Tagus, from its southern
half, drained by the Guadiana. These two halves are respectively known as Alta or
Upper Estremadura (the modern Cáceres), and Baja or Lower Estremadura (the
modern Badajoz). The Tagus and Guadiana flow from east to west through a
monotonous country, level or slightly undulating, often almost uninhabited, and
covered with a thin growth of shrubs and grass. Perhaps the most characteristic
feature of this tableland is the vast heaths of gum-cistus, which in spring colour the
whole landscape with leagues of yellow blossom, and in summer change to a brown
and arid wilderness.
The climate in summer is hot but not unhealthy, except in the swamps which occur
along the Guadiana. The rainfall is scanty; dew, however, is abundant and the nights
are cool. Although the high mountains are covered with snow in November, the
winters are not usually severe. The soil is naturally fertile, but drought, floods and
locusts render agriculture difficult, and sheep-farming is the most important of
Estremaduran industries. (See Spain: Agriculture.) In the 19th century, however, this
industry lost much of its former importance owing to foreign competition.
Abrantes, Cintra, Leiria, Mafra, Santarem, Setubal, Thomar, Torres Novas and Torres
Vedras, the other chief towns. The women of Peniche, a small fishing village on the
promontory of Cape Carvoeiro, have long been celebrated throughout Portugal for
their skill in the manufacture of fine laces.
2. Spanish Estremadura is bounded on the N. by Leon and Old Castile, E. by New
Castile, S. by Andalusia, and W. by the Portuguese province of Beira and Alemtejo,
which separate it from Portuguese Estremadura. Pop. (1900) 882,410; area, 16,118 sq.
m. Spanish Estremadura consists of a tableland separated from Leon and Old Castile
by the lofty Sierra de Gredos, the plateau of Béjar and the Sierra de Gata, which form
an almost continuous barrier along the northern frontier, with its summits ranging
from 6000 to more than 8500 ft. in altitude. On the south the comparatively low range
of the Sierra Morena constitutes the frontier of Andalusia; on the east and west there is
a still more gradual transition to the plateau of New Castile and the central plains of
Portugal. The tableland of Spanish Estremadura is itself bisected from east to west by
a line of mountains, the Sierras of San Pedro, Montanchez and Guadalupe (4000-6000
ft.), which separate its northern half, drained by the river Tagus, from its southern
half, drained by the Guadiana. These two halves are respectively known as Alta or
Upper Estremadura (the modern Cáceres), and Baja or Lower Estremadura (the
modern Badajoz). The Tagus and Guadiana flow from east to west through a
monotonous country, level or slightly undulating, often almost uninhabited, and
covered with a thin growth of shrubs and grass. Perhaps the most characteristic
feature of this tableland is the vast heaths of gum-cistus, which in spring colour the
whole landscape with leagues of yellow blossom, and in summer change to a brown
and arid wilderness.
The climate in summer is hot but not unhealthy, except in the swamps which occur
along the Guadiana. The rainfall is scanty; dew, however, is abundant and the nights
are cool. Although the high mountains are covered with snow in November, the
winters are not usually severe. The soil is naturally fertile, but drought, floods and
locusts render agriculture difficult, and sheep-farming is the most important of
Estremaduran industries. (See Spain: Agriculture.) In the 19th century, however, this
industry lost much of its former importance owing to foreign competition.
Page 432
Immense herds of swine are bred and constitute a great source of support to the
inhabitants, not only supplying them with food, but also forming a great article of
export to other provinces—the pork, bacon and hams being in high esteem. The
beech, oak and chestnut woods afford an abundance of food for swine, and there are
numerous plantations of olive, cork and fruit trees, but a far greater area of forest has
been destroyed. For an account of commerce, mining, communications, &c., in
Spanish Estremadura, with a list of the chief towns, see Cáceres and Badajoz. In
character and physical type, the people of this region are less easily classified than
those of other Spanish provinces. They lack the endurance and energy of the
Galicians, the independent and enterprising spirit of the Asturians, Basques and
Catalans, the culture of the Castilians and Andalusians. Their failure to develop a
distinctive local type of character and civilization is perhaps due to the adverse
economic history of their country. The two great waterways which form the natural
outlet for Estremaduran commerce flow to the Atlantic through a foreign and, for
centuries, a hostile territory. Like other parts of Spain, Estremadura suffered severely
from the expulsion of the Jews and Moors (1492-1610), while the compensating
treasure, derived during the same period from Spanish America, never reached a
province so remote at once from the sea and from the chief centres of national life.
Although Cortes (1485-1547), the conqueror of Mexico and Pizarro (c. 1471-1541),
the conqueror of Peru, were both born in Estremadura, their exploits, far from
bringing prosperity to their native province, only encouraged the emigration of its best
inhabitants. Heavy taxation and harsh land-laws prevented any recovery, while the
felling of the forests reduced many fertile areas to waste land, and rendered worse a
climate already unfavourable to agriculture. Few countries leave upon the mind of the
traveller a deeper impression of hopeless poverty.
ESTREMOZ, a town of Portugal, in the district of Evora, formerly included in the
province of Alemtejo; 104 m. by rail E. of Lisbon, on the Casa Branca-Evora-Elvas
railway. Pop. (1900) 7920. Estremoz is built at the base of a hill crowned by a large
dismantled citadel; its fortifications, which in the 17th century accommodated 20,000
inhabitants, not only supplying them with food, but also forming a great article of
export to other provinces—the pork, bacon and hams being in high esteem. The
beech, oak and chestnut woods afford an abundance of food for swine, and there are
numerous plantations of olive, cork and fruit trees, but a far greater area of forest has
been destroyed. For an account of commerce, mining, communications, &c., in
Spanish Estremadura, with a list of the chief towns, see Cáceres and Badajoz. In
character and physical type, the people of this region are less easily classified than
those of other Spanish provinces. They lack the endurance and energy of the
Galicians, the independent and enterprising spirit of the Asturians, Basques and
Catalans, the culture of the Castilians and Andalusians. Their failure to develop a
distinctive local type of character and civilization is perhaps due to the adverse
economic history of their country. The two great waterways which form the natural
outlet for Estremaduran commerce flow to the Atlantic through a foreign and, for
centuries, a hostile territory. Like other parts of Spain, Estremadura suffered severely
from the expulsion of the Jews and Moors (1492-1610), while the compensating
treasure, derived during the same period from Spanish America, never reached a
province so remote at once from the sea and from the chief centres of national life.
Although Cortes (1485-1547), the conqueror of Mexico and Pizarro (c. 1471-1541),
the conqueror of Peru, were both born in Estremadura, their exploits, far from
bringing prosperity to their native province, only encouraged the emigration of its best
inhabitants. Heavy taxation and harsh land-laws prevented any recovery, while the
felling of the forests reduced many fertile areas to waste land, and rendered worse a
climate already unfavourable to agriculture. Few countries leave upon the mind of the
traveller a deeper impression of hopeless poverty.
ESTREMOZ, a town of Portugal, in the district of Evora, formerly included in the
province of Alemtejo; 104 m. by rail E. of Lisbon, on the Casa Branca-Evora-Elvas
railway. Pop. (1900) 7920. Estremoz is built at the base of a hill crowned by a large
dismantled citadel; its fortifications, which in the 17th century accommodated 20,000
Page 433
troops and rendered the town one of the principal defences of the frontier, are now
obsolete. There are marble quarries in the neighbourhood, and the Estremoz bilhas,
red earthenware jars, are used throughout Portugal as water-holders and exported to
Spain. At Ameixial (1188) and Monies Claros, near Estremoz, the Spanish were
severely defeated by the Portuguese in 1663 and 1665. Villa Viçosa (3841), 10 m.
S.E., is a town of pre-Roman origin, containing a royal palace. The altars with Latin
inscriptions to the Iberian god Endovellicus, found at Villa Viçosa, are preserved in
the museum of the Royal Academy of Sciences, Lisbon.
ESTUARY (from the Lat. aestuarium, a place reached by aestus, the tide), an arm
of the sea narrowing inwards at the mouth of a river where sea and fresh water meet
and are mixed, i.e. the tidal portion of a river’s mouth. Structurally the estuary may
represent the long-continued action of river erosion and tidal erosion confined to a
narrow channel, most effective where most concentrated, or an estuary may be the
drowned portion of the lower part of a river-valley. In a map of Britain showing sea-
depths it will be observed that under the Severn estuary the sea deepens in a number
of steps descending by concentric V’s that become blunter towards deep water until
the last is a mere indentation pointing towards the long narrow termination of the
present estuary. In this and in similar cases the progress of the estuary is indicated
upon what is now the continental shelf. The chief interest in estuarine conditions is the
mingling of sea and fresh water. Where, as in the Severn and the Thames, the fresh
water meets the sea gradually the water is mixed, and there is very little change in
salinity at high tide. The fresh water flows over the salt water and there is a
continuous rapid change, in salinity towards the sea, for the currents sweeping in and
out mix the water constantly. Where the river brings down a great quantity of fresh
water in a narrow channel, the change of salinity at high and low water is very
marked. “When, however, the inlet is very large compared with the river, and there is
no bar at the opening, the estuarine character is only shown at the upper end. In the
Firth of Forth, for example, the landward half is an estuary, but in the seaward half the
water has become more thoroughly mixed, the salinity is almost uniform from surface
obsolete. There are marble quarries in the neighbourhood, and the Estremoz bilhas,
red earthenware jars, are used throughout Portugal as water-holders and exported to
Spain. At Ameixial (1188) and Monies Claros, near Estremoz, the Spanish were
severely defeated by the Portuguese in 1663 and 1665. Villa Viçosa (3841), 10 m.
S.E., is a town of pre-Roman origin, containing a royal palace. The altars with Latin
inscriptions to the Iberian god Endovellicus, found at Villa Viçosa, are preserved in
the museum of the Royal Academy of Sciences, Lisbon.
ESTUARY (from the Lat. aestuarium, a place reached by aestus, the tide), an arm
of the sea narrowing inwards at the mouth of a river where sea and fresh water meet
and are mixed, i.e. the tidal portion of a river’s mouth. Structurally the estuary may
represent the long-continued action of river erosion and tidal erosion confined to a
narrow channel, most effective where most concentrated, or an estuary may be the
drowned portion of the lower part of a river-valley. In a map of Britain showing sea-
depths it will be observed that under the Severn estuary the sea deepens in a number
of steps descending by concentric V’s that become blunter towards deep water until
the last is a mere indentation pointing towards the long narrow termination of the
present estuary. In this and in similar cases the progress of the estuary is indicated
upon what is now the continental shelf. The chief interest in estuarine conditions is the
mingling of sea and fresh water. Where, as in the Severn and the Thames, the fresh
water meets the sea gradually the water is mixed, and there is very little change in
salinity at high tide. The fresh water flows over the salt water and there is a
continuous rapid change, in salinity towards the sea, for the currents sweeping in and
out mix the water constantly. Where the river brings down a great quantity of fresh
water in a narrow channel, the change of salinity at high and low water is very
marked. “When, however, the inlet is very large compared with the river, and there is
no bar at the opening, the estuarine character is only shown at the upper end. In the
Firth of Forth, for example, the landward half is an estuary, but in the seaward half the
water has become more thoroughly mixed, the salinity is almost uniform from surface
Page 434
to bottom, and increases very gradually towards the sea. The river-water meets the sea
diffused uniformly through a deep mass of water scarcely fresher than the sea itself,
so that the two mix uniformly, and the sea becomes slightly freshened throughout its
whole depth for many miles from land” (H.R. Mill, Realm of Nature, 1897).
ESZTERGOM (Ger. Gran; Lat. Strigonium), a town of Hungary, capital of the
county of the same name, 36 m. N.W. of Budapest by rail. Pop. (1900) 16,948, mostly
Magyars and Roman Catholics. It is situated on the right bank of the Danube, nearly
opposite the confluence of the Gran, and is divided into the town proper and three
suburbs. The town is the residence of the primate of Hungary, and its cathedral, built
in 1821-1870, after the model of St Peter’s at Rome, is one of the finest and largest in
the country. It is picturesquely built on an elevated and commanding position, 215 ft.
above the Danube, and its dome, visible from a long distance, is 260 ft. high, and has
a diameter of 52 ft. The interior is very richly decorated, notably with fine frescoes,
and its treasury and fine library of over 60,000 volumes are famous. Besides several
other churches and two monastic houses, the principal buildings include the handsome
palace of the primate, erected in 1883; the archiepiscopal library, with valuable
incunabula and old MSS.; the seminary for the education of Roman Catholic priests;
the residences of the chapter; and the town-hall. The population is chiefly employed
in cloth-weaving, wine-making and agricultural pursuits. An iron bridge, 1664 ft.
long, connects Esztergom with the market town of Párkány (pop. 2836) on the
opposite bank of the Danube.
Esztergom is one of the oldest towns of Hungary, and is famous as the birthplace of
St Stephen, the first prince crowned “apostolic king” of Hungary. During the early
times of the Hungarian monarchy it was the most important mercantile centre in the
country, and it was the meeting-place of the diets of 1016, 1111, 1114 and 1256. It was
almost completely destroyed by Tatar hordes in 1241, but was rebuilt and fortified by
King Béla IV. In 1543 it fell into the hands of the Turks, from whom it was recovered,
in 1595, by Carl von Mansfeld. In 1604 it reverted to the Turks, who held it till 1683,
diffused uniformly through a deep mass of water scarcely fresher than the sea itself,
so that the two mix uniformly, and the sea becomes slightly freshened throughout its
whole depth for many miles from land” (H.R. Mill, Realm of Nature, 1897).
ESZTERGOM (Ger. Gran; Lat. Strigonium), a town of Hungary, capital of the
county of the same name, 36 m. N.W. of Budapest by rail. Pop. (1900) 16,948, mostly
Magyars and Roman Catholics. It is situated on the right bank of the Danube, nearly
opposite the confluence of the Gran, and is divided into the town proper and three
suburbs. The town is the residence of the primate of Hungary, and its cathedral, built
in 1821-1870, after the model of St Peter’s at Rome, is one of the finest and largest in
the country. It is picturesquely built on an elevated and commanding position, 215 ft.
above the Danube, and its dome, visible from a long distance, is 260 ft. high, and has
a diameter of 52 ft. The interior is very richly decorated, notably with fine frescoes,
and its treasury and fine library of over 60,000 volumes are famous. Besides several
other churches and two monastic houses, the principal buildings include the handsome
palace of the primate, erected in 1883; the archiepiscopal library, with valuable
incunabula and old MSS.; the seminary for the education of Roman Catholic priests;
the residences of the chapter; and the town-hall. The population is chiefly employed
in cloth-weaving, wine-making and agricultural pursuits. An iron bridge, 1664 ft.
long, connects Esztergom with the market town of Párkány (pop. 2836) on the
opposite bank of the Danube.
Esztergom is one of the oldest towns of Hungary, and is famous as the birthplace of
St Stephen, the first prince crowned “apostolic king” of Hungary. During the early
times of the Hungarian monarchy it was the most important mercantile centre in the
country, and it was the meeting-place of the diets of 1016, 1111, 1114 and 1256. It was
almost completely destroyed by Tatar hordes in 1241, but was rebuilt and fortified by
King Béla IV. In 1543 it fell into the hands of the Turks, from whom it was recovered,
in 1595, by Carl von Mansfeld. In 1604 it reverted to the Turks, who held it till 1683,
Page 435
when it was regained by the united forces of John Sobieski, king of Poland, and
Prince Charles of Lorraine. It was created an archbishopric in 1001. During the
Turkish occupation of the town the archbishopric was removed to Tyrnau, while the
archbishop himself had his residence in Pressburg. Both returned to Esztergom in
1820. In 1708 it was declared a free city by Joseph I. On the 13th of April 1818 it was
partly destroyed by fire.
For numerous authorities on the see and cathedral of Esztergom see V.
Chevalier, Répertoire des sources. Topo-bibliogr. s.v. “Gran.” Of these may be
mentioned especially F. Knauz, Monumenta Ecclesiae Strigoniensis (3 vols.,
Eszterg, 1874); Joseph Dankó, Geschichtliches ... aus dem Graner Domschatz
(Gran, 1880).
ÉTAGÈRE, a piece of light furniture very similar to the English what-not, which
was extensively made in France during the latter part of the 18th century. As the name
implies, it consists of a series of stages or shelves for the reception of ornaments or
other small articles. Like the what-not it was very often cornerwise in shape, and the
best Louis XVI. examples in exotic woods are exceedingly graceful and elegant.
ETAH, a town and district of British India, in the Agra division of the United
Provinces. The town is situated on the Grand Trunk road. Pop. (1901) 8796. The
district has an area of 1737 sq. m. The district consists for the most part of an elevated
alluvial plateau, dipping down on its eastern slope into the valley of the Ganges. The
uplands are irrigated by the Ganges canal. Between the modern bed of the Ganges and
its ancient channel lies a belt of fertile land, covered with a rich deposit of silt, and
Prince Charles of Lorraine. It was created an archbishopric in 1001. During the
Turkish occupation of the town the archbishopric was removed to Tyrnau, while the
archbishop himself had his residence in Pressburg. Both returned to Esztergom in
1820. In 1708 it was declared a free city by Joseph I. On the 13th of April 1818 it was
partly destroyed by fire.
For numerous authorities on the see and cathedral of Esztergom see V.
Chevalier, Répertoire des sources. Topo-bibliogr. s.v. “Gran.” Of these may be
mentioned especially F. Knauz, Monumenta Ecclesiae Strigoniensis (3 vols.,
Eszterg, 1874); Joseph Dankó, Geschichtliches ... aus dem Graner Domschatz
(Gran, 1880).
ÉTAGÈRE, a piece of light furniture very similar to the English what-not, which
was extensively made in France during the latter part of the 18th century. As the name
implies, it consists of a series of stages or shelves for the reception of ornaments or
other small articles. Like the what-not it was very often cornerwise in shape, and the
best Louis XVI. examples in exotic woods are exceedingly graceful and elegant.
ETAH, a town and district of British India, in the Agra division of the United
Provinces. The town is situated on the Grand Trunk road. Pop. (1901) 8796. The
district has an area of 1737 sq. m. The district consists for the most part of an elevated
alluvial plateau, dipping down on its eastern slope into the valley of the Ganges. The
uplands are irrigated by the Ganges canal. Between the modern bed of the Ganges and
its ancient channel lies a belt of fertile land, covered with a rich deposit of silt, and
Page 436
abundantly supplied with natural moisture. A long line of swamps and hollows still
marks the former course of the river; and above it rises abruptly the original cliff
which now forms the terrace of the upland plain. The Kali Nadi, a small stream
flowing in a deep and narrow gorge, passes through the centre of the district, and
affords an outlet for the surface drainage. Etah was at an early date the seat of a
primitive Aryan civilization, and the surrounding country is mentioned by Hsüan
Tsang, the Chinese Buddhist pilgrim of the 7th century a.d., as rich in temples and
monasteries. But after the bloody repression of Buddhism before the 8th century, the
district seems to have fallen once more into the hands of aboriginal tribes, from whom
it was wrested a second time by Rajputs during the course of their great migration
eastward. With the rest of upper India it passed under the sway of Mahmud of Ghazni
in 1017, and thenceforth followed the fortunes of the Mahommedan empire. At the
end of the 18th century it formed part of the territory over which the wazir of Oudh
had made himself ruler, and it came into the possession of the British government in
1801, under the treaty of Lucknow. During the mutiny of 1857 it was the scene of
serious disturbances, coupled with the usual anarchic quarrels among the native
princes. In 1901 the population was 863,948, showing an increase of 23% in the
decade due to the extension of canal irrigation. It is traversed by a branch of the
Rajputana railway from Agra to Cawnpore, with stations at Kasganj and Soron, which
are the two largest towns. It has several printing presses, indigo factories, and
factories for pressing cotton, and there is a considerable agricultural export trade.
ÉTAMPES, ANNE DE PISSELEU D’HEILLY, Duchesse d’ (1508-c. 1580),
mistress of Francis I. of France, daughter of Guillaume de Pisseleu, sieur d’Heilly, a
nobleman of Picardy. She came to court before 1522, and was one of the maids of
honour of Louise of Savoy. Francis I. made her his mistress, probably on his return
from his captivity at Madrid (1526), and soon gave up Madame de Châteaubriant for
her. Anne was sprightly, pretty, witty and cultured, and succeeded in keeping the
favour of the king till the end of the reign (1547). The liaison received some official
recognition; when Queen Eleanor entered Paris (1530), the king and Anne occupied
marks the former course of the river; and above it rises abruptly the original cliff
which now forms the terrace of the upland plain. The Kali Nadi, a small stream
flowing in a deep and narrow gorge, passes through the centre of the district, and
affords an outlet for the surface drainage. Etah was at an early date the seat of a
primitive Aryan civilization, and the surrounding country is mentioned by Hsüan
Tsang, the Chinese Buddhist pilgrim of the 7th century a.d., as rich in temples and
monasteries. But after the bloody repression of Buddhism before the 8th century, the
district seems to have fallen once more into the hands of aboriginal tribes, from whom
it was wrested a second time by Rajputs during the course of their great migration
eastward. With the rest of upper India it passed under the sway of Mahmud of Ghazni
in 1017, and thenceforth followed the fortunes of the Mahommedan empire. At the
end of the 18th century it formed part of the territory over which the wazir of Oudh
had made himself ruler, and it came into the possession of the British government in
1801, under the treaty of Lucknow. During the mutiny of 1857 it was the scene of
serious disturbances, coupled with the usual anarchic quarrels among the native
princes. In 1901 the population was 863,948, showing an increase of 23% in the
decade due to the extension of canal irrigation. It is traversed by a branch of the
Rajputana railway from Agra to Cawnpore, with stations at Kasganj and Soron, which
are the two largest towns. It has several printing presses, indigo factories, and
factories for pressing cotton, and there is a considerable agricultural export trade.
ÉTAMPES, ANNE DE PISSELEU D’HEILLY, Duchesse d’ (1508-c. 1580),
mistress of Francis I. of France, daughter of Guillaume de Pisseleu, sieur d’Heilly, a
nobleman of Picardy. She came to court before 1522, and was one of the maids of
honour of Louise of Savoy. Francis I. made her his mistress, probably on his return
from his captivity at Madrid (1526), and soon gave up Madame de Châteaubriant for
her. Anne was sprightly, pretty, witty and cultured, and succeeded in keeping the
favour of the king till the end of the reign (1547). The liaison received some official
recognition; when Queen Eleanor entered Paris (1530), the king and Anne occupied
Page 437
the same window. In 1533 Francis gave her in marriage to Jean de Brosse, whom he
created duc d’Étampes. The influence of the duchesse d’Étampes, especially in the
last years of the reign, was considerable. She upheld Admiral Chabot against the
constable de Montmorency, who was supported by her rival, Diane de Poitiers, the
dauphin’s mistress. She was a friend to new ideas, and co-operated with the king’s
sister, Marguerite d’Angoulême. She used her influence to elevate and enrich her
family, her uncle, Antoine Sanguin (d. 1559), being made bishop of Orleans in 1535
and a cardinal in 1539.1 The accusations made against her of having allowed herself
to be won over by the emperor Charles V. and of playing the traitor in 1544 rest on no
serious proof. After the death of Francis I. (1547) she was dismissed from the court by
Diane de Poitiers, humiliated in every way, and died in obscurity much later, probably
in the reign of Henry III.
See Paulin Paris, Études sur François Ier (Paris, 1885).
1 The château of Meudon, belonging to the Sanguin family, was handed over to the duchesse
d’Étampes in 1539. Sanguin was translated to Limoges in 1546, and became archbishop of Toulouse in
1550.
ÉTAMPES, a town of northern France, capital of an arrondissement in the
department of Seine-et-Oise, on the Orléans railway, 35 m. S. by W. of Paris. Pop.
(1906) 8720. Étampes is a long straggling town hemmed in between the railway on
the north and the Chalouette on the south; the latter is a tributary of the Juine which
waters the eastern outskirts of the town. A fine view of Étampes is obtained from the
Tour Guinette, a ruined keep built by Louis VI. in the 12th century on an eminence on
the other side of the railway. Notre-Dame du Fort, the chief church, dates from the
11th and 12th centuries; irregular in plan, it is remarkable for a fine Romanesque
tower and spire, and for the crenellated wall which partly surrounds it. The interior
contains ancient paintings and other artistic works. St Basile (12th and 16th
centuries), which preserves a Romanesque doorway, and St Martin (12th and 13th
created duc d’Étampes. The influence of the duchesse d’Étampes, especially in the
last years of the reign, was considerable. She upheld Admiral Chabot against the
constable de Montmorency, who was supported by her rival, Diane de Poitiers, the
dauphin’s mistress. She was a friend to new ideas, and co-operated with the king’s
sister, Marguerite d’Angoulême. She used her influence to elevate and enrich her
family, her uncle, Antoine Sanguin (d. 1559), being made bishop of Orleans in 1535
and a cardinal in 1539.1 The accusations made against her of having allowed herself
to be won over by the emperor Charles V. and of playing the traitor in 1544 rest on no
serious proof. After the death of Francis I. (1547) she was dismissed from the court by
Diane de Poitiers, humiliated in every way, and died in obscurity much later, probably
in the reign of Henry III.
See Paulin Paris, Études sur François Ier (Paris, 1885).
1 The château of Meudon, belonging to the Sanguin family, was handed over to the duchesse
d’Étampes in 1539. Sanguin was translated to Limoges in 1546, and became archbishop of Toulouse in
1550.
ÉTAMPES, a town of northern France, capital of an arrondissement in the
department of Seine-et-Oise, on the Orléans railway, 35 m. S. by W. of Paris. Pop.
(1906) 8720. Étampes is a long straggling town hemmed in between the railway on
the north and the Chalouette on the south; the latter is a tributary of the Juine which
waters the eastern outskirts of the town. A fine view of Étampes is obtained from the
Tour Guinette, a ruined keep built by Louis VI. in the 12th century on an eminence on
the other side of the railway. Notre-Dame du Fort, the chief church, dates from the
11th and 12th centuries; irregular in plan, it is remarkable for a fine Romanesque
tower and spire, and for the crenellated wall which partly surrounds it. The interior
contains ancient paintings and other artistic works. St Basile (12th and 16th
centuries), which preserves a Romanesque doorway, and St Martin (12th and 13th
Page 438
centuries), with a leaning tower of the 16th century, are of less importance. The civil
buildings offer little interest, but two houses named after Anne de Pisseleu (see
above), mistress of Francis I., and Diane de Poitiers, mistress of Henry II., are
graceful examples of Renaissance architecture. In the square there is a statue of the
naturalist, Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, who was born in Étampes. The subprefecture, a
tribunal of first instance, and a communal college are among the public institutions of
Étampes. Flour-milling, metal-founding, leather-dressing, printing and the
manufacture of boots and shoes and hosiery are carried on; there are quarries of
paving-stone, nurseries and market gardens in the vicinity, and the town has important
markets for cereals and sheep.
Étampes (Lat. Stampae) existed at the beginning of the 7th century and in the early
middle ages belonged to the crown domain. During the middle ages it was the scene
of several councils, the most notable of which took place in 1130 and resulted in the
recognition of Innocent II. as the legitimate pope. In 1652, during the war of the
Fronde it suffered severely at the hands of the royal troops under Turenne.
Lords, Counts and Dukes of Étampes.—The lordship of Étampes, in what is now
the department of Seine et Oise in France, belonged to the royal domain, but was
detached from it on several occasions in favour of princes, or kings’ favourites. St
Louis gave it to his mother Blanche of Castile, and then to his wife Marguerite of
Provence. Louis, the brother of Philip the Fair, became lord of Étampes in 1317 and
count in 1327; he was succeeded by his son and his grandson. Francis I. raised the
countship of Étampes to the rank of a duchy for his mistress Anne de Pisseleu
D’Heilly. The new duchy passed to Diane de Poitiers (1553), to Catherine of Lorraine,
duchess of Montpensier (1578), to Marguerite of Valois (1582) and to Gabrielle
d’Estrées (1598). The latter transmitted it to her son, César of Vendôme, and his
descendants held it till 1712. It then passed by inheritance to the families of Bourbon-
Conti and of Orleans.
buildings offer little interest, but two houses named after Anne de Pisseleu (see
above), mistress of Francis I., and Diane de Poitiers, mistress of Henry II., are
graceful examples of Renaissance architecture. In the square there is a statue of the
naturalist, Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, who was born in Étampes. The subprefecture, a
tribunal of first instance, and a communal college are among the public institutions of
Étampes. Flour-milling, metal-founding, leather-dressing, printing and the
manufacture of boots and shoes and hosiery are carried on; there are quarries of
paving-stone, nurseries and market gardens in the vicinity, and the town has important
markets for cereals and sheep.
Étampes (Lat. Stampae) existed at the beginning of the 7th century and in the early
middle ages belonged to the crown domain. During the middle ages it was the scene
of several councils, the most notable of which took place in 1130 and resulted in the
recognition of Innocent II. as the legitimate pope. In 1652, during the war of the
Fronde it suffered severely at the hands of the royal troops under Turenne.
Lords, Counts and Dukes of Étampes.—The lordship of Étampes, in what is now
the department of Seine et Oise in France, belonged to the royal domain, but was
detached from it on several occasions in favour of princes, or kings’ favourites. St
Louis gave it to his mother Blanche of Castile, and then to his wife Marguerite of
Provence. Louis, the brother of Philip the Fair, became lord of Étampes in 1317 and
count in 1327; he was succeeded by his son and his grandson. Francis I. raised the
countship of Étampes to the rank of a duchy for his mistress Anne de Pisseleu
D’Heilly. The new duchy passed to Diane de Poitiers (1553), to Catherine of Lorraine,
duchess of Montpensier (1578), to Marguerite of Valois (1582) and to Gabrielle
d’Estrées (1598). The latter transmitted it to her son, César of Vendôme, and his
descendants held it till 1712. It then passed by inheritance to the families of Bourbon-
Conti and of Orleans.
Page 439
ÉTAPLES, a town of northern France, in the department of Pas-de-Calais, on the
right bank of the estuary of the Canche, 3 m. from the Straits of Dover, 17 m. S. of
Boulogne by rail. Pop. (1906) 5136. Étaples has a small fishing and commercial port
which enjoyed a certain importance during the middle ages. Boat-building is carried
on. There is an old church with a statue of the Virgin much revered by the sailors. The
Canche is crossed by a bridge over 1600 ft. in length. Le Touquet, in the midst of pine
woods, and the neighbouring watering-place of Paris-Plage, 3½ m. W. of Étaples at
the mouth of the estuary, are much frequented by English and French visitors for golf,
tennis and bathing, and Étaples itself is a centre for artists. Antiquarian discoveries in
the vicinity of Étaples have led to the conjecture that it occupies the site of the Gallo-
Roman port of Quentovicus. In 1492 a treaty was signed here between Henry VII.,
king of England, and Charles VIII., king of France.
ETAWAH, a town and district of British India, in the Agra division of the United
Provinces. The town is situated on the left bank of the Jumna, and has a station on the
East Indian railway, 206 m. from Allahabad. Pop. (1901) 42,570. Deep fissures
intersect the various quarters of the town, over which broad roads connect the higher
portions by bridges and embankments. The Jama Masjid (Great Mosque) is the chief
architectural ornament of Etawah. It was originally a Hindu temple, and was adapted
to its present use by the Mahommedan conquerors. Several fine Hindu temples also
stand about the mound on which are the ruins of the ancient fort. Etawah is now only
the civil headquarters of the district, the military cantonment having been abandoned
in 1861. Considerable trade is carried on by rail and river. The manufactures include
cotton cloth, skin-bottles, combs and horn-ware and sweetmeats.
The District of Etawah has an area of 1691 sq. m. It forms a purely artificial
administrative division, stretching across the level plain of the Doab, and beyond the
valley of the Jumna, to the gorges of the Chambal, and the last rocky outliers of the
Vindhyan range. The district exhibits a striking variety of surface and scenery. The
greater portion lies within the Doab or level alluvial plain between the Ganges and the
right bank of the estuary of the Canche, 3 m. from the Straits of Dover, 17 m. S. of
Boulogne by rail. Pop. (1906) 5136. Étaples has a small fishing and commercial port
which enjoyed a certain importance during the middle ages. Boat-building is carried
on. There is an old church with a statue of the Virgin much revered by the sailors. The
Canche is crossed by a bridge over 1600 ft. in length. Le Touquet, in the midst of pine
woods, and the neighbouring watering-place of Paris-Plage, 3½ m. W. of Étaples at
the mouth of the estuary, are much frequented by English and French visitors for golf,
tennis and bathing, and Étaples itself is a centre for artists. Antiquarian discoveries in
the vicinity of Étaples have led to the conjecture that it occupies the site of the Gallo-
Roman port of Quentovicus. In 1492 a treaty was signed here between Henry VII.,
king of England, and Charles VIII., king of France.
ETAWAH, a town and district of British India, in the Agra division of the United
Provinces. The town is situated on the left bank of the Jumna, and has a station on the
East Indian railway, 206 m. from Allahabad. Pop. (1901) 42,570. Deep fissures
intersect the various quarters of the town, over which broad roads connect the higher
portions by bridges and embankments. The Jama Masjid (Great Mosque) is the chief
architectural ornament of Etawah. It was originally a Hindu temple, and was adapted
to its present use by the Mahommedan conquerors. Several fine Hindu temples also
stand about the mound on which are the ruins of the ancient fort. Etawah is now only
the civil headquarters of the district, the military cantonment having been abandoned
in 1861. Considerable trade is carried on by rail and river. The manufactures include
cotton cloth, skin-bottles, combs and horn-ware and sweetmeats.
The District of Etawah has an area of 1691 sq. m. It forms a purely artificial
administrative division, stretching across the level plain of the Doab, and beyond the
valley of the Jumna, to the gorges of the Chambal, and the last rocky outliers of the
Vindhyan range. The district exhibits a striking variety of surface and scenery. The
greater portion lies within the Doab or level alluvial plain between the Ganges and the
Page 440
Jumna. This part falls naturally into two sections, divided by the deep and fissured
valley of the river Sengar. The tract to the north-east of that stream is rich and fertile,
being watered by the Cawnpore and Etawah branches of the Ganges canal, and other
important works. The south-western region has the same natural advantages, but
possesses no great irrigation system, and is consequently less fruitful than the opposite
slopes. Near the banks of the Jumna, the plain descends into the river valley by a
series of wild ravines and terraces, inhabited only by a scattered race of hereditary
herdsmen. Beyond the Jumna again a strip of British territory extends along the
tangled gorges of the Chambal and the Kuari Nadi, far into the borders of the Gwalior
state. This outlying tract embraces a series of rocky glens and mountain torrents,
crowned by the ruins of native strongholds, and interspersed with narrow ledges of
cultivable alluvium. The climate, once hot and sultry, has now become comparatively
moist and equable under the influence of irrigation and the planting of trees.
Etawah was marked out by its physical features as a secure retreat for the turbulent
tribes of the Upper Doab, and it was not till the 12th century that any of the existing
castes settled on the soil. After the Mussulman conquests of Delhi and the surrounding
country, the Hindus of Etawah appear to have held their own for many generations
against the Mahommedan power; but in the 16th century Baber conquered the district,
with the rest of the Doab, and it remained in the hands of the Moguls until the decay
of their empire. After passing through the usual vicissitudes of Mahratta and Jat
conquests during the long anarchy which preceded the British rule, Etawah was
annexed by the wazir of Oudh in 1773. The wazir ceded it to the East India Company
in 1801, but it still remained so largely in the hands of lawless native chiefs that some
difficulty was experienced in reducing it to orderly government. During the mutiny of
1857 serious disturbances occurred in Etawah, and the district was occupied by the
rebels from June to December; order was not completely restored till the end of 1858.
In 1901 the population was 806,798, showing an increase of 11% in the decade. The
district is partly watered by branches of the Ganges canal, and is traversed throughout
by the main line of the East Indian railway from Cawnpore to Agra. Cotton, oilseeds
and other agricultural produce are exported, and some indigo is made, but
manufacturing industry is slight.
valley of the river Sengar. The tract to the north-east of that stream is rich and fertile,
being watered by the Cawnpore and Etawah branches of the Ganges canal, and other
important works. The south-western region has the same natural advantages, but
possesses no great irrigation system, and is consequently less fruitful than the opposite
slopes. Near the banks of the Jumna, the plain descends into the river valley by a
series of wild ravines and terraces, inhabited only by a scattered race of hereditary
herdsmen. Beyond the Jumna again a strip of British territory extends along the
tangled gorges of the Chambal and the Kuari Nadi, far into the borders of the Gwalior
state. This outlying tract embraces a series of rocky glens and mountain torrents,
crowned by the ruins of native strongholds, and interspersed with narrow ledges of
cultivable alluvium. The climate, once hot and sultry, has now become comparatively
moist and equable under the influence of irrigation and the planting of trees.
Etawah was marked out by its physical features as a secure retreat for the turbulent
tribes of the Upper Doab, and it was not till the 12th century that any of the existing
castes settled on the soil. After the Mussulman conquests of Delhi and the surrounding
country, the Hindus of Etawah appear to have held their own for many generations
against the Mahommedan power; but in the 16th century Baber conquered the district,
with the rest of the Doab, and it remained in the hands of the Moguls until the decay
of their empire. After passing through the usual vicissitudes of Mahratta and Jat
conquests during the long anarchy which preceded the British rule, Etawah was
annexed by the wazir of Oudh in 1773. The wazir ceded it to the East India Company
in 1801, but it still remained so largely in the hands of lawless native chiefs that some
difficulty was experienced in reducing it to orderly government. During the mutiny of
1857 serious disturbances occurred in Etawah, and the district was occupied by the
rebels from June to December; order was not completely restored till the end of 1858.
In 1901 the population was 806,798, showing an increase of 11% in the decade. The
district is partly watered by branches of the Ganges canal, and is traversed throughout
by the main line of the East Indian railway from Cawnpore to Agra. Cotton, oilseeds
and other agricultural produce are exported, and some indigo is made, but
manufacturing industry is slight.
Page 441
ETCHING (Dutch, etsen, to eat), a form of engraving (q.v.) in which, in
contradistinction to line engraving (q.v.), where the furrow is produced by the
ploughing of the burin, the copper is eaten away or corroded by acid.
To prepare a plate for etching it is first covered with etching-ground, a composition
which resists acid. The qualities of a ground are to be so adhesive that it will not quit
the copper when a small quantity is left isolated between lines, yet not so adhesive
that the etching point cannot easily and entirely remove it; at the same time a good
ground will be hard enough to bear the hand upon it, or a sheet of paper, yet not so
hard as to be brittle. The ground used by Abraham Bosse, the French painter and
engraver (1602-1676) was composed as follows:—Melt 2 oz. of white wax; then add
to it 1 oz. of gum-mastic in powder, a little at a time, stirring till the wax and the
mastic are well mingled; then add, in the same manner, 1 oz. of bitumen in powder.
There are three different ways of applying an etching-ground to a plate. The old-
fashioned way was to wrap a ball of the ground in silk, heat the plate, and then rub the
ball upon the surface, enough of the ground to cover the plate melting through the
silk. To equalize the ground a dabber was used, which was made of cotton-wool under
horsehair, the whole inclosed in silk. This method is still used by many artists, from
tradition and habit, but it is far inferior in perfection and convenience to that which we
will now describe. When the etching-ground is melted, add to it half its volume of
essential oil of lavender, mix well, and allow the mixture to cool. You have now a
paste which can be spread upon a cold plate with a roller; these rollers are covered
with leather and made (very carefully) for the purpose. You first spread a little paste
on a sheet of glass (if too thick, add more oil of lavender and mix with a palette
knife), and roll it till the roller is quite equally charged all over, when the paste is
easily transferred to the copper, which is afterwards gently heated to expel the oil of
lavender. In both these methods of grounding a plate, the work is not completed until
the ground has been smoked, which is effected as follows. The plate is held by a hand-
vice if a small one, or if large, is fixed at some height, with the covered side
downwards. A smoking torch, composed of many thin bees-wax dips twisted together,
is then lighted and passed repeatedly under the plate in every direction, till the ground
has incorporated enough lampblack to blacken it. The third way of covering a plate
for etching is to apply the ground in solution as collodion is applied by photographers.
The ground may be dissolved in chloroform, or in oil of lavender. The plate being
grounded, its back and edges are protected from the acid by Japan varnish, which
contradistinction to line engraving (q.v.), where the furrow is produced by the
ploughing of the burin, the copper is eaten away or corroded by acid.
To prepare a plate for etching it is first covered with etching-ground, a composition
which resists acid. The qualities of a ground are to be so adhesive that it will not quit
the copper when a small quantity is left isolated between lines, yet not so adhesive
that the etching point cannot easily and entirely remove it; at the same time a good
ground will be hard enough to bear the hand upon it, or a sheet of paper, yet not so
hard as to be brittle. The ground used by Abraham Bosse, the French painter and
engraver (1602-1676) was composed as follows:—Melt 2 oz. of white wax; then add
to it 1 oz. of gum-mastic in powder, a little at a time, stirring till the wax and the
mastic are well mingled; then add, in the same manner, 1 oz. of bitumen in powder.
There are three different ways of applying an etching-ground to a plate. The old-
fashioned way was to wrap a ball of the ground in silk, heat the plate, and then rub the
ball upon the surface, enough of the ground to cover the plate melting through the
silk. To equalize the ground a dabber was used, which was made of cotton-wool under
horsehair, the whole inclosed in silk. This method is still used by many artists, from
tradition and habit, but it is far inferior in perfection and convenience to that which we
will now describe. When the etching-ground is melted, add to it half its volume of
essential oil of lavender, mix well, and allow the mixture to cool. You have now a
paste which can be spread upon a cold plate with a roller; these rollers are covered
with leather and made (very carefully) for the purpose. You first spread a little paste
on a sheet of glass (if too thick, add more oil of lavender and mix with a palette
knife), and roll it till the roller is quite equally charged all over, when the paste is
easily transferred to the copper, which is afterwards gently heated to expel the oil of
lavender. In both these methods of grounding a plate, the work is not completed until
the ground has been smoked, which is effected as follows. The plate is held by a hand-
vice if a small one, or if large, is fixed at some height, with the covered side
downwards. A smoking torch, composed of many thin bees-wax dips twisted together,
is then lighted and passed repeatedly under the plate in every direction, till the ground
has incorporated enough lampblack to blacken it. The third way of covering a plate
for etching is to apply the ground in solution as collodion is applied by photographers.
The ground may be dissolved in chloroform, or in oil of lavender. The plate being
grounded, its back and edges are protected from the acid by Japan varnish, which
Page 442
soon dries, and then the drawing is traced upon it. The best way of tracing a drawing
is to use sheet gelatine, which is employed as follows. The gelatine is laid upon the
drawing, which its transparence allows you to see perfectly, and you trace the lines by
scratching the smooth surface with a sharp point. You then fill these scratches with
fine black-lead, in powder, rubbing it in with the finger, turn the tracing with its face
to the plate, and rub the back of it with a burnisher. The black-lead from the scratches
adheres to the etching ground and shows upon it as pale grey, much more visible than
anything else you can use for tracing. Then comes the work of the etching-needle,
which is merely a piece of steel sharpened more or less. J.M.W. Turner used a prong
of an old steel fork which did as well as anything, but neater etching-needles are sold
by artists’ colour-makers. The needle removes the ground or cover and lays the copper
bare. Some artists sharpen their needles so as to present a cutting edge which, when
used sideways, scrapes away a broad line; and many etchers use needles of various
degrees of sharpness to get thicker or thinner lines. It may be well to observe, in
connexion with this part of the subject, that whilst thick lines agree perfectly well with
the nature of woodcut, they are very apt to give an unpleasant heaviness to plate
engraving of all kinds, whilst thin lines have generally a clear and agreeable
appearance in plate engraving. Nevertheless, lines of moderate thickness are used
effectively in etching when covered with finer shading, and very thick lines indeed
were employed with good results by Turner when he intended to cover them with
mezzotint (q.v.), and to print in brown ink, because their thickness was essential to
prevent them from being overwhelmed by the mezzotint, and the brown ink made
them print less heavily than black. Etchers differ in opinion as to whether the needle
ought to scratch the copper or simply to glide upon its surface. A gliding needle is
much more free, and therefore communicates a greater appearance of freedom to the
etching, but it has the inconvenience that the etching-ground may not always be
entirely removed, and then the lines may be defective from insufficient biting. A
scratching needle, on the other hand, is free from this serious inconvenience, but it
must not scratch irregularly so as to engrave lines of various depth. The biting in
former times was generally done with a mixture of nitric acid and water, in equal
proportions; but in the present day a Dutch mordant is a good deal used, which is
composed as follows: Hydrochloric acid, 100 grammes; chlorate of potash, 20
grammes; water, 880 grammes. To make it, heat the water, add the chlorate of potash,
wait till it is entirely dissolved, and then add the acid. The nitrous mordant acts
is to use sheet gelatine, which is employed as follows. The gelatine is laid upon the
drawing, which its transparence allows you to see perfectly, and you trace the lines by
scratching the smooth surface with a sharp point. You then fill these scratches with
fine black-lead, in powder, rubbing it in with the finger, turn the tracing with its face
to the plate, and rub the back of it with a burnisher. The black-lead from the scratches
adheres to the etching ground and shows upon it as pale grey, much more visible than
anything else you can use for tracing. Then comes the work of the etching-needle,
which is merely a piece of steel sharpened more or less. J.M.W. Turner used a prong
of an old steel fork which did as well as anything, but neater etching-needles are sold
by artists’ colour-makers. The needle removes the ground or cover and lays the copper
bare. Some artists sharpen their needles so as to present a cutting edge which, when
used sideways, scrapes away a broad line; and many etchers use needles of various
degrees of sharpness to get thicker or thinner lines. It may be well to observe, in
connexion with this part of the subject, that whilst thick lines agree perfectly well with
the nature of woodcut, they are very apt to give an unpleasant heaviness to plate
engraving of all kinds, whilst thin lines have generally a clear and agreeable
appearance in plate engraving. Nevertheless, lines of moderate thickness are used
effectively in etching when covered with finer shading, and very thick lines indeed
were employed with good results by Turner when he intended to cover them with
mezzotint (q.v.), and to print in brown ink, because their thickness was essential to
prevent them from being overwhelmed by the mezzotint, and the brown ink made
them print less heavily than black. Etchers differ in opinion as to whether the needle
ought to scratch the copper or simply to glide upon its surface. A gliding needle is
much more free, and therefore communicates a greater appearance of freedom to the
etching, but it has the inconvenience that the etching-ground may not always be
entirely removed, and then the lines may be defective from insufficient biting. A
scratching needle, on the other hand, is free from this serious inconvenience, but it
must not scratch irregularly so as to engrave lines of various depth. The biting in
former times was generally done with a mixture of nitric acid and water, in equal
proportions; but in the present day a Dutch mordant is a good deal used, which is
composed as follows: Hydrochloric acid, 100 grammes; chlorate of potash, 20
grammes; water, 880 grammes. To make it, heat the water, add the chlorate of potash,
wait till it is entirely dissolved, and then add the acid. The nitrous mordant acts
Page 443
rapidly and causes ebullition; the Dutch mordant acts slowly and causes no ebullition.
The nitrous mordant widens the lines; the Dutch mordant bites in depth, and does not
widen the lines to any perceptible degree. The time required for both depends upon
temperature. A mordant bites slowly when cold, and more and more rapidly when
heated. To obviate irregularity caused by difference of temperature, it is a good plan to
heat the Dutch mordant artificially to 95° Fahr. by lamps under the bath (for which a
photographer’s porcelain tray is most convenient), and keep it steadily to that
temperature; the results may then be counted upon; but whatever the temperature
fixed upon, the results will be regular if it is regular. To get different degrees of biting
on the same plate the lines which are to be pale are “stopped out” by being painted
over with Japan varnish or with etching ground dissolved in oil of lavender, the
darkest lines being reserved to the last, as they have to bite longest. When the acid has
done its work properly the lines are bitten in such various degrees of depth that they
will print with the degree of blackness required; but if some parts of the subject
require to be made paler, they can be lowered by rubbing them with charcoal and
olive oil, and if they have to be made deeper they can be rebitten, or covered with
added shading. Rebiting is done with the roller above mentioned, which is now
charged very lightly with paste and rolled over the copper with no pressure but its
own weight, so as to cover the smooth surface but not fill up any of the lines. The oil
of lavender is then expelled as before by gently heating the plate, but it is not smoked.
The lines which require rebiting may now be rebitten, and the others preserved against
the action of the acid by stopping out. These are a few of the most essential technical
points in etching, but there are many matters of detail for which the reader is referred
to the special works on the subject.
There are many varieties in the processes of etching, and it is only necessary here to
indicate the essential facts. A brief analysis of different styles may be given.
(1) Pure Line. As there is line engraving, so there is line etching; but as the etching-
needle is a freer instrument than the burin, the line has qualities which differ widely
from those of the burin line. Each of the two has its own charm and beauty; the liberty
of the one is charming, and the restraint of the other is admirable also in its right
place. In line etching, as in line engraving, the great masters purposely exhibit the line
and do not hide it under too much shading. (2) Line and Shade. This answers exactly
in etching to Mantegna’s work in engraving. The most important lines are drawn first
The nitrous mordant widens the lines; the Dutch mordant bites in depth, and does not
widen the lines to any perceptible degree. The time required for both depends upon
temperature. A mordant bites slowly when cold, and more and more rapidly when
heated. To obviate irregularity caused by difference of temperature, it is a good plan to
heat the Dutch mordant artificially to 95° Fahr. by lamps under the bath (for which a
photographer’s porcelain tray is most convenient), and keep it steadily to that
temperature; the results may then be counted upon; but whatever the temperature
fixed upon, the results will be regular if it is regular. To get different degrees of biting
on the same plate the lines which are to be pale are “stopped out” by being painted
over with Japan varnish or with etching ground dissolved in oil of lavender, the
darkest lines being reserved to the last, as they have to bite longest. When the acid has
done its work properly the lines are bitten in such various degrees of depth that they
will print with the degree of blackness required; but if some parts of the subject
require to be made paler, they can be lowered by rubbing them with charcoal and
olive oil, and if they have to be made deeper they can be rebitten, or covered with
added shading. Rebiting is done with the roller above mentioned, which is now
charged very lightly with paste and rolled over the copper with no pressure but its
own weight, so as to cover the smooth surface but not fill up any of the lines. The oil
of lavender is then expelled as before by gently heating the plate, but it is not smoked.
The lines which require rebiting may now be rebitten, and the others preserved against
the action of the acid by stopping out. These are a few of the most essential technical
points in etching, but there are many matters of detail for which the reader is referred
to the special works on the subject.
There are many varieties in the processes of etching, and it is only necessary here to
indicate the essential facts. A brief analysis of different styles may be given.
(1) Pure Line. As there is line engraving, so there is line etching; but as the etching-
needle is a freer instrument than the burin, the line has qualities which differ widely
from those of the burin line. Each of the two has its own charm and beauty; the liberty
of the one is charming, and the restraint of the other is admirable also in its right
place. In line etching, as in line engraving, the great masters purposely exhibit the line
and do not hide it under too much shading. (2) Line and Shade. This answers exactly
in etching to Mantegna’s work in engraving. The most important lines are drawn first
Page 444
throughout, and the shade thrown over them like a wash with the brush over a pen
sketch in indelible ink. (3) Shade and Texture. This is used chiefly to imitate oil-
painting. Here the line (properly so called) is entirely abandoned, and the attention of
the etcher is given to texture and chiaroscuro. He uses lines, of course, to express
these, but does not exhibit them for their own beauty; on the contrary, he conceals
them.
Of these three styles of etching the first is technically the easiest, and being also the
most rapid, is adopted for sketching on the copper from nature; the second is the next
in difficulty; and the third the most difficult, on account of the biting, which is never
easy to manage when it becomes elaborate. The etcher has, however, many resources;
he can make passages paler by burnishing them, or by using charcoal, or he can efface
them entirely with the scraper and charcoal; he can darken them by rebiting or by
regrounding the plate and adding fresh work; and he need not run the risk of biting the
very palest passages of all, because these can be easily done with the dry point, which
is simply a well-sharpened stylus used directly on the copper without the help of acid.
It is often asserted that any one can etch who can draw, but this is a mistaken assertion
likely to mislead. Without requiring so long an apprenticeship as the burin, etching is
a very difficult art indeed, the two main causes of its difficulty being that the artist
does not see his work properly as he proceeds, and that mistakes or misfortunes in the
biting, which are of frequent occurrence to the inexperienced, may destroy all the
relations of tone.
Etching, like line engraving, owed much to the old masters, but whereas, with the
exception of Albert Dürer, the painters were seldom practical line engravers, they
advanced etching not only by advice given to others but by the work of their own
hands. Rembrandt did as much for etching as either Raphael or Rubens for line
engraving; and in landscape the etchings of Claude had an influence which still
continues, both Rembrandt and Claude being practical workmen in etching, and very
skilful workmen. Ostade, Ruysdael, Berghem, Paul Potter, Karl Dujardin, etched as
they painted, and so did a greater than any of them, Vandyck. In the earlier part of the
19th century etching was almost a defunct art, except as it was employed by engravers
as a help to get faster through their work, of which “engraving” got all the credit, the
public being unable to distinguish between etched lines and lines cut with the burin.
sketch in indelible ink. (3) Shade and Texture. This is used chiefly to imitate oil-
painting. Here the line (properly so called) is entirely abandoned, and the attention of
the etcher is given to texture and chiaroscuro. He uses lines, of course, to express
these, but does not exhibit them for their own beauty; on the contrary, he conceals
them.
Of these three styles of etching the first is technically the easiest, and being also the
most rapid, is adopted for sketching on the copper from nature; the second is the next
in difficulty; and the third the most difficult, on account of the biting, which is never
easy to manage when it becomes elaborate. The etcher has, however, many resources;
he can make passages paler by burnishing them, or by using charcoal, or he can efface
them entirely with the scraper and charcoal; he can darken them by rebiting or by
regrounding the plate and adding fresh work; and he need not run the risk of biting the
very palest passages of all, because these can be easily done with the dry point, which
is simply a well-sharpened stylus used directly on the copper without the help of acid.
It is often asserted that any one can etch who can draw, but this is a mistaken assertion
likely to mislead. Without requiring so long an apprenticeship as the burin, etching is
a very difficult art indeed, the two main causes of its difficulty being that the artist
does not see his work properly as he proceeds, and that mistakes or misfortunes in the
biting, which are of frequent occurrence to the inexperienced, may destroy all the
relations of tone.
Etching, like line engraving, owed much to the old masters, but whereas, with the
exception of Albert Dürer, the painters were seldom practical line engravers, they
advanced etching not only by advice given to others but by the work of their own
hands. Rembrandt did as much for etching as either Raphael or Rubens for line
engraving; and in landscape the etchings of Claude had an influence which still
continues, both Rembrandt and Claude being practical workmen in etching, and very
skilful workmen. Ostade, Ruysdael, Berghem, Paul Potter, Karl Dujardin, etched as
they painted, and so did a greater than any of them, Vandyck. In the earlier part of the
19th century etching was almost a defunct art, except as it was employed by engravers
as a help to get faster through their work, of which “engraving” got all the credit, the
public being unable to distinguish between etched lines and lines cut with the burin.
Page 445
But from the middle of the century dates a great revival of etching as an independent
art, a revival which has extended all over Europe.
Apart from the copying of pictures by etching—which was found commercially
preferable to the use of line engraving—a number of artists and amateurs gradually
practised original etching with increasing success, notably Sir Seymour Haden, J.M.
Whistler, Samuel Palmer and others in England, Felix Bracquemond, C.F. Daubigny,
Charles Jacque, Adolphe Appian, Maxime Lalanne, Jules Jacquemart and others on
the continent, besides that singular and remarkable genius, Charles Méryon. Etching
clubs, or associations of artists for the publication of original etchings, were gradually
founded in England, France, Germany and Belgium. Méryon and Whistler are two of
the greatest modern etchers. Among earlier names mention may be made of Andrew
Geddes (1783-1844) and of Sir David Wilkie (1785-1841). Geddes was the finer artist
with the needle; he it was whom Rembrandt best inspired; his work was in the grand
manner. Of the rich and rare dry-points “At Peckham Rye” and “At Halliford-on-
Thames,” the deepest and most brilliant master of landscape would have no need to be
ashamed. David Wilkie’s prints were, naturally, not less dramatic than his pictures, but
the etcher’s particular gift was possessed by him more intermittently: it is shown best
in “The Receipt,” a strong and vivid, dexterous sketch, quite full of character. J.S.
Cotman’s (1782-1842) etchings are also historically interesting though they were “soft
ground” for the most part. They show all his qualities of elegance and freedom as a
draughtsman, and much of his large dignity in the distribution of light and shade. T.
Girtin (1775-1802), in the preparations for his views of Paris, was notably happy. The
work of Sir Francis Seymour Haden (b. 1818) had a powerful influence on the art in
England. Between 1858 and 1879 Seymour Haden—the first president of the Royal
Society of Painter Etchers—produced the vast majority of his plates, which have
always good draughtsmanship, unity of effect and a personal impression. They show a
strong feeling for nature. If, amongst some two hundred subjects, it were necessary to
select one or two for peculiar praise, they might be the “Breaking up of the
Agamemnon,” the almost perfect “Water Meadow,” the masterly presentment of “Erith
Marshes,” and the later dry-point of “Windmill Hill.” Another great etcher—
Frenchman by birth, but English by long residence—is Alphonse Legros (q.v.). Great
in expression and suggestive draughtsmanship, austere and economical in line,
Legros’s work is the grave record of the observation and the fancy of an imaginative
mind. In poetic portraiture nothing can well exceed his etched vision of G.F. Watts;
art, a revival which has extended all over Europe.
Apart from the copying of pictures by etching—which was found commercially
preferable to the use of line engraving—a number of artists and amateurs gradually
practised original etching with increasing success, notably Sir Seymour Haden, J.M.
Whistler, Samuel Palmer and others in England, Felix Bracquemond, C.F. Daubigny,
Charles Jacque, Adolphe Appian, Maxime Lalanne, Jules Jacquemart and others on
the continent, besides that singular and remarkable genius, Charles Méryon. Etching
clubs, or associations of artists for the publication of original etchings, were gradually
founded in England, France, Germany and Belgium. Méryon and Whistler are two of
the greatest modern etchers. Among earlier names mention may be made of Andrew
Geddes (1783-1844) and of Sir David Wilkie (1785-1841). Geddes was the finer artist
with the needle; he it was whom Rembrandt best inspired; his work was in the grand
manner. Of the rich and rare dry-points “At Peckham Rye” and “At Halliford-on-
Thames,” the deepest and most brilliant master of landscape would have no need to be
ashamed. David Wilkie’s prints were, naturally, not less dramatic than his pictures, but
the etcher’s particular gift was possessed by him more intermittently: it is shown best
in “The Receipt,” a strong and vivid, dexterous sketch, quite full of character. J.S.
Cotman’s (1782-1842) etchings are also historically interesting though they were “soft
ground” for the most part. They show all his qualities of elegance and freedom as a
draughtsman, and much of his large dignity in the distribution of light and shade. T.
Girtin (1775-1802), in the preparations for his views of Paris, was notably happy. The
work of Sir Francis Seymour Haden (b. 1818) had a powerful influence on the art in
England. Between 1858 and 1879 Seymour Haden—the first president of the Royal
Society of Painter Etchers—produced the vast majority of his plates, which have
always good draughtsmanship, unity of effect and a personal impression. They show a
strong feeling for nature. If, amongst some two hundred subjects, it were necessary to
select one or two for peculiar praise, they might be the “Breaking up of the
Agamemnon,” the almost perfect “Water Meadow,” the masterly presentment of “Erith
Marshes,” and the later dry-point of “Windmill Hill.” Another great etcher—
Frenchman by birth, but English by long residence—is Alphonse Legros (q.v.). Great
in expression and suggestive draughtsmanship, austere and economical in line,
Legros’s work is the grave record of the observation and the fancy of an imaginative
mind. In poetic portraiture nothing can well exceed his etched vision of G.F. Watts;
Page 446
“La Mort du Vagabond” is noticeable for terror and homely pathos; “Communion
dans l’Église St Médard” is perhaps the best instance of the dignity, vigour and grave
sympathy with which he addresses himself to ecclesiastical themes. Something of
these latter qualities, in dealing with similar themes, Legros passed on to his pupil, Sir
Charles Holroyd (b. 1861)—an etcher in the true vein; whilst an earlier pupil, prolific
as himself, as imaginative, and sometimes more deliberately uncouth—William
Strang, A.R.A. (b. 1859)—carried on in his own way the tradition of that part of
Legros’s practice, the preoccupation with the humble, for which Legros himself found
certain warrant in a portion of the great œuvre of Rembrandt. Frank Short, A.R.A. (b.
1857), as with the very touch of Turner, carried to completion great designs that
Turner left unfinished for the Liber studiorum. The delicacy of “Sleeping till the
Flood,” the curiously suggestive realism of “Wrought Nails”—a scene in the Black
Country—entitle him to a lasting place in the list of the fine wielders of the etching-
needle. D.Y. Cameron (b. 1865) betrays the influence of Rembrandt in a noble
etching, “Border Towers,” and the influence of Méryon in such a print as that of “The
Palace, Stirling.” His “London Set” is particularly fine. The individuality of C.J.
Watson is less marked, but his skill, chiefly in architectural work, is noticeable.
Admirers of the studiously accurate portraiture of a great monument may be able to
set Watson’s print of “St Étienne du Mont” by the side of Méryon’s august and
mysterious and ever-memorable vision. Paul Helleu (b. 1859) in his brilliant sketches,
particularly of women, has used the art of etching in a peculiarly individual and
delightful way. Among the numerous other modern etchers only a bare mention can be
made of Oliver Hall, Minna Bolingbroke and Elizabeth Armstrong (Mrs Watson and
Mrs Stanhope Forbes), Alfred East, Robert Macbeth, Walter Sickert, Robert Goff,
Mortimer Menpes, Percy Thomas, Raven Hill, and Prof. H. von Herkomer, in
England; in France, Roussel, J.F. Raffaëlli (b. 1850), Besnard and J.J.J. Tissot (1836-
1902).
The oldest treatise on etching is that of Abraham Bosse (1645). See also P.G.
Hamerton, Etching and Etchers (1868), and Etchers’ Handbook (1881); F.
Wedmore, Etching in England (1895); Singer and Strang, Etching, Engraving,
&c. (1897).
dans l’Église St Médard” is perhaps the best instance of the dignity, vigour and grave
sympathy with which he addresses himself to ecclesiastical themes. Something of
these latter qualities, in dealing with similar themes, Legros passed on to his pupil, Sir
Charles Holroyd (b. 1861)—an etcher in the true vein; whilst an earlier pupil, prolific
as himself, as imaginative, and sometimes more deliberately uncouth—William
Strang, A.R.A. (b. 1859)—carried on in his own way the tradition of that part of
Legros’s practice, the preoccupation with the humble, for which Legros himself found
certain warrant in a portion of the great œuvre of Rembrandt. Frank Short, A.R.A. (b.
1857), as with the very touch of Turner, carried to completion great designs that
Turner left unfinished for the Liber studiorum. The delicacy of “Sleeping till the
Flood,” the curiously suggestive realism of “Wrought Nails”—a scene in the Black
Country—entitle him to a lasting place in the list of the fine wielders of the etching-
needle. D.Y. Cameron (b. 1865) betrays the influence of Rembrandt in a noble
etching, “Border Towers,” and the influence of Méryon in such a print as that of “The
Palace, Stirling.” His “London Set” is particularly fine. The individuality of C.J.
Watson is less marked, but his skill, chiefly in architectural work, is noticeable.
Admirers of the studiously accurate portraiture of a great monument may be able to
set Watson’s print of “St Étienne du Mont” by the side of Méryon’s august and
mysterious and ever-memorable vision. Paul Helleu (b. 1859) in his brilliant sketches,
particularly of women, has used the art of etching in a peculiarly individual and
delightful way. Among the numerous other modern etchers only a bare mention can be
made of Oliver Hall, Minna Bolingbroke and Elizabeth Armstrong (Mrs Watson and
Mrs Stanhope Forbes), Alfred East, Robert Macbeth, Walter Sickert, Robert Goff,
Mortimer Menpes, Percy Thomas, Raven Hill, and Prof. H. von Herkomer, in
England; in France, Roussel, J.F. Raffaëlli (b. 1850), Besnard and J.J.J. Tissot (1836-
1902).
The oldest treatise on etching is that of Abraham Bosse (1645). See also P.G.
Hamerton, Etching and Etchers (1868), and Etchers’ Handbook (1881); F.
Wedmore, Etching in England (1895); Singer and Strang, Etching, Engraving,
&c. (1897).
Page 447
ETEOCLES, in Greek legend, king of Thebes, son of Oedipus and Jocasta
(Iocaste). After their father had been driven out of the country, he and his brother
Polyneices agreed to reign alternately for a year. Eteocles, however, refused to keep
the agreement, and Polyneices fled to Adrastus, king of Argos, whom he persuaded to
undertake the famous expedition against Thebes on his behalf. The two brothers met
in single combat, and both were slain. The Theban rulers decreed that only Eteocles
should receive the honour of burial, but the decree was set at naught by Antigone
(q.v.), the sister of Polyneices. The fate of Eteocles and Polyneices forms the subject
of the Seven against Thebes of Aeschylus and the Phoenissae of Euripides.
ETESIAN WIND (Lat. etesius, annual; Gr. ἔτος, year), a Mediterranean wind
blowing from the north and west in summer for about six weeks annually.
ÉTEX, ANTOINE (1808-1888), French sculptor, painter and architect, was born in
Paris on the 20th of March 1808. He first exhibited in the salon of 1833, his work
including a reproduction in marble of his “Death of Hyacinthus,” and the plaster cast
of his “Cain and his race cursed by God.” Thiers, who was at this time minister of
public works, now commissioned him to execute the two groups of “Peace” and
“War,” placed at each side of the Arc de Triomphe. This last, which established his
reputation, he reproduced in marble in the salon of 1839. The French capital contains
numerous examples of the sculptural works of Étex, which included mythological and
religious subjects besides a great number of portraits. His paintings include the
subjects of Eurydice and the martyrdom of Saint Sebastian, and among the best
known of his architectural productions are the tomb of Napoleon I. in the Invalides
and a monument of the revolution of 1848. Étex wrote a number of essays on subjects
(Iocaste). After their father had been driven out of the country, he and his brother
Polyneices agreed to reign alternately for a year. Eteocles, however, refused to keep
the agreement, and Polyneices fled to Adrastus, king of Argos, whom he persuaded to
undertake the famous expedition against Thebes on his behalf. The two brothers met
in single combat, and both were slain. The Theban rulers decreed that only Eteocles
should receive the honour of burial, but the decree was set at naught by Antigone
(q.v.), the sister of Polyneices. The fate of Eteocles and Polyneices forms the subject
of the Seven against Thebes of Aeschylus and the Phoenissae of Euripides.
ETESIAN WIND (Lat. etesius, annual; Gr. ἔτος, year), a Mediterranean wind
blowing from the north and west in summer for about six weeks annually.
ÉTEX, ANTOINE (1808-1888), French sculptor, painter and architect, was born in
Paris on the 20th of March 1808. He first exhibited in the salon of 1833, his work
including a reproduction in marble of his “Death of Hyacinthus,” and the plaster cast
of his “Cain and his race cursed by God.” Thiers, who was at this time minister of
public works, now commissioned him to execute the two groups of “Peace” and
“War,” placed at each side of the Arc de Triomphe. This last, which established his
reputation, he reproduced in marble in the salon of 1839. The French capital contains
numerous examples of the sculptural works of Étex, which included mythological and
religious subjects besides a great number of portraits. His paintings include the
subjects of Eurydice and the martyrdom of Saint Sebastian, and among the best
known of his architectural productions are the tomb of Napoleon I. in the Invalides
and a monument of the revolution of 1848. Étex wrote a number of essays on subjects
Page 448
connected with the arts. The last year of his life was spent at Nice, and he died at
Chaville (Seine-et-Oise) on the 14th of July 1888.
See P.E. Mangeant, Antoine Étex, peintre, sculpteur et architecte, 1808-1888
(Paris, 1894).
ETHER, (C2H5)2O, the Aether of pharmacy, a colourless, volatile, highly
inflammable liquid, of specific gravity 0.736 at 0°, boiling-point 35° C., and freezing-
point −117°.4 C. (K. Olszewski). It has a strong and characteristic odour, and a hot
sweetish taste, is soluble in ten parts of water, and in all proportions in alcohol, and
dissolves bromine, iodine, and, in small quantities, sulphur and phosphorus, also the
volatile oils, most fatty and resinous substances, guncotton, caoutchouc and certain of
the vegetable alkaloids. The vapour mixed with oxygen or air is violently explosive.
The making of ether by the action of sulphuric acid on alcohol was known in about
the 13th century; and later Basil Valentine and Valerius Cordus described its
preparation and properties. The name ether appears to have been applied to the drug
only since the times of Frobenius, who in 1730 termed it spiritus aethereus or vini
vitriolatus. It was considered to be a sulphur compound, hence its name sulphur ether;
this idea was proved to be erroneous by Valentine Rose in about 1800. Ether is
manufactured by the distillation of 5 parts of 90% alcohol with 9 parts of concentrated
sulphuric acid at a temperature of 140°-145° C., a constant stream of alcohol being
caused to flow into the mixture during the operation. The distillate is purified by
treatment with lime and calcium chloride, and subsequent distillation. The mechanism
of this reaction was explained by A. Williamson in 1850. For other methods of
preparation see Ethers.1
The presence of so small a quantity as 1% of alcohol may be detected in ether by
the colour imparted to it by aniline violet; if water or acetic acid be present, the ether
must be shaken with anhydrous potassium carbonate before the application of the test.
When heated with zinc dust, it yields ethylene and water. Chromic acid oxidizes it to
Chaville (Seine-et-Oise) on the 14th of July 1888.
See P.E. Mangeant, Antoine Étex, peintre, sculpteur et architecte, 1808-1888
(Paris, 1894).
ETHER, (C2H5)2O, the Aether of pharmacy, a colourless, volatile, highly
inflammable liquid, of specific gravity 0.736 at 0°, boiling-point 35° C., and freezing-
point −117°.4 C. (K. Olszewski). It has a strong and characteristic odour, and a hot
sweetish taste, is soluble in ten parts of water, and in all proportions in alcohol, and
dissolves bromine, iodine, and, in small quantities, sulphur and phosphorus, also the
volatile oils, most fatty and resinous substances, guncotton, caoutchouc and certain of
the vegetable alkaloids. The vapour mixed with oxygen or air is violently explosive.
The making of ether by the action of sulphuric acid on alcohol was known in about
the 13th century; and later Basil Valentine and Valerius Cordus described its
preparation and properties. The name ether appears to have been applied to the drug
only since the times of Frobenius, who in 1730 termed it spiritus aethereus or vini
vitriolatus. It was considered to be a sulphur compound, hence its name sulphur ether;
this idea was proved to be erroneous by Valentine Rose in about 1800. Ether is
manufactured by the distillation of 5 parts of 90% alcohol with 9 parts of concentrated
sulphuric acid at a temperature of 140°-145° C., a constant stream of alcohol being
caused to flow into the mixture during the operation. The distillate is purified by
treatment with lime and calcium chloride, and subsequent distillation. The mechanism
of this reaction was explained by A. Williamson in 1850. For other methods of
preparation see Ethers.1
The presence of so small a quantity as 1% of alcohol may be detected in ether by
the colour imparted to it by aniline violet; if water or acetic acid be present, the ether
must be shaken with anhydrous potassium carbonate before the application of the test.
When heated with zinc dust, it yields ethylene and water. Chromic acid oxidizes it to
Page 449
acetic acid and ozone oxidizes it to ethyl peroxide. In contact with hydriodic acid gas
at 0° C., it forms ethyl iodide (R.D. Silva, Ber., 1875, 8, p. 903), and with water and a
little sulphuric acid at 180° C., it yields alcohol (E. Erlenmeyer, Zeit. f. chemie, 1868,
p. 343). It forms crystalline compounds with bromine and with many metallic salts.
Medicine.—For the anaesthetic properties of ether see Anaesthesia. Applied
externally, ether evaporates very rapidly, producing such intense cold as to cause
marked local anaesthesia. For this purpose it is best applied as a fine spray, but ethyl
chloride is generally found more efficient and produces less subsequent discomfort. It
aids the absorption of fats and may be used with cod liver oil when the latter is
administered by the skin. If it be rubbed in or evaporation be prevented, it acts, like
alcohol and chloroform, as an irritant. Ten to twenty minims of ether, subcutaneously
injected, constitute perhaps the most rapid and powerful cardiac stimulant known, and
are often employed for this purpose in cases of syncope under anaesthesia. Taken
internally, ether acts in many respects similarly to alcohol and chloroform, but its
stimulant action on the heart is much more marked, being exerted both reflexly from
the stomach and directly after its rapid absorption. Ether is thus the type of a rapidly
diffusible stimulant. It is also useful in relieving the paroxysms of asthma. The dose
for repeated administration is from 10 to 30 minims and for a single administration up
to a drachm.
Chronic Poisoning.—A dose of a little more than a drachm (a teaspoonful) will
produce a condition of inebriation lasting for one-half to one hour, but the dose must
soon be greatly increased. The after-effects are, if anything, rather pleasant, and the
habit of ether drinking is certainly not so injurious as alcoholism. The principal
symptoms symptons of chronic ether-drinking are a weakening of the activity of the
special senses, and notably sight and hearing, a lowering of the intelligence and a
degree of general paresis (partial paralysis) of motion.
1 See also J. v. Liebig, Ann. Chem. Pharm., 1837, 23, p. 39; 1839, 30, p. 129; E. Mitscherlich, Pogg.
Ann., 1836, 31, p. 273; 1841, 53, p. 95; A.W. Williamson, Phil. Mag., 1850 (3), 37, p. 350.
at 0° C., it forms ethyl iodide (R.D. Silva, Ber., 1875, 8, p. 903), and with water and a
little sulphuric acid at 180° C., it yields alcohol (E. Erlenmeyer, Zeit. f. chemie, 1868,
p. 343). It forms crystalline compounds with bromine and with many metallic salts.
Medicine.—For the anaesthetic properties of ether see Anaesthesia. Applied
externally, ether evaporates very rapidly, producing such intense cold as to cause
marked local anaesthesia. For this purpose it is best applied as a fine spray, but ethyl
chloride is generally found more efficient and produces less subsequent discomfort. It
aids the absorption of fats and may be used with cod liver oil when the latter is
administered by the skin. If it be rubbed in or evaporation be prevented, it acts, like
alcohol and chloroform, as an irritant. Ten to twenty minims of ether, subcutaneously
injected, constitute perhaps the most rapid and powerful cardiac stimulant known, and
are often employed for this purpose in cases of syncope under anaesthesia. Taken
internally, ether acts in many respects similarly to alcohol and chloroform, but its
stimulant action on the heart is much more marked, being exerted both reflexly from
the stomach and directly after its rapid absorption. Ether is thus the type of a rapidly
diffusible stimulant. It is also useful in relieving the paroxysms of asthma. The dose
for repeated administration is from 10 to 30 minims and for a single administration up
to a drachm.
Chronic Poisoning.—A dose of a little more than a drachm (a teaspoonful) will
produce a condition of inebriation lasting for one-half to one hour, but the dose must
soon be greatly increased. The after-effects are, if anything, rather pleasant, and the
habit of ether drinking is certainly not so injurious as alcoholism. The principal
symptoms symptons of chronic ether-drinking are a weakening of the activity of the
special senses, and notably sight and hearing, a lowering of the intelligence and a
degree of general paresis (partial paralysis) of motion.
1 See also J. v. Liebig, Ann. Chem. Pharm., 1837, 23, p. 39; 1839, 30, p. 129; E. Mitscherlich, Pogg.
Ann., 1836, 31, p. 273; 1841, 53, p. 95; A.W. Williamson, Phil. Mag., 1850 (3), 37, p. 350.
Page 450
ETHEREDGE [or Etherege], SIR GEORGE (c. 1635-1691), English dramatist,
was born about the year 1635, and belonged to an Oxfordshire family. He is said to
have been educated at Cambridge, but Dennis assures us that “to his certain
knowledge he understood neither Greek nor Latin.” He travelled abroad early, and
seems to have resided in France. It is possible that he witnessed in Paris the
performances of some of Molière’s earliest comedies; and he seems, from an allusion
in one of his plays, to have been personally acquainted with Bussy Rabutin. On his
return to London he studied the law at one of the Inns of Court. His tastes were those
of a fine gentleman, and he indulged freely in pleasure.
Sometime soon after the Restoration he composed his comedy of The Comical
Revenge or Love in a Tub, which introduced him to Lord Buckhurst, afterwards the
earl of Dorset. This was brought out at the Duke’s theatre in 1664, and a few copies
were printed in the same year. It is partly in rhymed heroic verse, like the stilted
tragedies of the Howards and Killigrews, but it contains comic scenes that are
exceedingly bright and fresh. The sparring between Sir Frederick and the Widow
introduced a style of wit hitherto unknown upon the English stage. The success of this
play was very great, but Etheredge waited four years before he repeated his
experiment. Meanwhile he gained the highest reputation as a poetical beau, and
moved in the circle of Sir Charles Sedley, Lord Rochester and the other noble wits of
the day. In 1668 he brought out She would if she could, a comedy in many respects
admirable, full of action, wit and spirit, although to the last degree frivolous and
immoral. But in this play Etheredge first shows himself a new power in literature; he
has nothing of the rudeness of his predecessors or the grossness of his contemporaries.
We move in an airy and fantastic world, where flirtation is the only serious business of
life. At this time Etheredge was living a life no less frivolous and unprincipled than
those of his Courtals and Freemans. He formed an alliance with the famous actress
Mrs Elizabeth Barry; she bore him a daughter, on whom he settled £6000, but who,
unhappily, died in her youth. His wealth and wit, the distinction and charm of his
manners, won Etheredge the general worship of society, and his temperament is best
known by the names his contemporaries gave him, of “gentle George” and “easy
Etheredge.” Rochester upbraided him for inattention to literature; and at last, after a
silence of eight years, he came forward with one more play, unfortunately his last. The
Man of Mode or Sir Fopling Flutter, indisputably the best comedy of intrigue written
in England before the days of Congreve, was acted and printed in 1676, and enjoyed
was born about the year 1635, and belonged to an Oxfordshire family. He is said to
have been educated at Cambridge, but Dennis assures us that “to his certain
knowledge he understood neither Greek nor Latin.” He travelled abroad early, and
seems to have resided in France. It is possible that he witnessed in Paris the
performances of some of Molière’s earliest comedies; and he seems, from an allusion
in one of his plays, to have been personally acquainted with Bussy Rabutin. On his
return to London he studied the law at one of the Inns of Court. His tastes were those
of a fine gentleman, and he indulged freely in pleasure.
Sometime soon after the Restoration he composed his comedy of The Comical
Revenge or Love in a Tub, which introduced him to Lord Buckhurst, afterwards the
earl of Dorset. This was brought out at the Duke’s theatre in 1664, and a few copies
were printed in the same year. It is partly in rhymed heroic verse, like the stilted
tragedies of the Howards and Killigrews, but it contains comic scenes that are
exceedingly bright and fresh. The sparring between Sir Frederick and the Widow
introduced a style of wit hitherto unknown upon the English stage. The success of this
play was very great, but Etheredge waited four years before he repeated his
experiment. Meanwhile he gained the highest reputation as a poetical beau, and
moved in the circle of Sir Charles Sedley, Lord Rochester and the other noble wits of
the day. In 1668 he brought out She would if she could, a comedy in many respects
admirable, full of action, wit and spirit, although to the last degree frivolous and
immoral. But in this play Etheredge first shows himself a new power in literature; he
has nothing of the rudeness of his predecessors or the grossness of his contemporaries.
We move in an airy and fantastic world, where flirtation is the only serious business of
life. At this time Etheredge was living a life no less frivolous and unprincipled than
those of his Courtals and Freemans. He formed an alliance with the famous actress
Mrs Elizabeth Barry; she bore him a daughter, on whom he settled £6000, but who,
unhappily, died in her youth. His wealth and wit, the distinction and charm of his
manners, won Etheredge the general worship of society, and his temperament is best
known by the names his contemporaries gave him, of “gentle George” and “easy
Etheredge.” Rochester upbraided him for inattention to literature; and at last, after a
silence of eight years, he came forward with one more play, unfortunately his last. The
Man of Mode or Sir Fopling Flutter, indisputably the best comedy of intrigue written
in England before the days of Congreve, was acted and printed in 1676, and enjoyed
Page 451
an unbounded success. Besides the merit of its plot and wit, it had the personal charm
of being supposed to satirize, or at least to paint, persons well known in London. Sir
Fopling Flutter was a portrait of Beau Hewit, the reigning exquisite of the hour; in
Dorimant the poet drew the earl of Rochester, and in Medley a portrait of himself;
while even the drunken shoemaker was a real character, who made his fortune from
being thus brought into public notice. After this brilliant success Etheredge retired
from literature; his gallantries and his gambling in a few years deprived him of his
fortune, and he looked about for a rich match. He was knighted before 1680, and
gained the hand and the money of a rich widow. He was sent by Charles II. on a
mission to the Hague, and in March 1685 was appointed resident minister in the
imperial German court at Regensburg. He was very uncomfortable in Germany, and
after three and a half years’ residence left for Paris. He had collected a library at
Regensburg, some volumes of which are in the theological college there. His MS.
despatches are preserved in the British Museum, where they were discovered and
described by Mr Gosse in 1881; they add very largely to our knowledge of
Etheredge’s career. He died in Paris, probably in 1691, for Narcissus Luttrell notes in
February 1692 that “Sir George Etherege, the late King James’ ambassador to Vienna,
died lately in Paris.”
Etheredge deserves to hold a more distinguished place in English literature than has
generally been allotted to him. In a dull and heavy age, he inaugurated a period of
genuine wit and sprightliness. He invented the comedy of intrigue, and led the way for
the masterpieces of Congreve and Sheridan. Before his time the manner of Ben
Jonson had prevailed in comedy, and traditional “humours” and typical eccentricities,
instead of real characters, had crowded the comic stage. Etheredge paints with a light,
faint hand, but it is from nature, and his portraits of fops and beaux are simply
unexcelled. No one knows better than he how to present a gay young gentleman, a
Dorimant, “an unconfinable rover after amorous adventures.” His genius is as light as
thistle-down; he is frivolous, without force of conviction, without principle; but his
wit is very sparkling, and his style pure and singularly picturesque. No one
approaches Etheredge in delicate touches of dress, furniture and scene; he makes the
fine airs of London gentlemen and ladies live before our eyes even more vividly than
Congreve does; but he has less insight and less energy than Congreve. Had he been
poor or ambitious, he might have been to England almost what Molière was to France,
but he was a rich man living at his ease, and he disdained to excel in literature.
of being supposed to satirize, or at least to paint, persons well known in London. Sir
Fopling Flutter was a portrait of Beau Hewit, the reigning exquisite of the hour; in
Dorimant the poet drew the earl of Rochester, and in Medley a portrait of himself;
while even the drunken shoemaker was a real character, who made his fortune from
being thus brought into public notice. After this brilliant success Etheredge retired
from literature; his gallantries and his gambling in a few years deprived him of his
fortune, and he looked about for a rich match. He was knighted before 1680, and
gained the hand and the money of a rich widow. He was sent by Charles II. on a
mission to the Hague, and in March 1685 was appointed resident minister in the
imperial German court at Regensburg. He was very uncomfortable in Germany, and
after three and a half years’ residence left for Paris. He had collected a library at
Regensburg, some volumes of which are in the theological college there. His MS.
despatches are preserved in the British Museum, where they were discovered and
described by Mr Gosse in 1881; they add very largely to our knowledge of
Etheredge’s career. He died in Paris, probably in 1691, for Narcissus Luttrell notes in
February 1692 that “Sir George Etherege, the late King James’ ambassador to Vienna,
died lately in Paris.”
Etheredge deserves to hold a more distinguished place in English literature than has
generally been allotted to him. In a dull and heavy age, he inaugurated a period of
genuine wit and sprightliness. He invented the comedy of intrigue, and led the way for
the masterpieces of Congreve and Sheridan. Before his time the manner of Ben
Jonson had prevailed in comedy, and traditional “humours” and typical eccentricities,
instead of real characters, had crowded the comic stage. Etheredge paints with a light,
faint hand, but it is from nature, and his portraits of fops and beaux are simply
unexcelled. No one knows better than he how to present a gay young gentleman, a
Dorimant, “an unconfinable rover after amorous adventures.” His genius is as light as
thistle-down; he is frivolous, without force of conviction, without principle; but his
wit is very sparkling, and his style pure and singularly picturesque. No one
approaches Etheredge in delicate touches of dress, furniture and scene; he makes the
fine airs of London gentlemen and ladies live before our eyes even more vividly than
Congreve does; but he has less insight and less energy than Congreve. Had he been
poor or ambitious, he might have been to England almost what Molière was to France,
but he was a rich man living at his ease, and he disdained to excel in literature.
Page 452
Etheredge was “a fair, slender, genteel man, but spoiled his countenance with
drinking.” His contemporaries all agree in acknowledging that he was the soul of
affability and sprightly good-nature.
The life of Etheredge was first given in detail by Edmund Gosse in
Seventeenth Century Studies (1883). His works were edited by A.W. Verity, in
1888.
(E. G.)
ETHERIDGE, JOHN WESLEY (1804-1866), English nonconformist divine, was
born near Newport, Isle of Wight, on the 24th of February 1804. He received most of
his early education from his father. Though he never attended any university he
acquired ultimately a thorough knowledge of Greek, Latin, Hebrew, Syriac, French
and German. In 1824 he was placed on the Wesleyan Methodist plan as a local
preacher. In 1826 his offer to enter the ministry was accepted, and after the usual
probationary trial he was received into full connexion at the conference of 1831. For
two years after this he remained at Brighton, and in 1833 he removed to Cornwall,
being stationed successively at the Truro and Falmouth circuits. From Falmouth he
removed to Darlaston, where in 1838 his health gave way. For a good many years he
was a supernumerary, and lived for a while at Caen and Paris, where in the public
libraries he found great facilities for prosecuting his favourite Oriental studies. His
health having considerably improved, he became, in 1843, pastor of the Methodist
church at Boulogne. He returned to England in 1847, and was appointed successively
to the circuits of Islington, Bristol, Leeds, Penzance, Penryn, Truro and St Austell in
east Cornwall. Shortly after his return to England he received the degree of Ph.D.
from the university of Heidelberg. He was a patient, modest, hard-working and
accurate scholar. He died at Camborne on the 24th of May 1866.
His principal works are Horae Aramaicae (1843); History, Liturgies and
Literature of the Syrian Churches (1847); The Apostolic Acts and Epistles, from
the Peshito or Ancient Syriac (1849); Jerusalem and Tiberias, a Survey of the
drinking.” His contemporaries all agree in acknowledging that he was the soul of
affability and sprightly good-nature.
The life of Etheredge was first given in detail by Edmund Gosse in
Seventeenth Century Studies (1883). His works were edited by A.W. Verity, in
1888.
(E. G.)
ETHERIDGE, JOHN WESLEY (1804-1866), English nonconformist divine, was
born near Newport, Isle of Wight, on the 24th of February 1804. He received most of
his early education from his father. Though he never attended any university he
acquired ultimately a thorough knowledge of Greek, Latin, Hebrew, Syriac, French
and German. In 1824 he was placed on the Wesleyan Methodist plan as a local
preacher. In 1826 his offer to enter the ministry was accepted, and after the usual
probationary trial he was received into full connexion at the conference of 1831. For
two years after this he remained at Brighton, and in 1833 he removed to Cornwall,
being stationed successively at the Truro and Falmouth circuits. From Falmouth he
removed to Darlaston, where in 1838 his health gave way. For a good many years he
was a supernumerary, and lived for a while at Caen and Paris, where in the public
libraries he found great facilities for prosecuting his favourite Oriental studies. His
health having considerably improved, he became, in 1843, pastor of the Methodist
church at Boulogne. He returned to England in 1847, and was appointed successively
to the circuits of Islington, Bristol, Leeds, Penzance, Penryn, Truro and St Austell in
east Cornwall. Shortly after his return to England he received the degree of Ph.D.
from the university of Heidelberg. He was a patient, modest, hard-working and
accurate scholar. He died at Camborne on the 24th of May 1866.
His principal works are Horae Aramaicae (1843); History, Liturgies and
Literature of the Syrian Churches (1847); The Apostolic Acts and Epistles, from
the Peshito or Ancient Syriac (1849); Jerusalem and Tiberias, a Survey of the
Page 453
Religious and Scholastic Learning of the Jews (1856); The Targums of Onkelos
and Jonathan ben Uzziel (1st vol. in 1862, 2nd in 1865). See Memoir, by Rev.
Thornley Smith (1871).
ETHERIDGE, ROBERT (1819-1903), English geologist and palaeontologist, was
born at Ross, in Herefordshire, on the 3rd of December 1819. After an ordinary school
education in his native town, he obtained employment in a business house in Bristol.
There he devoted his spare time to natural history pursuits, and in 1850 was appointed
curator of the museum attached to the Bristol Philosophical Institution. He also
became lecturer on botany in the Bristol medical school. In 1857, through the
influence of Sir Roderick I. Murchison, he was appointed to a post in the Museum of
Practical Geology in London, and eventually became palaeontologist to the
Geological Survey. In 1865 he assisted Prof. Huxley in the preparation of a Catalogue
of Fossils in the Museum of Practical Geology. His chief work for many years was in
naming the fossils collected during the progress of the Geological Survey, and in
supplying the lists that were appended to numerous official memoirs. In this way he
acquired an exceptional knowledge of British fossils, and he ultimately prepared an
elaborate work entitled Fossils of the British Islands, Stratigraphically and
Zoologically arranged. Only the first volume dealing with the Palaeozoic species was
published (1888). Etheridge also was author of several papers on the Rhaetic Beds,
and of an important essay on the Physical Structure of North Devon, and on the
Palaeontological Value of the Devonian Fossils (1867). He edited, and in the main
rewrote, the second part of a new edition of John Phillips’ Manual of Geology—
entitled Stratigraphical Geology and Palaeontology (1885). He was elected F.R.S. in
1871, and was president of the Geological Society in 1881-1882. In 1881 Etheridge
was transferred from the Geological Survey to the geological department of the
British Museum, where he served as assistant keeper until 1891. He died at Chelsea,
London, on the 18th of December 1903.
and Jonathan ben Uzziel (1st vol. in 1862, 2nd in 1865). See Memoir, by Rev.
Thornley Smith (1871).
ETHERIDGE, ROBERT (1819-1903), English geologist and palaeontologist, was
born at Ross, in Herefordshire, on the 3rd of December 1819. After an ordinary school
education in his native town, he obtained employment in a business house in Bristol.
There he devoted his spare time to natural history pursuits, and in 1850 was appointed
curator of the museum attached to the Bristol Philosophical Institution. He also
became lecturer on botany in the Bristol medical school. In 1857, through the
influence of Sir Roderick I. Murchison, he was appointed to a post in the Museum of
Practical Geology in London, and eventually became palaeontologist to the
Geological Survey. In 1865 he assisted Prof. Huxley in the preparation of a Catalogue
of Fossils in the Museum of Practical Geology. His chief work for many years was in
naming the fossils collected during the progress of the Geological Survey, and in
supplying the lists that were appended to numerous official memoirs. In this way he
acquired an exceptional knowledge of British fossils, and he ultimately prepared an
elaborate work entitled Fossils of the British Islands, Stratigraphically and
Zoologically arranged. Only the first volume dealing with the Palaeozoic species was
published (1888). Etheridge also was author of several papers on the Rhaetic Beds,
and of an important essay on the Physical Structure of North Devon, and on the
Palaeontological Value of the Devonian Fossils (1867). He edited, and in the main
rewrote, the second part of a new edition of John Phillips’ Manual of Geology—
entitled Stratigraphical Geology and Palaeontology (1885). He was elected F.R.S. in
1871, and was president of the Geological Society in 1881-1882. In 1881 Etheridge
was transferred from the Geological Survey to the geological department of the
British Museum, where he served as assistant keeper until 1891. He died at Chelsea,
London, on the 18th of December 1903.
Page 454
Memoir by Dr Henry Woodward (with list of works and portrait) in
Geological Magazine, January 1904; also Memoir by H.B. Woodward (with
portrait) in Proc. Bristol Nat. Soc. x. 175.
ETHERS, in organic chemistry, compounds of the general formula R·O·R′, where
R, R′ = alkyl or aryl groups. They may be regarded as the anhydrides of the alcohols,
being formed by elimination of one molecule of water from two molecules of the
alcohols; those in which the two hydrocarbon radicals are similar are known as simple
ethers, and those in which they are dissimilar as mixed ethers. They may be prepared
by the action of concentrated sulphuric acid on the alcohols, alkyl sulphuric acids
being first formed, which yield ethers on heating with alcohols. The process may be
made a continuous one by running a thin stream of alcohol continually into the heated
reaction mixture of alcohol and sulphuric acid. Benzene sulphonic acid has been used
in place of sulphuric acid (F. Krafft, Ber., 1893, 26, p. 2829). A.W. Williamson (Ann.,
1851, 77, p. 38; 1852, 81, p. 77) prepared ether by the action of sodium ethylate on
ethyl iodide, and showed that all ethers must possess the structural formula given
above (see also Brit. Assoc. Reports, 1850, p. 65). They may also be prepared by
heating the alkyl halides with silver oxide.
The ethers are neutral volatile liquids (the first member, methyl ether, is a gas at
ordinary temperature). Phosphorus pentachloride converts them into alkyl chlorides, a
similar decomposition taking place when they are heated with the haloid acids. Nitric
acid and chromic acid oxidize them in such a mariner that they yield the same
products as the alcohols from which they are derived. With chlorine they yield
substitution products.
Methyl ether, (CH3)2O, was first prepared by J. B. Dumas and E. Péligot (Ann.
chim. phys., 1835, [2] 58, p. 19) by heating methyl alcohol with sulphuric acid. It is
best prepared by heating methyl alcohol and sulphuric acid to 140° C. and leading the
evolved gas into sulphuric acid. The sulphuric acid solution is then allowed to drop
Geological Magazine, January 1904; also Memoir by H.B. Woodward (with
portrait) in Proc. Bristol Nat. Soc. x. 175.
ETHERS, in organic chemistry, compounds of the general formula R·O·R′, where
R, R′ = alkyl or aryl groups. They may be regarded as the anhydrides of the alcohols,
being formed by elimination of one molecule of water from two molecules of the
alcohols; those in which the two hydrocarbon radicals are similar are known as simple
ethers, and those in which they are dissimilar as mixed ethers. They may be prepared
by the action of concentrated sulphuric acid on the alcohols, alkyl sulphuric acids
being first formed, which yield ethers on heating with alcohols. The process may be
made a continuous one by running a thin stream of alcohol continually into the heated
reaction mixture of alcohol and sulphuric acid. Benzene sulphonic acid has been used
in place of sulphuric acid (F. Krafft, Ber., 1893, 26, p. 2829). A.W. Williamson (Ann.,
1851, 77, p. 38; 1852, 81, p. 77) prepared ether by the action of sodium ethylate on
ethyl iodide, and showed that all ethers must possess the structural formula given
above (see also Brit. Assoc. Reports, 1850, p. 65). They may also be prepared by
heating the alkyl halides with silver oxide.
The ethers are neutral volatile liquids (the first member, methyl ether, is a gas at
ordinary temperature). Phosphorus pentachloride converts them into alkyl chlorides, a
similar decomposition taking place when they are heated with the haloid acids. Nitric
acid and chromic acid oxidize them in such a mariner that they yield the same
products as the alcohols from which they are derived. With chlorine they yield
substitution products.
Methyl ether, (CH3)2O, was first prepared by J. B. Dumas and E. Péligot (Ann.
chim. phys., 1835, [2] 58, p. 19) by heating methyl alcohol with sulphuric acid. It is
best prepared by heating methyl alcohol and sulphuric acid to 140° C. and leading the
evolved gas into sulphuric acid. The sulphuric acid solution is then allowed to drop
Page 455
slowly into an equal volume of water, when the methyl ether is liberated (E.
Erlenmeyer and A. Kriechbaumer, Ber., 1874, 7, p. 699). It is a pleasant-smelling gas,
which burns when ignited, and may be condensed to a liquid which boils at 23.6º C. It
is somewhat soluble in water and readily soluble in alcohol, and concentrated
sulphuric acid. It combines with hydrochloric acid gas to form a compound
(CH3)2O·HCl (C. Friedel, Comptes rendus, 1875, 81, p. 152). Methyl ethyl ether,
CH3·O·C2H5, is prepared from methyl iodide and sodium ethylate, or from ethyl
iodide and sodium methylate (A. W. Williamson, Ann., 1852, 81, p. 77). It is a liquid
which boils at 10.8º C.
For diethyl ether see Ether, and for methyl phenyl ether (anisole) and ethyl
phenyl ether (phenetole) see Carbolic Acid.
ETHICS, the name generally given to the science of moral philosophy. The word
“ethics” is derived from the Gr. ἠθικός, that which pertains to ἦθος, character.
For convenience in reference, the arrangement followed in this article may be
explained at the outset:—
page
I. DEFINITION AND SCOPE 809
II. HISTORICAL SKETCH 810
A. Greek and Graeco-Roman Ethics 810
The Age of the Sophists 811
Socrates and his Disciples 811
Plato 812
Plato and Aristotle 814
Aristotle 815
Stoicism 816
Erlenmeyer and A. Kriechbaumer, Ber., 1874, 7, p. 699). It is a pleasant-smelling gas,
which burns when ignited, and may be condensed to a liquid which boils at 23.6º C. It
is somewhat soluble in water and readily soluble in alcohol, and concentrated
sulphuric acid. It combines with hydrochloric acid gas to form a compound
(CH3)2O·HCl (C. Friedel, Comptes rendus, 1875, 81, p. 152). Methyl ethyl ether,
CH3·O·C2H5, is prepared from methyl iodide and sodium ethylate, or from ethyl
iodide and sodium methylate (A. W. Williamson, Ann., 1852, 81, p. 77). It is a liquid
which boils at 10.8º C.
For diethyl ether see Ether, and for methyl phenyl ether (anisole) and ethyl
phenyl ether (phenetole) see Carbolic Acid.
ETHICS, the name generally given to the science of moral philosophy. The word
“ethics” is derived from the Gr. ἠθικός, that which pertains to ἦθος, character.
For convenience in reference, the arrangement followed in this article may be
explained at the outset:—
page
I. DEFINITION AND SCOPE 809
II. HISTORICAL SKETCH 810
A. Greek and Graeco-Roman Ethics 810
The Age of the Sophists 811
Socrates and his Disciples 811
Plato 812
Plato and Aristotle 814
Aristotle 815
Stoicism 816
Page 456
Hedonism (Epicurus) 818
Later Greek and Roman Ethics 818
Neoplatonism 819
B. Christianity and Medieval Ethics 820
Christian and Jewish “Law of God” 820
Christian and Pagan Inwardness 820
(Knowledge, Faith, Love, Purity)
Distinctive Particulars of Christian Morality 821
Development of Opinion in Early Christianity, Augustine, Ambrose 823
Medieval Morality and Moral Philosophy 824
Thomas Aquinas 824
Casuistry and Jesuitry 826
The Reformation; and birth of Modern Thought 826
C. Modern Ethics 827
Grotius 827
Hobbes 827
The Cambridge Moralists 828
(Cudworth, More)
Cumberland 829
Locke 829
Clarke 829
Shaftesbury 830
Mandeville 830
Butler 831
Wollaston 831
Hutcheson 831
Hume 832
Adam Smith 833
The Intuitional School 833
(Price, Reid, Stewart, Whewell)
The Utilitarian School 835
(Paley, Bentham, Mill)
Association and Evolution 837
Later Greek and Roman Ethics 818
Neoplatonism 819
B. Christianity and Medieval Ethics 820
Christian and Jewish “Law of God” 820
Christian and Pagan Inwardness 820
(Knowledge, Faith, Love, Purity)
Distinctive Particulars of Christian Morality 821
Development of Opinion in Early Christianity, Augustine, Ambrose 823
Medieval Morality and Moral Philosophy 824
Thomas Aquinas 824
Casuistry and Jesuitry 826
The Reformation; and birth of Modern Thought 826
C. Modern Ethics 827
Grotius 827
Hobbes 827
The Cambridge Moralists 828
(Cudworth, More)
Cumberland 829
Locke 829
Clarke 829
Shaftesbury 830
Mandeville 830
Butler 831
Wollaston 831
Hutcheson 831
Hume 832
Adam Smith 833
The Intuitional School 833
(Price, Reid, Stewart, Whewell)
The Utilitarian School 835
(Paley, Bentham, Mill)
Association and Evolution 837
Page 457
Free-will 837
French Influence on English Ethics 838
(Helvetius, Comte)
German Influence on English Ethics 839
(Kant, Hegel)
D. Ethics since 1879 840
III. Bibliography 845
Section I. contains a general survey of the subject; it shows in what sense
ethics is to be regarded as a special field of philosophical investigation—its
relations to other departments of thought, especially to psychology, religion and
modern physical science. The article makes no attempt to give a detailed,
casuistical examination of the matter of ethical theory. For this, reference must
be made to special articles on philosophic schools, writers and terms.
Section II. is a historical sketch in four parts tracing the main lines of
development in ethical speculation from its birth to the present day. Here again it
has been possible to notice only the salient points or landmarks, leaving all detail
to special articles as above. All important writers whose names occur in this
sketch are treated in special biographical articles, and references are given as
often as possible to supplementary articles which illustrate and explain points
which cannot be fully treated here. This is especially the case in connexion with
technical terms (whose history and meaning are inevitably taken for granted) and
biographical information about minor ethical writers.
I. Definition and Subject-Matter of Ethics
In its widest sense, the term “ethics” would imply an examination into the general
character or habits of mankind, and would even involve a description or history of the
habits of men in particular societies living at different periods of time. Such a field of
study would obviously be too wide for any particular science or philosophy to
investigate, and moreover portions of the field are already occupied by history, by
anthropology and by the particular sciences (e.g. physiology, anatomy, biology), in so
French Influence on English Ethics 838
(Helvetius, Comte)
German Influence on English Ethics 839
(Kant, Hegel)
D. Ethics since 1879 840
III. Bibliography 845
Section I. contains a general survey of the subject; it shows in what sense
ethics is to be regarded as a special field of philosophical investigation—its
relations to other departments of thought, especially to psychology, religion and
modern physical science. The article makes no attempt to give a detailed,
casuistical examination of the matter of ethical theory. For this, reference must
be made to special articles on philosophic schools, writers and terms.
Section II. is a historical sketch in four parts tracing the main lines of
development in ethical speculation from its birth to the present day. Here again it
has been possible to notice only the salient points or landmarks, leaving all detail
to special articles as above. All important writers whose names occur in this
sketch are treated in special biographical articles, and references are given as
often as possible to supplementary articles which illustrate and explain points
which cannot be fully treated here. This is especially the case in connexion with
technical terms (whose history and meaning are inevitably taken for granted) and
biographical information about minor ethical writers.
I. Definition and Subject-Matter of Ethics
In its widest sense, the term “ethics” would imply an examination into the general
character or habits of mankind, and would even involve a description or history of the
habits of men in particular societies living at different periods of time. Such a field of
study would obviously be too wide for any particular science or philosophy to
investigate, and moreover portions of the field are already occupied by history, by
anthropology and by the particular sciences (e.g. physiology, anatomy, biology), in so
Page 458
far as the habits and character of men depend upon the material processes which these
sciences examine. Even philosophies such as logic and aesthetic would be necessary
for such an investigation, if thought and artistic production are normal human habits
and elements in character. Ethics then is usually confined to the particular field of
human character and conduct so far as they depend upon or exhibit certain general
principles commonly known as moral principles. Men in general characterize their
own conduct and character and that of other men by such general adjectives as good,
bad, right and wrong, and it is the meaning and scope of these adjectives, primarily in
relation to human conduct, and ultimately in their final and absolute sense, that ethics
investigates.
A not uncommon definition of ethics as the “science of conduct” is inexact for
various reasons. (1) The sciences are descriptive or experimental. But a description of
what acts or what ends of action men in the present or the past call, or have called,
“good” or “bad” is clearly beyond human powers. And experiments in morality (apart
from the inconvenient practical consequences likely to ensue) are useless for purposes
of ethics, because the moral consciousness would itself at one and the same time be
required to make the experiment and to provide the subject upon which the
experiment is performed. (2) Ethics is a philosophy and not a science. Philosophy is a
process of reflection upon the presuppositions involved in unreflective thought. In
logic and metaphysics it investigates either the process of apprehension itself, or
conceptions such as cause, substance, space, time, which the ordinary scientific
consciousness never criticizes. In moral philosophy the place of the body of sciences,
which philosophy as the theory of knowledge investigates, is taken by the developed
moral consciousness, which already pronounces moral judgment without hesitation,
and claims authority to subject to continual criticism the institutions and forms of
social life which it has itself helped to create.
When ethical speculation first begins, conceptions such as those of duty,
responsibility, the will as the ultimate subject of moral approbation and
disapprobation, are already in existence and already operative. Moral philosophy in a
certain sense adds nothing to these conceptions, though it sets them in a clearer light.
The problems of the moral consciousness at the time at which it first becomes
reflective are not strictly speaking philosophical problems at all. It is occupied with
just such questions as each individual man who wishes to act rightly is constantly
sciences examine. Even philosophies such as logic and aesthetic would be necessary
for such an investigation, if thought and artistic production are normal human habits
and elements in character. Ethics then is usually confined to the particular field of
human character and conduct so far as they depend upon or exhibit certain general
principles commonly known as moral principles. Men in general characterize their
own conduct and character and that of other men by such general adjectives as good,
bad, right and wrong, and it is the meaning and scope of these adjectives, primarily in
relation to human conduct, and ultimately in their final and absolute sense, that ethics
investigates.
A not uncommon definition of ethics as the “science of conduct” is inexact for
various reasons. (1) The sciences are descriptive or experimental. But a description of
what acts or what ends of action men in the present or the past call, or have called,
“good” or “bad” is clearly beyond human powers. And experiments in morality (apart
from the inconvenient practical consequences likely to ensue) are useless for purposes
of ethics, because the moral consciousness would itself at one and the same time be
required to make the experiment and to provide the subject upon which the
experiment is performed. (2) Ethics is a philosophy and not a science. Philosophy is a
process of reflection upon the presuppositions involved in unreflective thought. In
logic and metaphysics it investigates either the process of apprehension itself, or
conceptions such as cause, substance, space, time, which the ordinary scientific
consciousness never criticizes. In moral philosophy the place of the body of sciences,
which philosophy as the theory of knowledge investigates, is taken by the developed
moral consciousness, which already pronounces moral judgment without hesitation,
and claims authority to subject to continual criticism the institutions and forms of
social life which it has itself helped to create.
When ethical speculation first begins, conceptions such as those of duty,
responsibility, the will as the ultimate subject of moral approbation and
disapprobation, are already in existence and already operative. Moral philosophy in a
certain sense adds nothing to these conceptions, though it sets them in a clearer light.
The problems of the moral consciousness at the time at which it first becomes
reflective are not strictly speaking philosophical problems at all. It is occupied with
just such questions as each individual man who wishes to act rightly is constantly
Page 459
called upon to answer, e.g. questions such as “What particular action will meet the
claims of justice under such and such circumstances?” or “What degree of ignorance
will excuse this particular person in this particular case from his responsibility?” It
tries to attain a knowledge as complete as possible of the circumstances under which
the act contemplated must be performed, the personalities of the persons whom it may
affect, and the consequences (so far as they can be foreseen) which it will produce,
and then by virtue of its own power of moral discrimination pronounces judgment.
And the ever-recurring problem of the moral consciousness, “What ought to be
done?” is one which receives a clearer and more definite answer as men become more
able in the course of moral experience to apply those principles of the moral
consciousness which are yet employed in that experience from the outset.
Nevertheless there is a sense in which moral philosophy may be said to originate out
of difficulties inherent in the nature of morality itself, although it remains true that the
questions which ethics attempts to answer are never questions with which the moral
consciousness as such is confronted. The fact that men give different answers to moral
problems which seem similar in character, or even the mere fact that men disregard,
when they act immorally, the dictates and implicit principles of the moral
consciousness is certain sooner or later to produce the desire either, on the one hand,
to justify immoral action by casting doubt upon the authority of the moral
consciousness and the validity of its principles, or, on the other hand, to justify
particular moral judgments either by (the only valid method) an analysis of the moral
principle involved in the judgment and a demonstration of its universal acceptation, or
by some attempted proof that the particular moral judgment is arrived at by a process
of inference from some universal conception of the Supreme Good or the Final End
from which all particular duties or virtues may be deduced. It may be that criticism of
morality first originates with a criticism of existing moral institutions or codes of
ethics; such a criticism may be due to the spontaneous activity of the moral
consciousness itself. But when such criticism passes into the attempt to find a
universal criterion of morality—such an attempt being in effect an effort to make
morality scientific—and especially when the attempt is seen, as it must in the end be
seen, to fail (the moral consciousness being superior to all standards of morality and
realizing itself wholly in particular judgments), then ethics as a process of reflection
upon the nature of the moral consciousness may be said to begin. If this be true it
follows that one of the chief function of ethics must be criticism of mistaken attempts
claims of justice under such and such circumstances?” or “What degree of ignorance
will excuse this particular person in this particular case from his responsibility?” It
tries to attain a knowledge as complete as possible of the circumstances under which
the act contemplated must be performed, the personalities of the persons whom it may
affect, and the consequences (so far as they can be foreseen) which it will produce,
and then by virtue of its own power of moral discrimination pronounces judgment.
And the ever-recurring problem of the moral consciousness, “What ought to be
done?” is one which receives a clearer and more definite answer as men become more
able in the course of moral experience to apply those principles of the moral
consciousness which are yet employed in that experience from the outset.
Nevertheless there is a sense in which moral philosophy may be said to originate out
of difficulties inherent in the nature of morality itself, although it remains true that the
questions which ethics attempts to answer are never questions with which the moral
consciousness as such is confronted. The fact that men give different answers to moral
problems which seem similar in character, or even the mere fact that men disregard,
when they act immorally, the dictates and implicit principles of the moral
consciousness is certain sooner or later to produce the desire either, on the one hand,
to justify immoral action by casting doubt upon the authority of the moral
consciousness and the validity of its principles, or, on the other hand, to justify
particular moral judgments either by (the only valid method) an analysis of the moral
principle involved in the judgment and a demonstration of its universal acceptation, or
by some attempted proof that the particular moral judgment is arrived at by a process
of inference from some universal conception of the Supreme Good or the Final End
from which all particular duties or virtues may be deduced. It may be that criticism of
morality first originates with a criticism of existing moral institutions or codes of
ethics; such a criticism may be due to the spontaneous activity of the moral
consciousness itself. But when such criticism passes into the attempt to find a
universal criterion of morality—such an attempt being in effect an effort to make
morality scientific—and especially when the attempt is seen, as it must in the end be
seen, to fail (the moral consciousness being superior to all standards of morality and
realizing itself wholly in particular judgments), then ethics as a process of reflection
upon the nature of the moral consciousness may be said to begin. If this be true it
follows that one of the chief function of ethics must be criticism of mistaken attempts
Page 460
to find a criterion of morality superior to the pronouncements of the moral
consciousness itself. The ultimate superiority of the moral consciousness over all
other standards is recognized, even by those who impugn its authority, whenever they
claim that all men ought to recognize the superior value of the standards which they
themselves wish to substitute. Similarly, their opponents refute their arguments by
showing that they are based ultimately upon a recognition of certain distinctions
which are moral distinctions (i.e. imply a moral consciousness capable of
discriminating between right and wrong in particular cases), and that these moral
distinctions conflict with the conclusions which they reach.
This may briefly be illustrated by reference to some of the great fundamental
controversies of ethics. None of these originates out of conflicting statements of the
moral consciousness, i.e. there is no fundamental contradiction in morality itself. No
one (if unsophisticated) ever confused the conception of pleasure with the conception
of the Good, or thought that the claims of selfish interest were identical with those of
duty. But the controversy between hedonists and anti-hedonists originates as soon as
men reflect that a good which is not in some sense “my” good is not good at all, or
that no act can be said to be moral which does not satisfy “me.” Or, again, the
reflection that the mark or sign of the perfect performance of a particular virtuous act
or function is the presence of a characteristic pleasure which always accompanies it, is
opposed to the reflection that it is a mark of the highest morality never to rest
satisfied, and out of these seemingly contradictory statements of the reflective
consciousness might arise a multitude of controversies either concerning pleasure and
duty, or the even more difficult and complex conceptions of merit, progress, and the
nature of the Supreme Good or Final End.
When and how fresh controversies in ethics will begin it would be impossible for
any one to foretell. Sometimes the dominance of a particular science or branch of
study is the occasion of an attempt to apply to ethics ideas borrowed from or
analogous to the conceptions of that science. False analogies drawn
The Sciences. between ethics and mathematics or between morality and the
perception of beauty have wrought much mischief in modern and
to some degree even in ancient ethics. The influence of ideas borrowed from biology
is everywhere manifest in the ethical speculations of modern times. Sometimes, again,
whole theories of ethics have been formulated which can be seen in the end to be
consciousness itself. The ultimate superiority of the moral consciousness over all
other standards is recognized, even by those who impugn its authority, whenever they
claim that all men ought to recognize the superior value of the standards which they
themselves wish to substitute. Similarly, their opponents refute their arguments by
showing that they are based ultimately upon a recognition of certain distinctions
which are moral distinctions (i.e. imply a moral consciousness capable of
discriminating between right and wrong in particular cases), and that these moral
distinctions conflict with the conclusions which they reach.
This may briefly be illustrated by reference to some of the great fundamental
controversies of ethics. None of these originates out of conflicting statements of the
moral consciousness, i.e. there is no fundamental contradiction in morality itself. No
one (if unsophisticated) ever confused the conception of pleasure with the conception
of the Good, or thought that the claims of selfish interest were identical with those of
duty. But the controversy between hedonists and anti-hedonists originates as soon as
men reflect that a good which is not in some sense “my” good is not good at all, or
that no act can be said to be moral which does not satisfy “me.” Or, again, the
reflection that the mark or sign of the perfect performance of a particular virtuous act
or function is the presence of a characteristic pleasure which always accompanies it, is
opposed to the reflection that it is a mark of the highest morality never to rest
satisfied, and out of these seemingly contradictory statements of the reflective
consciousness might arise a multitude of controversies either concerning pleasure and
duty, or the even more difficult and complex conceptions of merit, progress, and the
nature of the Supreme Good or Final End.
When and how fresh controversies in ethics will begin it would be impossible for
any one to foretell. Sometimes the dominance of a particular science or branch of
study is the occasion of an attempt to apply to ethics ideas borrowed from or
analogous to the conceptions of that science. False analogies drawn
The Sciences. between ethics and mathematics or between morality and the
perception of beauty have wrought much mischief in modern and
to some degree even in ancient ethics. The influence of ideas borrowed from biology
is everywhere manifest in the ethical speculations of modern times. Sometimes, again,
whole theories of ethics have been formulated which can be seen in the end to be
Page 461
efforts to subordinate moral conceptions to conceptions belonging properly to
institutions or departments of human thought and activity which the moral
consciousness has itself originated. Law, for instance, depends, or at least ought to
depend, upon men’s need for and consciousness of justice. And such institutions as the
family and the state are created by the social consciousness, which is the moral
consciousness from another aspect. Yet morality has been subordinated to legal and
social sanctions, and moral advance has been held to be conditioned by political and
social necessities which are not moral needs. Similarly no one since civilization
emerged from barbarism has ever really been willing to yield allegiance to a deity
who is not moral in the fullest and highest sense of the word. God is not superior to
moral law. Yet there have been whole systems of theological ethics
Theology. which have attempted to base human morality upon the arbitrary
will of God or upon the supreme authority of a divinely inspired
book or code of laws. One of the greatest of all ethical controversies, that concerning
the freedom of the will, arose directly out of what was in reality a theological problem
—the necessity, namely, of reconciling God’s foreknowledge with human freedom.
The unreflective moral consciousness never finds it difficult to distinguish between a
man’s power of willing and all the forces of circumstance, heredity and the like,
which combine to form the temptations to which he may yield or bid defiance; and
such facts as “remorse” and “penitence” are a continual testimony to man’s sense of
freedom. But so soon as men perceive upon reflection an apparent discrepancy
between the utterances of their moral consciousness and certain conclusions to which
theological speculation (or at a later period metaphysical and scientific inquiries)
seems inevitably to lead them, they will not rest satisfied until the belief in the will’s
freedom (hitherto unquestioned) is upon further reflection justified or condemned. It
is clear then that the complexity of the subject-matter of ethics is such that no sharply
defined boundary lines can be drawn between it and other branches of inquiry. Just in
so far as it presupposes the apprehension of moral facts, it must presuppose a
knowledge of the system of social relationships upon which some at least of those
facts depend. No one, for instance, could inquire into the nature of justice without
being further compelled to undertake an examination of the nature of the state.
It would be difficult to decide how much of the dispute between the advocates of
pleasure theories and their opponents turns upon vexed questions of psychology, and
how much is strictly relevant to ethics. If, as has already been said, one of the chief
institutions or departments of human thought and activity which the moral
consciousness has itself originated. Law, for instance, depends, or at least ought to
depend, upon men’s need for and consciousness of justice. And such institutions as the
family and the state are created by the social consciousness, which is the moral
consciousness from another aspect. Yet morality has been subordinated to legal and
social sanctions, and moral advance has been held to be conditioned by political and
social necessities which are not moral needs. Similarly no one since civilization
emerged from barbarism has ever really been willing to yield allegiance to a deity
who is not moral in the fullest and highest sense of the word. God is not superior to
moral law. Yet there have been whole systems of theological ethics
Theology. which have attempted to base human morality upon the arbitrary
will of God or upon the supreme authority of a divinely inspired
book or code of laws. One of the greatest of all ethical controversies, that concerning
the freedom of the will, arose directly out of what was in reality a theological problem
—the necessity, namely, of reconciling God’s foreknowledge with human freedom.
The unreflective moral consciousness never finds it difficult to distinguish between a
man’s power of willing and all the forces of circumstance, heredity and the like,
which combine to form the temptations to which he may yield or bid defiance; and
such facts as “remorse” and “penitence” are a continual testimony to man’s sense of
freedom. But so soon as men perceive upon reflection an apparent discrepancy
between the utterances of their moral consciousness and certain conclusions to which
theological speculation (or at a later period metaphysical and scientific inquiries)
seems inevitably to lead them, they will not rest satisfied until the belief in the will’s
freedom (hitherto unquestioned) is upon further reflection justified or condemned. It
is clear then that the complexity of the subject-matter of ethics is such that no sharply
defined boundary lines can be drawn between it and other branches of inquiry. Just in
so far as it presupposes the apprehension of moral facts, it must presuppose a
knowledge of the system of social relationships upon which some at least of those
facts depend. No one, for instance, could inquire into the nature of justice without
being further compelled to undertake an examination of the nature of the state.
It would be difficult to decide how much of the dispute between the advocates of
pleasure theories and their opponents turns upon vexed questions of psychology, and
how much is strictly relevant to ethics. If, as has already been said, one of the chief
Page 462
tasks of ethics is to prevent the intrusion into its own sphere of
Psychology. inquiry of ideas borrowed from other and alien sources, then
obviously these sources must be investigated. One example of this
necessity may be given. It is sometimes maintained that the proper method of ethics is
the psychological method; ethics, we are told, should examine as its subject-matter
moral sentiments wherever found, without raising ultimate questions as to the nature
of obligation or moral authority in general. Now if in opposition to such arguments
the ultimate character of moral obligation be defended, it will be necessary to point
out that no one feels moral sentiments except in connexion with particular objects of
moral approbation or disapprobation (e.g. gratitude is inexplicable apart from a
particular relationship existing between two or more persons), and that these objects
are objects of the moral consciousness alone. But such a line of argument is certain to
make necessary an inquiry into the nature of the objects of psychological study which
may produce quite unforeseen results for psychology.
Nothing therefore is to be gained by confining ethics within limits which must from
the nature of the case be arbitrary. The defender at all events of the supremacy of
moral intuitions must be prepared to follow whither the argument leads, into whatever
strange quarters it may direct him. But this much may be said by way of delimitation
of the scope of ethics: however complicated and involved its arguments and processes
of inference may become, the facts from which they start and the conclusions to
which they point are such as the moral consciousness alone can understand or
warrant.
(H. H. W.)
II. Historical Sketch
A. Greek and Graeco-Roman Ethics.—The ethical speculation of Greece, and
therefore of Europe, had no abrupt and absolute beginning. The naive and
fragmentary precepts of conduct, which are everywhere the earliest manifestation of
nascent moral reflection, are a noteworthy element in the gnomic poetry of the 7th and
6th centuries b.c. Their importance is shown by the traditional enumeration of the
Seven Sages of the 6th century, and their influence on ethical thought is attested by
the references of Plato and Aristotle. But from these unscientific utterances to a
philosophy of morals was a long process. In the practical wisdom of Thales (q.v.), one
Psychology. inquiry of ideas borrowed from other and alien sources, then
obviously these sources must be investigated. One example of this
necessity may be given. It is sometimes maintained that the proper method of ethics is
the psychological method; ethics, we are told, should examine as its subject-matter
moral sentiments wherever found, without raising ultimate questions as to the nature
of obligation or moral authority in general. Now if in opposition to such arguments
the ultimate character of moral obligation be defended, it will be necessary to point
out that no one feels moral sentiments except in connexion with particular objects of
moral approbation or disapprobation (e.g. gratitude is inexplicable apart from a
particular relationship existing between two or more persons), and that these objects
are objects of the moral consciousness alone. But such a line of argument is certain to
make necessary an inquiry into the nature of the objects of psychological study which
may produce quite unforeseen results for psychology.
Nothing therefore is to be gained by confining ethics within limits which must from
the nature of the case be arbitrary. The defender at all events of the supremacy of
moral intuitions must be prepared to follow whither the argument leads, into whatever
strange quarters it may direct him. But this much may be said by way of delimitation
of the scope of ethics: however complicated and involved its arguments and processes
of inference may become, the facts from which they start and the conclusions to
which they point are such as the moral consciousness alone can understand or
warrant.
(H. H. W.)
II. Historical Sketch
A. Greek and Graeco-Roman Ethics.—The ethical speculation of Greece, and
therefore of Europe, had no abrupt and absolute beginning. The naive and
fragmentary precepts of conduct, which are everywhere the earliest manifestation of
nascent moral reflection, are a noteworthy element in the gnomic poetry of the 7th and
6th centuries b.c. Their importance is shown by the traditional enumeration of the
Seven Sages of the 6th century, and their influence on ethical thought is attested by
the references of Plato and Aristotle. But from these unscientific utterances to a
philosophy of morals was a long process. In the practical wisdom of Thales (q.v.), one
Page 463
of the seven, we cannot discern any systematic theory of morality. In the case of
Pythagoras, conspicuous among pre-Socratic philosophers as the founder not merely
of a school, but of a sect or order bound by a common rule of life, there is a closer
connexion between moral and metaphysical speculation. The doctrine of the
Pythagoreans that the essence of justice (conceived as equal retribution) was a square
number, indicates a serious attempt to extend to the region of conduct their
mathematical view of the universe; and the same may be said of their classification of
good with unity, straightness and the like, and of evil with the opposite qualities. Still,
the enunciation of the moral precepts of Pythagoras appears to have been dogmatic, or
even prophetic, rather than philosophic, and to have been accepted by his disciples
with an unphilosophic reverence as the ipse dixit1 of the master. Hence, whatever
influence the Pythagorean blending of ethical and mathematical notions may have had
on Plato, and, through him, on later thought, we cannot regard the school as having
really forestalled the Socratic inquiry after a completely reasoned theory of conduct.
The ethical element in the “dark” philosophizing of Heraclitus (c. 530-470 b.c.),
though it anticipates Stoicism in its conceptions of a law of the universe, to which the
wise man will carefully conform, and a divine harmony, in the recognition of which
he will find his truest satisfaction, is more profound, but even less systematic. It is
only when we come to Democritus, a contemporary of Socrates, the last of the
original thinkers whom we distinguish as pre-Socratic, that we find anything which
we can call an ethical system. The fragments that remain of the moral treatises of
Democritus are sufficient, perhaps, to convince us that the turn of Greek philosophy in
the direction of conduct, which was actually due to Socrates, would have taken place
without him, though in a less decided manner; but when we compare the Democritean
ethics with the post-Socratic system to which it has most affinity, Epicureanism, we
find that it exhibits a very rudimentary apprehension of the formal conditions which
moral teaching must fulfil before it can lay claim to be treated as scientific.
The truth is that no system of ethics could be constructed until attention had been
directed to the vagueness and inconsistency of the common moral opinions of
mankind. For this purpose was needed the concentration of a philosophic intellect of
the first order on the problems of practice. In Socrates first we find the required
combination of a paramount interest in conduct and an ardent desire for knowledge.
The pre-Socratic thinkers were all primarily devoted to ontological research; but by
the middle of the 5th century b.c. the conflict of their dogmatic systems had led some
Pythagoras, conspicuous among pre-Socratic philosophers as the founder not merely
of a school, but of a sect or order bound by a common rule of life, there is a closer
connexion between moral and metaphysical speculation. The doctrine of the
Pythagoreans that the essence of justice (conceived as equal retribution) was a square
number, indicates a serious attempt to extend to the region of conduct their
mathematical view of the universe; and the same may be said of their classification of
good with unity, straightness and the like, and of evil with the opposite qualities. Still,
the enunciation of the moral precepts of Pythagoras appears to have been dogmatic, or
even prophetic, rather than philosophic, and to have been accepted by his disciples
with an unphilosophic reverence as the ipse dixit1 of the master. Hence, whatever
influence the Pythagorean blending of ethical and mathematical notions may have had
on Plato, and, through him, on later thought, we cannot regard the school as having
really forestalled the Socratic inquiry after a completely reasoned theory of conduct.
The ethical element in the “dark” philosophizing of Heraclitus (c. 530-470 b.c.),
though it anticipates Stoicism in its conceptions of a law of the universe, to which the
wise man will carefully conform, and a divine harmony, in the recognition of which
he will find his truest satisfaction, is more profound, but even less systematic. It is
only when we come to Democritus, a contemporary of Socrates, the last of the
original thinkers whom we distinguish as pre-Socratic, that we find anything which
we can call an ethical system. The fragments that remain of the moral treatises of
Democritus are sufficient, perhaps, to convince us that the turn of Greek philosophy in
the direction of conduct, which was actually due to Socrates, would have taken place
without him, though in a less decided manner; but when we compare the Democritean
ethics with the post-Socratic system to which it has most affinity, Epicureanism, we
find that it exhibits a very rudimentary apprehension of the formal conditions which
moral teaching must fulfil before it can lay claim to be treated as scientific.
The truth is that no system of ethics could be constructed until attention had been
directed to the vagueness and inconsistency of the common moral opinions of
mankind. For this purpose was needed the concentration of a philosophic intellect of
the first order on the problems of practice. In Socrates first we find the required
combination of a paramount interest in conduct and an ardent desire for knowledge.
The pre-Socratic thinkers were all primarily devoted to ontological research; but by
the middle of the 5th century b.c. the conflict of their dogmatic systems had led some
Page 464
of the keenest minds to doubt the possibility of penetrating the secret of the physical
universe. This doubt found expression in the reasoned scepticism of Gorgias, and
produced the famous proposition of Protagoras, that human apprehension is the only
standard of existence. The same feeling led Socrates to abandon the old physico-
metaphysical inquiries. In his ease, moreover, it was strengthened by a naive piety that
forbade him to search into things of which the gods seemed to have reserved the
knowledge to themselves. The regulation of human action, on the other hand (except
on occasions of special difficulty, for which omens and oracles might be vouchsafed),
they had left to human reason. On this accordingly Socrates concentrated his efforts.
Though, however, Socrates was the first to arrive at a proper conception of the
problems of conduct, the general idea did not originate with him. The natural reaction
against the metaphysical and ethical dogmatism of the early
The Sophists. thinkers had reached its climax in the Sophists (q.v.). Gorgias and
Protagoras are only representatives of what was really a universal
tendency to abandon dogmatic theory and take refuge in practical matters, and
especially, as was natural in the Greek city-state, in the civic relations of the citizen.
The education given by the Sophists aimed at no general theory of life, but professed
to expound the art of getting on in the world and of managing public affairs. In their
eulogy of the virtues of the citizen, they pointed out the prudential character of justice
and the like as a means of obtaining pleasure and avoiding pain. The Greek
conception of society was such that the life of the free-born citizen consisted mainly
of his public function, and, therefore, the pseudo-ethical disquisitions of the Sophists
satisfied the requirements of the age. None thought of ἀρετή (virtue or excellence) as
a unique quality possessed of an intrinsic value, but as the virtue of the citizen, just as
good flute-playing was the virtue of the flute-player. We see here, as in other activities
of the age, a determination to acquire technical knowledge, and to apply it directly to
the practical issue; just as music was being enriched by new technical knowledge,
architecture by modern theories of plans and T-squares (sc. Hippodamus), the
handling of soldiers by the new technique of “tactics” and “hoplitics,” so citizenship
must be analysed afresh, systematized and adapted in relation to modern
requirements. The Sophists had studied these matters superficially indeed but with
thoroughness as far as they went, and it is not remarkable that they should have taken
the methods which were successful in rhetoric, and applied them to the “science and
art” of civic virtues. Plato’s Protagoras claims, not unjustly, that in teaching virtue
universe. This doubt found expression in the reasoned scepticism of Gorgias, and
produced the famous proposition of Protagoras, that human apprehension is the only
standard of existence. The same feeling led Socrates to abandon the old physico-
metaphysical inquiries. In his ease, moreover, it was strengthened by a naive piety that
forbade him to search into things of which the gods seemed to have reserved the
knowledge to themselves. The regulation of human action, on the other hand (except
on occasions of special difficulty, for which omens and oracles might be vouchsafed),
they had left to human reason. On this accordingly Socrates concentrated his efforts.
Though, however, Socrates was the first to arrive at a proper conception of the
problems of conduct, the general idea did not originate with him. The natural reaction
against the metaphysical and ethical dogmatism of the early
The Sophists. thinkers had reached its climax in the Sophists (q.v.). Gorgias and
Protagoras are only representatives of what was really a universal
tendency to abandon dogmatic theory and take refuge in practical matters, and
especially, as was natural in the Greek city-state, in the civic relations of the citizen.
The education given by the Sophists aimed at no general theory of life, but professed
to expound the art of getting on in the world and of managing public affairs. In their
eulogy of the virtues of the citizen, they pointed out the prudential character of justice
and the like as a means of obtaining pleasure and avoiding pain. The Greek
conception of society was such that the life of the free-born citizen consisted mainly
of his public function, and, therefore, the pseudo-ethical disquisitions of the Sophists
satisfied the requirements of the age. None thought of ἀρετή (virtue or excellence) as
a unique quality possessed of an intrinsic value, but as the virtue of the citizen, just as
good flute-playing was the virtue of the flute-player. We see here, as in other activities
of the age, a determination to acquire technical knowledge, and to apply it directly to
the practical issue; just as music was being enriched by new technical knowledge,
architecture by modern theories of plans and T-squares (sc. Hippodamus), the
handling of soldiers by the new technique of “tactics” and “hoplitics,” so citizenship
must be analysed afresh, systematized and adapted in relation to modern
requirements. The Sophists had studied these matters superficially indeed but with
thoroughness as far as they went, and it is not remarkable that they should have taken
the methods which were successful in rhetoric, and applied them to the “science and
art” of civic virtues. Plato’s Protagoras claims, not unjustly, that in teaching virtue
Page 465
they simply did systematically what every one else was doing at haphazard. But in the
true sense of the word, they had no ethical system at all, nor did they contribute save
by contrast to ethical speculation. They merely analysed conventional formulae, much
in the manner of certain modern so-called “scientific” moralists. Into this arena of
hazy popular common sense Socrates brought a new critical spirit,
Socrates. showing that these popular lecturers, in spite of their fertile
eloquence, could not defend their fundamental assumptions, nor
even give rational definitions of what they professed to explain. Not only were they
thus “ignorant,” but they were also perpetually inconsistent with themselves in
dealing with particular instances. Thus, by the aid of his famous “dialectic,” Socrates
arrived first at the negative result that the professed teachers of the people were as
ignorant as he himself claimed to be, and in a measure justified the eulogy of Aristotle
that he rendered to philosophy the service of “introducing induction and definitions.”
This description of his work is, however, both too technical and too positive, if we
may judge from those earlier dialogues of Plato in which the real Socrates is found
least modified. The pre-eminent wisdom which the Delphic oracle attributed to him
was held by himself to consist in a unique consciousness of ignorance. Yet it is
equally clear from Plato that there was a most important positive element in the
teaching of Socrates in virtue of which it is just to say with Alexander Bain, “the first
important name in ancient ethical philosophy is Socrates.” The union of the negative
and the positive elements in his work has caused historians no little perplexity, and we
cannot quite save the philosopher’s consistency unless we regard some of the
doctrines attributed to him by Xenophon as merely tentative and provisional. Still the
positions of Socrates that are most important in the history of ethical thought not only
are easy to harmonize with his conviction of ignorance, but even render it easier to
understand his unwearied cross-examination of common opinion. While he showed
clearly the difficulty of acquiring knowledge, he was convinced that knowledge alone
could be the source of a coherent system of virtue, as error of evil. Socrates, therefore,
first in the history of thought, propounds a positive scientific law of conduct. Virtue is
knowledge. This principle involved the paradox that no man, knowing good, would do
evil. But it was a paradox derived from his unanswerable truisms, “Every one wishes
for his own good, and would get it if he could,” and “No one would deny that justice
and virtue generally are goods, and of all goods the best.” All virtues are, therefore,
summed up in knowledge of the good. But this good is not, for Socrates, duty as
true sense of the word, they had no ethical system at all, nor did they contribute save
by contrast to ethical speculation. They merely analysed conventional formulae, much
in the manner of certain modern so-called “scientific” moralists. Into this arena of
hazy popular common sense Socrates brought a new critical spirit,
Socrates. showing that these popular lecturers, in spite of their fertile
eloquence, could not defend their fundamental assumptions, nor
even give rational definitions of what they professed to explain. Not only were they
thus “ignorant,” but they were also perpetually inconsistent with themselves in
dealing with particular instances. Thus, by the aid of his famous “dialectic,” Socrates
arrived first at the negative result that the professed teachers of the people were as
ignorant as he himself claimed to be, and in a measure justified the eulogy of Aristotle
that he rendered to philosophy the service of “introducing induction and definitions.”
This description of his work is, however, both too technical and too positive, if we
may judge from those earlier dialogues of Plato in which the real Socrates is found
least modified. The pre-eminent wisdom which the Delphic oracle attributed to him
was held by himself to consist in a unique consciousness of ignorance. Yet it is
equally clear from Plato that there was a most important positive element in the
teaching of Socrates in virtue of which it is just to say with Alexander Bain, “the first
important name in ancient ethical philosophy is Socrates.” The union of the negative
and the positive elements in his work has caused historians no little perplexity, and we
cannot quite save the philosopher’s consistency unless we regard some of the
doctrines attributed to him by Xenophon as merely tentative and provisional. Still the
positions of Socrates that are most important in the history of ethical thought not only
are easy to harmonize with his conviction of ignorance, but even render it easier to
understand his unwearied cross-examination of common opinion. While he showed
clearly the difficulty of acquiring knowledge, he was convinced that knowledge alone
could be the source of a coherent system of virtue, as error of evil. Socrates, therefore,
first in the history of thought, propounds a positive scientific law of conduct. Virtue is
knowledge. This principle involved the paradox that no man, knowing good, would do
evil. But it was a paradox derived from his unanswerable truisms, “Every one wishes
for his own good, and would get it if he could,” and “No one would deny that justice
and virtue generally are goods, and of all goods the best.” All virtues are, therefore,
summed up in knowledge of the good. But this good is not, for Socrates, duty as
Page 466
distinct from interest. The force of the paradox depends upon a blending of duty and
interest in the single notion of good, a blending which was dominant in the common
thought of the age. This it is which forms the kernel of the positive thought of
Socrates according to Xenophon. He could give no satisfactory account of Good in
the abstract, and evaded all questions on this point by saying that he knew “no good
that was not good for something in particular,” but that good is consistent with itself.
For himself he prized above all things the wisdom that is virtue, and in the task of
producing it he endured the hardest penury, maintaining that such life was richer in
enjoyment than a life of luxury. This many-sidedness of view is illustrated by the
curious blending of noble and merely utilitarian sentiment in his account of
friendship: a friend who can be of no service is valueless; yet the highest service that a
friend can render is moral improvement.
The historically important characteristics of his moral philosophy, if we take (as we
must) his teaching and character together, may be summarized as follows:—(1) an
ardent inquiry for knowledge nowhere to be found, but which, if found, would perfect
human conduct; (2) a demand meanwhile that men should act as far as possible on
some consistent theory; (3) a provisional adhesion to the commonly received view of
good, in all its incoherent complexity, and a perpetual readiness to maintain the
harmony of its different elements, and demonstrate the superiority of virtue by an
appeal to the standard of self-interest; (4) personal firmness, as apparently easy as it
was actually invincible, in carrying out consistently such practical convictions as he
had attained. It is only when we keep all these points in view that we can understand
how from the spring of Socratic conversation flowed the divergent streams of Greek
ethical thought.
Four distinct philosophical schools trace their immediate origin to the circle that
gathered round Socrates—the Megarian, the Platonic, the Cynic and the Cyrenaic.
The impress of the master is manifest on all, in spite of the wide
The Socratic differences that divide them; they all agree in holding the most
Schools. important possession of man to be wisdom or knowledge, and the
most important knowledge to be knowledge of Good. Here,
however, the agreement ends. The more philosophic part of the circle, forming a
group in which Euclid of Megara (see Megarian School) seems at first to have taken
the lead, regarded this Good as the object of a still unfulfilled quest, and were led to
interest in the single notion of good, a blending which was dominant in the common
thought of the age. This it is which forms the kernel of the positive thought of
Socrates according to Xenophon. He could give no satisfactory account of Good in
the abstract, and evaded all questions on this point by saying that he knew “no good
that was not good for something in particular,” but that good is consistent with itself.
For himself he prized above all things the wisdom that is virtue, and in the task of
producing it he endured the hardest penury, maintaining that such life was richer in
enjoyment than a life of luxury. This many-sidedness of view is illustrated by the
curious blending of noble and merely utilitarian sentiment in his account of
friendship: a friend who can be of no service is valueless; yet the highest service that a
friend can render is moral improvement.
The historically important characteristics of his moral philosophy, if we take (as we
must) his teaching and character together, may be summarized as follows:—(1) an
ardent inquiry for knowledge nowhere to be found, but which, if found, would perfect
human conduct; (2) a demand meanwhile that men should act as far as possible on
some consistent theory; (3) a provisional adhesion to the commonly received view of
good, in all its incoherent complexity, and a perpetual readiness to maintain the
harmony of its different elements, and demonstrate the superiority of virtue by an
appeal to the standard of self-interest; (4) personal firmness, as apparently easy as it
was actually invincible, in carrying out consistently such practical convictions as he
had attained. It is only when we keep all these points in view that we can understand
how from the spring of Socratic conversation flowed the divergent streams of Greek
ethical thought.
Four distinct philosophical schools trace their immediate origin to the circle that
gathered round Socrates—the Megarian, the Platonic, the Cynic and the Cyrenaic.
The impress of the master is manifest on all, in spite of the wide
The Socratic differences that divide them; they all agree in holding the most
Schools. important possession of man to be wisdom or knowledge, and the
most important knowledge to be knowledge of Good. Here,
however, the agreement ends. The more philosophic part of the circle, forming a
group in which Euclid of Megara (see Megarian School) seems at first to have taken
the lead, regarded this Good as the object of a still unfulfilled quest, and were led to
Page 467
identify it with the hidden secret of the universe, and thus to pass from ethics to
metaphysics. Others again, whose demand for knowledge was more easily satisfied,
and who were more impressed with the positive and practical side of the master’s
teaching, made the quest a much simpler affair. They took the Good as already
known, and held philosophy to consist in the steady application of this knowledge to
conduct. Among these were Antisthenes the Cynic and Aristippus of Cyrene. It is by
their recognition of the duty of living consistently by theory instead of mere impulse
or custom, their sense of the new value given to life through this rationalization, and
their effort to maintain the easy, calm, unwavering firmness of the Socratic temper,
that we recognize both Antisthenes and Aristippus as “Socratic men,” in spite of the
completeness with which they divided their master’s positive doctrine into systems
diametrically opposed. Of their contrasted principles we may perhaps say that, while
Aristippus took the most obvious logical step for reducing the teaching of Socrates to
clear dogmatic unity, Antisthenes certainly drew the most natural inference from the
Socratic life.
Aristippus (see Cyrenaics) argued that, if all that is beautiful or admirable in
conduct has this quality as being useful, i.e. productive of some further good; if
virtuous action is essentially action done with insight, or rational
Aristippus. apprehension of the act as a means to this good, this good must be
pleasure. Bodily pleasures and pains Aristippus held to be the
keenest, though he does not seem to have maintained this on any materialistic theory,
as he admitted the existence of purely mental pleasures, such as joy in the prosperity
of one’s native land. He fully recognized that his good was capable of being realized
only in successive parts, and gave even exaggerated emphasis to the rule of seeking
the pleasure of the moment, and not troubling oneself about a dubious future. It was in
the calm, resolute, skilful culling of such pleasures as circumstances afforded from
moment to moment, undisturbed by passion, prejudices or superstition, that he
conceived the quality of wisdom to be exhibited; and tradition represents him as
realizing this ideal to an impressive degree. Among the prejudices from which the
wise man was free he included all regard to customary morality beyond what was due
to the actual penalties attached to its violation; though he held, with Socrates, that
these penalties actually render conformity reasonable. Thus early in the history of
ethical theory appeared the most thorough-going exposition of hedonism.
metaphysics. Others again, whose demand for knowledge was more easily satisfied,
and who were more impressed with the positive and practical side of the master’s
teaching, made the quest a much simpler affair. They took the Good as already
known, and held philosophy to consist in the steady application of this knowledge to
conduct. Among these were Antisthenes the Cynic and Aristippus of Cyrene. It is by
their recognition of the duty of living consistently by theory instead of mere impulse
or custom, their sense of the new value given to life through this rationalization, and
their effort to maintain the easy, calm, unwavering firmness of the Socratic temper,
that we recognize both Antisthenes and Aristippus as “Socratic men,” in spite of the
completeness with which they divided their master’s positive doctrine into systems
diametrically opposed. Of their contrasted principles we may perhaps say that, while
Aristippus took the most obvious logical step for reducing the teaching of Socrates to
clear dogmatic unity, Antisthenes certainly drew the most natural inference from the
Socratic life.
Aristippus (see Cyrenaics) argued that, if all that is beautiful or admirable in
conduct has this quality as being useful, i.e. productive of some further good; if
virtuous action is essentially action done with insight, or rational
Aristippus. apprehension of the act as a means to this good, this good must be
pleasure. Bodily pleasures and pains Aristippus held to be the
keenest, though he does not seem to have maintained this on any materialistic theory,
as he admitted the existence of purely mental pleasures, such as joy in the prosperity
of one’s native land. He fully recognized that his good was capable of being realized
only in successive parts, and gave even exaggerated emphasis to the rule of seeking
the pleasure of the moment, and not troubling oneself about a dubious future. It was in
the calm, resolute, skilful culling of such pleasures as circumstances afforded from
moment to moment, undisturbed by passion, prejudices or superstition, that he
conceived the quality of wisdom to be exhibited; and tradition represents him as
realizing this ideal to an impressive degree. Among the prejudices from which the
wise man was free he included all regard to customary morality beyond what was due
to the actual penalties attached to its violation; though he held, with Socrates, that
these penalties actually render conformity reasonable. Thus early in the history of
ethical theory appeared the most thorough-going exposition of hedonism.
Page 468
Far otherwise was the Socratic spirit understood by Antisthenes and the Cynics
(q.v.). They equally held that no speculative research was needed for the discovery of
good and virtue, and maintained that the Socratic wisdom was
The Cynics. exhibited, not in the skilful pursuit, but in the rational disregard of
pleasure,—in the clear apprehension of the intrinsic worthlessness
of this and most other objects of men’s ordinary desires and aims. Pleasure, indeed,
Antisthenes declared roundly to be an evil; “Better madness than a surrender to
pleasure.” He did not overlook the need of supplementing merely intellectual insight
by “Socratic force of soul”; but it seemed to him that, by insight and self-mastery
combined, an absolute spiritual independence might be attained which left nothing
wanting for perfect well-being (see also Diogenes). For as for poverty, painful toil,
disrepute, and such evils as men dread most, these, he argued, were positively useful
as means of progress in spiritual freedom and virtue. There is, however, in the Cynic
notion of wisdom, no positive criterion beyond the mere negation of irrational desires
and prejudices. We saw that Socrates, while not claiming to have found the abstract
theory of good or wise conduct, practically understood by it the faithful performance
of customary duties, maintaining always that his own happiness was therewith bound
up. The Cynics more boldly discarded both pleasure and mere custom as alike
irrational; but in so doing they left the freed reason with no definite aim but its own
freedom. It is absurd, as Plato urged, to say that knowledge is the good, and then
when asked “knowledge of what?” to have no positive reply but “of the good”; but the
Cynics do not seem to have made any serious effort to escape from this absurdity.
The ultimate views of these two Socratic schools we shall have to notice presently
when we come to the post-Aristotelian schools. We must now proceed to trace the
fuller development of the Socratic theory in the hands of Plato and Aristotle.
The ethics of Plato cannot properly be treated as a finished result, but rather as a
continual movement from the position of Socrates towards the more complete,
articulate system of Aristotle; except that there are ascetic and
Plato. mystical suggestions in some parts of Plato’s teaching which find
no counterpart in Aristotle, and in fact disappear from Greek
philosophy soon after Plato’s death until they are revived and fantastically developed
in Neopythagoreanism and Neoplatonism. The first stage at which we can distinguish
Plato’s ethical view from that of Socrates is presented in the Protagoras, where he
(q.v.). They equally held that no speculative research was needed for the discovery of
good and virtue, and maintained that the Socratic wisdom was
The Cynics. exhibited, not in the skilful pursuit, but in the rational disregard of
pleasure,—in the clear apprehension of the intrinsic worthlessness
of this and most other objects of men’s ordinary desires and aims. Pleasure, indeed,
Antisthenes declared roundly to be an evil; “Better madness than a surrender to
pleasure.” He did not overlook the need of supplementing merely intellectual insight
by “Socratic force of soul”; but it seemed to him that, by insight and self-mastery
combined, an absolute spiritual independence might be attained which left nothing
wanting for perfect well-being (see also Diogenes). For as for poverty, painful toil,
disrepute, and such evils as men dread most, these, he argued, were positively useful
as means of progress in spiritual freedom and virtue. There is, however, in the Cynic
notion of wisdom, no positive criterion beyond the mere negation of irrational desires
and prejudices. We saw that Socrates, while not claiming to have found the abstract
theory of good or wise conduct, practically understood by it the faithful performance
of customary duties, maintaining always that his own happiness was therewith bound
up. The Cynics more boldly discarded both pleasure and mere custom as alike
irrational; but in so doing they left the freed reason with no definite aim but its own
freedom. It is absurd, as Plato urged, to say that knowledge is the good, and then
when asked “knowledge of what?” to have no positive reply but “of the good”; but the
Cynics do not seem to have made any serious effort to escape from this absurdity.
The ultimate views of these two Socratic schools we shall have to notice presently
when we come to the post-Aristotelian schools. We must now proceed to trace the
fuller development of the Socratic theory in the hands of Plato and Aristotle.
The ethics of Plato cannot properly be treated as a finished result, but rather as a
continual movement from the position of Socrates towards the more complete,
articulate system of Aristotle; except that there are ascetic and
Plato. mystical suggestions in some parts of Plato’s teaching which find
no counterpart in Aristotle, and in fact disappear from Greek
philosophy soon after Plato’s death until they are revived and fantastically developed
in Neopythagoreanism and Neoplatonism. The first stage at which we can distinguish
Plato’s ethical view from that of Socrates is presented in the Protagoras, where he
Page 469
makes a serious, though clearly tentative effort to define the object of that knowledge
which he with his master regards as the essence of all virtue. Such knowledge, he here
maintains, is really mensuration of pleasures and pains, whereby the wise man avoids
those mistaken under-estimates of future feelings in comparison with present which
we commonly call “yielding to fear or desire.” This hedonism has perplexed Plato’s
readers needlessly (as we have said in speaking of the Cyrenaics), inasmuch as
hedonism is the most obvious corollary of the Socratic doctrine that the different
common notions of good—the beautiful, the pleasant and the useful—were to be
somehow interpreted by each other. By Plato, however, this conclusion could have
been held only before he had accomplished the movement of thought by which he
carried the Socratic method beyond the range of human conduct and developed it into
a metaphysical system.
This movement may be expressed thus. “If we know,” said Socrates, “what justice
is, we can give an account or definition of it”; true knowledge must be knowledge of
the general fact, common to all the individual cases to which we apply our general
notion. But this must be no less true of other objects of thought and discourse; the
same relation of general notions to particular examples extends through the whole
physical universe; we can think and talk of it only by means of such notions. True or
scientific knowledge then must be general knowledge, relating, not to individuals
primarily, but to the general facts or qualities which individuals exemplify; in fact, our
notion of an individual, when examined, is found to be an aggregate of such general
qualities. But, again, the object of true knowledge must be what really exists; hence
the reality of the universe must lie in general facts or relations, and not in the
individuals that exemplify them.
So far the steps are plain enough; but we do not yet see how this logical Realism (as
it was afterwards called) comes to have the essentially ethical character that especially
interests us in Platonism. Plato’s philosophy is now concerned with the whole
universe of being; yet the ultimate object of his philosophic contemplation is still “the
good,” now conceived as the ultimate ground of all being and knowledge. That is, the
essence of the universe is identified with its end,—the “formal” with the “final” cause
of things, to use the later Aristotelian phraseology. How comes this about?
Perhaps we may best explain this by recurring to the original application of the
Socratic method to human affairs. Since all rational activity is for some end, the
which he with his master regards as the essence of all virtue. Such knowledge, he here
maintains, is really mensuration of pleasures and pains, whereby the wise man avoids
those mistaken under-estimates of future feelings in comparison with present which
we commonly call “yielding to fear or desire.” This hedonism has perplexed Plato’s
readers needlessly (as we have said in speaking of the Cyrenaics), inasmuch as
hedonism is the most obvious corollary of the Socratic doctrine that the different
common notions of good—the beautiful, the pleasant and the useful—were to be
somehow interpreted by each other. By Plato, however, this conclusion could have
been held only before he had accomplished the movement of thought by which he
carried the Socratic method beyond the range of human conduct and developed it into
a metaphysical system.
This movement may be expressed thus. “If we know,” said Socrates, “what justice
is, we can give an account or definition of it”; true knowledge must be knowledge of
the general fact, common to all the individual cases to which we apply our general
notion. But this must be no less true of other objects of thought and discourse; the
same relation of general notions to particular examples extends through the whole
physical universe; we can think and talk of it only by means of such notions. True or
scientific knowledge then must be general knowledge, relating, not to individuals
primarily, but to the general facts or qualities which individuals exemplify; in fact, our
notion of an individual, when examined, is found to be an aggregate of such general
qualities. But, again, the object of true knowledge must be what really exists; hence
the reality of the universe must lie in general facts or relations, and not in the
individuals that exemplify them.
So far the steps are plain enough; but we do not yet see how this logical Realism (as
it was afterwards called) comes to have the essentially ethical character that especially
interests us in Platonism. Plato’s philosophy is now concerned with the whole
universe of being; yet the ultimate object of his philosophic contemplation is still “the
good,” now conceived as the ultimate ground of all being and knowledge. That is, the
essence of the universe is identified with its end,—the “formal” with the “final” cause
of things, to use the later Aristotelian phraseology. How comes this about?
Perhaps we may best explain this by recurring to the original application of the
Socratic method to human affairs. Since all rational activity is for some end, the
Page 470
different arts or functions of human industry are naturally defined by a statement of
their ends or uses; and similarly, in giving an account of the different artists and
functionaries, we necessarily state their end, “what they are good for.” In a society
well ordered on Socratic principles, every human being would be put to some use; the
essence of his life would consist in doing what he was good for (his proper ἔργον).
But again, it is easy to extend this view throughout the whole region of organized life;
an eye that does not attain its end by seeing is without the essence of an eye. In short,
we may say of all organs and instruments that they are what we think them in
proportion as they fulfil their function and attain their end. If, then, we conceive the
whole universe organically, as a complex arrangement of means to ends, we shall
understand how Plato might hold that all things really were, or (as we say) “realized
their idea,” in proportion as they accomplished the special end or good for which they
were adapted. Even Socrates, in spite of his aversion to physics, was led by pious
reflection to expound a teleological view of the physical world, as ordered in all its
parts by divine wisdom for the realization of some divine end; and, in the
metaphysical turn which Plato gave to this view, he was probably anticipated by
Euclid of Megara, who held that the one real being is “that which we call by many
names, Good, Wisdom, Reason or God,” to which Plato, raising to a loftier
significance the Socratic identification of the beautiful with the useful, added the
further name of Absolute Beauty, explaining how man’s love of the beautiful finally
reveals itself as the yearning for the end and essence of being.
Plato, therefore, took this vast stride of thought, and identified the ultimate notions
of ethics and ontology. We have now to see what attitude he will adopt towards the
practical inquiries from which he started. What will now be his view of wisdom,
virtue, pleasure and their relation to human well-being?
The answer to this question is inevitably somewhat complicated. In the first place
we have to observe that philosophy has now passed definitely from the market-place
into the lecture-room. The quest of Socrates was for the true art of conduct for a man
living a practical life among his fellows. But if the objects of abstract thought
constitute the real world, of which this world of individual things is but a shadow, it is
plain that the highest, most real life must lie in the former region and not in the latter.
It is in contemplating the abstract reality which concrete things obscurely exhibit, the
type or ideal which they imperfectly imitate, that the true life of the mind in man must
their ends or uses; and similarly, in giving an account of the different artists and
functionaries, we necessarily state their end, “what they are good for.” In a society
well ordered on Socratic principles, every human being would be put to some use; the
essence of his life would consist in doing what he was good for (his proper ἔργον).
But again, it is easy to extend this view throughout the whole region of organized life;
an eye that does not attain its end by seeing is without the essence of an eye. In short,
we may say of all organs and instruments that they are what we think them in
proportion as they fulfil their function and attain their end. If, then, we conceive the
whole universe organically, as a complex arrangement of means to ends, we shall
understand how Plato might hold that all things really were, or (as we say) “realized
their idea,” in proportion as they accomplished the special end or good for which they
were adapted. Even Socrates, in spite of his aversion to physics, was led by pious
reflection to expound a teleological view of the physical world, as ordered in all its
parts by divine wisdom for the realization of some divine end; and, in the
metaphysical turn which Plato gave to this view, he was probably anticipated by
Euclid of Megara, who held that the one real being is “that which we call by many
names, Good, Wisdom, Reason or God,” to which Plato, raising to a loftier
significance the Socratic identification of the beautiful with the useful, added the
further name of Absolute Beauty, explaining how man’s love of the beautiful finally
reveals itself as the yearning for the end and essence of being.
Plato, therefore, took this vast stride of thought, and identified the ultimate notions
of ethics and ontology. We have now to see what attitude he will adopt towards the
practical inquiries from which he started. What will now be his view of wisdom,
virtue, pleasure and their relation to human well-being?
The answer to this question is inevitably somewhat complicated. In the first place
we have to observe that philosophy has now passed definitely from the market-place
into the lecture-room. The quest of Socrates was for the true art of conduct for a man
living a practical life among his fellows. But if the objects of abstract thought
constitute the real world, of which this world of individual things is but a shadow, it is
plain that the highest, most real life must lie in the former region and not in the latter.
It is in contemplating the abstract reality which concrete things obscurely exhibit, the
type or ideal which they imperfectly imitate, that the true life of the mind in man must
Page 471
consist; and as man is most truly man in proportion as he is mind, the desire of one’s
own good, which Plato, following Socrates, held to be permanent and essential in
every living thing, becomes in its highest form the philosophic yearning for
knowledge. This yearning, he held, springs—like more sensual impulses—from a
sense of want of something formerly possessed, of which there remains a latent
memory in the soul, strong in proportion to its philosophic capacity; hence it is that in
learning any abstract truth by scientific demonstration we merely make explicit what
we already implicitly know; we bring into clear consciousness hidden memories of a
state in which the soul looked upon Reality and Good face to face, before the lapse
that imprisoned her in an alien body and mingled her true nature with fleshly feelings
and impulses. We thus reach the paradox that the true art of living is really an “art of
dying” as far as possible to mere sense, in order more fully to exist in intimate union
with absolute goodness and beauty. On the other hand, since the philosopher must still
live and act in the concrete sensible world, the Socratic identification of wisdom and
virtue is fully maintained by Plato. Only he who apprehends good in the abstract can
imitate it in such transient and imperfect good as may be realized in human life, and it
is impossible that, having this knowledge, he should not act on it, whether in private
or public affairs. Thus, in the true philosopher, we shall necessarily find the
practically good man, who being “likest of men to the gods is best loved by them”;
and also the perfect statesman, if only the conditions of his society allow him a sphere
for exercising his statesmanship.
The characteristics of this practical goodness in Plato’s matured thought correspond
to the fundamental conceptions in his view of the universe. The soul of man, in its
good or normal condition, must be ordered and harmonized under
Virtue a harmony. the guidance of reason. The question then arises, “Wherein does
this order or harmony precisely consist?” In explaining how Plato
was led to answer this question, it will be well to notice that, while faithfully
maintaining the Socratic doctrine that the highest virtue was inseparable from
knowledge of the good, he had come to recognize an inferior kind of virtue, possessed
by men who were not philosophers. It is plain that if the good that is to be known is
the ultimate ground of the whole of things, it is attainable only by a select and
carefully trained few. Yet we can hardly restrict all virtue to these alone. What
account, then, was to be given of ordinary “civic” bravery, temperance and justice? It
seemed clear that men who did their duty, resisting the seductions of fear and desire,
own good, which Plato, following Socrates, held to be permanent and essential in
every living thing, becomes in its highest form the philosophic yearning for
knowledge. This yearning, he held, springs—like more sensual impulses—from a
sense of want of something formerly possessed, of which there remains a latent
memory in the soul, strong in proportion to its philosophic capacity; hence it is that in
learning any abstract truth by scientific demonstration we merely make explicit what
we already implicitly know; we bring into clear consciousness hidden memories of a
state in which the soul looked upon Reality and Good face to face, before the lapse
that imprisoned her in an alien body and mingled her true nature with fleshly feelings
and impulses. We thus reach the paradox that the true art of living is really an “art of
dying” as far as possible to mere sense, in order more fully to exist in intimate union
with absolute goodness and beauty. On the other hand, since the philosopher must still
live and act in the concrete sensible world, the Socratic identification of wisdom and
virtue is fully maintained by Plato. Only he who apprehends good in the abstract can
imitate it in such transient and imperfect good as may be realized in human life, and it
is impossible that, having this knowledge, he should not act on it, whether in private
or public affairs. Thus, in the true philosopher, we shall necessarily find the
practically good man, who being “likest of men to the gods is best loved by them”;
and also the perfect statesman, if only the conditions of his society allow him a sphere
for exercising his statesmanship.
The characteristics of this practical goodness in Plato’s matured thought correspond
to the fundamental conceptions in his view of the universe. The soul of man, in its
good or normal condition, must be ordered and harmonized under
Virtue a harmony. the guidance of reason. The question then arises, “Wherein does
this order or harmony precisely consist?” In explaining how Plato
was led to answer this question, it will be well to notice that, while faithfully
maintaining the Socratic doctrine that the highest virtue was inseparable from
knowledge of the good, he had come to recognize an inferior kind of virtue, possessed
by men who were not philosophers. It is plain that if the good that is to be known is
the ultimate ground of the whole of things, it is attainable only by a select and
carefully trained few. Yet we can hardly restrict all virtue to these alone. What
account, then, was to be given of ordinary “civic” bravery, temperance and justice? It
seemed clear that men who did their duty, resisting the seductions of fear and desire,
Page 472
must have right opinions, if not knowledge, as to the good and evil in human life; but
whence comes this right “opinion”? Partly, Plato said, it comes by nature and “divine
allotment,” but for its adequate development “custom and practice” are required.
Hence the paramount importance of education and discipline for civic virtue; and
even for future philosophers such moral culture, in which physical and aesthetic
training must co-operate, is indispensable; no merely intellectual preparation will
suffice. His point is that perfect knowledge cannot be implanted in a soul that has not
gone through a course of preparation including much more than physical training.
What, then, is this preparation? A distinct step in psychological analysis was taken
when Plato recognized that its effect was to produce the “harmony” above mentioned
among different parts of the soul, by subordinating the impulsive elements to reason.
These non-rational elements he further distinguished as appetitive (τὸ ἐπιθυμητικόν)
and spirited (τὸ θυμοειδές or θυμός)—the practical separateness of which from each
other and from reason he held to be established by our inner experience.
On this triple division of the soul he founded a systematic view of the four kinds of
goodness recognized by the common moral consciousness of Greece, and in later
times known as the Cardinal Virtues (q.v.). Of these the two most fundamental were
(as has been already indicated) wisdom—in its highest form philosophy—and that
harmonious and regulated activity of all the elements of the soul which Plato regards
as the essence of uprightness in social relations (δικαιοσύνη). The import of this term
is essentially social; and we can explain Plato’s use of it only by reference to the
analogy which he drew between the individual man and the community. In a rightly
ordered polity social and individual well-being alike would depend on that
harmonious action of diverse elements, each performing its proper function, which in
its social application is more naturally termed δικαιοσύνη. We see, moreover, how in
Plato’s view the fundamental virtues, Wisdom and Justice in their highest forms, are
mutually involved. Wisdom will necessarily maintain orderly activity, and this latter
consists in regulation by wisdom, while the two more special virtues of Courage
(ἀνδρεία) and Temperance (σωφροσύνη) are only different sides or aspects of this
wisely regulated action of the complex soul.
Such, then, are the forms in which essential good seemed to manifest itself in
human life. It remains to ask whether the statement of these gives a complete account
of human well-being, or whether pleasure also is to be included. On this point Plato’s
whence comes this right “opinion”? Partly, Plato said, it comes by nature and “divine
allotment,” but for its adequate development “custom and practice” are required.
Hence the paramount importance of education and discipline for civic virtue; and
even for future philosophers such moral culture, in which physical and aesthetic
training must co-operate, is indispensable; no merely intellectual preparation will
suffice. His point is that perfect knowledge cannot be implanted in a soul that has not
gone through a course of preparation including much more than physical training.
What, then, is this preparation? A distinct step in psychological analysis was taken
when Plato recognized that its effect was to produce the “harmony” above mentioned
among different parts of the soul, by subordinating the impulsive elements to reason.
These non-rational elements he further distinguished as appetitive (τὸ ἐπιθυμητικόν)
and spirited (τὸ θυμοειδές or θυμός)—the practical separateness of which from each
other and from reason he held to be established by our inner experience.
On this triple division of the soul he founded a systematic view of the four kinds of
goodness recognized by the common moral consciousness of Greece, and in later
times known as the Cardinal Virtues (q.v.). Of these the two most fundamental were
(as has been already indicated) wisdom—in its highest form philosophy—and that
harmonious and regulated activity of all the elements of the soul which Plato regards
as the essence of uprightness in social relations (δικαιοσύνη). The import of this term
is essentially social; and we can explain Plato’s use of it only by reference to the
analogy which he drew between the individual man and the community. In a rightly
ordered polity social and individual well-being alike would depend on that
harmonious action of diverse elements, each performing its proper function, which in
its social application is more naturally termed δικαιοσύνη. We see, moreover, how in
Plato’s view the fundamental virtues, Wisdom and Justice in their highest forms, are
mutually involved. Wisdom will necessarily maintain orderly activity, and this latter
consists in regulation by wisdom, while the two more special virtues of Courage
(ἀνδρεία) and Temperance (σωφροσύνη) are only different sides or aspects of this
wisely regulated action of the complex soul.
Such, then, are the forms in which essential good seemed to manifest itself in
human life. It remains to ask whether the statement of these gives a complete account
of human well-being, or whether pleasure also is to be included. On this point Plato’s
Page 473
view seems to have gone through several oscillations. After apparently maintaining
(Protagoras) that pleasure is the good, he passes first to the opposite extreme, and
denies it (Phaedo, Gorgias) to be a good at all. For (1), as concrete and transient, it is
obviously not the real essential good that the philosopher seeks; (2) the feelings most
prominently recognized as pleasures are bound up with pain, as good can never be
with evil; in so far, then, as common sense rightly recognizes some pleasures as good,
it can only be from their tendency to produce some further good. This view, however,
was too violent a divergence from Socratism for Plato to remain in it. That pleasure is
not the real absolute good, was no ground for not including it in the good of concrete
human life; and after all only coarse and vulgar pleasures were indissolubly linked to
the pains of want. Accordingly, in the Republic he has no objection to trying the
question of the intrinsic superiority of philosophic or virtuous2 life by the standard of
pleasure, and argues that the philosophic (or good) man alone enjoys real pleasure,
while the sensualist spends his life in oscillating between painful want and the merely
neutral state of painlessness, which he mistakes for positive pleasure. Still more
emphatically is it declared in the Laws that when we are “discoursing to men, not to
gods,” we must show that the life which we praise as best and noblest is also that in
which there is the greatest excess of pleasure over pain. But though Plato holds this
inseparable connexion of best and pleasantest to be true and important, it is only for
the sake of the vulgar that he lays this stress on pleasure. For in the most philosophical
comparison in the Philebus between the claims of pleasure and wisdom the former is
altogether worsted; and though a place is allowed to the pure pleasures of colour, form
and sound, and of intellectual exercise, and even to the “necessary” satisfaction of
appetite, it is only a subordinate one. At the same time, in his later view, Plato avoids
the exaggeration of denying all positive quality of pleasure even to the coarser sensual
gratifications; they are undoubtedly cases of that “replenishment” or “restoration” to
its “natural state” of a bodily organ, in which he defines pleasure to consist (see
Timaeus, pp. 64, 65); he merely maintains that the common estimate of them is to a
large extent illusory, or a false appearance of pleasure is produced by contrast with the
antecedent or concomitant painful condition of the organ. It is not surprising that this
somewhat complicated and delicately balanced view of the relations of “good” and
“pleasure” was not long maintained within the Platonic school, and that under
Speusippus, Plato’s successor, the main body of Platonists took up a simply anti-
hedonistic position, as we learn from the polemic of Aristotle. In the Philebus,
(Protagoras) that pleasure is the good, he passes first to the opposite extreme, and
denies it (Phaedo, Gorgias) to be a good at all. For (1), as concrete and transient, it is
obviously not the real essential good that the philosopher seeks; (2) the feelings most
prominently recognized as pleasures are bound up with pain, as good can never be
with evil; in so far, then, as common sense rightly recognizes some pleasures as good,
it can only be from their tendency to produce some further good. This view, however,
was too violent a divergence from Socratism for Plato to remain in it. That pleasure is
not the real absolute good, was no ground for not including it in the good of concrete
human life; and after all only coarse and vulgar pleasures were indissolubly linked to
the pains of want. Accordingly, in the Republic he has no objection to trying the
question of the intrinsic superiority of philosophic or virtuous2 life by the standard of
pleasure, and argues that the philosophic (or good) man alone enjoys real pleasure,
while the sensualist spends his life in oscillating between painful want and the merely
neutral state of painlessness, which he mistakes for positive pleasure. Still more
emphatically is it declared in the Laws that when we are “discoursing to men, not to
gods,” we must show that the life which we praise as best and noblest is also that in
which there is the greatest excess of pleasure over pain. But though Plato holds this
inseparable connexion of best and pleasantest to be true and important, it is only for
the sake of the vulgar that he lays this stress on pleasure. For in the most philosophical
comparison in the Philebus between the claims of pleasure and wisdom the former is
altogether worsted; and though a place is allowed to the pure pleasures of colour, form
and sound, and of intellectual exercise, and even to the “necessary” satisfaction of
appetite, it is only a subordinate one. At the same time, in his later view, Plato avoids
the exaggeration of denying all positive quality of pleasure even to the coarser sensual
gratifications; they are undoubtedly cases of that “replenishment” or “restoration” to
its “natural state” of a bodily organ, in which he defines pleasure to consist (see
Timaeus, pp. 64, 65); he merely maintains that the common estimate of them is to a
large extent illusory, or a false appearance of pleasure is produced by contrast with the
antecedent or concomitant painful condition of the organ. It is not surprising that this
somewhat complicated and delicately balanced view of the relations of “good” and
“pleasure” was not long maintained within the Platonic school, and that under
Speusippus, Plato’s successor, the main body of Platonists took up a simply anti-
hedonistic position, as we learn from the polemic of Aristotle. In the Philebus,
Page 474
however, though a more careful psychological analysis leads him to soften down the
exaggerations of this attack on sensual pleasure, the antithesis of knowledge and
pleasure is again sharpened, and a desire to depreciate even good pleasures is more
strongly shown; still even here pleasure is recognized as a constituent of that
philosophic life which is the highest human good, while in the Laws, where the
subject is more popularly treated, it is admitted that we cannot convince man that the
just life is the best unless we can also prove it to be the pleasantest.
When a student passes from Plato to Aristotle, he is so forcibly impressed by the
contrast between the habits of mind of the two authors, and the literary manners of the
two philosophers, that it is easy to understand how their systems
Plato and Aristotle. have come to be popularly conceived as diametrically opposed to
each other; and the uncompromising polemic which Aristotle, both
in his ethical and in his metaphysical treatises, directs against Plato and the platonists,
has tended strongly to confirm this view. Yet a closer inspection shows us that when a
later president of the Academy (Antiochus of Ascalon) repudiated the scepticism
which for two hundred years had been accepted as the traditional Platonic doctrine, he
had good grounds for claiming Plato and Aristotle as consentient authorities for the
ethical position which he took up. For though Aristotle’s divergence from Plato is
very conspicuous when we consider either his general conception of the subject of
ethics, or the details of his system of virtues, still his agreement with his master is
almost complete as regards the main outline of his theory of human good; the
difference between the two practically vanishes when we view them in relation to the
later controversy between Stoics and Epicureans. Even on the cardinal point on which
Aristotle entered into direct controversy with Plato, the definite disagreement between
the two is less than at first appears; the objections of the disciple hit that part of the
master’s system that was rather imagined than thought; the main positive result of
Platonic speculation only gains in distinctness by the application of Aristotelian
analysis.
Plato, we saw, held that there is one supreme science or wisdom, of which the
ultimate object is absolute good; in the knowledge of this, the knowledge of all
particular goods—that is, of all that we rationally desire to know—is implicitly
contained; and also all practical virtue, as no one who truly knows what is good can
fail to realize it. But in spite of the intense conviction with which he thus identified
exaggerations of this attack on sensual pleasure, the antithesis of knowledge and
pleasure is again sharpened, and a desire to depreciate even good pleasures is more
strongly shown; still even here pleasure is recognized as a constituent of that
philosophic life which is the highest human good, while in the Laws, where the
subject is more popularly treated, it is admitted that we cannot convince man that the
just life is the best unless we can also prove it to be the pleasantest.
When a student passes from Plato to Aristotle, he is so forcibly impressed by the
contrast between the habits of mind of the two authors, and the literary manners of the
two philosophers, that it is easy to understand how their systems
Plato and Aristotle. have come to be popularly conceived as diametrically opposed to
each other; and the uncompromising polemic which Aristotle, both
in his ethical and in his metaphysical treatises, directs against Plato and the platonists,
has tended strongly to confirm this view. Yet a closer inspection shows us that when a
later president of the Academy (Antiochus of Ascalon) repudiated the scepticism
which for two hundred years had been accepted as the traditional Platonic doctrine, he
had good grounds for claiming Plato and Aristotle as consentient authorities for the
ethical position which he took up. For though Aristotle’s divergence from Plato is
very conspicuous when we consider either his general conception of the subject of
ethics, or the details of his system of virtues, still his agreement with his master is
almost complete as regards the main outline of his theory of human good; the
difference between the two practically vanishes when we view them in relation to the
later controversy between Stoics and Epicureans. Even on the cardinal point on which
Aristotle entered into direct controversy with Plato, the definite disagreement between
the two is less than at first appears; the objections of the disciple hit that part of the
master’s system that was rather imagined than thought; the main positive result of
Platonic speculation only gains in distinctness by the application of Aristotelian
analysis.
Plato, we saw, held that there is one supreme science or wisdom, of which the
ultimate object is absolute good; in the knowledge of this, the knowledge of all
particular goods—that is, of all that we rationally desire to know—is implicitly
contained; and also all practical virtue, as no one who truly knows what is good can
fail to realize it. But in spite of the intense conviction with which he thus identified
Page 475
metaphysical speculation and practical wisdom, we find in his writings no serious
attempt to deduce the particulars of human well-being from his knowledge of absolute
good, still less to unfold from it the particular cognitions of the special arts and
sciences. Indeed, we may say that the distinction which Aristotle explicitly draws
between speculative science or wisdom and practical wisdom (on its political side
statesmanship) is really indicated in Plato’s actual treatment of the subjects, although
the express recognition of it is contrary to his principles. The discussion of good (e.g.)
in his Philebus relates entirely to human good, and the respective claims of Thought
and Pleasure to constitute this; he only refers in passing to the Divine Thought that is
the good of the ordered world, as something clearly beyond the limits of the present
discussion. So again, in his last great ethico-political treatise (the Laws) there is hardly
a trace of his peculiar metaphysics. On the other hand, the relation between human
and divine good, as presented by Aristotle, is so close that we can hardly conceive
Plato as having definitely thought it closer. The substantial good of the universe, in
Aristotle’s view, is the pure activity of universal abstract thought, at once subject and
object, which, itself changeless and eternal, is the final cause and first source of the
whole process of change in the concrete world. And both he and Plato hold that a
similar activity of pure speculative intellect is that in which the philosopher will seek
to exist, though he must, being a man, concern himself with the affairs of ordinary
human life, a region in which his highest good will be attained by realizing perfect
moral excellence. No doubt Aristotle’s demonstration of the inappropriateness of
attributing moral excellence to the Deity seems to contradict Plato’s doctrine that the
just man as such is “likest the gods,” but here again the discrepancy is reduced when
we remember that the essence of Plato’s justice (δικαιοσύνη) is harmonious activity.
No doubt, too, Aristotle’s attribution of pleasure to the Divine Existence shows a
profound metaphysical divergence from Plato; but it is a divergence which has no
practical importance. Nor, again, is Aristotle’s divergence from the Socratic principle
that all “virtue is knowledge” substantially greater than Plato’s, though it is more
plainly expressed. Both accept the paradox in the qualified sense that no one can
deliberately act contrary to what appears to him good, and that perfect virtue is
inseparably bound up with perfect wisdom or moral insight. Both, however, recognize
that this actuality of moral insight is not a function of the intellect only, but depends
rather on careful training in good habits applied to minds of good natural dispositions,
though the doctrine has no doubt a more definite and prominent place in Aristotle’s
attempt to deduce the particulars of human well-being from his knowledge of absolute
good, still less to unfold from it the particular cognitions of the special arts and
sciences. Indeed, we may say that the distinction which Aristotle explicitly draws
between speculative science or wisdom and practical wisdom (on its political side
statesmanship) is really indicated in Plato’s actual treatment of the subjects, although
the express recognition of it is contrary to his principles. The discussion of good (e.g.)
in his Philebus relates entirely to human good, and the respective claims of Thought
and Pleasure to constitute this; he only refers in passing to the Divine Thought that is
the good of the ordered world, as something clearly beyond the limits of the present
discussion. So again, in his last great ethico-political treatise (the Laws) there is hardly
a trace of his peculiar metaphysics. On the other hand, the relation between human
and divine good, as presented by Aristotle, is so close that we can hardly conceive
Plato as having definitely thought it closer. The substantial good of the universe, in
Aristotle’s view, is the pure activity of universal abstract thought, at once subject and
object, which, itself changeless and eternal, is the final cause and first source of the
whole process of change in the concrete world. And both he and Plato hold that a
similar activity of pure speculative intellect is that in which the philosopher will seek
to exist, though he must, being a man, concern himself with the affairs of ordinary
human life, a region in which his highest good will be attained by realizing perfect
moral excellence. No doubt Aristotle’s demonstration of the inappropriateness of
attributing moral excellence to the Deity seems to contradict Plato’s doctrine that the
just man as such is “likest the gods,” but here again the discrepancy is reduced when
we remember that the essence of Plato’s justice (δικαιοσύνη) is harmonious activity.
No doubt, too, Aristotle’s attribution of pleasure to the Divine Existence shows a
profound metaphysical divergence from Plato; but it is a divergence which has no
practical importance. Nor, again, is Aristotle’s divergence from the Socratic principle
that all “virtue is knowledge” substantially greater than Plato’s, though it is more
plainly expressed. Both accept the paradox in the qualified sense that no one can
deliberately act contrary to what appears to him good, and that perfect virtue is
inseparably bound up with perfect wisdom or moral insight. Both, however, recognize
that this actuality of moral insight is not a function of the intellect only, but depends
rather on careful training in good habits applied to minds of good natural dispositions,
though the doctrine has no doubt a more definite and prominent place in Aristotle’s
Page 476
system. The disciple certainly takes a step in advance by stating definitely, as an
essential characteristic of virtuous action, that it is chosen for its own sake, for the
beauty of virtue alone; but herein he merely formulates the conviction that his master
inspires. Nor, finally, does Aristotle’s account of the relation of pleasure to human
well-being (although he has to combat the extreme anti-hedonism to which the
Platonic school under Speusippus had been led) differ materially from the outcome of
Plato’s thought on this point, as the later dialogues present it to us. Pleasure, in
Aristotle’s view, is not the primary constituent of well-being, but rather an inseparable
accident of it; human well-being is essentially well-doing, excellent activity of some
kind, whether its aim and end be abstract truth or noble conduct; knowledge and
virtue are objects of rational choice apart from the pleasure attending them; still all
activities are attended and in a manner perfected by pleasure, which is better and more
desirable in proportion to the excellence of the activity. He no doubt criticizes Plato’s
account of the nature of pleasure, arguing that we cannot properly conceive pleasure
either as a “process” or as “replenishment”—the last term, he truly says, denotes a
material rather than a psychical fact. But this does not interfere with the general
ethical agreement between the two thinkers; and the doctrine that vicious pleasures
are not true or real pleasures is so characteristically Platonic that we are almost
surprised to find it in Aristotle.
In so far as there is any important difference between the Platonic and the
Aristotelian views of human good, we may observe that the latter has substantially a
closer correspondence to the positive element in the ethical teaching of Socrates,
though it is presented in a far more technical and scholastic form,
Aristotle’s ethics. and involves a more distinct rejection of the fundamental Socratic
paradox. The same result appears when we compare the methods of
the three philosophers. Although the Socratic induction forms a striking feature of
Plato’s dialogues, his ideal method of ethics is purely deductive; he admits common
sense only as supplying provisional steps and starting-points from which the mind is
to ascend to knowledge of absolute good, through which knowledge alone, as he
conceives, the lower notions of particular goods are to be truly conceived. Aristotle,
discarding the transcendentalism of Plato, naturally retained from Plato’s teaching the
original Socratic method of induction from and verification by common opinion.
Indeed, the windings of his exposition are best understood if we consider his literary
manner as a kind of Socratic dialogue formalized and reduced to a monologue. He
essential characteristic of virtuous action, that it is chosen for its own sake, for the
beauty of virtue alone; but herein he merely formulates the conviction that his master
inspires. Nor, finally, does Aristotle’s account of the relation of pleasure to human
well-being (although he has to combat the extreme anti-hedonism to which the
Platonic school under Speusippus had been led) differ materially from the outcome of
Plato’s thought on this point, as the later dialogues present it to us. Pleasure, in
Aristotle’s view, is not the primary constituent of well-being, but rather an inseparable
accident of it; human well-being is essentially well-doing, excellent activity of some
kind, whether its aim and end be abstract truth or noble conduct; knowledge and
virtue are objects of rational choice apart from the pleasure attending them; still all
activities are attended and in a manner perfected by pleasure, which is better and more
desirable in proportion to the excellence of the activity. He no doubt criticizes Plato’s
account of the nature of pleasure, arguing that we cannot properly conceive pleasure
either as a “process” or as “replenishment”—the last term, he truly says, denotes a
material rather than a psychical fact. But this does not interfere with the general
ethical agreement between the two thinkers; and the doctrine that vicious pleasures
are not true or real pleasures is so characteristically Platonic that we are almost
surprised to find it in Aristotle.
In so far as there is any important difference between the Platonic and the
Aristotelian views of human good, we may observe that the latter has substantially a
closer correspondence to the positive element in the ethical teaching of Socrates,
though it is presented in a far more technical and scholastic form,
Aristotle’s ethics. and involves a more distinct rejection of the fundamental Socratic
paradox. The same result appears when we compare the methods of
the three philosophers. Although the Socratic induction forms a striking feature of
Plato’s dialogues, his ideal method of ethics is purely deductive; he admits common
sense only as supplying provisional steps and starting-points from which the mind is
to ascend to knowledge of absolute good, through which knowledge alone, as he
conceives, the lower notions of particular goods are to be truly conceived. Aristotle,
discarding the transcendentalism of Plato, naturally retained from Plato’s teaching the
original Socratic method of induction from and verification by common opinion.
Indeed, the windings of his exposition are best understood if we consider his literary
manner as a kind of Socratic dialogue formalized and reduced to a monologue. He
Page 477
first leads us by an induction to the fundamental notion of ultimate end or good for
man. All men, in acting, aim at some result, either for its own sake or as a means to
some further end; but obviously not everything can be sought merely as a means;
there must be some ultimate end. In fact men commonly recognize such an end, and
agree to call it well-being3 (εὐδαιμονία). But they take very different views of its
nature; how shall we find the true view? We observe that men are classified according
to their functions; all kinds of man, and indeed all organs of man, have their special
functions, and are judged as functionaries and organs according as they perform their
functions well or ill. May we not then infer that man, as man, has his proper function,
and that the well-being or “doing well” that all seek really lies in fulfilling well the
proper function of man,—that is, in living well that life of the rational soul which we
recognize as man’s distinctive attribute?
Again, this Socratic deference to common opinion is not shown merely in the way
by which Aristotle reaches his fundamental conception; it equally appears in his
treatment of the conception itself. In the first place, though in Aristotle’s view the
most perfect well-being consists in the exercise of man’s “divinest part,” pure
speculative reason, he keeps far from the paradox of putting forward this and nothing
else as human good; so far, indeed, that the greater part of his treatise is occupied with
an exposition of the inferior good which is realized in practical life when the
appetitive or impulsive (semi-rational) element of the soul operates under the due
regulation of reason. Even when the notion of “good performance of function” was
thus widened, and when it had further taken in the pleasure that is inseparably
connected with such functioning, it did not yet correspond to the whole of what a
Greek commonly understood as “human well-being.” We may grant, indeed, that a
moderate provision of material wealth is indirectly included, as an indispensable pre-
requisite of a due performance of many functions as Aristotle conceives it—his
system admits of no beatitudes for the poor; still there remain other goods, such as
beauty, good birth, welfare of progeny, the presence or absence of which influenced
the common view of a man’s well-being, though they could hardly be shown to be
even indirectly important to his “well-acting.” These Aristotle attempts neither to
exclude from the philosophic conception of well-being nor to include in his formal
definition of it. The deliberate looseness which is thus given to his fundamental
doctrine characterizes more or less his whole discussion of ethics. He plainly says that
the subject does not admit of completely scientific treatment; his aim is to give not a
man. All men, in acting, aim at some result, either for its own sake or as a means to
some further end; but obviously not everything can be sought merely as a means;
there must be some ultimate end. In fact men commonly recognize such an end, and
agree to call it well-being3 (εὐδαιμονία). But they take very different views of its
nature; how shall we find the true view? We observe that men are classified according
to their functions; all kinds of man, and indeed all organs of man, have their special
functions, and are judged as functionaries and organs according as they perform their
functions well or ill. May we not then infer that man, as man, has his proper function,
and that the well-being or “doing well” that all seek really lies in fulfilling well the
proper function of man,—that is, in living well that life of the rational soul which we
recognize as man’s distinctive attribute?
Again, this Socratic deference to common opinion is not shown merely in the way
by which Aristotle reaches his fundamental conception; it equally appears in his
treatment of the conception itself. In the first place, though in Aristotle’s view the
most perfect well-being consists in the exercise of man’s “divinest part,” pure
speculative reason, he keeps far from the paradox of putting forward this and nothing
else as human good; so far, indeed, that the greater part of his treatise is occupied with
an exposition of the inferior good which is realized in practical life when the
appetitive or impulsive (semi-rational) element of the soul operates under the due
regulation of reason. Even when the notion of “good performance of function” was
thus widened, and when it had further taken in the pleasure that is inseparably
connected with such functioning, it did not yet correspond to the whole of what a
Greek commonly understood as “human well-being.” We may grant, indeed, that a
moderate provision of material wealth is indirectly included, as an indispensable pre-
requisite of a due performance of many functions as Aristotle conceives it—his
system admits of no beatitudes for the poor; still there remain other goods, such as
beauty, good birth, welfare of progeny, the presence or absence of which influenced
the common view of a man’s well-being, though they could hardly be shown to be
even indirectly important to his “well-acting.” These Aristotle attempts neither to
exclude from the philosophic conception of well-being nor to include in his formal
definition of it. The deliberate looseness which is thus given to his fundamental
doctrine characterizes more or less his whole discussion of ethics. He plainly says that
the subject does not admit of completely scientific treatment; his aim is to give not a
Page 478
definite theory of human good, but a practically adequate account of its most
important constituents.
The most important element, then, of well-being or good life for ordinary men
Aristotle holds to consist in well-doing as determined by the notions of the different
moral excellences. In expounding these, he gives throughout the pure result of
analytical observation of the common moral consciousness of his age. Ethical truth, in
his view, is to be attained by careful comparison of particular moral opinions, just as
physical truth is to be obtained by induction from particular physical observations. On
account of the conflict of opinion in ethics we cannot hope to obtain certainty upon all
questions; still reflection will lead us to discard some of the conflicting views and find
a reconciliation for others, and will furnish, on the whole, a practically sufficient
residuum of moral truth. This adhesion to common sense, though it involves a
sacrifice of both depth and completeness in Aristotle’s system, gives at the same time
an historical interest which renders it deserving of special attention as an analysis of
the current Greek ideal of “fair and good life” (καλοκἀγαθία). His virtues are not
arranged on any clear philosophic plan; the list shows no serious attempt to consider
human life exhaustively, and exhibit the standard of excellence appropriate to its
different departments or aspects. He seems to have taken as a starting-point Plato’s
four cardinal virtues. The two comprehensive notions of Wisdom and Justice
(δικαιοσύνη) he treats separately. As regards both his analysis leads him to diverge
considerably from Plato. As we saw, his distinction between practical and speculative
Wisdom belongs to the deepest of his disagreements with his master; and in the case
of δικαιοσύνη again he distinguishes the wider use of the term to express Law-
observance, which (he says) coincides with the social side of virtue generally, and its
narrower use for the virtue that “aims at a kind of equality,” whether (1) in the
distribution of wealth, honour, &c., or (2) in commercial exchange, or (3) in the
reparation of wrong done. Then, in arranging the other special virtues, he begins with
courage and temperance, which (after Plato) he considers as the excellences of the
“irrational element” of the soul. Next follow two pairs of excellences, concerned
respectively with wealth and honour: (1) liberality and magnificence, of which the
latter is exhibited in greater matters of expenditure, and (2) laudable ambition and
highmindedness similarly related to honour. Then comes gentleness—the virtue
regulative of anger; and the list is concluded by the excellences of social intercourse,
important constituents.
The most important element, then, of well-being or good life for ordinary men
Aristotle holds to consist in well-doing as determined by the notions of the different
moral excellences. In expounding these, he gives throughout the pure result of
analytical observation of the common moral consciousness of his age. Ethical truth, in
his view, is to be attained by careful comparison of particular moral opinions, just as
physical truth is to be obtained by induction from particular physical observations. On
account of the conflict of opinion in ethics we cannot hope to obtain certainty upon all
questions; still reflection will lead us to discard some of the conflicting views and find
a reconciliation for others, and will furnish, on the whole, a practically sufficient
residuum of moral truth. This adhesion to common sense, though it involves a
sacrifice of both depth and completeness in Aristotle’s system, gives at the same time
an historical interest which renders it deserving of special attention as an analysis of
the current Greek ideal of “fair and good life” (καλοκἀγαθία). His virtues are not
arranged on any clear philosophic plan; the list shows no serious attempt to consider
human life exhaustively, and exhibit the standard of excellence appropriate to its
different departments or aspects. He seems to have taken as a starting-point Plato’s
four cardinal virtues. The two comprehensive notions of Wisdom and Justice
(δικαιοσύνη) he treats separately. As regards both his analysis leads him to diverge
considerably from Plato. As we saw, his distinction between practical and speculative
Wisdom belongs to the deepest of his disagreements with his master; and in the case
of δικαιοσύνη again he distinguishes the wider use of the term to express Law-
observance, which (he says) coincides with the social side of virtue generally, and its
narrower use for the virtue that “aims at a kind of equality,” whether (1) in the
distribution of wealth, honour, &c., or (2) in commercial exchange, or (3) in the
reparation of wrong done. Then, in arranging the other special virtues, he begins with
courage and temperance, which (after Plato) he considers as the excellences of the
“irrational element” of the soul. Next follow two pairs of excellences, concerned
respectively with wealth and honour: (1) liberality and magnificence, of which the
latter is exhibited in greater matters of expenditure, and (2) laudable ambition and
highmindedness similarly related to honour. Then comes gentleness—the virtue
regulative of anger; and the list is concluded by the excellences of social intercourse,
Page 479
friendliness (as a mean between obsequiousness and surliness), truthfulness and
decorous wit.
The abundant store of just and close analytical observation contained in Aristotle’s
account of these notions give it a permanent interest, even beyond its historical value
as a delineation of the Greek ideal of “fair and good” life.4 But its looseness of
arrangement and almost grotesque co-ordination of qualities widely differing in
importance are obvious. Thus his famous general formula for virtue, that it is a mean
or middle state, always to be found somewhere between the vices which stand to it in
the relation of excess and defect, scarcely avails to render his treatment more
systematic. It was important, no doubt, to express the need of observing due measure
and proportion, in order to attain good results in human life no less than in artistic
products; but the observation of this need was no new thing in Greek literature;
indeed, it had already led the Pythagoreans and Plato to find the ultimate essence of
the ordered universe in number. But Aristotle’s purely quantitative statement of the
relation of virtue and vice is misleading, even where it is not obviously inappropriate;
and sometimes leads him to such eccentricities as that of making simple veracity a
mean between boastfulness and mock-modesty.5
It ought to be said that Aristotle does not present the formula just discussed as
supplying a criterion of good conduct in any particular case; he expressly leaves this
to be determined by “correct reasoning, and the judgment of the practically-wise man
(ὁ φρόνιμος).” We cannot, however, find that he has furnished any substantial
principles for its determination; indeed, he hardly seems to have formed a distinct
general idea of the practical syllogism by which he conceives it to be effected.6 The
kind of reasoning which his view of virtuous conduct requires is one in which the
ultimate major premise states a distinctive characteristic of some virtue, and one or
more minor premises show that such characteristic belongs to a certain mode of
conduct under given circumstances; since it is essential to good conduct that it should
contain its end in itself, and be chosen for its own sake. But he has not failed to
observe that practical reasonings are not commonly of this kind, but are rather
concerned with actions as means to ulterior ends; indeed, he lays stress on this as a
characteristic of the “political” life, when he wishes to prove its inferiority to the life
of pure speculation. Though common sense will admit that virtues are the best of
goods, it still undoubtedly conceives practical wisdom as chiefly exercised in
decorous wit.
The abundant store of just and close analytical observation contained in Aristotle’s
account of these notions give it a permanent interest, even beyond its historical value
as a delineation of the Greek ideal of “fair and good” life.4 But its looseness of
arrangement and almost grotesque co-ordination of qualities widely differing in
importance are obvious. Thus his famous general formula for virtue, that it is a mean
or middle state, always to be found somewhere between the vices which stand to it in
the relation of excess and defect, scarcely avails to render his treatment more
systematic. It was important, no doubt, to express the need of observing due measure
and proportion, in order to attain good results in human life no less than in artistic
products; but the observation of this need was no new thing in Greek literature;
indeed, it had already led the Pythagoreans and Plato to find the ultimate essence of
the ordered universe in number. But Aristotle’s purely quantitative statement of the
relation of virtue and vice is misleading, even where it is not obviously inappropriate;
and sometimes leads him to such eccentricities as that of making simple veracity a
mean between boastfulness and mock-modesty.5
It ought to be said that Aristotle does not present the formula just discussed as
supplying a criterion of good conduct in any particular case; he expressly leaves this
to be determined by “correct reasoning, and the judgment of the practically-wise man
(ὁ φρόνιμος).” We cannot, however, find that he has furnished any substantial
principles for its determination; indeed, he hardly seems to have formed a distinct
general idea of the practical syllogism by which he conceives it to be effected.6 The
kind of reasoning which his view of virtuous conduct requires is one in which the
ultimate major premise states a distinctive characteristic of some virtue, and one or
more minor premises show that such characteristic belongs to a certain mode of
conduct under given circumstances; since it is essential to good conduct that it should
contain its end in itself, and be chosen for its own sake. But he has not failed to
observe that practical reasonings are not commonly of this kind, but are rather
concerned with actions as means to ulterior ends; indeed, he lays stress on this as a
characteristic of the “political” life, when he wishes to prove its inferiority to the life
of pure speculation. Though common sense will admit that virtues are the best of
goods, it still undoubtedly conceives practical wisdom as chiefly exercised in
Page 480
providing those inferior goods which Aristotle, after recognizing the need or use of
them for the realization of human well-being, has dropped out of sight; and the result
is that, in trying to make clear his conception of practical wisdom, we find ourselves
fluctuating continually between the common notion, which he does not distinctly
reject, and the notion required as the keystone of his ethical system.
On the whole, there is probably no treatise so masterly as Aristotle’s Ethics, and
containing so much close and valid thought, that yet leaves on the reader’s mind so
strong an impression of dispersive and incomplete work. It is only
Transition to by dwelling on these defects that we can understand the small
Stoicism. amount of influence that his system exercised during the five
centuries after his death, as compared with the effect which it has
had, directly or indirectly, in shaping the thought of modern Europe. Partly, no doubt,
the limited influence of his disciples, the Peripatetics (q.v.), is to be attributed to that
exaltation of the purely speculative life which distinguished the Aristotelian ethics
from other later systems, and which was too alien from the common moral
consciousness to find much acceptance in an age in which the ethical aims of
philosophy had again become paramount. Partly, again, the analytical distinctness of
Aristotle’s manner brings into special prominence the difficulties that attend the
Socratic effort to reconcile the ideal aspirations of men with the principles on which
their practical reasonings are commonly conducted. The conflict between these two
elements of Common Sense was too profound to be compromised; and the moral
consciousness of mankind demanded a more trenchant partisanship than Aristotle’s.
Its demands were met by the Stoic school which separated the moral from the worldly
view of life, with an absoluteness and definiteness that caught the imagination; which
regarded practical goodness as the highest manifestation of its ideal of wisdom; and
which bound the common notions of duty into an apparently coherent system, by a
formula that comprehended the whole of human life, and exhibited its relation to the
ordered process of the universe. The intellectual descent of its ethical doctrines is
principally to be traced to Socrates through the Cynics, though an important element
in them seems attributable to the school that inherited the “Academy” of Plato. Both
Stoic and Cynic maintained, in its sharpest form, the fundamental tenet that the
practical knowledge which is virtue, with the condition of soul that is inseparable
from it, is alone to be accounted good. He who exercises this wisdom or knowledge
has complete well-being; all else is indifferent to him. It is true that the Cynics were
them for the realization of human well-being, has dropped out of sight; and the result
is that, in trying to make clear his conception of practical wisdom, we find ourselves
fluctuating continually between the common notion, which he does not distinctly
reject, and the notion required as the keystone of his ethical system.
On the whole, there is probably no treatise so masterly as Aristotle’s Ethics, and
containing so much close and valid thought, that yet leaves on the reader’s mind so
strong an impression of dispersive and incomplete work. It is only
Transition to by dwelling on these defects that we can understand the small
Stoicism. amount of influence that his system exercised during the five
centuries after his death, as compared with the effect which it has
had, directly or indirectly, in shaping the thought of modern Europe. Partly, no doubt,
the limited influence of his disciples, the Peripatetics (q.v.), is to be attributed to that
exaltation of the purely speculative life which distinguished the Aristotelian ethics
from other later systems, and which was too alien from the common moral
consciousness to find much acceptance in an age in which the ethical aims of
philosophy had again become paramount. Partly, again, the analytical distinctness of
Aristotle’s manner brings into special prominence the difficulties that attend the
Socratic effort to reconcile the ideal aspirations of men with the principles on which
their practical reasonings are commonly conducted. The conflict between these two
elements of Common Sense was too profound to be compromised; and the moral
consciousness of mankind demanded a more trenchant partisanship than Aristotle’s.
Its demands were met by the Stoic school which separated the moral from the worldly
view of life, with an absoluteness and definiteness that caught the imagination; which
regarded practical goodness as the highest manifestation of its ideal of wisdom; and
which bound the common notions of duty into an apparently coherent system, by a
formula that comprehended the whole of human life, and exhibited its relation to the
ordered process of the universe. The intellectual descent of its ethical doctrines is
principally to be traced to Socrates through the Cynics, though an important element
in them seems attributable to the school that inherited the “Academy” of Plato. Both
Stoic and Cynic maintained, in its sharpest form, the fundamental tenet that the
practical knowledge which is virtue, with the condition of soul that is inseparable
from it, is alone to be accounted good. He who exercises this wisdom or knowledge
has complete well-being; all else is indifferent to him. It is true that the Cynics were
Page 481
more concerned to emphasize the negative side of the sage’s well-being, while the
Stoics brought into more prominence its positive side. This difference, however, did
not amount to disagreement. The Stoics, in fact, seem generally to have regarded the
eccentricities of Cynicism as an emphatic manner of expressing the essential
antithesis between philosophy and the world; a manner which, though not necessary
or even normal, might yet be advantageously adopted by the sage under certain
circumstances.7
Wherein, then, consists this knowledge or wisdom that makes free and perfect?
Both Cynics and Stoics (q.v.) agreed that the most important part of it was the
knowledge that the sole good of man lay in this knowledge or wisdom itself. It must
be understood that by wisdom they meant wisdom realized in act;
Stoicism. indeed, they did not conceive the existence of wisdom as separable
from such realization. We may observe, too, that the Stoics rejected
the divergence which we have seen gradually taking place in Platonic-Aristotelian
thought from the position of Socrates, “that no one aims at what he knows to be bad.”
The stress that their psychology laid on the essential unity of the rational self that is
the source of voluntary action prevented them from accepting Plato’s analysis of the
soul into a regulative element and elements needing regulation. They held that what
we call passion is a morbid condition of the rational soul, involving erroneous
judgment as to what is to be sought or shunned. From such passionate errors the truly
wise man will of course be free. He will be conscious indeed of physical appetite; but
he will not be misled into supposing that its object is really a good; he cannot,
therefore, hope for the attainment of this object or fear to miss it, as these states
involve the conception of it as a good. Similarly, though like other men he will be
subject to bodily pain, this will not cause him mental grief or disquiet, as his worst
agonies will not disturb his clear conviction that it is really indifferent to his true
reasonable self.
That this impassive sage was a being not to be found among living men the later
Stoics at least were fully aware. They faintly suggested that one or two moral heroes
of old time might have realized the ideal, but they admitted that all other philosophers
(even) were merely in a state of progress towards it. This admission did not in the
least diminish the rigour of their demand for absolute loyalty to the exclusive claims
of wisdom. The assurance of its own unique value that such wisdom involved they
Stoics brought into more prominence its positive side. This difference, however, did
not amount to disagreement. The Stoics, in fact, seem generally to have regarded the
eccentricities of Cynicism as an emphatic manner of expressing the essential
antithesis between philosophy and the world; a manner which, though not necessary
or even normal, might yet be advantageously adopted by the sage under certain
circumstances.7
Wherein, then, consists this knowledge or wisdom that makes free and perfect?
Both Cynics and Stoics (q.v.) agreed that the most important part of it was the
knowledge that the sole good of man lay in this knowledge or wisdom itself. It must
be understood that by wisdom they meant wisdom realized in act;
Stoicism. indeed, they did not conceive the existence of wisdom as separable
from such realization. We may observe, too, that the Stoics rejected
the divergence which we have seen gradually taking place in Platonic-Aristotelian
thought from the position of Socrates, “that no one aims at what he knows to be bad.”
The stress that their psychology laid on the essential unity of the rational self that is
the source of voluntary action prevented them from accepting Plato’s analysis of the
soul into a regulative element and elements needing regulation. They held that what
we call passion is a morbid condition of the rational soul, involving erroneous
judgment as to what is to be sought or shunned. From such passionate errors the truly
wise man will of course be free. He will be conscious indeed of physical appetite; but
he will not be misled into supposing that its object is really a good; he cannot,
therefore, hope for the attainment of this object or fear to miss it, as these states
involve the conception of it as a good. Similarly, though like other men he will be
subject to bodily pain, this will not cause him mental grief or disquiet, as his worst
agonies will not disturb his clear conviction that it is really indifferent to his true
reasonable self.
That this impassive sage was a being not to be found among living men the later
Stoics at least were fully aware. They faintly suggested that one or two moral heroes
of old time might have realized the ideal, but they admitted that all other philosophers
(even) were merely in a state of progress towards it. This admission did not in the
least diminish the rigour of their demand for absolute loyalty to the exclusive claims
of wisdom. The assurance of its own unique value that such wisdom involved they
Page 482
held to be an abiding possession for those who had attained it;8 and without this
assurance no act could be truly wise or virtuous. Whatever was not of knowledge was
of sin; and the distinction between right and wrong being absolute and not admitting
of degrees all sins were equally sinful; whoever broke the least commandment was
guilty of the whole law. Similarly, all wisdom was somehow involved in any one of
the manifestations of wisdom, commonly distinguished as particular virtues; though
whether these virtues were specifically distinct, or only the same knowledge in
different relations, was a subtle question on which the Stoics do not seem to have
been agreed.
Aristotle had already been led to attempt a refutation of the Socratic identification
of virtue with knowledge; but his attempt had only shown the profound difficulty of
attacking the paradox, so long as it was admitted that no one could of deliberate
purpose act contrary to what seemed to him best. Now, Aristotle’s divergence from
Socrates had not led him so far as to deny this; while for the Stoics who had receded
to the original Socratic position, the difficulty was still more patent. This theory of
virtue led them into two dilemmas. Firstly, if virtue is knowledge, does it follow that
vice is involuntary? If not, it must be that ignorance is voluntary. This alternative is
the less dangerous to morality, and as such the Stoics chose it. But they were not yet at
the end of their perplexities; for while they were thus driven to an extreme extension
of the range of human volition, their view of the physical universe involved an equally
thorough-going determinism. How could the vicious man be responsible if his vice
were strictly pre-determined? The Stoics answered that the error which was the
essence of vice was so far voluntary that it could be avoided if men chose to exercise
their reason. No doubt it depended on the innate force and firmness9 of a man’s soul
whether his reason was effectually exercised; but moral responsibility was saved if the
vicious act proceeded from the man himself and not from any external cause.
With all this we have not ascertained the positive practical content of this wisdom.
How are we to emerge from the barren circle of affirming (1) that wisdom is the sole
good and unwisdom the sole evil, and (2) that wisdom is the knowledge of good and
evil; and attain some method for determining the particulars of good conduct? The
Cynics made no attempt to solve this difficulty; they were content to mean by virtue
what any plain man meant by it, except in so far as their sense of independence led
them to reject certain received precepts and prejudices. The Stoics, on the other hand,
assurance no act could be truly wise or virtuous. Whatever was not of knowledge was
of sin; and the distinction between right and wrong being absolute and not admitting
of degrees all sins were equally sinful; whoever broke the least commandment was
guilty of the whole law. Similarly, all wisdom was somehow involved in any one of
the manifestations of wisdom, commonly distinguished as particular virtues; though
whether these virtues were specifically distinct, or only the same knowledge in
different relations, was a subtle question on which the Stoics do not seem to have
been agreed.
Aristotle had already been led to attempt a refutation of the Socratic identification
of virtue with knowledge; but his attempt had only shown the profound difficulty of
attacking the paradox, so long as it was admitted that no one could of deliberate
purpose act contrary to what seemed to him best. Now, Aristotle’s divergence from
Socrates had not led him so far as to deny this; while for the Stoics who had receded
to the original Socratic position, the difficulty was still more patent. This theory of
virtue led them into two dilemmas. Firstly, if virtue is knowledge, does it follow that
vice is involuntary? If not, it must be that ignorance is voluntary. This alternative is
the less dangerous to morality, and as such the Stoics chose it. But they were not yet at
the end of their perplexities; for while they were thus driven to an extreme extension
of the range of human volition, their view of the physical universe involved an equally
thorough-going determinism. How could the vicious man be responsible if his vice
were strictly pre-determined? The Stoics answered that the error which was the
essence of vice was so far voluntary that it could be avoided if men chose to exercise
their reason. No doubt it depended on the innate force and firmness9 of a man’s soul
whether his reason was effectually exercised; but moral responsibility was saved if the
vicious act proceeded from the man himself and not from any external cause.
With all this we have not ascertained the positive practical content of this wisdom.
How are we to emerge from the barren circle of affirming (1) that wisdom is the sole
good and unwisdom the sole evil, and (2) that wisdom is the knowledge of good and
evil; and attain some method for determining the particulars of good conduct? The
Cynics made no attempt to solve this difficulty; they were content to mean by virtue
what any plain man meant by it, except in so far as their sense of independence led
them to reject certain received precepts and prejudices. The Stoics, on the other hand,
Page 483
not only worked out a detailed system of duties—or, as they termed them, “things
meet and fit” (καθήκοντα) for all occasions of life; they were further especially
concerned to comprehend them under a general formula. They found this by bringing
out the positive significance of the notion of Nature, which the Cynic had used chiefly
in a negative way, as an antithesis to the “consentions” (νόμος), from which his
knowledge had made him free. Even in this negative use of the notion it is necessarily
implied that whatever active tendencies in man are found to be “natural”—that is,
independent of and uncorrupted by social customs and conventions—will properly
take effect in outward acts, but the adoption of “conformity to nature” as a general
positive rule for outward conduct seems to have been due to the influence on Zeno of
Academic teaching. Whence, however, can this authority belong to the natural, unless
nature be itself an expression or embodiment of divine law and wisdom? The
conception of the world, as organized and filled by divine thought, was common, in
some form, to all the philosophies that looked back to Socrates as their founder,—
some even maintaining that this thought was the sole reality. This pantheistic doctrine
harmonized thoroughly with the Stoic view of human good; but being unable to
conceive substance idealistically, they (with considerable aid from the system of
Heraclitus) supplied a materialistic side to their pantheism,—conceiving divine
thought as an attribute of the purest and most primary of material substances, a subtle
fiery aether. This theological view of the physical universe had a double effect on the
ethics of the Stoic. In the first place it gave to his cardinal conviction of the all-
sufficiency of wisdom for human well-being a root of cosmical fact, and an
atmosphere of religious and social emotion. The exercise of wisdom was now viewed
as the pure life of that particle of divine substance which was in very truth the “god
within him”; the reason whose supremacy he maintained was the reason of Zeus, and
of all gods and reasonable men, no less than his own; its realization in any one
individual was thus the common good of all rational beings as such; “the sage could
not stretch out a finger rightly without thereby benefiting all other sages,”—nay, it
might even be said that he was “as useful to Zeus as Zeus to him.”10 But again, the
same conception served to harmonize the higher and the lower elements of human
life. For even in the physical or non-rational man, as originally constituted, we may
see clear indications of the divine design, which it belongs to his rational will to carry
into conscious execution; indeed, in the first stage of human life, before reason is fully
developed, uncorrupted natural impulse effects what is afterwards the work of reason.
meet and fit” (καθήκοντα) for all occasions of life; they were further especially
concerned to comprehend them under a general formula. They found this by bringing
out the positive significance of the notion of Nature, which the Cynic had used chiefly
in a negative way, as an antithesis to the “consentions” (νόμος), from which his
knowledge had made him free. Even in this negative use of the notion it is necessarily
implied that whatever active tendencies in man are found to be “natural”—that is,
independent of and uncorrupted by social customs and conventions—will properly
take effect in outward acts, but the adoption of “conformity to nature” as a general
positive rule for outward conduct seems to have been due to the influence on Zeno of
Academic teaching. Whence, however, can this authority belong to the natural, unless
nature be itself an expression or embodiment of divine law and wisdom? The
conception of the world, as organized and filled by divine thought, was common, in
some form, to all the philosophies that looked back to Socrates as their founder,—
some even maintaining that this thought was the sole reality. This pantheistic doctrine
harmonized thoroughly with the Stoic view of human good; but being unable to
conceive substance idealistically, they (with considerable aid from the system of
Heraclitus) supplied a materialistic side to their pantheism,—conceiving divine
thought as an attribute of the purest and most primary of material substances, a subtle
fiery aether. This theological view of the physical universe had a double effect on the
ethics of the Stoic. In the first place it gave to his cardinal conviction of the all-
sufficiency of wisdom for human well-being a root of cosmical fact, and an
atmosphere of religious and social emotion. The exercise of wisdom was now viewed
as the pure life of that particle of divine substance which was in very truth the “god
within him”; the reason whose supremacy he maintained was the reason of Zeus, and
of all gods and reasonable men, no less than his own; its realization in any one
individual was thus the common good of all rational beings as such; “the sage could
not stretch out a finger rightly without thereby benefiting all other sages,”—nay, it
might even be said that he was “as useful to Zeus as Zeus to him.”10 But again, the
same conception served to harmonize the higher and the lower elements of human
life. For even in the physical or non-rational man, as originally constituted, we may
see clear indications of the divine design, which it belongs to his rational will to carry
into conscious execution; indeed, in the first stage of human life, before reason is fully
developed, uncorrupted natural impulse effects what is afterwards the work of reason.
Page 484
Thus the formula of “living according to nature,” in its application to man as the
“rational animal,” may be understood both as directing that reason is to govern, and as
indicating how that government is to be practically exercised. In man, as in every
other animal, from the moment of birth natural impulse prompts to the maintenance of
his physical frame; then, when reason has been developed and has recognized itself as
its own sole good, these “primary ends of nature” and whatever promotes these still
constitute the outward objects at which reason is to aim; there is a certain value (ἀξία)
in them, in proportion to which they are “preferred” (προηγμένα) and their opposites
“rejected” (ἀποπροηγμένα); indeed it is only in the due and consistent exercise of
such choice that wisdom can find its practical manifestation. In this way all or most of
the things commonly judged to be “goods”—health, strength, wealth, fame,11 &c.,—
are brought within the sphere of the sage’s choice, though his real good is solely in the
wisdom of the choice, and not in the thing chosen.
The doctrine of conformity to Nature as the rule of conduct was not peculiar to
Stoicism. It is found in the theories of Speusippus, Xenocrates, and also to some
extent in those of the Peripatetics. The peculiarity of the Stoics lay in their refusing to
use the terms “good and evil” in connexion with “things indifferent,” and in pointing
out that philosophers, though independent of these things, must yet deal with them in
practical life.
So far we have considered the “nature” of the individual man as apart from his
social relations; but the sphere of virtue, as commonly conceived, lies chiefly in these,
and this was fully recognized in the Stoic account of duties (καθήκοντα); indeed, in
their exposition of the “natural” basis of justice, the evidence that man was born not
for himself but for mankind is the most important part of their work in the region of
practical morality. Here, however, we especially notice the double significance of
“natural,” as applied to (1) what actually exists everywhere or for the most part, and
(2) what would exist if the original plan of man’s life were fully carried out; and we
find that the Stoics have not clearly harmonized the two elements of the notion. That
man was “naturally” a social animal Aristotle had already taught; that all rational
beings, in the unity of the reason that is common to all, form naturally one community
with a common law was (as we saw) an immediate inference from the Stoic
conception of the universe as a whole. That the members of this “city of Zeus” should
observe their contracts, abstain from mutual harm, combine to protect each other from
“rational animal,” may be understood both as directing that reason is to govern, and as
indicating how that government is to be practically exercised. In man, as in every
other animal, from the moment of birth natural impulse prompts to the maintenance of
his physical frame; then, when reason has been developed and has recognized itself as
its own sole good, these “primary ends of nature” and whatever promotes these still
constitute the outward objects at which reason is to aim; there is a certain value (ἀξία)
in them, in proportion to which they are “preferred” (προηγμένα) and their opposites
“rejected” (ἀποπροηγμένα); indeed it is only in the due and consistent exercise of
such choice that wisdom can find its practical manifestation. In this way all or most of
the things commonly judged to be “goods”—health, strength, wealth, fame,11 &c.,—
are brought within the sphere of the sage’s choice, though his real good is solely in the
wisdom of the choice, and not in the thing chosen.
The doctrine of conformity to Nature as the rule of conduct was not peculiar to
Stoicism. It is found in the theories of Speusippus, Xenocrates, and also to some
extent in those of the Peripatetics. The peculiarity of the Stoics lay in their refusing to
use the terms “good and evil” in connexion with “things indifferent,” and in pointing
out that philosophers, though independent of these things, must yet deal with them in
practical life.
So far we have considered the “nature” of the individual man as apart from his
social relations; but the sphere of virtue, as commonly conceived, lies chiefly in these,
and this was fully recognized in the Stoic account of duties (καθήκοντα); indeed, in
their exposition of the “natural” basis of justice, the evidence that man was born not
for himself but for mankind is the most important part of their work in the region of
practical morality. Here, however, we especially notice the double significance of
“natural,” as applied to (1) what actually exists everywhere or for the most part, and
(2) what would exist if the original plan of man’s life were fully carried out; and we
find that the Stoics have not clearly harmonized the two elements of the notion. That
man was “naturally” a social animal Aristotle had already taught; that all rational
beings, in the unity of the reason that is common to all, form naturally one community
with a common law was (as we saw) an immediate inference from the Stoic
conception of the universe as a whole. That the members of this “city of Zeus” should
observe their contracts, abstain from mutual harm, combine to protect each other from
Page 485
injury, were obvious points of natural law; while again, it was clearly necessary to the
preservation of human society that its members should form sexual unions, produce
children, and bestow care on their rearing and training. But beyond this nature did not
seem to go in determining the relations of the sexes; accordingly, we find that
community of wives was a feature of Zeno’s ideal commonwealth, just as it was of
Plato’s; while, again, the strict theory of the school recognized no government or laws
as true or binding except those of the sage; he alone is the true ruler, the true king. So
far, the Stoic “nature” seems in danger of being as revolutionary as Rousseau’s.
Practically, however, this revolutionary aspect of the notion was kept for the most part
in the background; the rational law of an ideal community was not distinguished from
the positive ordinances and customs of actual society; and the “natural” ties that
actually bound each man to family, kinsmen, fatherland, and to unwise humanity
generally, supplied the outline on which the external manifestation of justice was
delineated. It was a fundamental maxim that the sage was to take part in public life;
and it does not appear that his political action was to be regulated by any other
principles than those commonly accepted in his community. Similarly, in the view
taken by the Stoics of the duties of social decorum, and in their attitude to the popular
religion, we find a fluctuating compromise between the disposition to repudiate what
is conventional, and the disposition to revere what is established, each tendency
expressing in its own way the principle of “conforming to nature.”
Among the primary ends of nature, in which wisdom recognized a certain
preferability, the Stoics included freedom from bodily pain; but they refused, even in
this outer court of wisdom, to find a place for pleasure. They held
Stoics and that the latter was not an object of uncorrupted natural impulse, but
hedonists. an “aftergrowth” (ἐπιγέννημα). They thus endeavoured to resist
Epicureanism even on the ground where the latter seems prima
facie strongest; in its appeal, namely, to the natural pleasure-seeking of all living
things. Nor did they merely mean by pleasure (ἡδονή) the gratification of bodily
appetite; we find (e.g.) Chrysippus urging, as a decisive argument against Aristotle,
that pure speculation was “a kind of amusement; that is, pleasure.” Even the “joy and
gladness” (χαρά, εὐφροσύνη) that accompany the exercise of virtue seem to have
been regarded by them as merely an inseparable accident, not the essential constituent
of well-being. It is only by a later modification of Stoicism that cheerfulness or peace
of mind is taken as the real ultimate end, to which the exercise of virtue is merely a
preservation of human society that its members should form sexual unions, produce
children, and bestow care on their rearing and training. But beyond this nature did not
seem to go in determining the relations of the sexes; accordingly, we find that
community of wives was a feature of Zeno’s ideal commonwealth, just as it was of
Plato’s; while, again, the strict theory of the school recognized no government or laws
as true or binding except those of the sage; he alone is the true ruler, the true king. So
far, the Stoic “nature” seems in danger of being as revolutionary as Rousseau’s.
Practically, however, this revolutionary aspect of the notion was kept for the most part
in the background; the rational law of an ideal community was not distinguished from
the positive ordinances and customs of actual society; and the “natural” ties that
actually bound each man to family, kinsmen, fatherland, and to unwise humanity
generally, supplied the outline on which the external manifestation of justice was
delineated. It was a fundamental maxim that the sage was to take part in public life;
and it does not appear that his political action was to be regulated by any other
principles than those commonly accepted in his community. Similarly, in the view
taken by the Stoics of the duties of social decorum, and in their attitude to the popular
religion, we find a fluctuating compromise between the disposition to repudiate what
is conventional, and the disposition to revere what is established, each tendency
expressing in its own way the principle of “conforming to nature.”
Among the primary ends of nature, in which wisdom recognized a certain
preferability, the Stoics included freedom from bodily pain; but they refused, even in
this outer court of wisdom, to find a place for pleasure. They held
Stoics and that the latter was not an object of uncorrupted natural impulse, but
hedonists. an “aftergrowth” (ἐπιγέννημα). They thus endeavoured to resist
Epicureanism even on the ground where the latter seems prima
facie strongest; in its appeal, namely, to the natural pleasure-seeking of all living
things. Nor did they merely mean by pleasure (ἡδονή) the gratification of bodily
appetite; we find (e.g.) Chrysippus urging, as a decisive argument against Aristotle,
that pure speculation was “a kind of amusement; that is, pleasure.” Even the “joy and
gladness” (χαρά, εὐφροσύνη) that accompany the exercise of virtue seem to have
been regarded by them as merely an inseparable accident, not the essential constituent
of well-being. It is only by a later modification of Stoicism that cheerfulness or peace
of mind is taken as the real ultimate end, to which the exercise of virtue is merely a
Page 486
means. At the same time it is probable that the serene joys of virtue and the
grieflessness which the sage was conceived to maintain amid the worst tortures,
formed the main attractions of Stoicism for ordinary minds. In this sense it may be
fairly said that Stoics and Epicureans made rival offers to mankind of the same kind
of happiness; and the philosophical peculiarities of either system may be traced to the
desire of being undisturbed by the changes and chances of life. The Stoic claims on
this head were the loftiest; as the well-being of their sage was independent, not only
of external things and bodily conditions, but of time itself; it was fully realized in a
single exercise of wisdom and could not be increased by duration. This paradox is
violent, but it is quite in harmony with the spirit of Stoicism; and we are more startled
to find that the Epicurean sage, no less than the Stoic, is to be happy even on the rack;
that his happiness, too, is unimpaired by being restricted in duration, when his mind
has apprehended the natural limits of life; that, in short, Epicurus makes no less
strenuous efforts than Zeno to eliminate imperfection from the conditions of human
existence. This characteristic, however, is the key to the chief differences between
Epicureanism and the more naïve hedonism of Aristippus. The latter system gave the
simplest and most obvious answer to the inquiry after ultimate good for man; but
besides being liable, when developed consistently, to offend the common moral
consciousness, it conspicuously failed to provide the “completeness” and “security”
which, as Aristotle says, “one divines to belong to man’s true Good.” Philosophy, in
the Greek view, should be the art as well as the science of good life; and hedonistic
philosophy would seem a bungling and uncertain art of pleasure, as pleasure is
ordinarily conceived. Nay, it would even be found that the habit of philosophical
reflection often operated adversely to the attainment of this end, by developing the
thinker’s self-consciousness, so as to disturb that normal relation to external objects
on which the zest of ordinary enjoyment depends. Hence we find that later thinkers of
the Cyrenaic school felt themselves compelled to change their fundamental notion;
thus Theodorus defined the good as “gladness” (χαρά) depending on wisdom, as
distinct from mere pleasure, while Hegesias proclaimed that happiness was
unattainable, and that the chief function of wisdom was to render life painless by
producing indifference to all things that give pleasure. But by such changes their
system lost the support that it had had in the pleasure-seeking tendencies of ordinary
men. It was clear that if philosophic hedonism was to be established on a broad and
firm basis, it must in its notion of good combine what the plain man naturally sought
grieflessness which the sage was conceived to maintain amid the worst tortures,
formed the main attractions of Stoicism for ordinary minds. In this sense it may be
fairly said that Stoics and Epicureans made rival offers to mankind of the same kind
of happiness; and the philosophical peculiarities of either system may be traced to the
desire of being undisturbed by the changes and chances of life. The Stoic claims on
this head were the loftiest; as the well-being of their sage was independent, not only
of external things and bodily conditions, but of time itself; it was fully realized in a
single exercise of wisdom and could not be increased by duration. This paradox is
violent, but it is quite in harmony with the spirit of Stoicism; and we are more startled
to find that the Epicurean sage, no less than the Stoic, is to be happy even on the rack;
that his happiness, too, is unimpaired by being restricted in duration, when his mind
has apprehended the natural limits of life; that, in short, Epicurus makes no less
strenuous efforts than Zeno to eliminate imperfection from the conditions of human
existence. This characteristic, however, is the key to the chief differences between
Epicureanism and the more naïve hedonism of Aristippus. The latter system gave the
simplest and most obvious answer to the inquiry after ultimate good for man; but
besides being liable, when developed consistently, to offend the common moral
consciousness, it conspicuously failed to provide the “completeness” and “security”
which, as Aristotle says, “one divines to belong to man’s true Good.” Philosophy, in
the Greek view, should be the art as well as the science of good life; and hedonistic
philosophy would seem a bungling and uncertain art of pleasure, as pleasure is
ordinarily conceived. Nay, it would even be found that the habit of philosophical
reflection often operated adversely to the attainment of this end, by developing the
thinker’s self-consciousness, so as to disturb that normal relation to external objects
on which the zest of ordinary enjoyment depends. Hence we find that later thinkers of
the Cyrenaic school felt themselves compelled to change their fundamental notion;
thus Theodorus defined the good as “gladness” (χαρά) depending on wisdom, as
distinct from mere pleasure, while Hegesias proclaimed that happiness was
unattainable, and that the chief function of wisdom was to render life painless by
producing indifference to all things that give pleasure. But by such changes their
system lost the support that it had had in the pleasure-seeking tendencies of ordinary
men. It was clear that if philosophic hedonism was to be established on a broad and
firm basis, it must in its notion of good combine what the plain man naturally sought
Page 487
with what philosophy could plausibly offer. Such a combination was effected, with
some little violence, by Epicurus; whose system with all its defects showed a
remarkable power of standing the test of time, as it attracted the unqualified adhesion
of generation after generation of disciples for a period of some six centuries.
In the fundamental principle of his philosophy Epicurus is not original. Aristippus
(cf. also Plato in the Protagoras and Eudoxus) had already maintained that pleasure is
the sole ultimate good, and pain the sole evil; that no pleasure is to
Epicurus. be rejected except for its painful consequences, and no pain to be
chosen except as a means to greater pleasure; that the stringency of
all laws and customs depends solely on the legal and social penalties attached to their
violation; that, in short, all virtuous conduct and all speculative activity are empty and
useless, except as contributing to the pleasantness of the agent’s life. And Epicurus
assures us that he means by pleasure what plain men mean by it; and that if the
gratifications of appetite and sense are discarded, the notion is emptied of its
significance. So far the system would seem to suit the inclinations of the most
thorough-going voluptuary. The originality of Epicurus lay in his theory that the
highest point of pleasure, whether in body or mind, is to be attained by the mere
removal of pain or disturbance, after which pleasure admits of variation only and not
of augmentation; that therefore the utmost gratification of which the body is capable
may be provided by the simplest means, and that “natural wealth” is no more than any
man can earn. When further he teaches that the attainment of happiness depends
almost entirely upon insight and right calculation, fortune having very little to do with
it; that the pleasures and pains of the mind are far more important than those of the
body, owing to the accumulation of feeling caused by memory and anticipation; and
that an indispensable condition of mental happiness lies in relieving the mind of all
superstitions, which can be effected only by a thorough knowledge of the physical
universe—he introduces an ample area for the exercise of the philosophic intellect. So
again, in the stress that he lays on the misery which the most secret wrong-doing must
necessarily cause from the perpetual fear of discovery, and in his exuberant exaltation
of the value of disinterested friendship, he shows a sincere, though not completely
successful, effort to avoid the offence that consistent egoistic hedonism is apt to give
to ordinary human feeling. As regards friendship, Epicurus was a man of peculiarly
unexclusive sympathies.12 The genial fellowship of the philosophic community that
he collected in his garden remained a striking feature in the traditions of his school;
some little violence, by Epicurus; whose system with all its defects showed a
remarkable power of standing the test of time, as it attracted the unqualified adhesion
of generation after generation of disciples for a period of some six centuries.
In the fundamental principle of his philosophy Epicurus is not original. Aristippus
(cf. also Plato in the Protagoras and Eudoxus) had already maintained that pleasure is
the sole ultimate good, and pain the sole evil; that no pleasure is to
Epicurus. be rejected except for its painful consequences, and no pain to be
chosen except as a means to greater pleasure; that the stringency of
all laws and customs depends solely on the legal and social penalties attached to their
violation; that, in short, all virtuous conduct and all speculative activity are empty and
useless, except as contributing to the pleasantness of the agent’s life. And Epicurus
assures us that he means by pleasure what plain men mean by it; and that if the
gratifications of appetite and sense are discarded, the notion is emptied of its
significance. So far the system would seem to suit the inclinations of the most
thorough-going voluptuary. The originality of Epicurus lay in his theory that the
highest point of pleasure, whether in body or mind, is to be attained by the mere
removal of pain or disturbance, after which pleasure admits of variation only and not
of augmentation; that therefore the utmost gratification of which the body is capable
may be provided by the simplest means, and that “natural wealth” is no more than any
man can earn. When further he teaches that the attainment of happiness depends
almost entirely upon insight and right calculation, fortune having very little to do with
it; that the pleasures and pains of the mind are far more important than those of the
body, owing to the accumulation of feeling caused by memory and anticipation; and
that an indispensable condition of mental happiness lies in relieving the mind of all
superstitions, which can be effected only by a thorough knowledge of the physical
universe—he introduces an ample area for the exercise of the philosophic intellect. So
again, in the stress that he lays on the misery which the most secret wrong-doing must
necessarily cause from the perpetual fear of discovery, and in his exuberant exaltation
of the value of disinterested friendship, he shows a sincere, though not completely
successful, effort to avoid the offence that consistent egoistic hedonism is apt to give
to ordinary human feeling. As regards friendship, Epicurus was a man of peculiarly
unexclusive sympathies.12 The genial fellowship of the philosophic community that
he collected in his garden remained a striking feature in the traditions of his school;
Page 488
and certainly the ideal which Stoics and Epicureans equally cherished of a
brotherhood of sages was most easily realized on the Epicurean plan of withdrawing
from political and dialectical conflict to simple living and serene leisure, in imitation
of the gods apart from the fortuitous concourse of atoms that we call a world. No
doubt it was rather the practical than the theoretical side of Epicureanism which gave
it so strong a hold on succeeding generations.
The two systems that have just been described were those that most prominently
attracted the attention of the ancient world, so far as it was directed to ethics, from
their almost simultaneous origin to the end of the 2nd century a.d.,
Later Greek when Stoicism almost vanishes from our view. But side by side
philosophy. with them the schools of Plato and Aristotle still maintained a
Stoicism in Rome. continuity of tradition, and a more or less vigorous life; and
philosophy, as a recognized element of Graeco-Roman culture, was
understood to be divided among these four branches. The internal history, however, of
the four schools was very different. We find no development worthy of notice in
Aristotelian ethics (see Peripatetics). The Epicureans, again, from their unquestioning
acceptance of the “dogmas”13 of their founder, almost deserve to be called a sect
rather than a school. On the other hand, the changes in Stoicism are very noteworthy;
and it is the more easy to trace them, as the only original writings of this school which
we possess are those of the later Roman Stoics. These changes may be attributed
partly to the natural inner development of the system, partly to the reaction of the
Roman mind on the essentially Greek doctrine which it received,—a reaction all the
more inevitable from the very affinity between the Stoic sage and the ancient Roman
ideal of manliness. It was natural that the earlier Stoics should be chiefly occupied
with delineating the inner and outer characteristics of ideal wisdom and virtue, and
that the gap between the ideal sage and the actual philosopher, though never ignored,
should yet be somewhat overlooked. But when the question “What is man’s good?”
had been answered by an exposition of perfect wisdom, the practical question “How
may a man emerge from the folly of the world, and get on the way towards wisdom?”
naturally attracted attention; and the preponderance of moral over scientific interest,
which was characteristic of the Roman mind, gave this question especial prominence.
The sense of the gap between theory and fact gives to the religious element of
Stoicism a new force; the soul, conscious of its weakness, leans on the thought of
God, and in the philosopher’s attitude towards external events, pious resignation
brotherhood of sages was most easily realized on the Epicurean plan of withdrawing
from political and dialectical conflict to simple living and serene leisure, in imitation
of the gods apart from the fortuitous concourse of atoms that we call a world. No
doubt it was rather the practical than the theoretical side of Epicureanism which gave
it so strong a hold on succeeding generations.
The two systems that have just been described were those that most prominently
attracted the attention of the ancient world, so far as it was directed to ethics, from
their almost simultaneous origin to the end of the 2nd century a.d.,
Later Greek when Stoicism almost vanishes from our view. But side by side
philosophy. with them the schools of Plato and Aristotle still maintained a
Stoicism in Rome. continuity of tradition, and a more or less vigorous life; and
philosophy, as a recognized element of Graeco-Roman culture, was
understood to be divided among these four branches. The internal history, however, of
the four schools was very different. We find no development worthy of notice in
Aristotelian ethics (see Peripatetics). The Epicureans, again, from their unquestioning
acceptance of the “dogmas”13 of their founder, almost deserve to be called a sect
rather than a school. On the other hand, the changes in Stoicism are very noteworthy;
and it is the more easy to trace them, as the only original writings of this school which
we possess are those of the later Roman Stoics. These changes may be attributed
partly to the natural inner development of the system, partly to the reaction of the
Roman mind on the essentially Greek doctrine which it received,—a reaction all the
more inevitable from the very affinity between the Stoic sage and the ancient Roman
ideal of manliness. It was natural that the earlier Stoics should be chiefly occupied
with delineating the inner and outer characteristics of ideal wisdom and virtue, and
that the gap between the ideal sage and the actual philosopher, though never ignored,
should yet be somewhat overlooked. But when the question “What is man’s good?”
had been answered by an exposition of perfect wisdom, the practical question “How
may a man emerge from the folly of the world, and get on the way towards wisdom?”
naturally attracted attention; and the preponderance of moral over scientific interest,
which was characteristic of the Roman mind, gave this question especial prominence.
The sense of the gap between theory and fact gives to the religious element of
Stoicism a new force; the soul, conscious of its weakness, leans on the thought of
God, and in the philosopher’s attitude towards external events, pious resignation
Page 489
preponderates over self-poised indifference; the old self-reliance of the reason,
looking down on man’s natural life as a mere field for its exercise, makes room for a
positive aversion to the flesh as an alien element imprisoning the spirit; the body has
come to be a “corpse which the soul sustains,”14 and life a “sojourn in a strange
land”;15 in short, the ethical idealism of Zeno has begun to borrow from the
metaphysical idealism of Plato.
In no one of these schools was the outward coherence of tradition so much strained
by inner changes as it was in Plato’s. The alterations, however, in the metaphysical
position of the Academics had little effect on their ethical teaching,
History of Plato’s as, even during the period of Scepticism, they appear to have
school. presented as probable the same general view of human good which
Antiochus afterwards dogmatically announced as a revival of the
common doctrine of Plato and Aristotle. And during the period of a century and a half
between Antiochus and Plutarch, we may suppose the school to have maintained the
old controversy with Stoicism on much the same ground, accepting the formula of
“life according to nature,” but demanding that the “good” of man should refer to his
nature as a whole, the good of his rational part being the chief element, and always
preferable in case of conflict, but yet not absolutely his sole good. In Plutarch,
however, we see the same tendencies of change that we have noticed in later Stoicism.
The conception of a normal harmony between the higher and lower elements of
human life has begun to be disturbed, and the side of Plato’s teaching that deals with
the inevitable imperfections of the world of concrete experience becomes again
prominent. For example, we find Plutarch amplifying the suggestion in Plato’s latest
treatise (the Laws) that this imperfection is due to a bad world-soul that strives against
the good,—a suggestion which is alien to the general tenor of Plato’s doctrine, and
had consequently been unnoticed during the intervening centuries. We observe, again,
the value that Plutarch attaches, not merely to the sustainment and consolation of
rational religion, but to the supernatural communications vouchsafed by the divinity
to certain human beings in dreams, through oracles, or by special warnings, like those
of the genius of Socrates. For these flashes of intuition, he holds, the soul should be
prepared by tranquil repose and the subjugation of sensuality through abstinence. The
same ascetic effort to attain by aloofness from the body a pure receptivity for
supernatural influences, is exhibited in Neo-Pythagoreanism. But the general tendency
looking down on man’s natural life as a mere field for its exercise, makes room for a
positive aversion to the flesh as an alien element imprisoning the spirit; the body has
come to be a “corpse which the soul sustains,”14 and life a “sojourn in a strange
land”;15 in short, the ethical idealism of Zeno has begun to borrow from the
metaphysical idealism of Plato.
In no one of these schools was the outward coherence of tradition so much strained
by inner changes as it was in Plato’s. The alterations, however, in the metaphysical
position of the Academics had little effect on their ethical teaching,
History of Plato’s as, even during the period of Scepticism, they appear to have
school. presented as probable the same general view of human good which
Antiochus afterwards dogmatically announced as a revival of the
common doctrine of Plato and Aristotle. And during the period of a century and a half
between Antiochus and Plutarch, we may suppose the school to have maintained the
old controversy with Stoicism on much the same ground, accepting the formula of
“life according to nature,” but demanding that the “good” of man should refer to his
nature as a whole, the good of his rational part being the chief element, and always
preferable in case of conflict, but yet not absolutely his sole good. In Plutarch,
however, we see the same tendencies of change that we have noticed in later Stoicism.
The conception of a normal harmony between the higher and lower elements of
human life has begun to be disturbed, and the side of Plato’s teaching that deals with
the inevitable imperfections of the world of concrete experience becomes again
prominent. For example, we find Plutarch amplifying the suggestion in Plato’s latest
treatise (the Laws) that this imperfection is due to a bad world-soul that strives against
the good,—a suggestion which is alien to the general tenor of Plato’s doctrine, and
had consequently been unnoticed during the intervening centuries. We observe, again,
the value that Plutarch attaches, not merely to the sustainment and consolation of
rational religion, but to the supernatural communications vouchsafed by the divinity
to certain human beings in dreams, through oracles, or by special warnings, like those
of the genius of Socrates. For these flashes of intuition, he holds, the soul should be
prepared by tranquil repose and the subjugation of sensuality through abstinence. The
same ascetic effort to attain by aloofness from the body a pure receptivity for
supernatural influences, is exhibited in Neo-Pythagoreanism. But the general tendency
Page 490
that we are noting did not find its full expression in a reasoned system until we come
to the Egyptian Plotinus.
The system of Plotinus (205-270 a.d.) is a striking development of that element of
Platonism which has had most fascination for the medieval and even for the modern
mind, but which had almost vanished out of sight in the
Neoplatonism. controversies of the post-Aristotelian schools. At the same time the
differences are the more noteworthy from the reverent adhesion
which the Neoplatonists always maintain to Plato. Plato identified good with the real
essence of things; with that in them which is definitely conceivable and knowable. It
belongs to this view to regard the imperfection of things as devoid of real being, and
so incapable of being definitely thought or known; accordingly, we find that Plato has
no technical term for that in the concrete sensible world which hinders it from
perfectly expressing the abstract ideal world, and which in Aristotle’s system is
distinguished as absolutely formless matter (ὕλη). And so, when we pass from the
ontology to the ethics of Platonism, we find that, though the highest life is only to be
realized by turning away from concrete human affairs and their material environment,
still the sensible world is not yet an object of positive moral aversion; it is rather
something which the philosopher is seriously concerned to make as harmonious, good
and beautiful as possible. But in Neoplatonism the inferiority of the condition in
which the embodied human soul finds itself is more intensely and painfully felt; hence
an express recognition of formless matter (ὕλη) as the “first evil,” from which is
derived the “second evil,” body (σῶμα), to whose influence all the evil in the soul’s
existence is due. Accordingly the ethics of Plotinus represent, we may say, the moral
idealism of the Stoics cut loose from nature. The only good of man is the pure
existence of the soul, which in itself, apart from the contagion of the body, is perfectly
free from error or defect; if only it can be restored to the untrammelled activity of its
original being, nothing external, nothing bodily, can positively impair its perfect
welfare. It is only the lowest form of virtue—the “civic” virtue of Plato’s Republic—
that is employed in regulating those animal impulses whose presence in the soul is
due to its mixture with the body; higher or philosophic wisdom, temperance, courage
and justice are essentially purifications from this contagion; until finally the highest
mode of goodness is reached, in which the soul has no community with the body, and
is entirely turned towards reason. It should be observed that Plotinus himself is still
too Platonic to hold that the absolute mortification of natural bodily appetites is
to the Egyptian Plotinus.
The system of Plotinus (205-270 a.d.) is a striking development of that element of
Platonism which has had most fascination for the medieval and even for the modern
mind, but which had almost vanished out of sight in the
Neoplatonism. controversies of the post-Aristotelian schools. At the same time the
differences are the more noteworthy from the reverent adhesion
which the Neoplatonists always maintain to Plato. Plato identified good with the real
essence of things; with that in them which is definitely conceivable and knowable. It
belongs to this view to regard the imperfection of things as devoid of real being, and
so incapable of being definitely thought or known; accordingly, we find that Plato has
no technical term for that in the concrete sensible world which hinders it from
perfectly expressing the abstract ideal world, and which in Aristotle’s system is
distinguished as absolutely formless matter (ὕλη). And so, when we pass from the
ontology to the ethics of Platonism, we find that, though the highest life is only to be
realized by turning away from concrete human affairs and their material environment,
still the sensible world is not yet an object of positive moral aversion; it is rather
something which the philosopher is seriously concerned to make as harmonious, good
and beautiful as possible. But in Neoplatonism the inferiority of the condition in
which the embodied human soul finds itself is more intensely and painfully felt; hence
an express recognition of formless matter (ὕλη) as the “first evil,” from which is
derived the “second evil,” body (σῶμα), to whose influence all the evil in the soul’s
existence is due. Accordingly the ethics of Plotinus represent, we may say, the moral
idealism of the Stoics cut loose from nature. The only good of man is the pure
existence of the soul, which in itself, apart from the contagion of the body, is perfectly
free from error or defect; if only it can be restored to the untrammelled activity of its
original being, nothing external, nothing bodily, can positively impair its perfect
welfare. It is only the lowest form of virtue—the “civic” virtue of Plato’s Republic—
that is employed in regulating those animal impulses whose presence in the soul is
due to its mixture with the body; higher or philosophic wisdom, temperance, courage
and justice are essentially purifications from this contagion; until finally the highest
mode of goodness is reached, in which the soul has no community with the body, and
is entirely turned towards reason. It should be observed that Plotinus himself is still
too Platonic to hold that the absolute mortification of natural bodily appetites is
Page 491
required for purifying the soul; but this ascetic inference was drawn to the fullest
extent by his disciple Porphyry.
There is, however, a yet higher point to be reached in the upward ascent of the
Neoplatonist from matter; and here the divergence of Plotinus from Platonic idealism
is none the less striking, because it is a bona fide result of reverent reflection on
Plato’s teaching. The cardinal assumption of Plato’s metaphysic is, that the real is
definitely thinkable and knowable in proportion as it is real; so that the further the
mind advances in abstraction from sensible particulars and apprehension of real being,
the more definite and clear its thought becomes. Plotinus, however, urges that, as all
thought involves difference or duality of some kind, it cannot be the primary fact in
the universe, what we call God. He must be an essential unity prior to this duality, a
Being wholly without difference or determination; and, accordingly, the highest mode
of human existence, in which the soul apprehends this absolute, must be one in which
all definite thought is transcended, and all consciousness of self lost in the absorbing
ecstasy. Porphyry tells us that his master Plotinus attained the highest state four times
during the six years which he spent with him.
Neoplatonism, originally Alexandrine, is often regarded as Hellenistic rather than
Hellenic, a product of the mingling of Greek with Oriental civilization. But however
Oriental may have been the cast of mind that welcomed this theosophic asceticism,
the forms of thought by which these views were philosophically reached are
essentially Greek; and it is by a thoroughly intelligible process of natural
development, in which the intensification of the moral consciousness represented by
Stoicism plays an important part, that the Hellenic pursuit of knowledge culminates in
a preparation for ecstasy, and the Hellenic idealization of man’s natural life ends in a
settled antipathy to the body and its works. At the same time we ought not to overlook
the affinities between the doctrine of Plotinus and that remarkable combination of
Greek and Hebrew thought which Philo Judaeus had expounded two centuries before;
nor the fact that Neoplatonism was developed in conscious antagonism to the new
religion which had spread from Judea, and was already threatening the conquest of the
Graeco-Roman world, and also to the Gnostic systems (see Gnosticism); nor, finally,
that it furnished the chief theoretical support in the last desperate struggle that was
made under Julian to retain the old polytheistic worship.
extent by his disciple Porphyry.
There is, however, a yet higher point to be reached in the upward ascent of the
Neoplatonist from matter; and here the divergence of Plotinus from Platonic idealism
is none the less striking, because it is a bona fide result of reverent reflection on
Plato’s teaching. The cardinal assumption of Plato’s metaphysic is, that the real is
definitely thinkable and knowable in proportion as it is real; so that the further the
mind advances in abstraction from sensible particulars and apprehension of real being,
the more definite and clear its thought becomes. Plotinus, however, urges that, as all
thought involves difference or duality of some kind, it cannot be the primary fact in
the universe, what we call God. He must be an essential unity prior to this duality, a
Being wholly without difference or determination; and, accordingly, the highest mode
of human existence, in which the soul apprehends this absolute, must be one in which
all definite thought is transcended, and all consciousness of self lost in the absorbing
ecstasy. Porphyry tells us that his master Plotinus attained the highest state four times
during the six years which he spent with him.
Neoplatonism, originally Alexandrine, is often regarded as Hellenistic rather than
Hellenic, a product of the mingling of Greek with Oriental civilization. But however
Oriental may have been the cast of mind that welcomed this theosophic asceticism,
the forms of thought by which these views were philosophically reached are
essentially Greek; and it is by a thoroughly intelligible process of natural
development, in which the intensification of the moral consciousness represented by
Stoicism plays an important part, that the Hellenic pursuit of knowledge culminates in
a preparation for ecstasy, and the Hellenic idealization of man’s natural life ends in a
settled antipathy to the body and its works. At the same time we ought not to overlook
the affinities between the doctrine of Plotinus and that remarkable combination of
Greek and Hebrew thought which Philo Judaeus had expounded two centuries before;
nor the fact that Neoplatonism was developed in conscious antagonism to the new
religion which had spread from Judea, and was already threatening the conquest of the
Graeco-Roman world, and also to the Gnostic systems (see Gnosticism); nor, finally,
that it furnished the chief theoretical support in the last desperate struggle that was
made under Julian to retain the old polytheistic worship.
Page 492
B. Christianity and Medieval Ethics.—In the present article we are not concerned
with the origin of the Christian religion, nor with its outward history. Nor have we to
consider the special doctrines that have formed the bond of union of the Christian
communities except in their ethical aspect, their bearing on the systematization of
human aims and activities. This aspect, however, must necessarily be prominent in
discussing Christianity, which cannot be adequately treated merely as a system of
theological beliefs divinely revealed, and special observances divinely sanctioned; for
it claims to regulate the whole man, in all departments of his existence. It was not till
the 4th century a.d. that the first attempt was made to offer a systematic exposition of
Christian morality; and nine centuries more had passed away before a genuinely
philosophic intellect, trained by a full study of Aristotle, undertook to give complete
scientific form to the ethical doctrine of the Catholic church. Before, however, we
take a brief survey of the progress of systematic ethics from Ambrose to Thomas
Aquinas, it may be well to examine the chief features of the new moral consciousness
that had spread through Graeco-Roman civilization, and was awaiting philosophic
synthesis. It will be convenient to consider first the new form or universal
characteristics of Christian morality, and afterwards to note the chief points in the
matter or particulars of duty and virtue which received development or emphasis from
the new religion.
The first point to be noticed is the new conception of morality as the positive law of
a theocratic community possessing a written code imposed by divine revelation, and
sanctioned by divine promises and threatenings. It is true that we
Christian and find in ancient thought, from Socrates downwards, the notion of a
Jewish “law of law of God, eternal and immutable, partly expressed and partly
God.” obscured by the shifting codes and customs of actual human
societies. But the sanctions of this law were vaguely and, for the
most part, feebly imagined; its principles were essentially unwritten, and thus referred
not to the external will of an Almighty Being who claimed unquestioning submission,
but rather to the reason that gods and men shared, by the exercise of which alone they
could be adequately known and defined. Hence, even if the notion of law had been
more prominent than it was in ancient ethical thought, it could never have led to a
juridical, as distinct from a philosophical, treatment of morality. In Christianity, on the
other hand, we early find that the method of moralists determining right conduct is to
a great extent analogous to that of juris-consults interpreting a code. It is assumed that
with the origin of the Christian religion, nor with its outward history. Nor have we to
consider the special doctrines that have formed the bond of union of the Christian
communities except in their ethical aspect, their bearing on the systematization of
human aims and activities. This aspect, however, must necessarily be prominent in
discussing Christianity, which cannot be adequately treated merely as a system of
theological beliefs divinely revealed, and special observances divinely sanctioned; for
it claims to regulate the whole man, in all departments of his existence. It was not till
the 4th century a.d. that the first attempt was made to offer a systematic exposition of
Christian morality; and nine centuries more had passed away before a genuinely
philosophic intellect, trained by a full study of Aristotle, undertook to give complete
scientific form to the ethical doctrine of the Catholic church. Before, however, we
take a brief survey of the progress of systematic ethics from Ambrose to Thomas
Aquinas, it may be well to examine the chief features of the new moral consciousness
that had spread through Graeco-Roman civilization, and was awaiting philosophic
synthesis. It will be convenient to consider first the new form or universal
characteristics of Christian morality, and afterwards to note the chief points in the
matter or particulars of duty and virtue which received development or emphasis from
the new religion.
The first point to be noticed is the new conception of morality as the positive law of
a theocratic community possessing a written code imposed by divine revelation, and
sanctioned by divine promises and threatenings. It is true that we
Christian and find in ancient thought, from Socrates downwards, the notion of a
Jewish “law of law of God, eternal and immutable, partly expressed and partly
God.” obscured by the shifting codes and customs of actual human
societies. But the sanctions of this law were vaguely and, for the
most part, feebly imagined; its principles were essentially unwritten, and thus referred
not to the external will of an Almighty Being who claimed unquestioning submission,
but rather to the reason that gods and men shared, by the exercise of which alone they
could be adequately known and defined. Hence, even if the notion of law had been
more prominent than it was in ancient ethical thought, it could never have led to a
juridical, as distinct from a philosophical, treatment of morality. In Christianity, on the
other hand, we early find that the method of moralists determining right conduct is to
a great extent analogous to that of juris-consults interpreting a code. It is assumed that
Page 493
divine commands have been implicitly given for all occasions of life, and that they are
to be ascertained in particular cases by interpretation of the general rules obtained
from texts of scripture, and by inference from scriptural examples. This juridical
method descended naturally from the Jewish theocracy, of which Christendom was a
universalization. Moral insight, in the view of the most thoughtful Jews of the age
immediately preceding Christianity, was conceived as knowledge of a divine code,
emanating from an authority external to human reason which had only the function of
interpreting and applying its rules. This law was derived partly from Moses, partly
from the utterances of the later prophets, partly from oral tradition and from the
commentaries and supplementary maxims of generations of students. Christianity
inherited the notion of a written divine code acknowledged as such by the “true
Israel”—now potentially including the whole of mankind, or at least the chosen of all
nations,—on the sincere acceptance of which the Christian’s share of the divine
promises to Israel depended. And though the ceremonial part of the old Hebrew code
was altogether rejected, and with it all the supplementary jurisprudence resting on
tradition and erudite commentary, still God’s law was believed to be contained in the
sacred books of the Jews, supplemented by the teaching of Christ and his apostles. By
the recognition of this law the church was constituted as an ordered community,
essentially distinct from the State; the distinction between the two was emphasized by
the withdrawal of the early Christians from civic life, to avoid the performance of
idolatrous ceremonies imposed as official expressions of loyalty, and by the
persecutions which they had to endure, when the spread of an association apparently
so hostile to the framework of ancient society had at length alarmed the imperial
government. Nor was the distinction obliterated by the recognition of Christianity as
the state religion under Constantine.
Thus the jural form in which morality was conceived only emphasized the
fundamental difference between it and the laws of the state. The ultimate sanctions of
the moral code were the infinite rewards and punishments awaiting the immortal soul
hereafter; but the church early felt the necessity of withdrawing the privileges of
membership from apostates and allowing them to be gradually regained only by a
solemn ceremonial expressive of repentance, protracted through several years. This
formal and regulated “penitence” was extended from apostasy to other grave—or, as
they were subsequently called, “deadly”—sins; while for minor offences all Christians
were called upon to express contrition by fasting and abstinence from ordinarily
to be ascertained in particular cases by interpretation of the general rules obtained
from texts of scripture, and by inference from scriptural examples. This juridical
method descended naturally from the Jewish theocracy, of which Christendom was a
universalization. Moral insight, in the view of the most thoughtful Jews of the age
immediately preceding Christianity, was conceived as knowledge of a divine code,
emanating from an authority external to human reason which had only the function of
interpreting and applying its rules. This law was derived partly from Moses, partly
from the utterances of the later prophets, partly from oral tradition and from the
commentaries and supplementary maxims of generations of students. Christianity
inherited the notion of a written divine code acknowledged as such by the “true
Israel”—now potentially including the whole of mankind, or at least the chosen of all
nations,—on the sincere acceptance of which the Christian’s share of the divine
promises to Israel depended. And though the ceremonial part of the old Hebrew code
was altogether rejected, and with it all the supplementary jurisprudence resting on
tradition and erudite commentary, still God’s law was believed to be contained in the
sacred books of the Jews, supplemented by the teaching of Christ and his apostles. By
the recognition of this law the church was constituted as an ordered community,
essentially distinct from the State; the distinction between the two was emphasized by
the withdrawal of the early Christians from civic life, to avoid the performance of
idolatrous ceremonies imposed as official expressions of loyalty, and by the
persecutions which they had to endure, when the spread of an association apparently
so hostile to the framework of ancient society had at length alarmed the imperial
government. Nor was the distinction obliterated by the recognition of Christianity as
the state religion under Constantine.
Thus the jural form in which morality was conceived only emphasized the
fundamental difference between it and the laws of the state. The ultimate sanctions of
the moral code were the infinite rewards and punishments awaiting the immortal soul
hereafter; but the church early felt the necessity of withdrawing the privileges of
membership from apostates and allowing them to be gradually regained only by a
solemn ceremonial expressive of repentance, protracted through several years. This
formal and regulated “penitence” was extended from apostasy to other grave—or, as
they were subsequently called, “deadly”—sins; while for minor offences all Christians
were called upon to express contrition by fasting and abstinence from ordinarily
Page 494
permitted pleasures, as well as verbally in public and private devotions.
“Excommunication” and “penance” thus came to be temporal ecclesiastical sanctions
of the moral law. As the graduation of these sanctions naturally became more minute,
a correspondingly detailed classification of offences was rendered necessary, and thus
a system of ecclesiastical jurisprudence was gradually produced, somewhat analogous
to that of Judaism. At the same time this tendency to make prominent a scheme of
external duties has always been counteracted in Christianity by the remembrance of
its original antithesis to Jewish legalism. We find that this antithesis, as exaggerated
by some of the Gnostic sects of the 2nd and 3rd centuries a.d., led, not merely to
theoretical antinomianism, but even (if the charges of their orthodox opponents are
not entirely to be discredited) to gross immorality of conduct. A similar tendency has
shown itself at other periods of church history. And though such antinomianism has
always been sternly repudiated by the moral consciousness of Christendom, it has
never been forgotten that “inwardness,” rightness of heart or spirit, is the pre-eminent
characteristic of Christian goodness. It must not, of course, be supposed that the need
of something more than mere fulfilment of external duty was ignored even by the later
Judaism. Rabbinic erudition could not forget the repression of vicious desires in the
tenth commandment, the stress laid in Deuteronomy on the necessity of service to
God, or the inculcation by later prophets of humility and faith. “The real and only
Pharisee,” says the Talmud, “is he who does the will of his Father because he loves
Him.” But it remains true that the contrast with the “righteousness of the scribes and
pharisees” has always served to mark the requirement of “inwardness” as a distinctive
feature of the Christian code—an inwardness not merely negative, tending to the
repression of vicious desires as well as vicious acts, but also involving a positive
rectitude of the inner state of the soul.
In this aspect Christianity invites comparison with Stoicism, and indeed with pagan
ethical philosophy generally, if we except the hedonistic schools. Rightness of
purpose, preference of virtue for its own sake, suppression of
Christian and vicious desires, were made essential points by the Aristotelians,
Pagan inwardness. who attached the most importance to outward circumstances in
their view of virtue, no less than by the Stoics, to whom all outward
things were indifferent. The fundamental differences between pagan and Christian
ethics depend not on any difference in the value set on rightness of heart, but on
different views of the essential form or conditions of this inward rightness. In neither
“Excommunication” and “penance” thus came to be temporal ecclesiastical sanctions
of the moral law. As the graduation of these sanctions naturally became more minute,
a correspondingly detailed classification of offences was rendered necessary, and thus
a system of ecclesiastical jurisprudence was gradually produced, somewhat analogous
to that of Judaism. At the same time this tendency to make prominent a scheme of
external duties has always been counteracted in Christianity by the remembrance of
its original antithesis to Jewish legalism. We find that this antithesis, as exaggerated
by some of the Gnostic sects of the 2nd and 3rd centuries a.d., led, not merely to
theoretical antinomianism, but even (if the charges of their orthodox opponents are
not entirely to be discredited) to gross immorality of conduct. A similar tendency has
shown itself at other periods of church history. And though such antinomianism has
always been sternly repudiated by the moral consciousness of Christendom, it has
never been forgotten that “inwardness,” rightness of heart or spirit, is the pre-eminent
characteristic of Christian goodness. It must not, of course, be supposed that the need
of something more than mere fulfilment of external duty was ignored even by the later
Judaism. Rabbinic erudition could not forget the repression of vicious desires in the
tenth commandment, the stress laid in Deuteronomy on the necessity of service to
God, or the inculcation by later prophets of humility and faith. “The real and only
Pharisee,” says the Talmud, “is he who does the will of his Father because he loves
Him.” But it remains true that the contrast with the “righteousness of the scribes and
pharisees” has always served to mark the requirement of “inwardness” as a distinctive
feature of the Christian code—an inwardness not merely negative, tending to the
repression of vicious desires as well as vicious acts, but also involving a positive
rectitude of the inner state of the soul.
In this aspect Christianity invites comparison with Stoicism, and indeed with pagan
ethical philosophy generally, if we except the hedonistic schools. Rightness of
purpose, preference of virtue for its own sake, suppression of
Christian and vicious desires, were made essential points by the Aristotelians,
Pagan inwardness. who attached the most importance to outward circumstances in
their view of virtue, no less than by the Stoics, to whom all outward
things were indifferent. The fundamental differences between pagan and Christian
ethics depend not on any difference in the value set on rightness of heart, but on
different views of the essential form or conditions of this inward rightness. In neither
Page 495
case is it presented purely and simply as moral rectitude. By the pagan philosophers it
was always conceived under the form of Knowledge or Wisdom, it being
inconceivable to all the schools sprung from Socrates that a man could truly know his
own good and yet deliberately choose anything else. This knowledge, as Aristotle
held, might be permanently precluded by vicious habits, or temporarily obliterated by
passion, but if present in the mind it must produce rightness of purpose. Or even if it
were held with some of the Stoics that true wisdom was out of the reach of the best
men actually living, it none the less remained the ideal condition of perfect human
life. By Christian teachers, on the other hand, the inner springs of good conduct were
generally conceived as Faith and Love. Of these notions the former
Faith. has a somewhat complex ethical import; it seems to blend several
elements differently prominent in different minds. Its simplest and
commonest meaning is that emphasized in the contrast of “faith” with “sight”; where
it signifies belief in the invisible divine order represented by the church, in the
actuality of the law, the threats, the promises of God, in spite of all the influences in
man’s natural life that tend to obscure this belief. Out of this contrast there ultimately
grew an essentially different opposition between faith and knowledge or reason,
according to which the theological basis of ethics was contrasted with the
philosophical; the theologians maintaining sometimes that the divine law is essentially
arbitrary, the expression of will, not reason; more frequently that its reasonableness is
inscrutable, and that actual human reason should confine itself to examining the
credentials of God’s messengers, and not the message itself. But in early Christianity
this latter antithesis was as yet undeveloped; faith means simply force in clinging to
moral and religious conviction, whatever their rational grounds may be; this force, in
the Christian consciousness, being inseparably bound up with personal loyalty and
trust towards Christ, the leader in the battle with evil, the ruler of the kingdom to be
realized. So far, however, there is no ethical difference between Christian faith and
that of Judaism, or its later imitation, Mahommedanism; except that the personal
affection of loyal trust is peculiarly stirred by the blending of human and divine
natures in Christ, and the rule of duty impressively taught by the manifestation of his
perfect life. A more distinctively Christian, and a more deeply moral, significance is
given to the notion in the antithesis of “faith” and “works.” Here faith means more
than loyal acceptance of the divine law and reverent trust in the lawgiver; it implies a
consciousness, at once continually present and continually transcended, of the radical
was always conceived under the form of Knowledge or Wisdom, it being
inconceivable to all the schools sprung from Socrates that a man could truly know his
own good and yet deliberately choose anything else. This knowledge, as Aristotle
held, might be permanently precluded by vicious habits, or temporarily obliterated by
passion, but if present in the mind it must produce rightness of purpose. Or even if it
were held with some of the Stoics that true wisdom was out of the reach of the best
men actually living, it none the less remained the ideal condition of perfect human
life. By Christian teachers, on the other hand, the inner springs of good conduct were
generally conceived as Faith and Love. Of these notions the former
Faith. has a somewhat complex ethical import; it seems to blend several
elements differently prominent in different minds. Its simplest and
commonest meaning is that emphasized in the contrast of “faith” with “sight”; where
it signifies belief in the invisible divine order represented by the church, in the
actuality of the law, the threats, the promises of God, in spite of all the influences in
man’s natural life that tend to obscure this belief. Out of this contrast there ultimately
grew an essentially different opposition between faith and knowledge or reason,
according to which the theological basis of ethics was contrasted with the
philosophical; the theologians maintaining sometimes that the divine law is essentially
arbitrary, the expression of will, not reason; more frequently that its reasonableness is
inscrutable, and that actual human reason should confine itself to examining the
credentials of God’s messengers, and not the message itself. But in early Christianity
this latter antithesis was as yet undeveloped; faith means simply force in clinging to
moral and religious conviction, whatever their rational grounds may be; this force, in
the Christian consciousness, being inseparably bound up with personal loyalty and
trust towards Christ, the leader in the battle with evil, the ruler of the kingdom to be
realized. So far, however, there is no ethical difference between Christian faith and
that of Judaism, or its later imitation, Mahommedanism; except that the personal
affection of loyal trust is peculiarly stirred by the blending of human and divine
natures in Christ, and the rule of duty impressively taught by the manifestation of his
perfect life. A more distinctively Christian, and a more deeply moral, significance is
given to the notion in the antithesis of “faith” and “works.” Here faith means more
than loyal acceptance of the divine law and reverent trust in the lawgiver; it implies a
consciousness, at once continually present and continually transcended, of the radical
Page 496
imperfection of all human obedience to the law, and at the same time of the
irremissible condemnation which this imperfection entails. The Stoic doctrine of the
worthlessness of ordinary human virtue, and the stern paradox that all offenders are
equally, in so far as all are absolutely, guilty, find their counterparts in Christianity;
but the latter (maintaining this ideal severity in the moral standard, with an emotional
consciousness of what is involved in it quite unlike that of the Stoic) overcomes its
practical exclusiveness through faith. This faith, again, may be conceived in two
modes, essentially distinct though usually combined. In one view it gives the believer
strength to attain, by God’s supernatural aid or “grace,” a goodness of which he is
naturally incapable; in the other view it gives him an assurance that, though he knows
himself a sinner deserving of utter condemnation, a perfectly just God still regards
him with favour on account of the perfect services and suffering of Christ. Of these
views the former is the more catholic, more universally present in the Christian
consciousness; the latter more deeply penetrates the mystery of the Atonement, as
expounded in the Pauline epistles.
But faith, however understood, is rather an indispensable pre-requisite than the
essential motive principle of Christian good conduct. This motive is supplied by the
other central notion, love. On love depends the “fulfilling of the
Love. law,” and the sole moral value of Christian duty—that is, on love to
God, in the first place, which in its fullest development must spring
from Christian faith; and, secondly, love to all mankind, as the objects of divine love
and sharers in the humanity ennobled by the incarnation. This derivative philanthropy
characterizes the spirit in which all Christian performance of social duty is to be done;
loving devotion to God being the fundamental attitude of mind that is to be
maintained throughout the whole of the Christian’s life. But further, as regards
abstinence from unlawful acts and desires prompting to them, we
Purity. have to notice another form in which the inwardness of Christian
morality manifests itself, which, though less distinctive, should yet
receive attention in any comparison of Christian ethics with the view of Graeco-
Roman philosophy. The profound horror with which the Christian’s conception of a
suffering as well as an avenging divinity tended to make him regard all condemnable
acts was tinged with a sentiment which we may perhaps describe as a ceremonial
aversion moralized—the aversion, that is, to foulness or impurity. In Judaism, as in
other, especially Oriental, religions, the natural dislike of material defilement has been
irremissible condemnation which this imperfection entails. The Stoic doctrine of the
worthlessness of ordinary human virtue, and the stern paradox that all offenders are
equally, in so far as all are absolutely, guilty, find their counterparts in Christianity;
but the latter (maintaining this ideal severity in the moral standard, with an emotional
consciousness of what is involved in it quite unlike that of the Stoic) overcomes its
practical exclusiveness through faith. This faith, again, may be conceived in two
modes, essentially distinct though usually combined. In one view it gives the believer
strength to attain, by God’s supernatural aid or “grace,” a goodness of which he is
naturally incapable; in the other view it gives him an assurance that, though he knows
himself a sinner deserving of utter condemnation, a perfectly just God still regards
him with favour on account of the perfect services and suffering of Christ. Of these
views the former is the more catholic, more universally present in the Christian
consciousness; the latter more deeply penetrates the mystery of the Atonement, as
expounded in the Pauline epistles.
But faith, however understood, is rather an indispensable pre-requisite than the
essential motive principle of Christian good conduct. This motive is supplied by the
other central notion, love. On love depends the “fulfilling of the
Love. law,” and the sole moral value of Christian duty—that is, on love to
God, in the first place, which in its fullest development must spring
from Christian faith; and, secondly, love to all mankind, as the objects of divine love
and sharers in the humanity ennobled by the incarnation. This derivative philanthropy
characterizes the spirit in which all Christian performance of social duty is to be done;
loving devotion to God being the fundamental attitude of mind that is to be
maintained throughout the whole of the Christian’s life. But further, as regards
abstinence from unlawful acts and desires prompting to them, we
Purity. have to notice another form in which the inwardness of Christian
morality manifests itself, which, though less distinctive, should yet
receive attention in any comparison of Christian ethics with the view of Graeco-
Roman philosophy. The profound horror with which the Christian’s conception of a
suffering as well as an avenging divinity tended to make him regard all condemnable
acts was tinged with a sentiment which we may perhaps describe as a ceremonial
aversion moralized—the aversion, that is, to foulness or impurity. In Judaism, as in
other, especially Oriental, religions, the natural dislike of material defilement has been
Page 497
elevated into a religious sentiment, and made to support a complicated system of
quasi-sanitary abstinences and ceremonial purifications; then, as the ethical element
predominated in the Jewish religion, a moral symbolism was felt to reside in the
ceremonial code, and thus aversion to impurity came to be a common form of the
ethico-religious sentiment. Then, when Christianity threw off the Mosaic ritual, this
religious sense of purity was left with no other sphere besides morality; while, from
its highly idealized character, it was peculiarly well adapted for that repression of
vicious desires which Christianity claimed as its special function.
The distinctive features of Christian ethics are obedience, unworldliness,
benevolence, purity and humility. They are naturally connected with the more general
characteristics just stated; though many of them may also be
Distinctive referred directly to the example and precepts of Christ, and in
particulars of several cases they are clearly due to both causes, inseparably
Christian morality. combined.
1. We may notice, in the first place, that the conception of morality as a code which,
if not in itself arbitrary, is yet to be accepted by men with unquestioning submission,
tends naturally to bring into prominence the virtue of obedience to authority; just as
the philosophic view of goodness as the realization of reason gives a special value to
self-determination and independence (as we see more clearly in the post-Aristotelian
schools where ethics is distinctly separated from politics).
2. Again, the opposition between the natural world and the spiritual order into
which the Christian has been born anew led not merely to a contempt equal to that of
the Stoic for wealth, fame, power, and other objects of worldly pursuit, but also, for
some time at least, to a comparative depreciation of the domestic and civic relations of
the natural man. This tendency was exhibited most simply and generally in the earliest
period of the church’s history. In the view of primitive Christians, ordinary human
society was a world temporarily surrendered to Satanic rule, over which a swift and
sudden destruction was impending; in such a world the little band who were gathered
in the ark of the church could have no part or lot,—the only attitude they could
maintain was that of passive alienation. On the other hand, it was difficult practically
to realize this alienation, and a keen sense of this difficulty induced the same hostility
to the body as a clog and hindrance, that we find to some extent in Plato, but more
fully developed in Neoplatonism, Neopythagoreanism, and other products of the
quasi-sanitary abstinences and ceremonial purifications; then, as the ethical element
predominated in the Jewish religion, a moral symbolism was felt to reside in the
ceremonial code, and thus aversion to impurity came to be a common form of the
ethico-religious sentiment. Then, when Christianity threw off the Mosaic ritual, this
religious sense of purity was left with no other sphere besides morality; while, from
its highly idealized character, it was peculiarly well adapted for that repression of
vicious desires which Christianity claimed as its special function.
The distinctive features of Christian ethics are obedience, unworldliness,
benevolence, purity and humility. They are naturally connected with the more general
characteristics just stated; though many of them may also be
Distinctive referred directly to the example and precepts of Christ, and in
particulars of several cases they are clearly due to both causes, inseparably
Christian morality. combined.
1. We may notice, in the first place, that the conception of morality as a code which,
if not in itself arbitrary, is yet to be accepted by men with unquestioning submission,
tends naturally to bring into prominence the virtue of obedience to authority; just as
the philosophic view of goodness as the realization of reason gives a special value to
self-determination and independence (as we see more clearly in the post-Aristotelian
schools where ethics is distinctly separated from politics).
2. Again, the opposition between the natural world and the spiritual order into
which the Christian has been born anew led not merely to a contempt equal to that of
the Stoic for wealth, fame, power, and other objects of worldly pursuit, but also, for
some time at least, to a comparative depreciation of the domestic and civic relations of
the natural man. This tendency was exhibited most simply and generally in the earliest
period of the church’s history. In the view of primitive Christians, ordinary human
society was a world temporarily surrendered to Satanic rule, over which a swift and
sudden destruction was impending; in such a world the little band who were gathered
in the ark of the church could have no part or lot,—the only attitude they could
maintain was that of passive alienation. On the other hand, it was difficult practically
to realize this alienation, and a keen sense of this difficulty induced the same hostility
to the body as a clog and hindrance, that we find to some extent in Plato, but more
fully developed in Neoplatonism, Neopythagoreanism, and other products of the
Page 498
mingling of Greek with Oriental thought. This feeling is exhibited in the value set on
fasting in the Christian church from the earliest times, and in an extreme form in the
self-torments of later monasticism; while both tendencies, anti-worldliness and anti-
sensualism, seem to have combined in causing the preference of celibacy over
marriage which is common to most early Christian writers.16 Patriotism, again, and
the sense of civic duty, the most elevated of all social sentiments in the Graeco-
Roman civilization, tended, under the influence of Christianity, either to expand itself
into universal philanthropy, or to concentrate itself on the ecclesiastical community.
“We recognize one commonwealth, the world,” says Tertullian; “we know,” says
Origen, “that we have a fatherland founded by the word of God.” We might further
derive from the general spirit of Christian unworldliness that repudiation of the
secular modes of conflict, even in a righteous cause, which substituted a passive
patience and endurance for the old pagan virtue of courage, in which the active
element was prominent. Here, however, we clearly trace the influence of Christ’s
express prohibition of violent resistance to violence, and his inculcation, by example
and precept, of a love that was to conquer even natural resentment. An extreme result
of this influence is shown in Tertullian’s view, that no Christian could properly hold
the office of a secular magistrate in which he would have to doom to death, chains,
imprisonment; but even more sober writers, such as Ambrose, extend Christian
passivity so far as to preclude self-defence even against a murderous assault. The
common sense of Christendom gradually shook off these extravagances; but the
reluctance to shed blood lingered long, and was hardly extinguished even by the
growing horror of heresy. We have a curious relic of this in the later times of
ecclesiastical persecution, when the heretic was doomed to the stake that he might be
punished in some manner “short of bloodshed.”17
fasting in the Christian church from the earliest times, and in an extreme form in the
self-torments of later monasticism; while both tendencies, anti-worldliness and anti-
sensualism, seem to have combined in causing the preference of celibacy over
marriage which is common to most early Christian writers.16 Patriotism, again, and
the sense of civic duty, the most elevated of all social sentiments in the Graeco-
Roman civilization, tended, under the influence of Christianity, either to expand itself
into universal philanthropy, or to concentrate itself on the ecclesiastical community.
“We recognize one commonwealth, the world,” says Tertullian; “we know,” says
Origen, “that we have a fatherland founded by the word of God.” We might further
derive from the general spirit of Christian unworldliness that repudiation of the
secular modes of conflict, even in a righteous cause, which substituted a passive
patience and endurance for the old pagan virtue of courage, in which the active
element was prominent. Here, however, we clearly trace the influence of Christ’s
express prohibition of violent resistance to violence, and his inculcation, by example
and precept, of a love that was to conquer even natural resentment. An extreme result
of this influence is shown in Tertullian’s view, that no Christian could properly hold
the office of a secular magistrate in which he would have to doom to death, chains,
imprisonment; but even more sober writers, such as Ambrose, extend Christian
passivity so far as to preclude self-defence even against a murderous assault. The
common sense of Christendom gradually shook off these extravagances; but the
reluctance to shed blood lingered long, and was hardly extinguished even by the
growing horror of heresy. We have a curious relic of this in the later times of
ecclesiastical persecution, when the heretic was doomed to the stake that he might be
punished in some manner “short of bloodshed.”17
Page 499
3. It is, however, in the impulse given to practical beneficence in all its
forms, by the exaltation of love as the root of all virtues, that the most
important influence of Christianity on the particulars of civilized morality is
to be found; although the exact amount of this influence
Benevolence. is here somewhat difficult to ascertain, since it merely
carries further a development traceable in the history of
pagan morality. This development appears when we compare the different
post-Socratic systems of ethics. In Plato’s exposition of the different virtues
there is no mention whatever of benevolence, although his writings show a
keen sense of the importance of friendship as an element of philosophic life,
especially of the intense personal affection naturally arising between master
and disciple. Aristotle goes somewhat further in recognizing the moral
value of friendship φιλία; and though he considers that in its highest form it
can be realized only by the fellowship of the wise and good, he yet extends
the notion so as to include the domestic affections, and takes notice of the
importance of mutual kindness in binding together all human societies. Still
in his formal statement of the different virtues, positive beneficence is
discernible only under the notion of “liberality,” in which form its
excellence is hardly distinguished from that of graceful profusion in self-
regarding expenditure (Nic. Eth. iv. 1). Cicero, on the other hand, in his
paraphrase of a Stoic treatise on external duties (De officiis), ranks the
rendering of positive services to other men as a chief department of social
duty; and the Stoics generally recognized the universal fellowship and
natural mutual claims of human beings as such. Indeed, this recognition in
later Stoicism is sometimes expressed with so much warmth of feeling as to
be hardly distinguishable from Christian philanthropy. Nor was this regard
for humanity merely a doctrine of the school. Partly through the influence
of Stoic and other Greek philosophy, partly from the natural expansion of
human sympathies, the legislation of the Empire, during the first three
centuries, shows a steady development in the direction of natural justice and
forms, by the exaltation of love as the root of all virtues, that the most
important influence of Christianity on the particulars of civilized morality is
to be found; although the exact amount of this influence
Benevolence. is here somewhat difficult to ascertain, since it merely
carries further a development traceable in the history of
pagan morality. This development appears when we compare the different
post-Socratic systems of ethics. In Plato’s exposition of the different virtues
there is no mention whatever of benevolence, although his writings show a
keen sense of the importance of friendship as an element of philosophic life,
especially of the intense personal affection naturally arising between master
and disciple. Aristotle goes somewhat further in recognizing the moral
value of friendship φιλία; and though he considers that in its highest form it
can be realized only by the fellowship of the wise and good, he yet extends
the notion so as to include the domestic affections, and takes notice of the
importance of mutual kindness in binding together all human societies. Still
in his formal statement of the different virtues, positive beneficence is
discernible only under the notion of “liberality,” in which form its
excellence is hardly distinguished from that of graceful profusion in self-
regarding expenditure (Nic. Eth. iv. 1). Cicero, on the other hand, in his
paraphrase of a Stoic treatise on external duties (De officiis), ranks the
rendering of positive services to other men as a chief department of social
duty; and the Stoics generally recognized the universal fellowship and
natural mutual claims of human beings as such. Indeed, this recognition in
later Stoicism is sometimes expressed with so much warmth of feeling as to
be hardly distinguishable from Christian philanthropy. Nor was this regard
for humanity merely a doctrine of the school. Partly through the influence
of Stoic and other Greek philosophy, partly from the natural expansion of
human sympathies, the legislation of the Empire, during the first three
centuries, shows a steady development in the direction of natural justice and
Page 500
humanity; and some similar progress may be traced in the general tone of
moral opinion. Still the utmost point that this development reached fell
considerably short of the standard of Christian charity. Without dwelling on
the immense impetus given to the practice of social duty generally by the
religion that made beneficence a form of divine service, and identified
“piety” with “pity,” we have to put down as definite changes introduced by
Christianity—(1) the severe condemnation and final suppression of the
practice of exposing infants; (2) effective abhorrence of the barbarism of
gladiatorial combats; (3) immediate moral mitigation of slavery, and a
strong encouragement of emancipation; (4) great extension of the
eleemosynary provision made for the sick and the poor. As regards
almsgiving, however—the importance of which has caused it to usurp, in
modern languages, the general name of “charity”—it ought to be observed
that Christianity merely universalized a duty which has always been
inculcated by Judaism, within the limits of the chosen people.
4. The same may be said of the stricter regulation which Christianity
enforced on the relations of the sexes; except so far as the prohibition of
divorce is concerned, and the stress laid on “purity of heart” as contrasted
with merely outward chastity.
5. Even the peculiarly Christian virtue of humility, which presents so
striking a contrast to the Greek “highmindedness,” was to some extent
anticipated in the Rabbinic teaching. Its far greater prominence under the
new dispensation may be partly referred to the express teaching and
example of Christ; partly, in so far as the virtue is manifested in the
renunciation of external rank and dignity, or the glory of merely secular
gifts and acquirements, it is one aspect of the unworldliness which we have
already noticed; while the deeper humility that represses the claim of
personal merit even in the saint belongs to the strict self-examination, the
continual sense of imperfection, the utter reliance on strength not his own,
moral opinion. Still the utmost point that this development reached fell
considerably short of the standard of Christian charity. Without dwelling on
the immense impetus given to the practice of social duty generally by the
religion that made beneficence a form of divine service, and identified
“piety” with “pity,” we have to put down as definite changes introduced by
Christianity—(1) the severe condemnation and final suppression of the
practice of exposing infants; (2) effective abhorrence of the barbarism of
gladiatorial combats; (3) immediate moral mitigation of slavery, and a
strong encouragement of emancipation; (4) great extension of the
eleemosynary provision made for the sick and the poor. As regards
almsgiving, however—the importance of which has caused it to usurp, in
modern languages, the general name of “charity”—it ought to be observed
that Christianity merely universalized a duty which has always been
inculcated by Judaism, within the limits of the chosen people.
4. The same may be said of the stricter regulation which Christianity
enforced on the relations of the sexes; except so far as the prohibition of
divorce is concerned, and the stress laid on “purity of heart” as contrasted
with merely outward chastity.
5. Even the peculiarly Christian virtue of humility, which presents so
striking a contrast to the Greek “highmindedness,” was to some extent
anticipated in the Rabbinic teaching. Its far greater prominence under the
new dispensation may be partly referred to the express teaching and
example of Christ; partly, in so far as the virtue is manifested in the
renunciation of external rank and dignity, or the glory of merely secular
gifts and acquirements, it is one aspect of the unworldliness which we have
already noticed; while the deeper humility that represses the claim of
personal merit even in the saint belongs to the strict self-examination, the
continual sense of imperfection, the utter reliance on strength not his own,
Page 501
which characterize the inner moral life of the Christian. Humility in this
latter sense, “before God,” is an essential condition of all truly Christian
goodness.
We have, however, yet to notice the enlargement of the sphere of ethics
due to its close connexion with theology; for while this added religious
force and sanction to ordinary moral obligations, it equally tended to impart
a moral aspect to religious belief and worship. “Duty to God”—as distinct
from duty to man—had not been altogether unrecognized by pagan
moralists; but the rather dubious relations of even the more orthodox
philosophy to the established polytheism had generally prevented them
from laying much stress upon it. Again,—just as the Stoics held wisdom to
be indispensable to real rectitude of conduct, while at the same time they
included under the notion of wisdom a grasp of physical as well as ethical
truth,—so the similar emphasis laid on inwardness in Christian ethics
caused orthodoxy or correctness of religious belief to be regarded as
essential to goodness, and heresy as the most fatal of vices, corrupting as it
did the very springs of Christian life. To the philosophers (with the single
exception of Plato), however, convinced as they were that the multitude
must necessarily miss true well-being through their folly and ignorance, it
could never occur to guard against these evils by any other method than that
of providing philosophic instruction for the few; whereas the Christian
clergy, whose function it was to offer truth and eternal life to all mankind,
naturally regarded theological misbelief as insidious preventible contagion.
Indeed, their sense of its deadliness was so keen that, when they were at
length able to control the secular administration, they rapidly overcame
their aversion to bloodshed, and initiated that long series of religious
persecutions to which we find no parallel in the pre-Christian civilization of
Europe. It was not that Christian writers did not feel the difficulty of
attributing criminality to sincere ignorance or error. But the difficulty is not
really peculiar to theology; and the theologians usually got over it (as some
latter sense, “before God,” is an essential condition of all truly Christian
goodness.
We have, however, yet to notice the enlargement of the sphere of ethics
due to its close connexion with theology; for while this added religious
force and sanction to ordinary moral obligations, it equally tended to impart
a moral aspect to religious belief and worship. “Duty to God”—as distinct
from duty to man—had not been altogether unrecognized by pagan
moralists; but the rather dubious relations of even the more orthodox
philosophy to the established polytheism had generally prevented them
from laying much stress upon it. Again,—just as the Stoics held wisdom to
be indispensable to real rectitude of conduct, while at the same time they
included under the notion of wisdom a grasp of physical as well as ethical
truth,—so the similar emphasis laid on inwardness in Christian ethics
caused orthodoxy or correctness of religious belief to be regarded as
essential to goodness, and heresy as the most fatal of vices, corrupting as it
did the very springs of Christian life. To the philosophers (with the single
exception of Plato), however, convinced as they were that the multitude
must necessarily miss true well-being through their folly and ignorance, it
could never occur to guard against these evils by any other method than that
of providing philosophic instruction for the few; whereas the Christian
clergy, whose function it was to offer truth and eternal life to all mankind,
naturally regarded theological misbelief as insidious preventible contagion.
Indeed, their sense of its deadliness was so keen that, when they were at
length able to control the secular administration, they rapidly overcame
their aversion to bloodshed, and initiated that long series of religious
persecutions to which we find no parallel in the pre-Christian civilization of
Europe. It was not that Christian writers did not feel the difficulty of
attributing criminality to sincere ignorance or error. But the difficulty is not
really peculiar to theology; and the theologians usually got over it (as some
Page 502
philosophers had surmounted a similar perplexity in the region of ethics
proper) by supposing some latent or antecedent voluntary sin, of which the
apparently involuntary heresy was the fearful fruit.
Lastly, we must observe that, in proportion as the legal conception of
morality as a code of which the violation deserves supernatural punishment
predominated over the philosophic view of ethics as the method for
attaining natural felicity, the question of man’s freedom of will to obey the
law necessarily became prominent. At the same time it cannot be broadly
said that Christianity took a decisive side in the metaphysical controversy
on free-will and necessity; since, just as in Greek philosophy the need of
maintaining freedom as the ground of responsibility clashes with the
conviction that no one deliberately chooses his own harm, so in Christian
ethics it clashes with the attribution of all true human virtue to supernatural
grace, as well as with the belief in divine foreknowledge. All we can say is
that in the development of Christian thought the conflict of conceptions was
far more profoundly felt, and far more serious efforts were made to evade or
transcend it.
In the preceding account of Christian morality, it has been already
indicated that the characteristics delineated did not all exhibit themselves
simultaneously to the same extent, or with perfect uniformity throughout
the church. Changes in the external condition of
Development of Christianity, the different degrees of civilization in the
opinion in early societies of which it was the dominant religion, and the
Christianity. natural process of internal development, continually
brought different features into prominence; while again,
the important antagonisms of opinion within Christendom frequently
involved ethical issues—even in the Eastern Church—until in the 4th
century it began to be absorbed in the labour of a dogmatic construction.
Thus, for example, the anti-secular tendencies of the new creed, to which
proper) by supposing some latent or antecedent voluntary sin, of which the
apparently involuntary heresy was the fearful fruit.
Lastly, we must observe that, in proportion as the legal conception of
morality as a code of which the violation deserves supernatural punishment
predominated over the philosophic view of ethics as the method for
attaining natural felicity, the question of man’s freedom of will to obey the
law necessarily became prominent. At the same time it cannot be broadly
said that Christianity took a decisive side in the metaphysical controversy
on free-will and necessity; since, just as in Greek philosophy the need of
maintaining freedom as the ground of responsibility clashes with the
conviction that no one deliberately chooses his own harm, so in Christian
ethics it clashes with the attribution of all true human virtue to supernatural
grace, as well as with the belief in divine foreknowledge. All we can say is
that in the development of Christian thought the conflict of conceptions was
far more profoundly felt, and far more serious efforts were made to evade or
transcend it.
In the preceding account of Christian morality, it has been already
indicated that the characteristics delineated did not all exhibit themselves
simultaneously to the same extent, or with perfect uniformity throughout
the church. Changes in the external condition of
Development of Christianity, the different degrees of civilization in the
opinion in early societies of which it was the dominant religion, and the
Christianity. natural process of internal development, continually
brought different features into prominence; while again,
the important antagonisms of opinion within Christendom frequently
involved ethical issues—even in the Eastern Church—until in the 4th
century it began to be absorbed in the labour of a dogmatic construction.
Thus, for example, the anti-secular tendencies of the new creed, to which
Page 503
Tertullian (160-220) gave violent and rigid expression, were exaggerated in
the Montanist heresy which he ultimately joined; on the other hand,
Clement of Alexandria, in opposition to the general tone of his age,
maintained the value of pagan philosophy for the development of Christian
faith into true knowledge (Gnosis), and the value of the natural
development of man through marriage for the normal perfecting of the
Christian life. So again, there is a marked difference between the writers
before Augustine and those that succeeded him in all that concerns the
internal conditions of Christian morality. By Justin and other apologists the
need of redemption, faith, grace is indeed recognized, but the theological
system depending on these notions is not sufficiently developed18 to come
into even apparent antagonism with the freedom of the will. Christianity is
for the most part conceived as essentially a proclamation through the Divine
Word, to immortal beings gifted with free choice, of the true code of
conduct sanctioned by eternal rewards and punishments. This legalism
contrasts strikingly with the efforts of pagan philosophy to exhibit virtue as
its own reward; and the contrast is triumphantly pointed out by more than
one early Christian writer. Lactantius (circa 300 a.d.), for example, roundly
declares that Plato and Aristotle, referring everything to this earthly life,
“made virtue mere folly”; though himself maintaining, with pardonable
inconsistency, that man’s highest good did not consist in mere pleasure, but
in the consciousness of the filial relation of the soul to God. It is plain,
however, that on this external legalistic view of duty it was impossible to
maintain a difference in kind between Christian and pagan morality; the
philosopher’s conformity to the rules of chastity and beneficence, so far as
it went, was indistinguishable from the saint’s. But when this inference was
developed in the teaching of Pelagius, it was repudiated as heretical by the
church, under the powerful leadership of Augustine (354-430); and the
doctrine of man’s incapacity to obey God’s law by his
Augustine. unaided moral energy was pressed to a point at which it
the Montanist heresy which he ultimately joined; on the other hand,
Clement of Alexandria, in opposition to the general tone of his age,
maintained the value of pagan philosophy for the development of Christian
faith into true knowledge (Gnosis), and the value of the natural
development of man through marriage for the normal perfecting of the
Christian life. So again, there is a marked difference between the writers
before Augustine and those that succeeded him in all that concerns the
internal conditions of Christian morality. By Justin and other apologists the
need of redemption, faith, grace is indeed recognized, but the theological
system depending on these notions is not sufficiently developed18 to come
into even apparent antagonism with the freedom of the will. Christianity is
for the most part conceived as essentially a proclamation through the Divine
Word, to immortal beings gifted with free choice, of the true code of
conduct sanctioned by eternal rewards and punishments. This legalism
contrasts strikingly with the efforts of pagan philosophy to exhibit virtue as
its own reward; and the contrast is triumphantly pointed out by more than
one early Christian writer. Lactantius (circa 300 a.d.), for example, roundly
declares that Plato and Aristotle, referring everything to this earthly life,
“made virtue mere folly”; though himself maintaining, with pardonable
inconsistency, that man’s highest good did not consist in mere pleasure, but
in the consciousness of the filial relation of the soul to God. It is plain,
however, that on this external legalistic view of duty it was impossible to
maintain a difference in kind between Christian and pagan morality; the
philosopher’s conformity to the rules of chastity and beneficence, so far as
it went, was indistinguishable from the saint’s. But when this inference was
developed in the teaching of Pelagius, it was repudiated as heretical by the
church, under the powerful leadership of Augustine (354-430); and the
doctrine of man’s incapacity to obey God’s law by his
Augustine. unaided moral energy was pressed to a point at which it
Page 504
was difficult to reconcile it with the freedom of the will. Augustine is fully
aware of the theoretical indispensability of maintaining Free Will, from its
logical connexion with human responsibility and divine justice; but he
considers that these latter points are sufficiently secured if actual freedom
of choice between good and evil is allowed in the single case of our
progenitor Adam.19 For since the natura seminalis from which all men were
to arise already existed in Adam, in his voluntary preference of self to God,
humanity chose evil once for all; for which ante-natal guilt all men are
justly condemned to perpetual absolute sinfulness and consequent
punishment, unless they are elected by God’s unmerited grace to share the
benefits of Christ’s redemption. Without this grace it is impossible for man
to obey the “first greatest commandment” of love to God; and, this
unfulfilled, he is guilty of the whole law, and is only free to choose between
degrees of sin; his apparent external virtues have no moral value, since
inner rightness of intention is wanting. “All that is not of faith is of sin”;
and faith and love are mutually involved and inseparable; faith springs from
the divinely imparted germ of love, which in its turn is developed by faith
to its full strength, while from both united springs hope, joyful yearning
towards ultimate perfect fruition of the object of love. These three
Augustine (after St Paul) regards as the three essential elements of Christian
virtue; along with these he recognizes the fourfold division of virtue into
prudence, temperance, courage and justice according to their traditional
interpretation; but he explains these virtues to be in their true natures only
the same love to God in different aspects or exercises. The uncompromising
mysticism of this view may be at once compared and contrasted with the
philosophical severity of Stoicism. Love of God in the former holds the
same absolute and unique position as the sole element of moral worth in
human action, which, as we have seen, was occupied by knowledge of
Good in the latter; and we may carry the parallel further by observing that
in neither case is this severity in the abstract estimate of goodness
aware of the theoretical indispensability of maintaining Free Will, from its
logical connexion with human responsibility and divine justice; but he
considers that these latter points are sufficiently secured if actual freedom
of choice between good and evil is allowed in the single case of our
progenitor Adam.19 For since the natura seminalis from which all men were
to arise already existed in Adam, in his voluntary preference of self to God,
humanity chose evil once for all; for which ante-natal guilt all men are
justly condemned to perpetual absolute sinfulness and consequent
punishment, unless they are elected by God’s unmerited grace to share the
benefits of Christ’s redemption. Without this grace it is impossible for man
to obey the “first greatest commandment” of love to God; and, this
unfulfilled, he is guilty of the whole law, and is only free to choose between
degrees of sin; his apparent external virtues have no moral value, since
inner rightness of intention is wanting. “All that is not of faith is of sin”;
and faith and love are mutually involved and inseparable; faith springs from
the divinely imparted germ of love, which in its turn is developed by faith
to its full strength, while from both united springs hope, joyful yearning
towards ultimate perfect fruition of the object of love. These three
Augustine (after St Paul) regards as the three essential elements of Christian
virtue; along with these he recognizes the fourfold division of virtue into
prudence, temperance, courage and justice according to their traditional
interpretation; but he explains these virtues to be in their true natures only
the same love to God in different aspects or exercises. The uncompromising
mysticism of this view may be at once compared and contrasted with the
philosophical severity of Stoicism. Love of God in the former holds the
same absolute and unique position as the sole element of moral worth in
human action, which, as we have seen, was occupied by knowledge of
Good in the latter; and we may carry the parallel further by observing that
in neither case is this severity in the abstract estimate of goodness
Page 505
necessarily connected with extreme rigidity in practical precepts. Indeed, an
important part of Augustine’s work as a moralist lies in the reconciliation
which he laboured to effect between the anti-worldly spirit of Christianity
and the necessities of secular civilization. For example, we find him arguing
for the legitimacy of judicial punishments and military service against an
over-literal interpretation of the Sermon on the Mount; and he took an
important part in giving currency to the distinction between evangelical
“counsels” and “commands,” and so defending the life of marriage and
temperate enjoyment of natural good against the attacks of the more
extravagant advocate of celibacy and self-abnegation; although he fully
admitted the superiority of the latter method of avoiding the contamination
of sin.
The attempt to Christianize the old Platonic list of virtues, which we have
noticed in Augustine’s system, was probably due to the influence of his
master Ambrose, in whose treatise De officiis ministrorum we find for the
first time an exposition of Christian duty systematized on
Ambrose. a plan borrowed from a pre-Christian moralist. It is
interesting to compare Ambrose’s account of what
subsequently came to be known as the “four cardinal virtues” with the
corresponding delineations in Cicero’s20 De officiis which served the bishop
as a model. Christian Wisdom, so far as it is speculative, is of course
primarily theological; it has God, as the highest truth, for its chief object,
and is therefore necessarily grounded on faith. Christian Fortitude is
essentially firmness in withstanding the seductions of good and evil fortune,
resoluteness in the conflict perpetually waged against wickedness without
carnal weapons—though Ambrose, with the Old Testament in his hand, will
not quite relinquish the ordinary martial application of the term.
“Temperantia” retains the meaning of “observance of due measure” in all
conduct, which it had in Cicero’s treatise; though its notion is partly
modified by being blended with the newer virtue of humility. Finally in the
important part of Augustine’s work as a moralist lies in the reconciliation
which he laboured to effect between the anti-worldly spirit of Christianity
and the necessities of secular civilization. For example, we find him arguing
for the legitimacy of judicial punishments and military service against an
over-literal interpretation of the Sermon on the Mount; and he took an
important part in giving currency to the distinction between evangelical
“counsels” and “commands,” and so defending the life of marriage and
temperate enjoyment of natural good against the attacks of the more
extravagant advocate of celibacy and self-abnegation; although he fully
admitted the superiority of the latter method of avoiding the contamination
of sin.
The attempt to Christianize the old Platonic list of virtues, which we have
noticed in Augustine’s system, was probably due to the influence of his
master Ambrose, in whose treatise De officiis ministrorum we find for the
first time an exposition of Christian duty systematized on
Ambrose. a plan borrowed from a pre-Christian moralist. It is
interesting to compare Ambrose’s account of what
subsequently came to be known as the “four cardinal virtues” with the
corresponding delineations in Cicero’s20 De officiis which served the bishop
as a model. Christian Wisdom, so far as it is speculative, is of course
primarily theological; it has God, as the highest truth, for its chief object,
and is therefore necessarily grounded on faith. Christian Fortitude is
essentially firmness in withstanding the seductions of good and evil fortune,
resoluteness in the conflict perpetually waged against wickedness without
carnal weapons—though Ambrose, with the Old Testament in his hand, will
not quite relinquish the ordinary martial application of the term.
“Temperantia” retains the meaning of “observance of due measure” in all
conduct, which it had in Cicero’s treatise; though its notion is partly
modified by being blended with the newer virtue of humility. Finally in the
Page 506
exposition of Christian Justice the Stoic doctrine of the natural union of all
human interests is elevated to the full height and intensity of evangelical
philanthropy; the brethren are reminded that the earth was made by God a
common possession of all, and are bidden to administer their means for the
common benefit; Ambrose, we should observe, is thoroughly aware of the
fundamental union of these different virtues in Christianity, though he does
not, like Augustine, resolve them all into the one central affection of love of
God.
Under the influence of Ambrose and Augustine, the four cardinal virtues
furnished a basis on which the systematic ethical theories of subsequent
theologians were built. With them the triad of Christian graces, Faith, Hope
and Love, and the seven gifts of the Spirit (Isaiah xi. 2)
Ecclesiastical were often combined. In antithesis to this list, an
morality in the enumeration of the “deadly sins” obtained currency.
“Dark Ages.” These were at first commonly reckoned as eight; but a
preference for mystical numbers characteristic of
medieval theologians finally reduced them to seven. The statement of them
is variously given,—Pride, Avarice, Anger, Gluttony, Unchastity, are found
in all the lists; the remaining two (or three) are variously selected from
among Envy, Vainglory, and the rather singular sins Gloominess (tristitia)
and Languid Indifference (acidia or acedia, from Gr. ἀκηδία). These latter
notions show plainly, what indeed might be inferred from a study of the list
as a whole, that it represents the moral experience of the monastic life,
which for some centuries was more and more unquestioningly regarded as
in a peculiar sense “religious.” It should be observed that the (also
Augustinian) distinction between “deadly” and “venial” sins had a technical
reference to the quasi-jural administration of ecclesiastical discipline, which
grew gradually more organized as the spiritual power of the church
established itself amid the ruins of the Western empire, and slowly
developed into the theocracy that almost dominated Europe during the latter
human interests is elevated to the full height and intensity of evangelical
philanthropy; the brethren are reminded that the earth was made by God a
common possession of all, and are bidden to administer their means for the
common benefit; Ambrose, we should observe, is thoroughly aware of the
fundamental union of these different virtues in Christianity, though he does
not, like Augustine, resolve them all into the one central affection of love of
God.
Under the influence of Ambrose and Augustine, the four cardinal virtues
furnished a basis on which the systematic ethical theories of subsequent
theologians were built. With them the triad of Christian graces, Faith, Hope
and Love, and the seven gifts of the Spirit (Isaiah xi. 2)
Ecclesiastical were often combined. In antithesis to this list, an
morality in the enumeration of the “deadly sins” obtained currency.
“Dark Ages.” These were at first commonly reckoned as eight; but a
preference for mystical numbers characteristic of
medieval theologians finally reduced them to seven. The statement of them
is variously given,—Pride, Avarice, Anger, Gluttony, Unchastity, are found
in all the lists; the remaining two (or three) are variously selected from
among Envy, Vainglory, and the rather singular sins Gloominess (tristitia)
and Languid Indifference (acidia or acedia, from Gr. ἀκηδία). These latter
notions show plainly, what indeed might be inferred from a study of the list
as a whole, that it represents the moral experience of the monastic life,
which for some centuries was more and more unquestioningly regarded as
in a peculiar sense “religious.” It should be observed that the (also
Augustinian) distinction between “deadly” and “venial” sins had a technical
reference to the quasi-jural administration of ecclesiastical discipline, which
grew gradually more organized as the spiritual power of the church
established itself amid the ruins of the Western empire, and slowly
developed into the theocracy that almost dominated Europe during the latter
Page 507
part of the middle ages. “Deadly” sins were those for which formal
ecclesiastical penance was held to be necessary, in order to save the sinner
from eternal damnation; for “venial” sins he might obtain forgiveness,
through prayer, almsgiving, and the observance of the regular fasts. We find
that “penitential books” for the use of the confessional, founded partly on
traditional practice and partly on the express decrees of synods, come into
general use in the 7th century. At first they are little more than mere
inventories of sins, with their appropriate ecclesiastical punishments;
gradually cases of conscience come to be discussed and decided, and the
basis is laid for that system of casuistry which reached its full development
in the 14th and 15th centuries. This ecclesiastical jurisprudence, and indeed
the general relation of the church to the ruder races with which it had to
deal during this period, necessarily tended to encourage a somewhat
external view of morality. But a powerful counterpoise to this tendency was
continually maintained by the fervid inwardness of Augustine, transmitted
through Gregory the Great, Isidore of Seville, Alcuin, Hrabanus Maurus,
and other writers of the philosophically barren period between the
destruction of the Western empire and the rise of Scholasticism.
Scholastic ethics, like scholastic philosophy, attained its completest result
in the teaching of Thomas Aquinas. But before giving a brief account of the
ethical part of his system, it will be well to notice the salient points in the
long and active discussion that led up to it. In the
Medieval moral pantheistic system of Erigena (q.v.) (circa 810-877) the
philosophy. chief philosophic element is supplied by the influence of
Plato and Plotinus, transmitted through an unknown
author of the 5th century, who assumed the name of Dionysius the
Areopagite. Accordingly the ethical side of this doctrine has the same
negative and ascetic character that we have observed in Neoplatonism. God
is the only real Being; evil is essentially unreal and incognizable; the true
aim of man’s life is to return to perfect union with God out of the degraded
ecclesiastical penance was held to be necessary, in order to save the sinner
from eternal damnation; for “venial” sins he might obtain forgiveness,
through prayer, almsgiving, and the observance of the regular fasts. We find
that “penitential books” for the use of the confessional, founded partly on
traditional practice and partly on the express decrees of synods, come into
general use in the 7th century. At first they are little more than mere
inventories of sins, with their appropriate ecclesiastical punishments;
gradually cases of conscience come to be discussed and decided, and the
basis is laid for that system of casuistry which reached its full development
in the 14th and 15th centuries. This ecclesiastical jurisprudence, and indeed
the general relation of the church to the ruder races with which it had to
deal during this period, necessarily tended to encourage a somewhat
external view of morality. But a powerful counterpoise to this tendency was
continually maintained by the fervid inwardness of Augustine, transmitted
through Gregory the Great, Isidore of Seville, Alcuin, Hrabanus Maurus,
and other writers of the philosophically barren period between the
destruction of the Western empire and the rise of Scholasticism.
Scholastic ethics, like scholastic philosophy, attained its completest result
in the teaching of Thomas Aquinas. But before giving a brief account of the
ethical part of his system, it will be well to notice the salient points in the
long and active discussion that led up to it. In the
Medieval moral pantheistic system of Erigena (q.v.) (circa 810-877) the
philosophy. chief philosophic element is supplied by the influence of
Plato and Plotinus, transmitted through an unknown
author of the 5th century, who assumed the name of Dionysius the
Areopagite. Accordingly the ethical side of this doctrine has the same
negative and ascetic character that we have observed in Neoplatonism. God
is the only real Being; evil is essentially unreal and incognizable; the true
aim of man’s life is to return to perfect union with God out of the degraded
Page 508
material existence into which he has fallen. This doctrine found little
acceptance among Erigena’s contemporaries, and was certainly unorthodox
enough to justify the condemnation which it subsequently received from
Honorius III.; but its influence, together with that of the Pseudo-Dionysius,
had a considerable share in developing the more emotional orthodox
mysticism of the 12th and 13th centuries; and Neoplatonism (or Platonism
received through a Neoplatonic tradition) remained a distinct element in
medieval thought, though obscured in the period of mature scholasticism by
the predominant influence of Aristotle. Passing on to Anselm (1033-1109),
we observe that the Augustinian doctrine of original sin and man’s absolute
need of unmerited grace is retained in his theory of salvation; he also
follows Augustine in defining freedom as the “power not to sin”; though in
saying that Adam fell “spontaneously” and “by his free choice,” though not
“through its freedom,” he has implicitly made the distinction that Peter the
Lombard afterwards expressly draws between the freedom that is opposed
to necessity and freedom from the slavery to sin. Anselm further softens the
statement of Augustinian predestinationism by explaining that the freedom
to will is not strictly lost even by fallen man; it is inherent in a rational
nature, though since Adam’s sin it only exists potentially in humanity,
except where it is made actual by grace.
In a more real sense Abelard (1079-1142) tries to establish the connexion
between man’s ill desert and his free consent. He asserts that the inherited
propensity to evil is not strictly a sin, which is only committed when the
conscious self yields to vicious inclination. With a similar stress on the self-
conscious side of moral action, he argues that rightness of conduct depends
solely on the intention, at one time pushing this doctrine to the paradoxical
assertion that all outward acts as such are indifferent.21 In the same spirit,
under the reviving influence of ancient philosophy (with which, however,
he was imperfectly acquainted and the relation of which to Christianity he
extravagantly misunderstood), he argues that the old Greek moralists, as
acceptance among Erigena’s contemporaries, and was certainly unorthodox
enough to justify the condemnation which it subsequently received from
Honorius III.; but its influence, together with that of the Pseudo-Dionysius,
had a considerable share in developing the more emotional orthodox
mysticism of the 12th and 13th centuries; and Neoplatonism (or Platonism
received through a Neoplatonic tradition) remained a distinct element in
medieval thought, though obscured in the period of mature scholasticism by
the predominant influence of Aristotle. Passing on to Anselm (1033-1109),
we observe that the Augustinian doctrine of original sin and man’s absolute
need of unmerited grace is retained in his theory of salvation; he also
follows Augustine in defining freedom as the “power not to sin”; though in
saying that Adam fell “spontaneously” and “by his free choice,” though not
“through its freedom,” he has implicitly made the distinction that Peter the
Lombard afterwards expressly draws between the freedom that is opposed
to necessity and freedom from the slavery to sin. Anselm further softens the
statement of Augustinian predestinationism by explaining that the freedom
to will is not strictly lost even by fallen man; it is inherent in a rational
nature, though since Adam’s sin it only exists potentially in humanity,
except where it is made actual by grace.
In a more real sense Abelard (1079-1142) tries to establish the connexion
between man’s ill desert and his free consent. He asserts that the inherited
propensity to evil is not strictly a sin, which is only committed when the
conscious self yields to vicious inclination. With a similar stress on the self-
conscious side of moral action, he argues that rightness of conduct depends
solely on the intention, at one time pushing this doctrine to the paradoxical
assertion that all outward acts as such are indifferent.21 In the same spirit,
under the reviving influence of ancient philosophy (with which, however,
he was imperfectly acquainted and the relation of which to Christianity he
extravagantly misunderstood), he argues that the old Greek moralists, as
Page 509
inculcating a disinterested love of good—and so implicitly love of God as
the highest good—were really nearer to Christianity than Judaic legalism
was. Nay, further, he required that the Christian “love to God” should be
regarded as pure only if purged from the self-regarding desire of the
happiness which God gives. The general tendency of Abelard’s thought was
suspiciously regarded by contemporary orthodoxy;22 and the over-subtlety
of the last-mentioned distinction provoked vehement replies from orthodox
mystics of the age. Thus, Hugo of St Victor (1077-1141) argues that all love
is necessarily so far “interested” that it involves a desire for union with the
beloved; and since eternal happiness consists in this union, it cannot truly
be desired apart from God; while Bernard of Clairvaux (1091-1153) more
elaborately distinguishes four stages by which the soul is gradually led from
(1) merely self-regarding desire for God’s aid in distress, to (2) love him for
his loving-kindness to it, then also (3) for his absolute goodness, until (4) in
rare moments this love for himself alone becomes the sole all-absorbing
affection. This controversy Peter the Lombard endeavoured to compose by
the scholastic art of taking distinctions, of which he was a master. In his
treatise, Libri sententiarum, mainly based on Augustinian doctrine, we find
a distinct softening of the antithesis between nature and grace and an
anticipation of the union of Aristotelian and Christian thought, which was
initiated by Albert the Great and completed by Thomas Aquinas.
The moral philosophy of Aquinas is Aristotelianism with a Neoplatonic
tinge, interpreted and supplemented by a view of Christian dogma derived
chiefly from Augustine. All action or movement of all things irrational as
well as rational is directed towards some end or good,—
Thomas Aquinas. that is, really and ultimately towards God himself, the
ground and first cause of all being, and unmoved
principle of all movement. This universal though unconscious striving after
God, since he is essentially intelligible, exhibits itself in its highest form in
rational beings as a desire for knowledge of him; such knowledge, however,
the highest good—were really nearer to Christianity than Judaic legalism
was. Nay, further, he required that the Christian “love to God” should be
regarded as pure only if purged from the self-regarding desire of the
happiness which God gives. The general tendency of Abelard’s thought was
suspiciously regarded by contemporary orthodoxy;22 and the over-subtlety
of the last-mentioned distinction provoked vehement replies from orthodox
mystics of the age. Thus, Hugo of St Victor (1077-1141) argues that all love
is necessarily so far “interested” that it involves a desire for union with the
beloved; and since eternal happiness consists in this union, it cannot truly
be desired apart from God; while Bernard of Clairvaux (1091-1153) more
elaborately distinguishes four stages by which the soul is gradually led from
(1) merely self-regarding desire for God’s aid in distress, to (2) love him for
his loving-kindness to it, then also (3) for his absolute goodness, until (4) in
rare moments this love for himself alone becomes the sole all-absorbing
affection. This controversy Peter the Lombard endeavoured to compose by
the scholastic art of taking distinctions, of which he was a master. In his
treatise, Libri sententiarum, mainly based on Augustinian doctrine, we find
a distinct softening of the antithesis between nature and grace and an
anticipation of the union of Aristotelian and Christian thought, which was
initiated by Albert the Great and completed by Thomas Aquinas.
The moral philosophy of Aquinas is Aristotelianism with a Neoplatonic
tinge, interpreted and supplemented by a view of Christian dogma derived
chiefly from Augustine. All action or movement of all things irrational as
well as rational is directed towards some end or good,—
Thomas Aquinas. that is, really and ultimately towards God himself, the
ground and first cause of all being, and unmoved
principle of all movement. This universal though unconscious striving after
God, since he is essentially intelligible, exhibits itself in its highest form in
rational beings as a desire for knowledge of him; such knowledge, however,
Page 510
is beyond all ordinary exercise of reason, and may be only partially
revealed to man here below. Thus the summum bonum for man is
objectively God, subjectively the happiness to be derived from loving
vision of his perfections; although there is a lower kind of happiness to be
realized here below in a normal human existence of virtue and friendship,
with mind and body sound and whole and properly trained for the needs of
life. The higher happiness is given to man by free grace of God; but it is
given to those only whose heart is right, and as a reward of virtuous actions.
Passing to consider what actions are virtuous, we first observe generally
that the morality of an act is in part, but only in part, determined by its
particular motive; it partly depends on its external object and circumstances,
which render it either objectively in harmony with the “order of reason” or
the reverse. In the classification of particular virtues and vices we can
distinguish very clearly the elements supplied by the different teachings
which Aquinas has imbibed. He follows Aristotle closely in dividing the
“natural” virtues into intellectual and moral, giving his preference to the
former class, and the intellectual again into speculative and practical; in
distinguishing within the speculative class the “intellect” that is conversant
with principles, the “science” that deduces conclusions, and the “wisdom”
to which belongs the whole process of knowing the sublimest objects of
knowledge; and in treating practical wisdom as inseparably connected with
moral virtues, and therefore in a sense moral. His distinction among moral
virtues of the justice that renders others their due from the virtues that
control the appetites and passions of the agent himself, represents his
interpretation of the Nicomachean Ethics; while his account of these latter
virtues is a simple transcript of Aristotle’s, just as his division of the non-
rational element of the soul into “concupiscible” and “irascible” is the old
Platonic one. In arranging his list, however, he defers to the established
doctrine of the four cardinal virtues (derived from Plato and the Stoics
through Cicero); accordingly, the Aristotelian ten have to stand under the
revealed to man here below. Thus the summum bonum for man is
objectively God, subjectively the happiness to be derived from loving
vision of his perfections; although there is a lower kind of happiness to be
realized here below in a normal human existence of virtue and friendship,
with mind and body sound and whole and properly trained for the needs of
life. The higher happiness is given to man by free grace of God; but it is
given to those only whose heart is right, and as a reward of virtuous actions.
Passing to consider what actions are virtuous, we first observe generally
that the morality of an act is in part, but only in part, determined by its
particular motive; it partly depends on its external object and circumstances,
which render it either objectively in harmony with the “order of reason” or
the reverse. In the classification of particular virtues and vices we can
distinguish very clearly the elements supplied by the different teachings
which Aquinas has imbibed. He follows Aristotle closely in dividing the
“natural” virtues into intellectual and moral, giving his preference to the
former class, and the intellectual again into speculative and practical; in
distinguishing within the speculative class the “intellect” that is conversant
with principles, the “science” that deduces conclusions, and the “wisdom”
to which belongs the whole process of knowing the sublimest objects of
knowledge; and in treating practical wisdom as inseparably connected with
moral virtues, and therefore in a sense moral. His distinction among moral
virtues of the justice that renders others their due from the virtues that
control the appetites and passions of the agent himself, represents his
interpretation of the Nicomachean Ethics; while his account of these latter
virtues is a simple transcript of Aristotle’s, just as his division of the non-
rational element of the soul into “concupiscible” and “irascible” is the old
Platonic one. In arranging his list, however, he defers to the established
doctrine of the four cardinal virtues (derived from Plato and the Stoics
through Cicero); accordingly, the Aristotelian ten have to stand under the
Page 511
higher genera of (1) the prudence which gives reasoned rules of conduct,
(2) the temperance which restrains misleading desire, and (3) the fortitude
that resists misleading fear of dangers or toils. But before these virtues are
ranked the three “theologic” virtues, faith, love and hope, supernaturally
“instilled” by God, and directly relating to him as their object. By faith we
obtain that part of our knowledge of God which is beyond the range of mere
natural wisdom or philosophy; naturally (e.g.), we can know God’s
existence, but not his trinity in unity, though philosophy is useful to defend
this and other revealed verities; and it is essential for the soul’s welfare that
all articles of the Christian creed, however little they can be known by
natural reason, should be apprehended through faith; the Christian who
rejects a single article loses hold altogether of faith and of God. Faith is the
substantial basis of all Christian morality, but without love—the essential
form of all the Christian virtues—it is “formless” (informis). Christian love
is conceived (after Augustine) as primarily love to God (beyond the natural
yearning of the creature after its ultimate good), which expands into love
towards all God’s creatures as created by him, and so ultimately includes
even self-love. But creatures are only to be loved in their purity as created
by God; all that is bad in them must be an object of hatred till it is
destroyed. In the classification of sins the Christian element predominates;
still we find the Aristotelian vices of excess and defect, along with the
modern divisions into “sins against God, neighbour and self,” “mortal and
venial sins,” and so forth.
From the notion of sin—treated in its jural aspect—Aquinas passes
naturally to the discussion of Law. The exposition of this conception
presents to a great extent the same matter that was dealt with by the
exposition of moral virtues, but in a different form; the prominence of
which may perhaps be attributed to the growing influence of Roman
jurisprudence, which attained in the 12th century so rapid and brilliant a
revival in Italy. This side of Thomas’s system is specially important, since it
(2) the temperance which restrains misleading desire, and (3) the fortitude
that resists misleading fear of dangers or toils. But before these virtues are
ranked the three “theologic” virtues, faith, love and hope, supernaturally
“instilled” by God, and directly relating to him as their object. By faith we
obtain that part of our knowledge of God which is beyond the range of mere
natural wisdom or philosophy; naturally (e.g.), we can know God’s
existence, but not his trinity in unity, though philosophy is useful to defend
this and other revealed verities; and it is essential for the soul’s welfare that
all articles of the Christian creed, however little they can be known by
natural reason, should be apprehended through faith; the Christian who
rejects a single article loses hold altogether of faith and of God. Faith is the
substantial basis of all Christian morality, but without love—the essential
form of all the Christian virtues—it is “formless” (informis). Christian love
is conceived (after Augustine) as primarily love to God (beyond the natural
yearning of the creature after its ultimate good), which expands into love
towards all God’s creatures as created by him, and so ultimately includes
even self-love. But creatures are only to be loved in their purity as created
by God; all that is bad in them must be an object of hatred till it is
destroyed. In the classification of sins the Christian element predominates;
still we find the Aristotelian vices of excess and defect, along with the
modern divisions into “sins against God, neighbour and self,” “mortal and
venial sins,” and so forth.
From the notion of sin—treated in its jural aspect—Aquinas passes
naturally to the discussion of Law. The exposition of this conception
presents to a great extent the same matter that was dealt with by the
exposition of moral virtues, but in a different form; the prominence of
which may perhaps be attributed to the growing influence of Roman
jurisprudence, which attained in the 12th century so rapid and brilliant a
revival in Italy. This side of Thomas’s system is specially important, since it
Page 512
is just this blending of theological conceptions with the abstract theory of
the later Roman law that gave the starting-point for independent ethical
thought in the modern world. Under the general idea of law, defined as an
“ordinance of reason for the common good, promulgated by him who has
charge of the community,” Thomas distinguishes (1) the eternal law or
regulative reason of God which embraces all his creatures, rational and
irrational; (2) “natural law,” being that part of the eternal law that relates to
rational creatures as such; (3) human law, which properly consists of more
particular deductions from natural law particularized and adapted to the
varying circumstances of actual communities; (4) divine law specially
revealed to man. As regards natural law, he teaches that God has implanted
in the human mind a knowledge of its immutable general principles; and
not only knowledge, but a disposition, to which he applies the peculiar
scholastic name synderesis,23 that unerringly prompts to the realization of
these principles in conduct, and protests against their violation. All acts of
natural virtue are implicitly included within the scope of this law of nature;
but in the application of its principles to particular cases—to which the term
“conscience” should be restricted—man’s judgment is liable to err, the light
of nature being obscured and perverted by bad education and custom.
Human law is required, not merely to determine the details for which
natural law gives no intuitive guidance, but also to supply the force
necessary for practically securing, among imperfect men, the observance of
the most necessary rules of mutual behaviour. The rules of this law must be
either deductions from principles of natural law, or determinations of
particulars which it leaves indeterminate; a rule contrary to nature could not
be valid as law at all. Human law, however, can deal with outward conduct
alone, and natural law, as we have seen, is liable to be vague and obscure in
particular applications. Neither natural nor human law, moreover, takes into
account that supernatural happiness which is man’s highest end. Hence they
need to be supplemented by a special revelation of divine law. This
the later Roman law that gave the starting-point for independent ethical
thought in the modern world. Under the general idea of law, defined as an
“ordinance of reason for the common good, promulgated by him who has
charge of the community,” Thomas distinguishes (1) the eternal law or
regulative reason of God which embraces all his creatures, rational and
irrational; (2) “natural law,” being that part of the eternal law that relates to
rational creatures as such; (3) human law, which properly consists of more
particular deductions from natural law particularized and adapted to the
varying circumstances of actual communities; (4) divine law specially
revealed to man. As regards natural law, he teaches that God has implanted
in the human mind a knowledge of its immutable general principles; and
not only knowledge, but a disposition, to which he applies the peculiar
scholastic name synderesis,23 that unerringly prompts to the realization of
these principles in conduct, and protests against their violation. All acts of
natural virtue are implicitly included within the scope of this law of nature;
but in the application of its principles to particular cases—to which the term
“conscience” should be restricted—man’s judgment is liable to err, the light
of nature being obscured and perverted by bad education and custom.
Human law is required, not merely to determine the details for which
natural law gives no intuitive guidance, but also to supply the force
necessary for practically securing, among imperfect men, the observance of
the most necessary rules of mutual behaviour. The rules of this law must be
either deductions from principles of natural law, or determinations of
particulars which it leaves indeterminate; a rule contrary to nature could not
be valid as law at all. Human law, however, can deal with outward conduct
alone, and natural law, as we have seen, is liable to be vague and obscure in
particular applications. Neither natural nor human law, moreover, takes into
account that supernatural happiness which is man’s highest end. Hence they
need to be supplemented by a special revelation of divine law. This
Page 513
revelation is distinguished into the law of the old covenant and the law of
the gospel; the latter of these is productive as well as imperative since it
carries with it the divine grace that makes its fulfilment possible. We have,
however, to distinguish in the case of the gospel between (1) absolute
commands and (2) “counsels,” which latter recommend, without positively
ordering the monastic life of poverty, celibacy and obedience as the best
method of effectively turning the will from earthly to heavenly things.
But how far is man able to attain either natural or Christian perfection?
This is the part of Thomas’s system in which the cohesion of the different
elements seems weakest. He is scarcely aware that his Aristotelianized
Christianity inevitably combines two different difficulties in dealing with
this question: first, the old pagan difficulty of reconciling the proposition
that will is a rational desire always directed towards apparent good, with the
freedom of choice between good and evil that the jural view of morality
seems to require; and, secondly, the Christian difficulty of harmonizing this
latter notion with the absolute dependence on divine grace which the
religious consciousness affirms. The latter difficulty Thomas, like many of
his predecessors, avoids by supposing a “co-operation” of free-will and
grace, but the former he does not fully meet. It is against this part of his
doctrines that the most important criticism, in ethics, of his rival Duns
Scotus (c. 1266-1308) was directed. He urged that will
Duns Scotus. could not be really free if it were bound to reason, as
Thomas (after Aristotle) conceives it; a really free choice
must be perfectly indeterminate between reason and unreason. Scotus
consistently maintained that the divine will is similarly independent of
reason, and that the divine ordering of the world is to be conceived as
absolutely arbitrary. On this point he was followed by the acute intellect of
William of Occam (d. c. 1347). This doctrine is
William of Occam. obviously hostile to all reasoned morality; and in fact,
notwithstanding the dialectical ability of Scotus and
the gospel; the latter of these is productive as well as imperative since it
carries with it the divine grace that makes its fulfilment possible. We have,
however, to distinguish in the case of the gospel between (1) absolute
commands and (2) “counsels,” which latter recommend, without positively
ordering the monastic life of poverty, celibacy and obedience as the best
method of effectively turning the will from earthly to heavenly things.
But how far is man able to attain either natural or Christian perfection?
This is the part of Thomas’s system in which the cohesion of the different
elements seems weakest. He is scarcely aware that his Aristotelianized
Christianity inevitably combines two different difficulties in dealing with
this question: first, the old pagan difficulty of reconciling the proposition
that will is a rational desire always directed towards apparent good, with the
freedom of choice between good and evil that the jural view of morality
seems to require; and, secondly, the Christian difficulty of harmonizing this
latter notion with the absolute dependence on divine grace which the
religious consciousness affirms. The latter difficulty Thomas, like many of
his predecessors, avoids by supposing a “co-operation” of free-will and
grace, but the former he does not fully meet. It is against this part of his
doctrines that the most important criticism, in ethics, of his rival Duns
Scotus (c. 1266-1308) was directed. He urged that will
Duns Scotus. could not be really free if it were bound to reason, as
Thomas (after Aristotle) conceives it; a really free choice
must be perfectly indeterminate between reason and unreason. Scotus
consistently maintained that the divine will is similarly independent of
reason, and that the divine ordering of the world is to be conceived as
absolutely arbitrary. On this point he was followed by the acute intellect of
William of Occam (d. c. 1347). This doctrine is
William of Occam. obviously hostile to all reasoned morality; and in fact,
notwithstanding the dialectical ability of Scotus and
Page 514
Occam, the work of Thomas remained indubitably the crowning result of
the great constructive effort of medieval philosophy. The effort was, indeed,
foredoomed to failure, since it attempted the impossible task of framing a
coherent system out of the heterogeneous data furnished by Scripture, the
fathers, the church and Aristotle—equally unquestioned, if not equally
venerated, authorities. Whatever philosophic quality is to be found in the
work of Thomas belongs to it in spite of, not in consequence of, its method.
Still, its influence has been great and long-enduring,—in the Catholic
Church primarily, but indirectly among Protestants, especially in England,
since the famous first book of Hooker’s Ecclesiastical Polity is to a great
extent taken from the Summa theologiae.
Partly in conscious antagonism to the schoolmen, yet with close affinity
to the central ethico-theological doctrine which they read out of or into
Aristotle, the mystical manner of thought continued to maintain itself in the
church. Philosophically it rested upon Neoplatonism, but
Medieval its development in strict connexion with Christian
mysticism. orthodoxy begins in the 12th century with Bernard of
Clairvaux and Hugo of St Victor. It blended the Christian
element of love with the ecstatic vision of Plotinus, sometimes giving the
former a decided predominance. In its more moderate form, keeping wholly
within the limits of ecclesiastical orthodoxy, this mysticism is represented
by Bonaventura and Gerson; while it appears more independent and
daringly constructive in the German Eckhart, advancing in some of his
followers to open breach with the church, and even to practical immorality.
In the brief account above given of the general ethical view of Thomas
Aquinas no mention has been made of the detailed discussion of particular
duties included in the Summa theologiae; in which, for the most part, an
excellent combination of moral elevation with sobriety of
Casuistry. judgment is shown, though on certain points the
the great constructive effort of medieval philosophy. The effort was, indeed,
foredoomed to failure, since it attempted the impossible task of framing a
coherent system out of the heterogeneous data furnished by Scripture, the
fathers, the church and Aristotle—equally unquestioned, if not equally
venerated, authorities. Whatever philosophic quality is to be found in the
work of Thomas belongs to it in spite of, not in consequence of, its method.
Still, its influence has been great and long-enduring,—in the Catholic
Church primarily, but indirectly among Protestants, especially in England,
since the famous first book of Hooker’s Ecclesiastical Polity is to a great
extent taken from the Summa theologiae.
Partly in conscious antagonism to the schoolmen, yet with close affinity
to the central ethico-theological doctrine which they read out of or into
Aristotle, the mystical manner of thought continued to maintain itself in the
church. Philosophically it rested upon Neoplatonism, but
Medieval its development in strict connexion with Christian
mysticism. orthodoxy begins in the 12th century with Bernard of
Clairvaux and Hugo of St Victor. It blended the Christian
element of love with the ecstatic vision of Plotinus, sometimes giving the
former a decided predominance. In its more moderate form, keeping wholly
within the limits of ecclesiastical orthodoxy, this mysticism is represented
by Bonaventura and Gerson; while it appears more independent and
daringly constructive in the German Eckhart, advancing in some of his
followers to open breach with the church, and even to practical immorality.
In the brief account above given of the general ethical view of Thomas
Aquinas no mention has been made of the detailed discussion of particular
duties included in the Summa theologiae; in which, for the most part, an
excellent combination of moral elevation with sobriety of
Casuistry. judgment is shown, though on certain points the
Page 515
scholastic pedantry of definition and distinction is unfavourable to due
delicacy of treatment. As the properly philosophic interest of scholasticism
faded in the 14th and 15th centuries, the quasi-legal treatment of morality
came again into prominence, borrowing a good deal of matter from Thomas
and other schoolmen. One result of this was a marked development and
systematization of casuistry. The best known Summae casuum conscientiae,
compiled for the conduct of auricular confession, belong to the 14th and
15th centuries. The oldest, the Astesana, from Asti in Piedmont, is arranged
as a kind of text-book of morality on a scholastic basis; later manuals are
merely lists of questions and answers. It was inevitable that, in proportion
as this casuistry assumed the character of a systematic penal jurisprudence,
its precise determination of the limits between the prohibited and the
allowable, with all doubtful points closely scrutinized and illustrated by
fictitious cases, would have a tendency to weaken the moral sensibilities of
ordinary minds; the greater the industry spent in deducing conclusions from
the diverse authorities, the greater necessarily became the number of points
on which doctors disagreed; and the central authority that might have
repressed serious divergences was wanting in the period of moral
weakness24 that the church went through after the death of Boniface VIII. A
plain man perplexed by such disagreements might naturally hold that any
opinion maintained by a pious and orthodox writer must be a safe one to
follow; and thus weak consciences were subtly tempted to seek the support
of authority for some desired relaxation of a moral rule. It does not,
however, appear that this danger assumed formidable proportions until after
the Reformation; when, in the struggle made by the Catholic church to
recover its hold on the world, the principle of authority was, as it were,
forced into keen, balanced and prolonged conflict with that of reliance on
private judgment. To the Jesuits, the foremost champions
The Jesuits. in this struggle, it seemed indispensable that the
confessional should be made attractive; for this purpose
delicacy of treatment. As the properly philosophic interest of scholasticism
faded in the 14th and 15th centuries, the quasi-legal treatment of morality
came again into prominence, borrowing a good deal of matter from Thomas
and other schoolmen. One result of this was a marked development and
systematization of casuistry. The best known Summae casuum conscientiae,
compiled for the conduct of auricular confession, belong to the 14th and
15th centuries. The oldest, the Astesana, from Asti in Piedmont, is arranged
as a kind of text-book of morality on a scholastic basis; later manuals are
merely lists of questions and answers. It was inevitable that, in proportion
as this casuistry assumed the character of a systematic penal jurisprudence,
its precise determination of the limits between the prohibited and the
allowable, with all doubtful points closely scrutinized and illustrated by
fictitious cases, would have a tendency to weaken the moral sensibilities of
ordinary minds; the greater the industry spent in deducing conclusions from
the diverse authorities, the greater necessarily became the number of points
on which doctors disagreed; and the central authority that might have
repressed serious divergences was wanting in the period of moral
weakness24 that the church went through after the death of Boniface VIII. A
plain man perplexed by such disagreements might naturally hold that any
opinion maintained by a pious and orthodox writer must be a safe one to
follow; and thus weak consciences were subtly tempted to seek the support
of authority for some desired relaxation of a moral rule. It does not,
however, appear that this danger assumed formidable proportions until after
the Reformation; when, in the struggle made by the Catholic church to
recover its hold on the world, the principle of authority was, as it were,
forced into keen, balanced and prolonged conflict with that of reliance on
private judgment. To the Jesuits, the foremost champions
The Jesuits. in this struggle, it seemed indispensable that the
confessional should be made attractive; for this purpose
Page 516
ecclesiastico-moral law must be somehow “accommodated” to worldly
needs; and the theory of “Probabilism” supplied a plausible method for
effecting this accommodation. The theory proceeded thus: A layman could
not be expected to examine minutely into a point on which the learned
differed; therefore he could not fairly be blamed for following any opinion
that rested on the authority of even a single doctor; therefore his confessor
must be authorized to hold him guiltless if any such “probable” opinion
could be produced in his favour; nay, it was his duty to suggest such an
opinion, even though opposed to his own, if it would relieve the conscience
under his charge from a depressing burden. The results to which this
Probabilism, applied with an earnest desire to avoid dangerous rigour, led in
the 17th century were revealed to the world in the immortal Lettres
provinciales of Pascal.
In tracing the development of casuistry we have been carried beyond the
great crisis through which Western Christianity passed in the 16th century.
The Reformation which Luther initiated may be viewed on several sides,
even if we consider only its ethical principles and effects.
The Reformation. It maintained the simplicity of Apostolic Christianity
Transition to against the elaborate system of a corrupt hierarchy, the
modern ethical teaching of Scripture alone against the commentaries of
philosophy. the fathers and the traditions of the church, the right of
private judgment against the dictation of ecclesiastical
authority, the individual responsibility of every human soul before God in
opposition to the papal control over purgatorial punishments, which had led
to the revolting degradation of venal indulgences. Reviving the original
antithesis between Christianity and Jewish legalism, it maintained the
inwardness of faith to be the sole way to eternal life, in contrast to the
outwardness of works; returning to Augustine, and expressing his spirit in a
new formula, to resist the Neo-Pelagianism that had gradually developed
itself within the apparent Augustinianism of the church, it maintained the
needs; and the theory of “Probabilism” supplied a plausible method for
effecting this accommodation. The theory proceeded thus: A layman could
not be expected to examine minutely into a point on which the learned
differed; therefore he could not fairly be blamed for following any opinion
that rested on the authority of even a single doctor; therefore his confessor
must be authorized to hold him guiltless if any such “probable” opinion
could be produced in his favour; nay, it was his duty to suggest such an
opinion, even though opposed to his own, if it would relieve the conscience
under his charge from a depressing burden. The results to which this
Probabilism, applied with an earnest desire to avoid dangerous rigour, led in
the 17th century were revealed to the world in the immortal Lettres
provinciales of Pascal.
In tracing the development of casuistry we have been carried beyond the
great crisis through which Western Christianity passed in the 16th century.
The Reformation which Luther initiated may be viewed on several sides,
even if we consider only its ethical principles and effects.
The Reformation. It maintained the simplicity of Apostolic Christianity
Transition to against the elaborate system of a corrupt hierarchy, the
modern ethical teaching of Scripture alone against the commentaries of
philosophy. the fathers and the traditions of the church, the right of
private judgment against the dictation of ecclesiastical
authority, the individual responsibility of every human soul before God in
opposition to the papal control over purgatorial punishments, which had led
to the revolting degradation of venal indulgences. Reviving the original
antithesis between Christianity and Jewish legalism, it maintained the
inwardness of faith to be the sole way to eternal life, in contrast to the
outwardness of works; returning to Augustine, and expressing his spirit in a
new formula, to resist the Neo-Pelagianism that had gradually developed
itself within the apparent Augustinianism of the church, it maintained the
Page 517
total corruption of human nature, as contrasted with that “congruity” by
which, according to the schoolmen, divine grace was to be earned;
renewing the fervent humility of St Paul, it enforced the universal and
absolute imperativeness of all Christian duties, and the inevitable
unworthiness of all Christian obedience, in opposition to the theory that
“condign” merit might be gained by “supererogatory” conformity to
evangelical “counsels.” It will be seen that these changes, however
profoundly important, were, ethically considered, either negative or quite
general, relating to the tone and attitude of mind in which all duty should be
done. As regards all positive matter of duty and virtue, and most of the
prohibitive code for ordinary men, the tradition of Christian teaching was
carried on substantially unchanged by the Reformed churches. Even the old
method of casuistry was maintained25 during the 16th and 17th centuries;
though Scriptural texts, interpreted and supplemented by the light of natural
reason, now furnished the sole principles on which cases of conscience
were decided.
In the 17th century, however, the interest of this quasi-legal treatment of
morality gradually faded; and the ethical studies of educated minds were
occupied with the attempt, renewed after so many centuries, to find an
independent philosophical basis for the moral code. The
Humanism. renewal of this attempt was only indirectly due to the
Reformation; it is rather to be connected with the more
extreme reaction from the medieval religion which was partly caused by,
partly expressed in, that enthusiastic study of the remains of old pagan
culture that spread from Italy over Europe in the 15th and 16th centuries. To
this “humanism” the Reformation seemed at first more hostile than the
Roman hierarchy; indeed, the extent to which this latter had allowed itself
to become paganized by the Renaissance was one of the points that
especially roused the Reformers’ indignation. Not the less important is the
indirect stimulus given by the Reformation towards the development of a
which, according to the schoolmen, divine grace was to be earned;
renewing the fervent humility of St Paul, it enforced the universal and
absolute imperativeness of all Christian duties, and the inevitable
unworthiness of all Christian obedience, in opposition to the theory that
“condign” merit might be gained by “supererogatory” conformity to
evangelical “counsels.” It will be seen that these changes, however
profoundly important, were, ethically considered, either negative or quite
general, relating to the tone and attitude of mind in which all duty should be
done. As regards all positive matter of duty and virtue, and most of the
prohibitive code for ordinary men, the tradition of Christian teaching was
carried on substantially unchanged by the Reformed churches. Even the old
method of casuistry was maintained25 during the 16th and 17th centuries;
though Scriptural texts, interpreted and supplemented by the light of natural
reason, now furnished the sole principles on which cases of conscience
were decided.
In the 17th century, however, the interest of this quasi-legal treatment of
morality gradually faded; and the ethical studies of educated minds were
occupied with the attempt, renewed after so many centuries, to find an
independent philosophical basis for the moral code. The
Humanism. renewal of this attempt was only indirectly due to the
Reformation; it is rather to be connected with the more
extreme reaction from the medieval religion which was partly caused by,
partly expressed in, that enthusiastic study of the remains of old pagan
culture that spread from Italy over Europe in the 15th and 16th centuries. To
this “humanism” the Reformation seemed at first more hostile than the
Roman hierarchy; indeed, the extent to which this latter had allowed itself
to become paganized by the Renaissance was one of the points that
especially roused the Reformers’ indignation. Not the less important is the
indirect stimulus given by the Reformation towards the development of a
Page 518
moral philosophy independent alike of Catholic and Protestant assumptions.
Scholasticism, while reviving philosophy as a handmaid to theology, had
metamorphosed its method into one resembling that of its mistress; thus
shackling the renascent intellectual activity which it stimulated by the
double bondage to Aristotle and to the church. When the Reformation shook
the traditional authority in one department, the blow was necessarily felt in
the other. Not twenty years after Luther’s defiance of the pope, the startling
thesis “that all that Aristotle taught was false” was prosperously maintained
by the youthful Ramus before the university of Paris; and almost
contemporaneously the group of remarkable thinkers in Italy who heralded
the dawn of modern physical science—Cardanus, Telesio, Patrizzi,
Campanella, Bruno—began to propound their Aristotelian theories of the
constitution of the physical universe. It was to be foreseen that a similar
assertion of independence would make itself heard in ethics also; and,
indeed, amid the clash of dogmatic convictions, and the variations of
private judgment, it was natural to seek for an ethical method that might
claim universal acceptance from all sects.
C. Modern Ethics.—The need of such independent principles was most
strongly felt in the region of man’s civil and political relations, especially
the mutual relations of communities. Accordingly we find that modern
ethical controversy began in a discussion of the law of
Grotius. nature. Albericus Gentilis (1557-1611) and Hugo Grotius
(1583-1645) were the first to give a systematic account.
Natural law, according to Grotius and other writers of the age, is that part of
divine law which follows from the essential nature of man, who is
distinguished from animals by his “appetite” for tranquil association with
his fellows, and his tendency to act on general principles. It is therefore as
unalterable, even by God himself, as the truths of mathematics, although its
effect may be overruled in any particular case by an express command of
God; hence it is cognizable a priori, from the abstract consideration of
Scholasticism, while reviving philosophy as a handmaid to theology, had
metamorphosed its method into one resembling that of its mistress; thus
shackling the renascent intellectual activity which it stimulated by the
double bondage to Aristotle and to the church. When the Reformation shook
the traditional authority in one department, the blow was necessarily felt in
the other. Not twenty years after Luther’s defiance of the pope, the startling
thesis “that all that Aristotle taught was false” was prosperously maintained
by the youthful Ramus before the university of Paris; and almost
contemporaneously the group of remarkable thinkers in Italy who heralded
the dawn of modern physical science—Cardanus, Telesio, Patrizzi,
Campanella, Bruno—began to propound their Aristotelian theories of the
constitution of the physical universe. It was to be foreseen that a similar
assertion of independence would make itself heard in ethics also; and,
indeed, amid the clash of dogmatic convictions, and the variations of
private judgment, it was natural to seek for an ethical method that might
claim universal acceptance from all sects.
C. Modern Ethics.—The need of such independent principles was most
strongly felt in the region of man’s civil and political relations, especially
the mutual relations of communities. Accordingly we find that modern
ethical controversy began in a discussion of the law of
Grotius. nature. Albericus Gentilis (1557-1611) and Hugo Grotius
(1583-1645) were the first to give a systematic account.
Natural law, according to Grotius and other writers of the age, is that part of
divine law which follows from the essential nature of man, who is
distinguished from animals by his “appetite” for tranquil association with
his fellows, and his tendency to act on general principles. It is therefore as
unalterable, even by God himself, as the truths of mathematics, although its
effect may be overruled in any particular case by an express command of
God; hence it is cognizable a priori, from the abstract consideration of
Page 519
human nature, though its existence may be known a posteriori also from its
universal acceptance in human societies. The conception, as we have seen,
was taken from the later Roman jurists; by them, however, the law of nature
was conceived as something that underlay existing law, and was to be
looked for through it, though it might ultimately supersede it, and in the
meanwhile represented an ideal standard, by which improvements in
legislation were to be guided. Still the language of the jurists in some
passages (cf. Inst. of Justinian, ii. 1, 2) clearly implied a period of human
history in which men were governed by natural law alone, prior to the
institution of civil society. Posidonius had identified this period with the
mythical “golden age”; and such ideas easily coalesced with the narrative in
Genesis. Thus there had become current the conception of a “state of
nature” in which individuals or single families lived side by side—under
none other than those “natural” laws which prohibited mutual injury and
interference in the free use of the goods of the earth common to all, and
upheld parental authority, fidelity of wives, and the observance of compacts
freely made. This conception Grotius took, and gave it additional force and
solidity by using the principles of this natural law for the determination of
international rights and duties, it being obvious that independent nations, in
their corporate capacities, were still in that “state of nature” in their mutual
relations. It was not, of course, assumed that these laws were universally
obeyed; indeed, one point with which Grotius is especially concerned is the
natural right of private war, arising out of the violation of more primary
rights. Still a general observance was involved in the idea of a natural law
as a “dictate of right reason indicating the agreement or disagreement of an
act with man’s rational and social nature”; and we may observe that it was
especially necessary to assume such a general observance in the case of
contracts, since it was by an “express or tacit pact” that the right of property
(as distinct from the mere right to non-interference during use) was held by
universal acceptance in human societies. The conception, as we have seen,
was taken from the later Roman jurists; by them, however, the law of nature
was conceived as something that underlay existing law, and was to be
looked for through it, though it might ultimately supersede it, and in the
meanwhile represented an ideal standard, by which improvements in
legislation were to be guided. Still the language of the jurists in some
passages (cf. Inst. of Justinian, ii. 1, 2) clearly implied a period of human
history in which men were governed by natural law alone, prior to the
institution of civil society. Posidonius had identified this period with the
mythical “golden age”; and such ideas easily coalesced with the narrative in
Genesis. Thus there had become current the conception of a “state of
nature” in which individuals or single families lived side by side—under
none other than those “natural” laws which prohibited mutual injury and
interference in the free use of the goods of the earth common to all, and
upheld parental authority, fidelity of wives, and the observance of compacts
freely made. This conception Grotius took, and gave it additional force and
solidity by using the principles of this natural law for the determination of
international rights and duties, it being obvious that independent nations, in
their corporate capacities, were still in that “state of nature” in their mutual
relations. It was not, of course, assumed that these laws were universally
obeyed; indeed, one point with which Grotius is especially concerned is the
natural right of private war, arising out of the violation of more primary
rights. Still a general observance was involved in the idea of a natural law
as a “dictate of right reason indicating the agreement or disagreement of an
act with man’s rational and social nature”; and we may observe that it was
especially necessary to assume such a general observance in the case of
contracts, since it was by an “express or tacit pact” that the right of property
(as distinct from the mere right to non-interference during use) was held by
Page 520
him to have been instituted. A similar “fundamental pact” had long been
generally regarded as the normal origin of legitimate sovereignty.
The ideas above expressed were not peculiar to Grotius; in particular the
doctrine of the “fundamental pact” as the jural basis of government had
long been maintained, especially in England, where the constitution
historically established readily suggested such a compact. At the same time
the rapid and remarkable success of Grotius’s treatise (De jure belli et
pacis) brought his view of Natural Right into prominence, and suggested
such questions as—“What is man’s ultimate reason for obeying these laws?
Wherein exactly does this their agreement with his rational and social
nature consist? How far, and in what sense, is his nature really social?”
It was the answer which Hobbes (1588-1679) gave to these fundamental
questions that supplied the starting-point for independent ethical philosophy
in England. The nature of this answer was determined by the psychological
views to which Hobbes had been led, possibly to some
Hobbes. extent under the influence of Bacon,26 partly perhaps
through association with his younger contemporary
Gassendi, who, in two treatises, published between the appearance of
Hobbes’s De cive (1642) and that of the Leviathan (1651), endeavoured to
revive interest in Epicurus. Hobbes’s psychology is in the first place
materialistic; he holds, that is, that in any of the psycho-physical
phenomena of human nature the reality is a material process of which the
mental feeling is a mere “appearance.” Accordingly he regards pleasure as
essentially motion “helping vital action,” and pain as motion “hindering” it.
There is no logical connexion between this theory and the doctrine that
appetite of desire has always pleasure (or the absence of pain) for its object;
but a materialist, framing a system of psychology, will naturally direct his
attention to the impulses arising out of bodily wants, whose obvious end is
the preservation of the agent’s organism; and this, together with a
generally regarded as the normal origin of legitimate sovereignty.
The ideas above expressed were not peculiar to Grotius; in particular the
doctrine of the “fundamental pact” as the jural basis of government had
long been maintained, especially in England, where the constitution
historically established readily suggested such a compact. At the same time
the rapid and remarkable success of Grotius’s treatise (De jure belli et
pacis) brought his view of Natural Right into prominence, and suggested
such questions as—“What is man’s ultimate reason for obeying these laws?
Wherein exactly does this their agreement with his rational and social
nature consist? How far, and in what sense, is his nature really social?”
It was the answer which Hobbes (1588-1679) gave to these fundamental
questions that supplied the starting-point for independent ethical philosophy
in England. The nature of this answer was determined by the psychological
views to which Hobbes had been led, possibly to some
Hobbes. extent under the influence of Bacon,26 partly perhaps
through association with his younger contemporary
Gassendi, who, in two treatises, published between the appearance of
Hobbes’s De cive (1642) and that of the Leviathan (1651), endeavoured to
revive interest in Epicurus. Hobbes’s psychology is in the first place
materialistic; he holds, that is, that in any of the psycho-physical
phenomena of human nature the reality is a material process of which the
mental feeling is a mere “appearance.” Accordingly he regards pleasure as
essentially motion “helping vital action,” and pain as motion “hindering” it.
There is no logical connexion between this theory and the doctrine that
appetite of desire has always pleasure (or the absence of pain) for its object;
but a materialist, framing a system of psychology, will naturally direct his
attention to the impulses arising out of bodily wants, whose obvious end is
the preservation of the agent’s organism; and this, together with a
Page 521
philosophic wish to simplify, may lead him to the conclusion that all human
impulses are similarly self-regarding. This, at any rate, is Hobbes’s cardinal
doctrine in moral psychology, that each man’s appetites or desires are
naturally directed either to the preservation of his life, or to that heightening
of it which he feels as pleasure.27 Hobbes does not distinguish instinctive
from deliberate pleasure-seeking; and he confidently resolves the most
apparently unselfish emotions into phases of self-regard. Pity he finds to be
grief for the calamity of others, arising from imagination of the like
calamity befalling oneself; what we admire with seeming disinterestedness
as beautiful (pulchrum) is really “pleasure in promise”; when men are not
immediately seeking present pleasure, they desire power as a means to
future pleasure, and thus have a derivative delight in the exercise of power
that prompts to what we call benevolent action. Since, then, all the
voluntary actions of men tend to their own preservation or pleasure, it
cannot be reasonable to aim at anything else; in fact, nature rather than
reason fixes this as the end of human action; it is reason’s function to show
the means. Hence if we ask why it is reasonable for any individual to
observe the rules of social behaviour that are commonly called moral, the
answer is obvious that this is only indirectly reasonable, as a means to his
own preservation or pleasure. It is not, however, in this, which is only the
old Cyrenaic or Epicurean answer, that the distinctive point of Hobbism
lies. It is rather in the doctrine that even this indirect reasonableness of the
most fundamental moral rules is entirely conditional on their general
observance, which cannot be secured apart from government. For example,
it is not reasonable for me to perform my share of a contract, unless I have
reason for believing that the other party will perform his; and this I cannot
have, except in a society in which he will be punished for non-performance.
Thus the ordinary rules of social behaviour are only hypothetically
obligatory; they are actualized by the establishment of a “common power”
that may “use the strength and means of all” to enforce on all the
impulses are similarly self-regarding. This, at any rate, is Hobbes’s cardinal
doctrine in moral psychology, that each man’s appetites or desires are
naturally directed either to the preservation of his life, or to that heightening
of it which he feels as pleasure.27 Hobbes does not distinguish instinctive
from deliberate pleasure-seeking; and he confidently resolves the most
apparently unselfish emotions into phases of self-regard. Pity he finds to be
grief for the calamity of others, arising from imagination of the like
calamity befalling oneself; what we admire with seeming disinterestedness
as beautiful (pulchrum) is really “pleasure in promise”; when men are not
immediately seeking present pleasure, they desire power as a means to
future pleasure, and thus have a derivative delight in the exercise of power
that prompts to what we call benevolent action. Since, then, all the
voluntary actions of men tend to their own preservation or pleasure, it
cannot be reasonable to aim at anything else; in fact, nature rather than
reason fixes this as the end of human action; it is reason’s function to show
the means. Hence if we ask why it is reasonable for any individual to
observe the rules of social behaviour that are commonly called moral, the
answer is obvious that this is only indirectly reasonable, as a means to his
own preservation or pleasure. It is not, however, in this, which is only the
old Cyrenaic or Epicurean answer, that the distinctive point of Hobbism
lies. It is rather in the doctrine that even this indirect reasonableness of the
most fundamental moral rules is entirely conditional on their general
observance, which cannot be secured apart from government. For example,
it is not reasonable for me to perform my share of a contract, unless I have
reason for believing that the other party will perform his; and this I cannot
have, except in a society in which he will be punished for non-performance.
Thus the ordinary rules of social behaviour are only hypothetically
obligatory; they are actualized by the establishment of a “common power”
that may “use the strength and means of all” to enforce on all the
Page 522
observance of rules tending to the common benefit. On the other hand
Hobbes yields to no one in maintaining the paramount importance of moral
regulations. The precepts of good faith, equity, requital of benefits,
forgiveness of wrong so far as security allows, the prohibition of contumely,
pride, arrogance,—which may all be summed up in the formula, “Do not
that to another which thou wouldest not have done to thyself” (i.e. the
negative of the “golden rule”)—he still calls “immutable and eternal laws of
nature”—meaning that, though a man is not unconditionally bound to
realize them, he is, as a reasonable being, bound to desire that they should
be realized. The pre-social state of man, in his view, is also pre-moral; but it
is therefore utterly miserable. It is a state in which every one has a right to
everything that may conduce to his preservation;28 but it is therefore also a
state of war—a state so wretched that it is the first dictate of rational self-
love to emerge from it into social peace and order. Hence Hobbes’s ideal
constitution naturally comes to be an unquestioned and unlimited—though
not necessarily monarchical—despotism. Whatever the government
declares to be just or unjust must be accepted as such, since to dispute its
dictates would be the first step towards anarchy, the one paramount peril
outweighing all particular defects in legislation and administration. It is
perhaps easy to understand how, in the crisis of 1640, when the ethico-
political system of Hobbes first took written shape, a peace-loving
philosopher should regard the claims of individual conscience as essentially
anarchical, and dangerous to social well-being; but however strong might
be men’s yearning for order, a view of social duty, in which the only fixed
positions were selfishness everywhere and unlimited power somewhere,
could not but appear offensively paradoxical.
There was, however, in his theory an originality, a force, an apparent
coherence which rendered it undeniably impressive; in fact, we find that for
two generations the efforts to construct morality on a philosophical basis
take more or less the form of answers to Hobbes. From an ethical point of
Hobbes yields to no one in maintaining the paramount importance of moral
regulations. The precepts of good faith, equity, requital of benefits,
forgiveness of wrong so far as security allows, the prohibition of contumely,
pride, arrogance,—which may all be summed up in the formula, “Do not
that to another which thou wouldest not have done to thyself” (i.e. the
negative of the “golden rule”)—he still calls “immutable and eternal laws of
nature”—meaning that, though a man is not unconditionally bound to
realize them, he is, as a reasonable being, bound to desire that they should
be realized. The pre-social state of man, in his view, is also pre-moral; but it
is therefore utterly miserable. It is a state in which every one has a right to
everything that may conduce to his preservation;28 but it is therefore also a
state of war—a state so wretched that it is the first dictate of rational self-
love to emerge from it into social peace and order. Hence Hobbes’s ideal
constitution naturally comes to be an unquestioned and unlimited—though
not necessarily monarchical—despotism. Whatever the government
declares to be just or unjust must be accepted as such, since to dispute its
dictates would be the first step towards anarchy, the one paramount peril
outweighing all particular defects in legislation and administration. It is
perhaps easy to understand how, in the crisis of 1640, when the ethico-
political system of Hobbes first took written shape, a peace-loving
philosopher should regard the claims of individual conscience as essentially
anarchical, and dangerous to social well-being; but however strong might
be men’s yearning for order, a view of social duty, in which the only fixed
positions were selfishness everywhere and unlimited power somewhere,
could not but appear offensively paradoxical.
There was, however, in his theory an originality, a force, an apparent
coherence which rendered it undeniably impressive; in fact, we find that for
two generations the efforts to construct morality on a philosophical basis
take more or less the form of answers to Hobbes. From an ethical point of
Page 523
view Hobbism divides itself naturally into two parts, which by Hobbes’s
peculiar political doctrines are combined into a coherent whole, but are not
otherwise necessarily connected. Its theoretical basis is the principle of
egoism; while, for practically determining the particulars of duty it makes
morality entirely dependent on positive law and institution. It thus affirmed
the relativity of good and evil in a double sense; good and evil, for any
individual citizen, may from one point of view be defined as the objects
respectively of his desire and his aversion; from another, they may be said
to be determined for him by his sovereign. It is this latter aspect of the
system which is primarily attacked by the first generation of writers that
replied to Hobbes. This attack, or rather the counter-exposition of orthodox
doctrine, is conducted on different methods by the Cambridge moralists and
by Cumberland respectively. Cumberland is content with the legal view of
morality, but endeavours to establish the validity of the laws of nature by
taxing them on the single supreme principle of rational regard for the
“common good of all,” and showing them, as so based, to be adequately
supported by the divine sanction. The Cambridge school, regarding
morality primarily as a body of truth rather than a code of rules, insist on its
absolute character and intuitive certainty.
Cudworth was the most distinguished of the little group of thinkers at
Cambridge in the 17th century, commonly known as the Cambridge
Platonists (q.v.). In his treatise on Eternal and Immutable Morality his main
aim is to maintain the “essential and eternal distinctions
The Cambridge of good and evil” as independent of mere will, whether
moralists, human or divine. These distinctions, he insists, have an
Cudworth. objective reality, cognizable by reason no less than the
relations of space or number; and he endeavours to refute
Hobbism—which he treats as a “novantique philosophy,” a mere revival of
the relativism of Protagoras—chiefly by the following argumentum ad
hominem. He argues that Hobbes’s atomic materialism involves the
peculiar political doctrines are combined into a coherent whole, but are not
otherwise necessarily connected. Its theoretical basis is the principle of
egoism; while, for practically determining the particulars of duty it makes
morality entirely dependent on positive law and institution. It thus affirmed
the relativity of good and evil in a double sense; good and evil, for any
individual citizen, may from one point of view be defined as the objects
respectively of his desire and his aversion; from another, they may be said
to be determined for him by his sovereign. It is this latter aspect of the
system which is primarily attacked by the first generation of writers that
replied to Hobbes. This attack, or rather the counter-exposition of orthodox
doctrine, is conducted on different methods by the Cambridge moralists and
by Cumberland respectively. Cumberland is content with the legal view of
morality, but endeavours to establish the validity of the laws of nature by
taxing them on the single supreme principle of rational regard for the
“common good of all,” and showing them, as so based, to be adequately
supported by the divine sanction. The Cambridge school, regarding
morality primarily as a body of truth rather than a code of rules, insist on its
absolute character and intuitive certainty.
Cudworth was the most distinguished of the little group of thinkers at
Cambridge in the 17th century, commonly known as the Cambridge
Platonists (q.v.). In his treatise on Eternal and Immutable Morality his main
aim is to maintain the “essential and eternal distinctions
The Cambridge of good and evil” as independent of mere will, whether
moralists, human or divine. These distinctions, he insists, have an
Cudworth. objective reality, cognizable by reason no less than the
relations of space or number; and he endeavours to refute
Hobbism—which he treats as a “novantique philosophy,” a mere revival of
the relativism of Protagoras—chiefly by the following argumentum ad
hominem. He argues that Hobbes’s atomic materialism involves the
Page 524
conception of an objective physical world, the object not of passive sense
that varies from man to man, but of the active intellect that is the same in
all; there is therefore, he urges, an inconsistency in refusing to admit a
similar exercise of intellect in morals, and an objective world of right and
wrong, which the mind by its normal activity clearly apprehends as such.
Cudworth, in the work above mentioned, gives no systematic exposition
of the ethical principles which he holds to be thus intuitively apprehended.
But we may supply this deficiency from the Enchiridion Ethicum of Henry
More, another thinker of the same school. More gives a
More. list of 23 Noemata Moralia, the truth of which will, he
says, be immediately manifest. Some of these admit of a
purely egoistic application, and appear to be so understood by the author—
as (e.g.) that goods differ in quality as well as in duration, and that the
superior good or the lesser evil is always to be preferred; that absence of a
given amount of good is preferable to the presence of equivalent evil; that
future good or evil is to be regarded as much as present, if equally certain,
and nearly as much if very probable. Objections, both general and special,
might be urged by a Hobbist against these modes of formulating man’s
natural pursuit of self-interest; but the serious controversy between
Hobbism and modern Platonism related not to such principles as these, but
to others which demand from the individual a (real or apparent) sacrifice for
his fellows. Such are the evangelical principle of “doing as you would be
done by”; the principle of justice, or “giving every man his own, and letting
him enjoy it without interference”; and especially what More states as the
abstract formula of benevolence, that “if it be good that one man should be
supplied with the means of living well and happily, it is mathematically
certain that it is doubly good that two should be so supplied, and so on.”
The question, however, still remains, what motive any individual has to
conform to these social principles when they conflict with his natural
desires. To this Cudworth gives no explicit reply, and the answer of More is
that varies from man to man, but of the active intellect that is the same in
all; there is therefore, he urges, an inconsistency in refusing to admit a
similar exercise of intellect in morals, and an objective world of right and
wrong, which the mind by its normal activity clearly apprehends as such.
Cudworth, in the work above mentioned, gives no systematic exposition
of the ethical principles which he holds to be thus intuitively apprehended.
But we may supply this deficiency from the Enchiridion Ethicum of Henry
More, another thinker of the same school. More gives a
More. list of 23 Noemata Moralia, the truth of which will, he
says, be immediately manifest. Some of these admit of a
purely egoistic application, and appear to be so understood by the author—
as (e.g.) that goods differ in quality as well as in duration, and that the
superior good or the lesser evil is always to be preferred; that absence of a
given amount of good is preferable to the presence of equivalent evil; that
future good or evil is to be regarded as much as present, if equally certain,
and nearly as much if very probable. Objections, both general and special,
might be urged by a Hobbist against these modes of formulating man’s
natural pursuit of self-interest; but the serious controversy between
Hobbism and modern Platonism related not to such principles as these, but
to others which demand from the individual a (real or apparent) sacrifice for
his fellows. Such are the evangelical principle of “doing as you would be
done by”; the principle of justice, or “giving every man his own, and letting
him enjoy it without interference”; and especially what More states as the
abstract formula of benevolence, that “if it be good that one man should be
supplied with the means of living well and happily, it is mathematically
certain that it is doubly good that two should be so supplied, and so on.”
The question, however, still remains, what motive any individual has to
conform to these social principles when they conflict with his natural
desires. To this Cudworth gives no explicit reply, and the answer of More is
Page 525
hardly clear. On the one hand he maintains that these principles express an
absolute good, which is to be called intellectual because its essence and
truth are apprehended by the intellect. We might infer from this that the
intellect, so judging, is itself the proper and complete determinant of the
will, and that man, as a rational being, ought to aim at the realization of
absolute good for its own sake. In spite, however, of possible inferences
from his definition of virtue, this does not seem to be really More’s view.
He explains that though absolute good is discerned by the intellect, the
“sweetness and flavour” of it is apprehended, not by the intellect proper, but
by what he calls a “boniform faculty”; and it is in this sweetness and
flavour that the motive to virtuous conduct lies; ethics is the “art of living
well and happily,” and true happiness lies in “the pleasure which the soul
derives from the sense of virtue.” In short, More’s Platonism appears to be
really as hedonistic as Hobbism; only the feeling to which it appeals as
ultimate motive is of a kind that only a mind of exceptional moral
refinement can habitually feel with the decisive intensity required.
It is to be observed that though More lays down the abstract principle of
regarding one’s neighbour’s good as much as one’s own with the full
breadth with which Christianity inculcates it, yet when he afterwards comes
to classify virtues he is too much under the influence of Platonic-
Aristotelian thought to give a distinct place to
Cumberland. benevolence, except under the old form of liberality. In
this respect his system presents a striking contrast to
Cumberland’s, whose treatise De Legibus Naturae (1672), though written
like More’s in Latin, is yet in its ethical matter thoroughly modern.
Cumberland is a thinker both original and comprehensive, and, in spite of
defects in style and clearness, he is noteworthy as having been the first to
lay down that “regard for the common good of all” is the supreme rule of
morality or law of nature. So far he may be fairly called the precursor of
later utilitarianism. His fundamental principle and supreme “Law of
absolute good, which is to be called intellectual because its essence and
truth are apprehended by the intellect. We might infer from this that the
intellect, so judging, is itself the proper and complete determinant of the
will, and that man, as a rational being, ought to aim at the realization of
absolute good for its own sake. In spite, however, of possible inferences
from his definition of virtue, this does not seem to be really More’s view.
He explains that though absolute good is discerned by the intellect, the
“sweetness and flavour” of it is apprehended, not by the intellect proper, but
by what he calls a “boniform faculty”; and it is in this sweetness and
flavour that the motive to virtuous conduct lies; ethics is the “art of living
well and happily,” and true happiness lies in “the pleasure which the soul
derives from the sense of virtue.” In short, More’s Platonism appears to be
really as hedonistic as Hobbism; only the feeling to which it appeals as
ultimate motive is of a kind that only a mind of exceptional moral
refinement can habitually feel with the decisive intensity required.
It is to be observed that though More lays down the abstract principle of
regarding one’s neighbour’s good as much as one’s own with the full
breadth with which Christianity inculcates it, yet when he afterwards comes
to classify virtues he is too much under the influence of Platonic-
Aristotelian thought to give a distinct place to
Cumberland. benevolence, except under the old form of liberality. In
this respect his system presents a striking contrast to
Cumberland’s, whose treatise De Legibus Naturae (1672), though written
like More’s in Latin, is yet in its ethical matter thoroughly modern.
Cumberland is a thinker both original and comprehensive, and, in spite of
defects in style and clearness, he is noteworthy as having been the first to
lay down that “regard for the common good of all” is the supreme rule of
morality or law of nature. So far he may be fairly called the precursor of
later utilitarianism. His fundamental principle and supreme “Law of
Page 526
Nature” is thus stated: “The greatest possible benevolence of every rational
agent towards all the rest constitutes the happiest state of each and all, so far
as depends on their own power, and is necessarily required for their
happiness; accordingly Common Good will be the Supreme Good.” It is,
however, important to notice that in his “good” is included not merely
happiness but “perfection”; and he does not even define perfection so as to
exclude from it the notion of absolute moral perfection and save his theory
from an obvious logical circle. A notion so vague could not possibly be
used with any precision for determining the subordinate rules of morality;
but in fact Cumberland does not attempt this; his supreme principle is
designed not to rectify, but merely to support and systematize, common
morality. This principle, as was said, is conceived as strictly a law, and
therefore referred to a lawgiver, God, and provided with a sanction in its
effects on the agent’s happiness. That the divine will is expressed by it,
Cumberland, “not being so fortunate as to possess innate ideas,” tries to
prove by a long inductive examination of the evidences of man’s essential
sociality exhibited in his physical and mental constitution. His account of
the sanction, again, is sufficiently comprehensive, including both the
internal and the external rewards of virtue and punishments of vice; and he,
like later utilitarians, explains moral obligation to lie in the force exercised
on the will by these sanctions; but as to the precise manner in which
individual is implicated with universal good, and the operation of either or
both in determining volition, his view is indistinct if not actually
inconsistent.
The clearness which we seek in vain from Cumberland is found to the
fullest extent in Locke, whose Essay on the Human Understanding (1690)
was already planned when Cumberland’s treatise appeared. Yet Locke’s
ethical opinions have been widely misunderstood; since
Locke. from a confusion between “innate ideas” and
“intuitions,” which has been common in recent ethical
agent towards all the rest constitutes the happiest state of each and all, so far
as depends on their own power, and is necessarily required for their
happiness; accordingly Common Good will be the Supreme Good.” It is,
however, important to notice that in his “good” is included not merely
happiness but “perfection”; and he does not even define perfection so as to
exclude from it the notion of absolute moral perfection and save his theory
from an obvious logical circle. A notion so vague could not possibly be
used with any precision for determining the subordinate rules of morality;
but in fact Cumberland does not attempt this; his supreme principle is
designed not to rectify, but merely to support and systematize, common
morality. This principle, as was said, is conceived as strictly a law, and
therefore referred to a lawgiver, God, and provided with a sanction in its
effects on the agent’s happiness. That the divine will is expressed by it,
Cumberland, “not being so fortunate as to possess innate ideas,” tries to
prove by a long inductive examination of the evidences of man’s essential
sociality exhibited in his physical and mental constitution. His account of
the sanction, again, is sufficiently comprehensive, including both the
internal and the external rewards of virtue and punishments of vice; and he,
like later utilitarians, explains moral obligation to lie in the force exercised
on the will by these sanctions; but as to the precise manner in which
individual is implicated with universal good, and the operation of either or
both in determining volition, his view is indistinct if not actually
inconsistent.
The clearness which we seek in vain from Cumberland is found to the
fullest extent in Locke, whose Essay on the Human Understanding (1690)
was already planned when Cumberland’s treatise appeared. Yet Locke’s
ethical opinions have been widely misunderstood; since
Locke. from a confusion between “innate ideas” and
“intuitions,” which has been common in recent ethical
Page 527
discussion, it has been supposed that the founder of English empiricism
must necessarily have been hostile to “intuitional” ethics. The truth is that,
while Locke agrees entirely with Hobbes as to the egoistic basis of rational
conduct, and the interpretation of “good” and “evil” as “pleasure” and
“pain,” or that which is productive of pleasure and pain, he yet agrees
entirely with Hobbes’s opponents in holding ethical rules to be actually
obligatory independently of political society, and capable of being
scientifically constructed on principles intuitively known,—though he does
not regard these principles as implanted in the mind at birth. The aggregate
of such rules he conceives as the law of God, carefully distinguishing it, not
only from civil law, but from the law of opinion or reputation, the varying
moral standard by which men actually distribute praise and blame; as being
divine it is necessarily sanctioned by adequate rewards and punishments.
He does not, indeed, speak of the scientific construction of this code as
having been actually effected, but he affirms its possibility in language
remarkably strong and decisive. “The idea,” he says, “of a Supreme Being,
infinite in power, goodness, and wisdom, whose workmanship we are, and
upon whom we depend, and the idea of ourselves, as understanding rational
beings, being such as are clear in us, would, I suppose, if duly considered
and pursued, afford such foundations of our duty and rules of action, as
might place morality among the sciences capable of demonstration;
wherein, I doubt not, but from self-evident propositions, by necessary
consequences as incontestable as those in mathematics, the measure of right
and wrong might be made out.” As Locke cannot consistently mean by
God’s “goodness” anything but the disposition to give pleasure, it might be
inferred that the ultimate standard of right rules of action ought to be the
common happiness of the beings affected by the action; but Locke does not
explicitly adopt this standard. The only instances which he gives of intuitive
moral truths are the purely formal propositions, “No government allows
absolute liberty,” and “Where there is no property there is no injustice,”—
must necessarily have been hostile to “intuitional” ethics. The truth is that,
while Locke agrees entirely with Hobbes as to the egoistic basis of rational
conduct, and the interpretation of “good” and “evil” as “pleasure” and
“pain,” or that which is productive of pleasure and pain, he yet agrees
entirely with Hobbes’s opponents in holding ethical rules to be actually
obligatory independently of political society, and capable of being
scientifically constructed on principles intuitively known,—though he does
not regard these principles as implanted in the mind at birth. The aggregate
of such rules he conceives as the law of God, carefully distinguishing it, not
only from civil law, but from the law of opinion or reputation, the varying
moral standard by which men actually distribute praise and blame; as being
divine it is necessarily sanctioned by adequate rewards and punishments.
He does not, indeed, speak of the scientific construction of this code as
having been actually effected, but he affirms its possibility in language
remarkably strong and decisive. “The idea,” he says, “of a Supreme Being,
infinite in power, goodness, and wisdom, whose workmanship we are, and
upon whom we depend, and the idea of ourselves, as understanding rational
beings, being such as are clear in us, would, I suppose, if duly considered
and pursued, afford such foundations of our duty and rules of action, as
might place morality among the sciences capable of demonstration;
wherein, I doubt not, but from self-evident propositions, by necessary
consequences as incontestable as those in mathematics, the measure of right
and wrong might be made out.” As Locke cannot consistently mean by
God’s “goodness” anything but the disposition to give pleasure, it might be
inferred that the ultimate standard of right rules of action ought to be the
common happiness of the beings affected by the action; but Locke does not
explicitly adopt this standard. The only instances which he gives of intuitive
moral truths are the purely formal propositions, “No government allows
absolute liberty,” and “Where there is no property there is no injustice,”—
Page 528
neither of which has any evident connexion with the general happiness. As
regards his conception of the Law of Nature, he takes it in the main
immediately from Grotius and Pufendorf, more remotely from the Stoics
and the Roman jurists.
We might give, as a fair illustration of Locke’s general conception of
ethics, a system which is frequently represented as diametrically opposed to
Lockism; namely, that expounded in Clarke’s Boyle lectures on the Being
and Attributes of God (1704). It is true that Locke is not particularly
concerned with the ethico-theological proposition which
Clarke. Clarke is most anxious to maintain,—that the
fundamental rules of morality are independent of
arbitrary will, whether divine or human. But in his general view of ethical
principles as being, like mathematical principles,29 essentially truths of
relation, Clarke is quite in accordance with Locke; while of the four
fundamental rules that he expounds, Piety towards God, Equity,
Benevolence and Sobriety (which includes self-preservation), the first is
obtained, just as Locke suggests, by “comparing the idea” of man with the
idea of an infinitely good and wise being on whom he depends; and the
second and third are axioms self-evident on the consideration of the
equality or similarity of human individuals as such. The principle of equity
—that “whatever I judge reasonable or unreasonable for another to do for
me, that by the same I declare reasonable or unreasonable that I in the like
case should do for him,” is merely a formal statement of the golden rule of
the gospel. We may observe that, in stating the principle of benevolence,
“since the greater good is always most fit and reasonable to be done, every
rational creature ought to do all the good it can to its fellow-creatures,”
Clarke avowedly follows Cumberland, from whom he quotes the further
sentence that “universal love and benevolence is as plainly the most direct,
certain and effectual means to this good as the flowing of a point is to
produce a line.” The quotation may remind us that the analogy between
regards his conception of the Law of Nature, he takes it in the main
immediately from Grotius and Pufendorf, more remotely from the Stoics
and the Roman jurists.
We might give, as a fair illustration of Locke’s general conception of
ethics, a system which is frequently represented as diametrically opposed to
Lockism; namely, that expounded in Clarke’s Boyle lectures on the Being
and Attributes of God (1704). It is true that Locke is not particularly
concerned with the ethico-theological proposition which
Clarke. Clarke is most anxious to maintain,—that the
fundamental rules of morality are independent of
arbitrary will, whether divine or human. But in his general view of ethical
principles as being, like mathematical principles,29 essentially truths of
relation, Clarke is quite in accordance with Locke; while of the four
fundamental rules that he expounds, Piety towards God, Equity,
Benevolence and Sobriety (which includes self-preservation), the first is
obtained, just as Locke suggests, by “comparing the idea” of man with the
idea of an infinitely good and wise being on whom he depends; and the
second and third are axioms self-evident on the consideration of the
equality or similarity of human individuals as such. The principle of equity
—that “whatever I judge reasonable or unreasonable for another to do for
me, that by the same I declare reasonable or unreasonable that I in the like
case should do for him,” is merely a formal statement of the golden rule of
the gospel. We may observe that, in stating the principle of benevolence,
“since the greater good is always most fit and reasonable to be done, every
rational creature ought to do all the good it can to its fellow-creatures,”
Clarke avowedly follows Cumberland, from whom he quotes the further
sentence that “universal love and benevolence is as plainly the most direct,
certain and effectual means to this good as the flowing of a point is to
produce a line.” The quotation may remind us that the analogy between
Page 529
ethics and mathematics ought to be traced further back than Locke; in fact,
it results from the influence exercised by Cartesianism over English thought
generally, in the latter half of the 17th century. It must be allowed that
Clarke is misled by the analogy to use general ethical terms (“fitness,”
“agreement” of things, &c.), which overlook the essential distinction
between what is and what ought to be; and even in one or two expressions
to overleap this distinction extravagantly, as (e.g.) in saying that the man
who “wilfully acts contrary to justice wills things to be what they are not
and cannot be.” What he really means is less paradoxically stated in the
general proposition that “originally and in reality it is natural and (morally
speaking) necessary that the will should be determined in every action by
the reason of the thing and the right of the case, as it is natural and
(absolutely speaking) necessary that the understanding should submit to a
demonstrated truth.” But though it is an essential point in Clarke’s view that
what is right is to be done as such, apart from any consideration of pleasure
or pain, it is to be inferred that he is not prepared to apply this doctrine in its
unqualified form to such a creature as man, who is partly under the
influence of irrational impulses. At least when he comes to argue the need
of future rewards and punishments we find that his claim on behalf of
morality is startlingly reduced. He now only contends that “virtue deserves
to be chosen for its own sake, and vice to be avoided, though a man was
sure for his own particular neither to gain nor lose anything by the practice
of either.” He fully admits that the question is altered when vice is attended
by pleasure and profit to the vicious man, virtue by loss and calamity; and
even that it is “not truly reasonable that men by adhering to virtue should
part with their lives, if thereby they deprived themselves of all possibility of
receiving any advantage from their adherence.”
Thus, on the whole, the impressive earnestness with which Clarke
enforces the doctrine of rational morality only rendered more manifest the
difficulty of establishing ethics on an independent philosophical basis; so
it results from the influence exercised by Cartesianism over English thought
generally, in the latter half of the 17th century. It must be allowed that
Clarke is misled by the analogy to use general ethical terms (“fitness,”
“agreement” of things, &c.), which overlook the essential distinction
between what is and what ought to be; and even in one or two expressions
to overleap this distinction extravagantly, as (e.g.) in saying that the man
who “wilfully acts contrary to justice wills things to be what they are not
and cannot be.” What he really means is less paradoxically stated in the
general proposition that “originally and in reality it is natural and (morally
speaking) necessary that the will should be determined in every action by
the reason of the thing and the right of the case, as it is natural and
(absolutely speaking) necessary that the understanding should submit to a
demonstrated truth.” But though it is an essential point in Clarke’s view that
what is right is to be done as such, apart from any consideration of pleasure
or pain, it is to be inferred that he is not prepared to apply this doctrine in its
unqualified form to such a creature as man, who is partly under the
influence of irrational impulses. At least when he comes to argue the need
of future rewards and punishments we find that his claim on behalf of
morality is startlingly reduced. He now only contends that “virtue deserves
to be chosen for its own sake, and vice to be avoided, though a man was
sure for his own particular neither to gain nor lose anything by the practice
of either.” He fully admits that the question is altered when vice is attended
by pleasure and profit to the vicious man, virtue by loss and calamity; and
even that it is “not truly reasonable that men by adhering to virtue should
part with their lives, if thereby they deprived themselves of all possibility of
receiving any advantage from their adherence.”
Thus, on the whole, the impressive earnestness with which Clarke
enforces the doctrine of rational morality only rendered more manifest the
difficulty of establishing ethics on an independent philosophical basis; so
Page 530
long at least as the psychological egoism of Hobbes is not definitely
assailed and overthrown. Until this is done, the utmost demonstration of the
abstract reasonableness of social duty only leaves us with an irreconcilable
antagonism between the view of abstract reason and the self-love which is
allowed to be the root of man’s appetitive nature. Let us grant that there is
as much intellectual absurdity in acting unjustly as in denying that two and
two make four; still, if a man has to choose between absurdity and
unhappiness, he will naturally prefer the former; and Clarke, as we have
already seen, is not really prepared to maintain that such preference is
irrational.30
It remains to try another psychological basis for ethical construction;
instead of presenting the principle of social duty as abstract reason, liable to
conflict to any extent with natural self-love, we may try to exhibit the
naturalness of man’s social affections, and demonstrate a
Shaftesbury. normal harmony between these and his self-regarding
impulses. This is the line of thought which Shaftesbury
(1671-1713) may be said to have initiated. This theory had already been
advanced by Cumberland and others, but Shaftesbury was the first to make
it the cardinal point in his system; no one had yet definitely transferred the
centre of ethical interest from the Reason, conceived as apprehending either
abstract moral distinctions or laws of divine legislation, for the emotional
impulses that prompt to social duty; no one had undertaken to distinguish
clearly, by analysis of experience, the disinterested and self-regarding
elements of our appetitive nature, or to prove inductively their perfect
harmony. In his Inquiry concerning Virtue and Merit he begins by attacking
the egoism of Hobbes, which, as we have seen, was not necessarily
excluded by the doctrine of rational intuitions of duty. This interpretation,
he says, would be true only if we considered man as a wholly unrelated
individual. Such a being we might doubtless call “good,” if his impulses
were adapted to the attainment of his own felicity. But man we must and do
assailed and overthrown. Until this is done, the utmost demonstration of the
abstract reasonableness of social duty only leaves us with an irreconcilable
antagonism between the view of abstract reason and the self-love which is
allowed to be the root of man’s appetitive nature. Let us grant that there is
as much intellectual absurdity in acting unjustly as in denying that two and
two make four; still, if a man has to choose between absurdity and
unhappiness, he will naturally prefer the former; and Clarke, as we have
already seen, is not really prepared to maintain that such preference is
irrational.30
It remains to try another psychological basis for ethical construction;
instead of presenting the principle of social duty as abstract reason, liable to
conflict to any extent with natural self-love, we may try to exhibit the
naturalness of man’s social affections, and demonstrate a
Shaftesbury. normal harmony between these and his self-regarding
impulses. This is the line of thought which Shaftesbury
(1671-1713) may be said to have initiated. This theory had already been
advanced by Cumberland and others, but Shaftesbury was the first to make
it the cardinal point in his system; no one had yet definitely transferred the
centre of ethical interest from the Reason, conceived as apprehending either
abstract moral distinctions or laws of divine legislation, for the emotional
impulses that prompt to social duty; no one had undertaken to distinguish
clearly, by analysis of experience, the disinterested and self-regarding
elements of our appetitive nature, or to prove inductively their perfect
harmony. In his Inquiry concerning Virtue and Merit he begins by attacking
the egoism of Hobbes, which, as we have seen, was not necessarily
excluded by the doctrine of rational intuitions of duty. This interpretation,
he says, would be true only if we considered man as a wholly unrelated
individual. Such a being we might doubtless call “good,” if his impulses
were adapted to the attainment of his own felicity. But man we must and do
Page 531
consider in relation to a larger system of which he forms a part, and so we
call him “good” only when his impulses and dispositions are so balanced as
to tend towards the good of this whole. And again we do not attribute
goodness to him merely because his outward acts have beneficial results.
When we speak of a man as good, we mean that his dispositions or
affections are such as tend of themselves to promote the good or happiness
of human society. Hobbes’s moral man, who, if let loose from governmental
constraint, would straightway spread ruin among his fellows, is not what we
commonly agree to call good. Moral goodness, then, in a “sensible
creature” implies primarily disinterested affections, whose direct object is
the good of others; but Shaftesbury does not mean (as he has been
misunderstood to mean) that only such benevolent social impulses are good,
and that these are always good. On the contrary, he is careful to point out,
first, that immoderate social affections defeat themselves, miss their proper
end, and are therefore bad; secondly, that as an individual’s good is part of
the good of the whole, “self-affections” existing in a duly limited degree are
morally good. Goodness, in short, consists in due combination, in just
proportion, of both sorts of “affections,” tendency to promote general good
being taken as the criterion of the right degrees and proportions. This being
established, the main aim of Shaftesbury’s argument is to prove that the
same balance of private and social affections, which tends naturally to
public good, is also conducive to the happiness of the individual in whom it
exists. Taking the different impulses in detail, he first shows how the
individual’s happiness is promoted by developing his social affections,
mental pleasures being superior to bodily, and the pleasures of benevolence
the richest of all. In discussing this he distinguishes, with well-applied
subtlety, between the pleasurableness of the benevolent emotions
themselves, the sympathetic enjoyment of the happiness of others, and the
pleasure arising from a consciousness of their love and esteem. He then
exhibits the unhappiness that results from any excess of the self-regarding
call him “good” only when his impulses and dispositions are so balanced as
to tend towards the good of this whole. And again we do not attribute
goodness to him merely because his outward acts have beneficial results.
When we speak of a man as good, we mean that his dispositions or
affections are such as tend of themselves to promote the good or happiness
of human society. Hobbes’s moral man, who, if let loose from governmental
constraint, would straightway spread ruin among his fellows, is not what we
commonly agree to call good. Moral goodness, then, in a “sensible
creature” implies primarily disinterested affections, whose direct object is
the good of others; but Shaftesbury does not mean (as he has been
misunderstood to mean) that only such benevolent social impulses are good,
and that these are always good. On the contrary, he is careful to point out,
first, that immoderate social affections defeat themselves, miss their proper
end, and are therefore bad; secondly, that as an individual’s good is part of
the good of the whole, “self-affections” existing in a duly limited degree are
morally good. Goodness, in short, consists in due combination, in just
proportion, of both sorts of “affections,” tendency to promote general good
being taken as the criterion of the right degrees and proportions. This being
established, the main aim of Shaftesbury’s argument is to prove that the
same balance of private and social affections, which tends naturally to
public good, is also conducive to the happiness of the individual in whom it
exists. Taking the different impulses in detail, he first shows how the
individual’s happiness is promoted by developing his social affections,
mental pleasures being superior to bodily, and the pleasures of benevolence
the richest of all. In discussing this he distinguishes, with well-applied
subtlety, between the pleasurableness of the benevolent emotions
themselves, the sympathetic enjoyment of the happiness of others, and the
pleasure arising from a consciousness of their love and esteem. He then
exhibits the unhappiness that results from any excess of the self-regarding
Page 532
impulses, bodily appetite, desire of wealth, emulation, resentment, even
love of life itself; and ends by dwelling on the intrinsic painfulness of all
malevolence.31
One more special impulse remains to be noticed. We have seen that
goodness of character consists in a certain harmony of self-regarding and
social affections. But virtue, in Shaftesbury’s view, is something more; it
implies a recognition of moral goodness and immediate preference of it for
its own sake. This immediate pleasure that we take in goodness (and
displeasure in its opposite) is due to a susceptibility which he calls the
“reflex” or “moral” sense, and compares with our susceptibility to beauty
and deformity in external things; it furnishes both an additional direct
impulse to good conduct, and an additional gratification to be taken into
account in the reckoning which proves the coincidence of virtue and
happiness. This doctrine of the moral sense is sometimes represented as
Shaftesbury’s cardinal tenet; but though characteristic and important, it is
not really necessary to his main argument; it is the crown rather than the
keystone of his ethical structure.
The appearance of Shaftesbury’s Characteristics (1713) marks a turning-
point in the history of English ethical thought. With the generation of
moralists that followed, the consideration of abstract rational principles falls
into the background, and its place is taken by introspective study of the
human mind, observation of the actual play of its various impulses and
sentiments. This empirical psychology had not indeed been neglected by
previous writers. More, among others, had imitated Descartes in a
discussion of the passions, and Locke’s essay had given a still stronger
impulse in the same direction; still, Shaftesbury is the first moralist who
distinctly takes psychological experience as the basis of ethics. His
suggestions were developed by Hutcheson into one of the most elaborate
systems of moral philosophy which we possess; through Hutcheson, if not
love of life itself; and ends by dwelling on the intrinsic painfulness of all
malevolence.31
One more special impulse remains to be noticed. We have seen that
goodness of character consists in a certain harmony of self-regarding and
social affections. But virtue, in Shaftesbury’s view, is something more; it
implies a recognition of moral goodness and immediate preference of it for
its own sake. This immediate pleasure that we take in goodness (and
displeasure in its opposite) is due to a susceptibility which he calls the
“reflex” or “moral” sense, and compares with our susceptibility to beauty
and deformity in external things; it furnishes both an additional direct
impulse to good conduct, and an additional gratification to be taken into
account in the reckoning which proves the coincidence of virtue and
happiness. This doctrine of the moral sense is sometimes represented as
Shaftesbury’s cardinal tenet; but though characteristic and important, it is
not really necessary to his main argument; it is the crown rather than the
keystone of his ethical structure.
The appearance of Shaftesbury’s Characteristics (1713) marks a turning-
point in the history of English ethical thought. With the generation of
moralists that followed, the consideration of abstract rational principles falls
into the background, and its place is taken by introspective study of the
human mind, observation of the actual play of its various impulses and
sentiments. This empirical psychology had not indeed been neglected by
previous writers. More, among others, had imitated Descartes in a
discussion of the passions, and Locke’s essay had given a still stronger
impulse in the same direction; still, Shaftesbury is the first moralist who
distinctly takes psychological experience as the basis of ethics. His
suggestions were developed by Hutcheson into one of the most elaborate
systems of moral philosophy which we possess; through Hutcheson, if not
Page 533
directly, they influenced Hume’s speculations, and are thus connected with
later utilitarianism. Moreover, the substance of Shaftesbury’s main
argument was adopted by Butler, though it could not pass the scrutiny of
that powerful and cautious intellect without receiving important
modifications and additions. On the other hand, the ethical optimism of
Shaftesbury, rather broadly impressive than exactly reasoned, and
connected as it was with a natural theology that implied the Christian
scheme to be superfluous, challenged attack equally from orthodox divines
and from cynical freethinkers. Of these latter Mandeville,
Mandeville. the author of The Fable of the Bees, or Private Vices
Public Benefits (1723), was a conspicuous if not a typical
specimen. He can hardly be called a “moralist”; and though it is impossible
to deny him a considerable share of philosophic penetration, his anti-moral
paradoxes have not even apparent coherence. He is convinced that virtue
(where it is more than a mere pretence) is purely artificial; but not quite
certain whether it is a useless trammel of appetites and passions that are
advantageous to society, or a device creditable to the politicians who
introduced it by playing upon the “pride and vanity” of the “silly creature
man.” The view, however, to which he gave audacious expression, that
moral regulation is something alien to the natural man, and imposed on him
from without, seems to have been very current in the polite society of his
time, as we learn both from Berkeley’s Alciphron and from Butler’s more
famous sermons.
The view of “human nature” against which Butler preached was not
exactly Mandeville’s, nor was it properly to be called Hobbist, although
Butler fairly treats it as having a philosophical basis in Hobbes’s
psychology. It was, so to say, Hobbism turned inside out,
Butler. —rendered licentious and anarchical instead of
constructive. Hobbes had said “the natural state of man is
non-moral, unregulated; moral rules are means to the end of peace, which is
later utilitarianism. Moreover, the substance of Shaftesbury’s main
argument was adopted by Butler, though it could not pass the scrutiny of
that powerful and cautious intellect without receiving important
modifications and additions. On the other hand, the ethical optimism of
Shaftesbury, rather broadly impressive than exactly reasoned, and
connected as it was with a natural theology that implied the Christian
scheme to be superfluous, challenged attack equally from orthodox divines
and from cynical freethinkers. Of these latter Mandeville,
Mandeville. the author of The Fable of the Bees, or Private Vices
Public Benefits (1723), was a conspicuous if not a typical
specimen. He can hardly be called a “moralist”; and though it is impossible
to deny him a considerable share of philosophic penetration, his anti-moral
paradoxes have not even apparent coherence. He is convinced that virtue
(where it is more than a mere pretence) is purely artificial; but not quite
certain whether it is a useless trammel of appetites and passions that are
advantageous to society, or a device creditable to the politicians who
introduced it by playing upon the “pride and vanity” of the “silly creature
man.” The view, however, to which he gave audacious expression, that
moral regulation is something alien to the natural man, and imposed on him
from without, seems to have been very current in the polite society of his
time, as we learn both from Berkeley’s Alciphron and from Butler’s more
famous sermons.
The view of “human nature” against which Butler preached was not
exactly Mandeville’s, nor was it properly to be called Hobbist, although
Butler fairly treats it as having a philosophical basis in Hobbes’s
psychology. It was, so to say, Hobbism turned inside out,
Butler. —rendered licentious and anarchical instead of
constructive. Hobbes had said “the natural state of man is
non-moral, unregulated; moral rules are means to the end of peace, which is
Page 534
a means to the end of self-preservation.” On this view morality, though
dependent for its actuality on the social compact which establishes
government, is actually binding on man as a reasonable being. But the
quasi-theistic assumption that what is natural must be reasonable remained
in the minds of Hobbes’s most docile readers, and in combination with his
thesis that egoism is natural, tended to produce results which were
dangerous to social well-being. To meet this view Butler does not content
himself, as is sometimes carelessly supposed, with insisting on the natural
claim to authority of the conscience which his opponent repudiated as
artificial; he adds a subtle and effective argument ad hominem. He first
follows Shaftesbury in exhibiting the social affections as no less natural
than the appetites and desires which tend directly to self-preservation; then
reviving the Stoic view of the prima naturae, the first objects of natural
appetites, he argues that pleasure is not the primary aim even of the
impulses which Shaftesbury allowed to be “self-affections”; but rather a
result which follows upon their attaining their natural ends. We have, in
fact, to distinguish self-love, the “general desire that every man hath of his
own happiness” or pleasure, from the particular affections, passions, and
appetites directed towards objects other than pleasure, in the satisfaction of
which pleasure consists. The latter are “necessarily presupposed” as distinct
impulses in “the very idea of an interested pursuit”; since, if there were no
such pre-existing desires, there would be no pleasure for self-love to aim at.
Thus the object of hunger is not the pleasure of eating but food; hunger is
therefore, strictly speaking, no more “interested” than benevolence;
granting that the pleasures of the table are an important element in the
happiness at which self-love aims, the same at least may be said for the
pleasures of love and sympathy. Further, so far from bodily appetites (or
other particular desires) being forms of self-love, there is no one of them
which under certain circumstances may not come into conflict with it.
Indeed, it is common for men to sacrifice to passion what they know to be
dependent for its actuality on the social compact which establishes
government, is actually binding on man as a reasonable being. But the
quasi-theistic assumption that what is natural must be reasonable remained
in the minds of Hobbes’s most docile readers, and in combination with his
thesis that egoism is natural, tended to produce results which were
dangerous to social well-being. To meet this view Butler does not content
himself, as is sometimes carelessly supposed, with insisting on the natural
claim to authority of the conscience which his opponent repudiated as
artificial; he adds a subtle and effective argument ad hominem. He first
follows Shaftesbury in exhibiting the social affections as no less natural
than the appetites and desires which tend directly to self-preservation; then
reviving the Stoic view of the prima naturae, the first objects of natural
appetites, he argues that pleasure is not the primary aim even of the
impulses which Shaftesbury allowed to be “self-affections”; but rather a
result which follows upon their attaining their natural ends. We have, in
fact, to distinguish self-love, the “general desire that every man hath of his
own happiness” or pleasure, from the particular affections, passions, and
appetites directed towards objects other than pleasure, in the satisfaction of
which pleasure consists. The latter are “necessarily presupposed” as distinct
impulses in “the very idea of an interested pursuit”; since, if there were no
such pre-existing desires, there would be no pleasure for self-love to aim at.
Thus the object of hunger is not the pleasure of eating but food; hunger is
therefore, strictly speaking, no more “interested” than benevolence;
granting that the pleasures of the table are an important element in the
happiness at which self-love aims, the same at least may be said for the
pleasures of love and sympathy. Further, so far from bodily appetites (or
other particular desires) being forms of self-love, there is no one of them
which under certain circumstances may not come into conflict with it.
Indeed, it is common for men to sacrifice to passion what they know to be
Page 535
their true interests; at the same time we do not consider such conduct
“natural” in man as a rational being; we rather regard it as natural for him to
govern his transient impulses. Thus the notion of natural unregulated
egoism turns out to be a psychological chimera. Indeed, we may say that an
egoist must be doubly self-regulative, since rational self-love ought to
restrain not only other impulses, but itself also; for as happiness is made up
of feelings that result from the satisfaction of impulses other than self-love,
any over-development of the latter, enfeebling these other impulses, must
proportionally diminish the happiness at which self-love aims. If, then, it be
admitted that human impulses are naturally under government, the natural
claim of conscience or the moral faculty to be the supreme governor will
hardly be denied.
But has not self-love also, by Butler’s own account, a similar authority,
which may come into conflict with that of conscience? Butler fully admits
this, and, in fact, grounds on it an important criticism of Shaftesbury. We
have seen that in the latter’s system the “moral sense” is not absolutely
required, or at least is necessary only as a substitute for enlightened self-
regard; since if the harmony between prudence and virtue, self-regarding
and social impulses, is complete, mere self-interest will prompt a duly
enlightened mind to maintain precisely that “balance” of affections in which
goodness consists. But to Butler’s more cautious mind the completeness of
this harmony did not seem sufficiently demonstrable to be taken as a basis
of moral teaching; he has at least to contemplate the possibility of a man
being convinced of the opposite; and he argues that unless we regard
conscience as essentially authoritative—which is not implied in the term
“moral sense”—such a man is really bound to be vicious; “since interest,
one’s own happiness, is a manifest obligation.” Still on this view, even if
the authority of conscience be asserted, we seem reduced to an ultimate
dualism of our rational nature. Butler’s ordered polity of impulses turns out
to be a polity with two independent governments. Butler does not deny this,
“natural” in man as a rational being; we rather regard it as natural for him to
govern his transient impulses. Thus the notion of natural unregulated
egoism turns out to be a psychological chimera. Indeed, we may say that an
egoist must be doubly self-regulative, since rational self-love ought to
restrain not only other impulses, but itself also; for as happiness is made up
of feelings that result from the satisfaction of impulses other than self-love,
any over-development of the latter, enfeebling these other impulses, must
proportionally diminish the happiness at which self-love aims. If, then, it be
admitted that human impulses are naturally under government, the natural
claim of conscience or the moral faculty to be the supreme governor will
hardly be denied.
But has not self-love also, by Butler’s own account, a similar authority,
which may come into conflict with that of conscience? Butler fully admits
this, and, in fact, grounds on it an important criticism of Shaftesbury. We
have seen that in the latter’s system the “moral sense” is not absolutely
required, or at least is necessary only as a substitute for enlightened self-
regard; since if the harmony between prudence and virtue, self-regarding
and social impulses, is complete, mere self-interest will prompt a duly
enlightened mind to maintain precisely that “balance” of affections in which
goodness consists. But to Butler’s more cautious mind the completeness of
this harmony did not seem sufficiently demonstrable to be taken as a basis
of moral teaching; he has at least to contemplate the possibility of a man
being convinced of the opposite; and he argues that unless we regard
conscience as essentially authoritative—which is not implied in the term
“moral sense”—such a man is really bound to be vicious; “since interest,
one’s own happiness, is a manifest obligation.” Still on this view, even if
the authority of conscience be asserted, we seem reduced to an ultimate
dualism of our rational nature. Butler’s ordered polity of impulses turns out
to be a polity with two independent governments. Butler does not deny this,
Page 536
so far as mere claim to authority is concerned;32 but he maintains that, the
dictates of conscience being clear and certain, while the calculations of self-
interest lead to merely probable conclusions, it can never be practically
reasonable to disobey the former, even apart from any proof which religion
may furnish of the absolute coincidence of the two in a future life.
This dualism of governing principles, conscience and self-love, in
Butler’s system, and perhaps, too, his revival of the Platonic conception of
human nature as an ordered and governed community of impulses, is
perhaps most nearly anticipated in Wollaston’s Religion
Wollaston. of Nature Delineated (1722). Here, for the first time, we
find “moral good” and “natural good” or “happiness”
treated separately as two essentially distinct objects of rational pursuit and
investigation; the harmony between them being regarded as matter of
religious faith, not moral knowledge. Wollaston’s theory of moral evil as
consisting in the practical contradiction of a true proposition, closely
resembles the most paradoxical part of Clarke’s doctrine, and was not likely
to approve itself to the strong common sense of Butler; but his statement of
happiness or pleasure as a “justly desirable” end at which every rational
being “ought” to aim corresponds exactly to Butler’s conception of self-
love as a naturally governing impulse; while the “moral arithmetic” with
which he compares pleasures and pains, and endeavours to make the notion
of happiness quantitatively precise, is an anticipation of Benthamism.
There is another side of Shaftesbury’s harmony which Butler was
ultimately led to oppose in a more decided manner,—the opposition,
namely, between conscience or the moral sense and the social affections. In
the Sermons, indeed (1729), Butler seems to treat conscience and calm
benevolence as permanently allied though distinct principles, but in the
Dissertation on Virtue, appended to the Analogy (1739), he maintains that
the conduct dictated by conscience will often differ widely from that to
dictates of conscience being clear and certain, while the calculations of self-
interest lead to merely probable conclusions, it can never be practically
reasonable to disobey the former, even apart from any proof which religion
may furnish of the absolute coincidence of the two in a future life.
This dualism of governing principles, conscience and self-love, in
Butler’s system, and perhaps, too, his revival of the Platonic conception of
human nature as an ordered and governed community of impulses, is
perhaps most nearly anticipated in Wollaston’s Religion
Wollaston. of Nature Delineated (1722). Here, for the first time, we
find “moral good” and “natural good” or “happiness”
treated separately as two essentially distinct objects of rational pursuit and
investigation; the harmony between them being regarded as matter of
religious faith, not moral knowledge. Wollaston’s theory of moral evil as
consisting in the practical contradiction of a true proposition, closely
resembles the most paradoxical part of Clarke’s doctrine, and was not likely
to approve itself to the strong common sense of Butler; but his statement of
happiness or pleasure as a “justly desirable” end at which every rational
being “ought” to aim corresponds exactly to Butler’s conception of self-
love as a naturally governing impulse; while the “moral arithmetic” with
which he compares pleasures and pains, and endeavours to make the notion
of happiness quantitatively precise, is an anticipation of Benthamism.
There is another side of Shaftesbury’s harmony which Butler was
ultimately led to oppose in a more decided manner,—the opposition,
namely, between conscience or the moral sense and the social affections. In
the Sermons, indeed (1729), Butler seems to treat conscience and calm
benevolence as permanently allied though distinct principles, but in the
Dissertation on Virtue, appended to the Analogy (1739), he maintains that
the conduct dictated by conscience will often differ widely from that to
Page 537
which mere regard for the production of happiness would prompt. We may
take this latter treatise as representing the first in the development of
English ethics, at which what were afterwards called “utilitarian” and
“intuitional” morality were first formally opposed; in earlier systems the
antithesis is quite latent, as we have incidentally noticed in the case of
Cumberland and Clarke. The argument in Butler’s dissertation was
probably directed chiefly against Hutcheson, who in his
Hutcheson. Inquiry into the Original of our Ideas of Beauty and
Virtue had definitely identified virtue with benevolence.
The identification is slightly qualified in Hutcheson’s posthumously
published System of Moral Philosophy (1755), in which the general view of
Shaftesbury is more fully developed, with several new psychological
distinctions, including Butler’s separation of “calm” benevolence—as well
as, after Butler, “calm self-love”—from the “turbulent” passions, selfish or
social. Hutcheson follows Butler again in laying stress on the regulating and
controlling function of the moral sense; but he still regards “kind
affections” as the principal objects of moral approbation—the “calm” and
“extensive” affections being preferred to the turbulent and narrow—
together with the desire and love of moral excellence which is ranked with
universal benevolence, the two being equally worthy and necessarily
harmonious. Only in a secondary sense is approval due to certain “abilities
and dispositions immediately connected with virtuous affections,” as
candour, veracity, fortitude, sense of honour; while in a lower grade still are
placed sciences and arts, along with even bodily skills and gifts; indeed, the
approbation we give to these is not strictly moral, but is referred to the
“sense of decency or dignity,” which (as well as the sense of honour) is to
be distinguished from the moral sense. Calm self-love Hutcheson regards as
morally indifferent; though he enters into a careful analysis of the elements
of happiness,33 in order to show that a true regard for private interest always
coincides with the moral sense and with benevolence. While thus
take this latter treatise as representing the first in the development of
English ethics, at which what were afterwards called “utilitarian” and
“intuitional” morality were first formally opposed; in earlier systems the
antithesis is quite latent, as we have incidentally noticed in the case of
Cumberland and Clarke. The argument in Butler’s dissertation was
probably directed chiefly against Hutcheson, who in his
Hutcheson. Inquiry into the Original of our Ideas of Beauty and
Virtue had definitely identified virtue with benevolence.
The identification is slightly qualified in Hutcheson’s posthumously
published System of Moral Philosophy (1755), in which the general view of
Shaftesbury is more fully developed, with several new psychological
distinctions, including Butler’s separation of “calm” benevolence—as well
as, after Butler, “calm self-love”—from the “turbulent” passions, selfish or
social. Hutcheson follows Butler again in laying stress on the regulating and
controlling function of the moral sense; but he still regards “kind
affections” as the principal objects of moral approbation—the “calm” and
“extensive” affections being preferred to the turbulent and narrow—
together with the desire and love of moral excellence which is ranked with
universal benevolence, the two being equally worthy and necessarily
harmonious. Only in a secondary sense is approval due to certain “abilities
and dispositions immediately connected with virtuous affections,” as
candour, veracity, fortitude, sense of honour; while in a lower grade still are
placed sciences and arts, along with even bodily skills and gifts; indeed, the
approbation we give to these is not strictly moral, but is referred to the
“sense of decency or dignity,” which (as well as the sense of honour) is to
be distinguished from the moral sense. Calm self-love Hutcheson regards as
morally indifferent; though he enters into a careful analysis of the elements
of happiness,33 in order to show that a true regard for private interest always
coincides with the moral sense and with benevolence. While thus
Page 538
maintaining Shaftesbury’s “harmony” between public and private good,
Hutcheson is still more careful to establish the strict disinterestedness of
benevolent affections. Shaftesbury had conclusively shown that these were
not in the vulgar sense selfish; but the very stress which he lays on the
pleasure inseparable from their exercise suggests a subtle egoistic theory
which he does not expressly exclude, since it may be said that this “intrinsic
reward” constitutes the real motive of the benevolent man. To this
Hutcheson replies that no doubt the exquisite delight of the emotion of love
is a motive to sustain and develop it; but this pleasure cannot be directly
obtained, any more than other pleasures, by merely desiring it; it can be
sought only by the indirect method of cultivating and indulging the
disinterested desire for others’ good, which is thus obviously distinct from
the desire for the pleasure of benevolence. He points to the fact that the
imminence of death often intensifies instead of diminishing a man’s desire
for the welfare of those he loves, as a crucial experiment proving the
disinterestedness of love; adding, as confirmatory evidence, that the
sympathy and admiration commonly felt for self-sacrifice depends on the
belief that it is something different from refined self-seeking.
It remains to consider how, from the doctrine that affection is the proper
object of approbation, we are to deduce moral rules or “natural laws”
prescribing or prohibiting outward acts. It is obvious that all actions
conducive to the general good will deserve our highest approbation if done
from disinterested benevolence; but how if they are not so done? In
answering this question, Hutcheson avails himself of the scholastic
distinction between “material” and “formal” goodness. “An action,” he
says, “is materially good when in fact it tends to the interest of the system,
so far as we can judge of its tendency, or to the good of some part consistent
with that of the system, whatever were the affections of the agent. An action
is formally good when it flowed from good affection in a just proportion.”
On the pivot of this distinction Hutcheson turns round from the point of
Hutcheson is still more careful to establish the strict disinterestedness of
benevolent affections. Shaftesbury had conclusively shown that these were
not in the vulgar sense selfish; but the very stress which he lays on the
pleasure inseparable from their exercise suggests a subtle egoistic theory
which he does not expressly exclude, since it may be said that this “intrinsic
reward” constitutes the real motive of the benevolent man. To this
Hutcheson replies that no doubt the exquisite delight of the emotion of love
is a motive to sustain and develop it; but this pleasure cannot be directly
obtained, any more than other pleasures, by merely desiring it; it can be
sought only by the indirect method of cultivating and indulging the
disinterested desire for others’ good, which is thus obviously distinct from
the desire for the pleasure of benevolence. He points to the fact that the
imminence of death often intensifies instead of diminishing a man’s desire
for the welfare of those he loves, as a crucial experiment proving the
disinterestedness of love; adding, as confirmatory evidence, that the
sympathy and admiration commonly felt for self-sacrifice depends on the
belief that it is something different from refined self-seeking.
It remains to consider how, from the doctrine that affection is the proper
object of approbation, we are to deduce moral rules or “natural laws”
prescribing or prohibiting outward acts. It is obvious that all actions
conducive to the general good will deserve our highest approbation if done
from disinterested benevolence; but how if they are not so done? In
answering this question, Hutcheson avails himself of the scholastic
distinction between “material” and “formal” goodness. “An action,” he
says, “is materially good when in fact it tends to the interest of the system,
so far as we can judge of its tendency, or to the good of some part consistent
with that of the system, whatever were the affections of the agent. An action
is formally good when it flowed from good affection in a just proportion.”
On the pivot of this distinction Hutcheson turns round from the point of
Page 539
view of Shaftesbury to that of later utilitarianism. As regards “material”
goodness of actions, he adopts explicitly and unreservedly the formula
afterwards taken as fundamental by Bentham; holding that “that action is
best which procures the greatest happiness for the greatest numbers, and the
worst which in a like manner occasions misery.” Accordingly his treatment
of external rights and duties, though decidedly inferior in methodical
clearness and precision, does not differ in principle from that of Paley or
Bentham, except that he lays greater stress on the immediate conduciveness
of actions to the happiness of individuals, and more often refers in a merely
supplementary or restrictive way to their tendencies in respect of general
happiness. It may be noticed, too, that he still accepts the “social compact”
as the natural mode of constituting government, and regards the obligations
of subjects to civil obedience as normally dependent on a tacit contract;
though he is careful to state that consent is not absolutely necessary to the
just establishment of beneficent government, nor the source of irrevocable
obligation to a pernicious one.
An important step further in political utilitarianism was taken by Hume in
his Treatise on Human Nature (1739). Hume concedes that a compact is the
natural means of peacefully instituting a new government, and may
therefore be properly regarded as the ground of allegiance to it at the outset;
but he urges that, when once it is firmly established the
Hume. duty of obeying it rests on precisely the same
combination of private and general interests as the duty
of keeping promises; it is therefore absurd to base the former on the latter.
Justice, veracity, fidelity to compacts and to governments, are all co-
ordinate; they are all “artificial” virtues, due to civilization, and not
belonging to man in his “ruder and more natural” condition; our
approbation of all alike is founded on our perception of their useful
consequences. It is this last position that constitutes the fundamental
difference between Hutcheson’s ethical doctrine and Hume’s.34 The former,
goodness of actions, he adopts explicitly and unreservedly the formula
afterwards taken as fundamental by Bentham; holding that “that action is
best which procures the greatest happiness for the greatest numbers, and the
worst which in a like manner occasions misery.” Accordingly his treatment
of external rights and duties, though decidedly inferior in methodical
clearness and precision, does not differ in principle from that of Paley or
Bentham, except that he lays greater stress on the immediate conduciveness
of actions to the happiness of individuals, and more often refers in a merely
supplementary or restrictive way to their tendencies in respect of general
happiness. It may be noticed, too, that he still accepts the “social compact”
as the natural mode of constituting government, and regards the obligations
of subjects to civil obedience as normally dependent on a tacit contract;
though he is careful to state that consent is not absolutely necessary to the
just establishment of beneficent government, nor the source of irrevocable
obligation to a pernicious one.
An important step further in political utilitarianism was taken by Hume in
his Treatise on Human Nature (1739). Hume concedes that a compact is the
natural means of peacefully instituting a new government, and may
therefore be properly regarded as the ground of allegiance to it at the outset;
but he urges that, when once it is firmly established the
Hume. duty of obeying it rests on precisely the same
combination of private and general interests as the duty
of keeping promises; it is therefore absurd to base the former on the latter.
Justice, veracity, fidelity to compacts and to governments, are all co-
ordinate; they are all “artificial” virtues, due to civilization, and not
belonging to man in his “ruder and more natural” condition; our
approbation of all alike is founded on our perception of their useful
consequences. It is this last position that constitutes the fundamental
difference between Hutcheson’s ethical doctrine and Hume’s.34 The former,
Page 540
while accepting utility as the criterion of “material goodness,” had adhered
to Shaftesbury’s view that dispositions, not results of action, were the
proper object of moral approval; at the same time, while giving to
benevolence the first place in his account of personal merit, he had shrunk
from the paradox of treating it as the sole virtue, and had added a rather
undefined and unexplained train of qualities,—veracity, fortitude, activity,
industry, sagacity,—immediately approved in various degrees by the “moral
sense” or the “sense of dignity.” This naturally suggested to a mind like
Hume’s, anxious to apply the experimental method to psychology, the
problem of reducing these different elements of personal merit—or rather
our approval of them—to some common principle. The old theory that
referred this approval entirely to self-love, is, he holds, easy to disprove by
“crucial experiments” on the play of our moral sentiments; rejecting this, he
finds the required explanation in the sympathetic pleasure that attends our
perception of the conduciveness of virtue to the interests of human beings
other than ourselves. He endeavours to establish this inductively by a
survey of the qualities, commonly praised as virtues, which he finds to be
always either useful or immediately agreeable, either (1) to the virtuous
agent himself or (2) to others. In class (2) he includes, besides the
Benevolence of Shaftesbury and Hutcheson, the useful virtues, Justice,
Veracity and Fidelity to compacts; as well as such immediately agreeable
qualities as politeness, wit, modesty and even cleanliness. The most original
part of his discussion, however, is concerned with qualities immediately
useful to their possessor. The most cynical man of the world, he says, with
whatever “sullen incredulity” he may repudiate virtue as a hollow pretence,
cannot really refuse his approbation to “discretion, caution, enterprise,
industry, frugality, economy, good sense, prudence, discernment”; nor
again, to “temperance, sobriety, patience, perseverance, considerateness,
secrecy, order, insinuation, address, presence of mind, quickness of
conception, facility of expression.” It is evident that the merit of these
to Shaftesbury’s view that dispositions, not results of action, were the
proper object of moral approval; at the same time, while giving to
benevolence the first place in his account of personal merit, he had shrunk
from the paradox of treating it as the sole virtue, and had added a rather
undefined and unexplained train of qualities,—veracity, fortitude, activity,
industry, sagacity,—immediately approved in various degrees by the “moral
sense” or the “sense of dignity.” This naturally suggested to a mind like
Hume’s, anxious to apply the experimental method to psychology, the
problem of reducing these different elements of personal merit—or rather
our approval of them—to some common principle. The old theory that
referred this approval entirely to self-love, is, he holds, easy to disprove by
“crucial experiments” on the play of our moral sentiments; rejecting this, he
finds the required explanation in the sympathetic pleasure that attends our
perception of the conduciveness of virtue to the interests of human beings
other than ourselves. He endeavours to establish this inductively by a
survey of the qualities, commonly praised as virtues, which he finds to be
always either useful or immediately agreeable, either (1) to the virtuous
agent himself or (2) to others. In class (2) he includes, besides the
Benevolence of Shaftesbury and Hutcheson, the useful virtues, Justice,
Veracity and Fidelity to compacts; as well as such immediately agreeable
qualities as politeness, wit, modesty and even cleanliness. The most original
part of his discussion, however, is concerned with qualities immediately
useful to their possessor. The most cynical man of the world, he says, with
whatever “sullen incredulity” he may repudiate virtue as a hollow pretence,
cannot really refuse his approbation to “discretion, caution, enterprise,
industry, frugality, economy, good sense, prudence, discernment”; nor
again, to “temperance, sobriety, patience, perseverance, considerateness,
secrecy, order, insinuation, address, presence of mind, quickness of
conception, facility of expression.” It is evident that the merit of these
Page 541
qualities in our eyes is chiefly due to our perception of their tendency to
serve the person possessed of them; so that the cynic in praising them is
really exhibiting the unselfish sympathy of which he doubts the existence.
Hume admits the difficulty that arises, especially in the case of the
“artificial” virtues, such as justice, &c., from the undeniable fact that we
praise them and blame their opposites without consciously reflecting on
useful or pernicious consequences; but considers that this may be explained
as an effect of “education and acquired habits.”35
So far the moral faculty has been considered as contemplative rather than
active; and this, indeed, is the point of view from which Hume mainly
regards it. If we ask what actual motive we have for virtuous conduct,
Hume’s answer is not quite clear. On the one hand, he speaks of moral
approbation as derived from “humanity and benevolence,” while expressly
recognizing, after Butler, that there is a strictly disinterested element in our
benevolent impulses (as also in hunger, thirst, love of fame and other
passions). On the other hand, he does not seem to think that moral
sentiment or “taste” can “become a motive to action,” except as it “gives
pleasure or pain, and thereby constitutes happiness or misery.” It is difficult
to make these views quite consistent; but at any rate Hume emphatically
maintains that “reason is no motive to action,” except so far as it “directs
the impulse received from appetite or inclination”; and recognizes—in his
later treatise at least—no “obligation” to virtue, except that of the agent’s
interest or happiness. He attempts, however, to show, in a summary way,
that all the duties which his moral theory recommends are also “the true
interest of the individual,”—taking into account the importance to his
happiness of “peaceful reflection on one’s own conduct.”
But even if we consider the moral consciousness merely as a particular
kind of pleasurable emotion, there is an obvious question suggested by
Hume’s theory, to which he gives no adequate answer. If the essence of
serve the person possessed of them; so that the cynic in praising them is
really exhibiting the unselfish sympathy of which he doubts the existence.
Hume admits the difficulty that arises, especially in the case of the
“artificial” virtues, such as justice, &c., from the undeniable fact that we
praise them and blame their opposites without consciously reflecting on
useful or pernicious consequences; but considers that this may be explained
as an effect of “education and acquired habits.”35
So far the moral faculty has been considered as contemplative rather than
active; and this, indeed, is the point of view from which Hume mainly
regards it. If we ask what actual motive we have for virtuous conduct,
Hume’s answer is not quite clear. On the one hand, he speaks of moral
approbation as derived from “humanity and benevolence,” while expressly
recognizing, after Butler, that there is a strictly disinterested element in our
benevolent impulses (as also in hunger, thirst, love of fame and other
passions). On the other hand, he does not seem to think that moral
sentiment or “taste” can “become a motive to action,” except as it “gives
pleasure or pain, and thereby constitutes happiness or misery.” It is difficult
to make these views quite consistent; but at any rate Hume emphatically
maintains that “reason is no motive to action,” except so far as it “directs
the impulse received from appetite or inclination”; and recognizes—in his
later treatise at least—no “obligation” to virtue, except that of the agent’s
interest or happiness. He attempts, however, to show, in a summary way,
that all the duties which his moral theory recommends are also “the true
interest of the individual,”—taking into account the importance to his
happiness of “peaceful reflection on one’s own conduct.”
But even if we consider the moral consciousness merely as a particular
kind of pleasurable emotion, there is an obvious question suggested by
Hume’s theory, to which he gives no adequate answer. If the essence of
Page 542
“moral taste” is sympathy with the pleasure of others, why is not this
specific feeling excited by other things beside virtue that tend to cause such
pleasure? On this point Hume contents himself with the vague remark that
“there are a numerous set of passions and sentiments, of which thinking
rational beings are by the original constitution of nature the only proper
objects.” The truth is, that Hume’s notion of moral approbation was very
loose, as is sufficiently shown by the list of “useful and agreeable” qualities
which he considers worthy of approbation.36 It is therefore hardly
surprising that his theory should leave the specific quality of the moral
sentiments a fact still needing to be explained. An original and ingenious
solution of this problem was offered by his contemporary Adam Smith, in
his Theory of Moral Sentiments (1759). Without denying
Adam Smith. the actuality or importance of that sympathetic pleasure
in the perceived or inferred effects of virtues and vices he
yet holds that the essential part of common moral sentiment is constituted
rather by a more direct sympathy with the impulses that prompt to action or
expression. The spontaneous play of this sympathy he treats as an original
and inexplicable fact of human nature, but he considers that its action is
powerfully sustained by the pleasure that each man finds in the accord of
his feelings with another’s. By means of this primary element, compounded
in various ways, Adam Smith explains all the phenomena of the moral
consciousness. He takes first the semi-moral notion of “propriety” or
“decorum,” and endeavours to show inductively that our application of this
notion to the social behaviour of another is determined by our degree of
sympathy with the feeling expressed in such behaviour. Thus the
prescriptions of good taste in the expression of feeling may be summed up
in the principle, “reduce or raise the expression to that with which
spectators will sympathize.” When the effort to restrain feeling is exhibited
in a degree which surprises as well as pleases, it excites admiration as a
virtue or excellence; such excellences Adam Smith quaintly calls the “awful
specific feeling excited by other things beside virtue that tend to cause such
pleasure? On this point Hume contents himself with the vague remark that
“there are a numerous set of passions and sentiments, of which thinking
rational beings are by the original constitution of nature the only proper
objects.” The truth is, that Hume’s notion of moral approbation was very
loose, as is sufficiently shown by the list of “useful and agreeable” qualities
which he considers worthy of approbation.36 It is therefore hardly
surprising that his theory should leave the specific quality of the moral
sentiments a fact still needing to be explained. An original and ingenious
solution of this problem was offered by his contemporary Adam Smith, in
his Theory of Moral Sentiments (1759). Without denying
Adam Smith. the actuality or importance of that sympathetic pleasure
in the perceived or inferred effects of virtues and vices he
yet holds that the essential part of common moral sentiment is constituted
rather by a more direct sympathy with the impulses that prompt to action or
expression. The spontaneous play of this sympathy he treats as an original
and inexplicable fact of human nature, but he considers that its action is
powerfully sustained by the pleasure that each man finds in the accord of
his feelings with another’s. By means of this primary element, compounded
in various ways, Adam Smith explains all the phenomena of the moral
consciousness. He takes first the semi-moral notion of “propriety” or
“decorum,” and endeavours to show inductively that our application of this
notion to the social behaviour of another is determined by our degree of
sympathy with the feeling expressed in such behaviour. Thus the
prescriptions of good taste in the expression of feeling may be summed up
in the principle, “reduce or raise the expression to that with which
spectators will sympathize.” When the effort to restrain feeling is exhibited
in a degree which surprises as well as pleases, it excites admiration as a
virtue or excellence; such excellences Adam Smith quaintly calls the “awful
Page 543
and respectable,” contrasting them with the “amiable virtues” which consist
in the opposite effort to sympathize, when exhibited in a remarkable degree.
From the sentiments of propriety and admiration we proceed to the sense of
merit and demerit. Here a more complex phenomenon presents itself for
analysis; we have to distinguish in the sense of merit—(1) a direct
sympathy with the sentiments of the agent, and (2) an indirect sympathy
with the gratitude of those who receive the benefit of his actions. In the case
of demerit there is a direct antipathy to the feelings of the misdoer, but the
chief sentiment excited is sympathy with those injured by the misdeed. The
object of this sympathetic resentment, impelling us to punish, is what we
call injustice; and thus the remarkable stringency of the obligation to act
justly is explained since the recognition of any action as unjust involves the
admission that it may be forcibly obstructed or punished. Moral judgments,
then, are expressions of the complex normal sympathy of an impartial
spectator with the active impulses that prompt to and result from actions. In
the case of our own conduct what we call conscience is really sympathy
with the feelings of an imaginary impartial spectator.
Adam Smith gives authority to his moral system by saying that “moral
principles are justly to be regarded as the laws of the Deity”; but this he
never proves. So Hume insists emphatically on the “reality of moral
obligation”; but is found to mean no more by this than the real existence of
the likes and dislikes that human beings feel for each other’s qualities. The
fact is that amid the analysis of feelings aroused by the sentimentalism of
Shaftesbury’s school, the fundamental questions “What is right?” and
“Why?” had been allowed to drop into the background, and the consequent
danger to morality was manifest. The binding force of moral rules becomes
evanescent if we admit, with Hutcheson, that the “sense” of them may
properly vary from man to man as the palate does; and it seems only
another way of putting Hume’s doctrine, that reason is not concerned with
the ends of action, to say that the mere existence of a moral sentiment is in
in the opposite effort to sympathize, when exhibited in a remarkable degree.
From the sentiments of propriety and admiration we proceed to the sense of
merit and demerit. Here a more complex phenomenon presents itself for
analysis; we have to distinguish in the sense of merit—(1) a direct
sympathy with the sentiments of the agent, and (2) an indirect sympathy
with the gratitude of those who receive the benefit of his actions. In the case
of demerit there is a direct antipathy to the feelings of the misdoer, but the
chief sentiment excited is sympathy with those injured by the misdeed. The
object of this sympathetic resentment, impelling us to punish, is what we
call injustice; and thus the remarkable stringency of the obligation to act
justly is explained since the recognition of any action as unjust involves the
admission that it may be forcibly obstructed or punished. Moral judgments,
then, are expressions of the complex normal sympathy of an impartial
spectator with the active impulses that prompt to and result from actions. In
the case of our own conduct what we call conscience is really sympathy
with the feelings of an imaginary impartial spectator.
Adam Smith gives authority to his moral system by saying that “moral
principles are justly to be regarded as the laws of the Deity”; but this he
never proves. So Hume insists emphatically on the “reality of moral
obligation”; but is found to mean no more by this than the real existence of
the likes and dislikes that human beings feel for each other’s qualities. The
fact is that amid the analysis of feelings aroused by the sentimentalism of
Shaftesbury’s school, the fundamental questions “What is right?” and
“Why?” had been allowed to drop into the background, and the consequent
danger to morality was manifest. The binding force of moral rules becomes
evanescent if we admit, with Hutcheson, that the “sense” of them may
properly vary from man to man as the palate does; and it seems only
another way of putting Hume’s doctrine, that reason is not concerned with
the ends of action, to say that the mere existence of a moral sentiment is in
Page 544
itself no reason for obeying it. A reaction, in one form or another, against
the tendency to dissolve ethics into psychology was inevitable; since
mankind generally could not be so far absorbed by the interest of
psychological hypothesis as to forget their need of establishing practical
principles. It was obvious, too, that this reaction might take place in either
of the two lines of thought, which, having been peacefully allied in Clarke
and Cumberland, had become distinctly opposed to each other in Butler and
Hutcheson. It might either fall back on the moral principles commonly
accepted, and, affirming their objective validity, endeavour to exhibit them
as a coherent and complete set of ultimate ethical truths; or it might take the
utility or conduciveness to pleasure, to which Hume had referred for the
origin of most sentiments, as an ultimate end and standard by which these
sentiments might be judged and corrected. The former is the line adopted
with substantial agreement by Price, Reid, Stewart and other members of
the still existing Intuitional school; the latter method, with considerably
more divergence of view and treatment, was employed independently and
almost simultaneously by Paley and Bentham in both ethics and politics,
and is at the present time widely maintained under the name of
Utilitarianism.
Price’s Review of the Chief Questions and Difficulties of Morals was
published in 1757, two years before Adam Smith’s treatise. In regarding
moral ideas as derived from the “intuition of truth or immediate
discernment of the nature of things by the
Price. understanding,” Price revives the general view of
Cudworth and Clarke; but with several specific
differences. Firstly, his conception of “right” and “wrong” as “single ideas”
incapable of definition or analysis—the notions “right,” “fit,” “ought,”
“duty,” “obligation,” being coincident or identical—at least avoids the
confusions into which Clarke and Wollaston had been led by pressing the
analogy between ethical and physical truth. Secondly, the emotional
the tendency to dissolve ethics into psychology was inevitable; since
mankind generally could not be so far absorbed by the interest of
psychological hypothesis as to forget their need of establishing practical
principles. It was obvious, too, that this reaction might take place in either
of the two lines of thought, which, having been peacefully allied in Clarke
and Cumberland, had become distinctly opposed to each other in Butler and
Hutcheson. It might either fall back on the moral principles commonly
accepted, and, affirming their objective validity, endeavour to exhibit them
as a coherent and complete set of ultimate ethical truths; or it might take the
utility or conduciveness to pleasure, to which Hume had referred for the
origin of most sentiments, as an ultimate end and standard by which these
sentiments might be judged and corrected. The former is the line adopted
with substantial agreement by Price, Reid, Stewart and other members of
the still existing Intuitional school; the latter method, with considerably
more divergence of view and treatment, was employed independently and
almost simultaneously by Paley and Bentham in both ethics and politics,
and is at the present time widely maintained under the name of
Utilitarianism.
Price’s Review of the Chief Questions and Difficulties of Morals was
published in 1757, two years before Adam Smith’s treatise. In regarding
moral ideas as derived from the “intuition of truth or immediate
discernment of the nature of things by the
Price. understanding,” Price revives the general view of
Cudworth and Clarke; but with several specific
differences. Firstly, his conception of “right” and “wrong” as “single ideas”
incapable of definition or analysis—the notions “right,” “fit,” “ought,”
“duty,” “obligation,” being coincident or identical—at least avoids the
confusions into which Clarke and Wollaston had been led by pressing the
analogy between ethical and physical truth. Secondly, the emotional
Page 545
element of the moral consciousness, on which attention had been
concentrated by Shaftesbury and his followers, though distinctly recognized
as accompanying the intellectual intuition, is carefully subordinated to it.
While right and wrong, in Price’s view, are “real objective qualities” of
actions, moral “beauty and deformity” are subjective ideas; representing
feelings which are partly the necessary effects of the perceptions of right
and wrong in rational beings as such, partly due to an “implanted sense” or
varying emotional susceptibility. Thus, both reason and sense of instinct co-
operate in the impulse to virtuous conduct, though the rational element is
primary and paramount. Price further follows Butler in distinguishing the
perception of merit and demerit in agents as another accompaniment of the
perception of right and wrong in actions; the former being, however, only a
peculiar species of the latter, since, to perceive merit in any one is to
perceive that it is right to reward him. It is to be observed that both Price
and Reid are careful to state that the merit of the agent depends entirely on
the intention or “formal rightness” of his act; a man is not blameworthy for
unintended evil, though he may of course be blamed for any wilful neglect
(cf. Arist., Eth. Nic., iii. 1), which has caused him to be ignorant of his real
duty. When we turn to the subject matter of virtue, we find that Price, in
comparison with More or Clarke is decidedly laxer in accepting and stating
his ethical first principles; chiefly owing to the new antithesis to the view of
Shaftesbury and Hutcheson by which his controversial position is
complicated. What Price is specially concerned to show is the existence of
ultimate principles beside the principle of universal benevolence. Not that
he repudiates the obligation either of rational benevolence or self-love; on
the contrary, he takes more pains than Butler to demonstrate the
reasonableness of either principle. “There is not anything,” he says, “of
which we have more undeniably an intuitive perception, than that it is ‘right
to pursue and promote happiness,’ whether for ourselves or for others.”
Finally, Price, writing after the demonstration by Shaftesbury and Butler of
concentrated by Shaftesbury and his followers, though distinctly recognized
as accompanying the intellectual intuition, is carefully subordinated to it.
While right and wrong, in Price’s view, are “real objective qualities” of
actions, moral “beauty and deformity” are subjective ideas; representing
feelings which are partly the necessary effects of the perceptions of right
and wrong in rational beings as such, partly due to an “implanted sense” or
varying emotional susceptibility. Thus, both reason and sense of instinct co-
operate in the impulse to virtuous conduct, though the rational element is
primary and paramount. Price further follows Butler in distinguishing the
perception of merit and demerit in agents as another accompaniment of the
perception of right and wrong in actions; the former being, however, only a
peculiar species of the latter, since, to perceive merit in any one is to
perceive that it is right to reward him. It is to be observed that both Price
and Reid are careful to state that the merit of the agent depends entirely on
the intention or “formal rightness” of his act; a man is not blameworthy for
unintended evil, though he may of course be blamed for any wilful neglect
(cf. Arist., Eth. Nic., iii. 1), which has caused him to be ignorant of his real
duty. When we turn to the subject matter of virtue, we find that Price, in
comparison with More or Clarke is decidedly laxer in accepting and stating
his ethical first principles; chiefly owing to the new antithesis to the view of
Shaftesbury and Hutcheson by which his controversial position is
complicated. What Price is specially concerned to show is the existence of
ultimate principles beside the principle of universal benevolence. Not that
he repudiates the obligation either of rational benevolence or self-love; on
the contrary, he takes more pains than Butler to demonstrate the
reasonableness of either principle. “There is not anything,” he says, “of
which we have more undeniably an intuitive perception, than that it is ‘right
to pursue and promote happiness,’ whether for ourselves or for others.”
Finally, Price, writing after the demonstration by Shaftesbury and Butler of
Page 546
the actuality of disinterested impulses in human nature, is bolder and clearer
than Cudworth or Clarke in insisting that right actions are to be chosen
because they are right by virtuous agents as such, even going so far as to lay
down that an act loses its moral worth in proportion as it is done from
natural inclination.
On this latter point Reid, in his Essays on the Active Powers of the
Human Mind (1788), states a conclusion more in harmony with common
sense, only maintaining that “no act can be morally good in which regard
for what is right has not some influence.” This is partly
Reid. due to the fact that Reid builds more distinctly than Price
on the foundation laid by Butler; especially in his
acceptance of that duality of governing principles which we have noticed as
a cardinal point in the latter’s doctrine. Reid considers “regard for one’s
good on the whole” (Butler’s self-love) and “sense of duty” (Butler’s
conscience) as two essentially distinct and co-ordinate rational principles,
though naturally often comprehended under the one term, Reason. The
rationality of the former principle he takes pains to explain and establish; in
opposition to Hume’s doctrine that it is no part of the function of reason to
determine the ends which we ought to pursue, or the preference due to one
end over another. He urges that the notion of “good37 on the whole” is one
which only a reasoning being can form, involving as it does abstraction
from the objects of all particular desires, and comparison of past and future
with present feelings; and maintains that it is a contradiction to suppose a
rational being to have the notion of its Good on the Whole without a desire
for it, and that such a desire must naturally regulate all particular appetites
and passions. It cannot reasonably be subordinated even to the moral
faculty; in fact, a man who doubts the coincidence of the two—which on
religious grounds we must believe to be complete in a morally governed
world—is reduced to the “miserable dilemma whether it is better to be a
fool or a knave.” As regards the moral faculty itself, Reid’s statement
than Cudworth or Clarke in insisting that right actions are to be chosen
because they are right by virtuous agents as such, even going so far as to lay
down that an act loses its moral worth in proportion as it is done from
natural inclination.
On this latter point Reid, in his Essays on the Active Powers of the
Human Mind (1788), states a conclusion more in harmony with common
sense, only maintaining that “no act can be morally good in which regard
for what is right has not some influence.” This is partly
Reid. due to the fact that Reid builds more distinctly than Price
on the foundation laid by Butler; especially in his
acceptance of that duality of governing principles which we have noticed as
a cardinal point in the latter’s doctrine. Reid considers “regard for one’s
good on the whole” (Butler’s self-love) and “sense of duty” (Butler’s
conscience) as two essentially distinct and co-ordinate rational principles,
though naturally often comprehended under the one term, Reason. The
rationality of the former principle he takes pains to explain and establish; in
opposition to Hume’s doctrine that it is no part of the function of reason to
determine the ends which we ought to pursue, or the preference due to one
end over another. He urges that the notion of “good37 on the whole” is one
which only a reasoning being can form, involving as it does abstraction
from the objects of all particular desires, and comparison of past and future
with present feelings; and maintains that it is a contradiction to suppose a
rational being to have the notion of its Good on the Whole without a desire
for it, and that such a desire must naturally regulate all particular appetites
and passions. It cannot reasonably be subordinated even to the moral
faculty; in fact, a man who doubts the coincidence of the two—which on
religious grounds we must believe to be complete in a morally governed
world—is reduced to the “miserable dilemma whether it is better to be a
fool or a knave.” As regards the moral faculty itself, Reid’s statement
Page 547
coincides in the main with Price’s; it is both intellectual and active, not
merely perceiving the “rightness” or “moral obligation” of actions (which
Reid conceives as a simple unanalysable relation between act and agent),
but also impelling the will to the performance of what is seen to be right.
Both thinkers hold that this perception of right and wrong in actions is
accompanied by a perception of merit and demerit in agents, and also by a
specific emotion; but whereas Price conceives this emotion chiefly as
pleasure or pain, analogous to that produced in the mind by physical beauty
or deformity, Reid regards it chiefly as benevolent affection, esteem and
sympathy (or their opposites), for the virtuous (or vicious) agent. This
“pleasurable good-will,” when the moral judgment relates to a man’s own
actions, becomes “the testimony of a good conscience—the purest and most
valuable of all human enjoyments.” Reid is careful to observe that this
moral faculty is not “innate” except in germ; it stands in need of “education,
training, exercise (for which society is indispensable), and habit,” in order
to the attainment of moral truth. He does not with Price object to its being
called the “moral sense,” provided we understand by this a source not
merely of feelings or notions, but of “ultimate truths.” Here he omits to
notice the important question whether the premises of moral reasoning are
universal or individual judgments; as to which the use of the term “sense”
seems rather to suggest the second alternative. Indeed, he seems himself
quite undecided on this question; since, though he generally represents
ethical method as deductive, he also speaks of the “original judgment that
this action is right and that wrong.”
The truth is that the construction of a scientific method of ethics is a
matter of little practical moment to Reid. Thus, though he offers a list of
first principles, by deduction from which these common opinions may be
confirmed, he does not present it with any claim to completeness. Besides
maxims relating to virtue in general,—such as (1) that there is a right and
wrong in conduct, but (2) only in voluntary conduct, and that we ought (3)
merely perceiving the “rightness” or “moral obligation” of actions (which
Reid conceives as a simple unanalysable relation between act and agent),
but also impelling the will to the performance of what is seen to be right.
Both thinkers hold that this perception of right and wrong in actions is
accompanied by a perception of merit and demerit in agents, and also by a
specific emotion; but whereas Price conceives this emotion chiefly as
pleasure or pain, analogous to that produced in the mind by physical beauty
or deformity, Reid regards it chiefly as benevolent affection, esteem and
sympathy (or their opposites), for the virtuous (or vicious) agent. This
“pleasurable good-will,” when the moral judgment relates to a man’s own
actions, becomes “the testimony of a good conscience—the purest and most
valuable of all human enjoyments.” Reid is careful to observe that this
moral faculty is not “innate” except in germ; it stands in need of “education,
training, exercise (for which society is indispensable), and habit,” in order
to the attainment of moral truth. He does not with Price object to its being
called the “moral sense,” provided we understand by this a source not
merely of feelings or notions, but of “ultimate truths.” Here he omits to
notice the important question whether the premises of moral reasoning are
universal or individual judgments; as to which the use of the term “sense”
seems rather to suggest the second alternative. Indeed, he seems himself
quite undecided on this question; since, though he generally represents
ethical method as deductive, he also speaks of the “original judgment that
this action is right and that wrong.”
The truth is that the construction of a scientific method of ethics is a
matter of little practical moment to Reid. Thus, though he offers a list of
first principles, by deduction from which these common opinions may be
confirmed, he does not present it with any claim to completeness. Besides
maxims relating to virtue in general,—such as (1) that there is a right and
wrong in conduct, but (2) only in voluntary conduct, and that we ought (3)
Page 548
to take pains to learn our duty, and (4) fortify ourselves against temptations
to deviate from it—Reid states five fundamental axioms. The first of these
is merely the principle of rational self-love, “that we ought to prefer a
greater to a lesser good, though more distinct, and a less evil to a
greater,”—the mention of which seems rather inconsistent with Reid’s
distinct separation of the “moral faculty” from “self-love.” The third is
merely the general rule of benevolence stated in the somewhat vague
Stoical formula, that “no one is born for himself only.” The fourth, again, is
the merely formal principle that “right and wrong must be the same to all in
all circumstances,” which belongs equally to all systems of objective
morality; while the fifth prescribes the religious duty of “veneration or
submission to God.” Thus, the only principle which ever appears to offer
definite guidance as to social duty is the second, “that so far as the intention
of nature appears in the constitution of man, we ought to act according to
that intention,” the vagueness38 of which is obvious. (For Reid’s views on
moral freedom see A. Bain, Mental Science, pp. 422, seq.)
A similar incompleteness in the statement of moral principles is found if
we turn to Reid’s disciple, Dugald Stewart, whose Philosophy of the Active
and Moral Powers of Man (1828) contains the general view of Butler and
Reid, and to some extent that of Price,—expounded with
Dugald Stewart. more fulness and precision, but without important
original additions or modifications. Stewart lays stress on
the obligation of justice as distinct from benevolence; but his definition of
justice represents it as essentially impartiality,—a virtue which (as was just
now said of Reid’s fourth principle) must equally find a place in the
utilitarian or any other system that lays down universally applicable rules of
morality. Afterwards, however, Stewart distinguishes “integrity or honesty”
as a branch of justice concerned with the rights of other men, which form
the subject of “natural jurisprudence.” In this department he lays down the
moral axiom “that the labourer is entitled to the fruit of his own labour” as
to deviate from it—Reid states five fundamental axioms. The first of these
is merely the principle of rational self-love, “that we ought to prefer a
greater to a lesser good, though more distinct, and a less evil to a
greater,”—the mention of which seems rather inconsistent with Reid’s
distinct separation of the “moral faculty” from “self-love.” The third is
merely the general rule of benevolence stated in the somewhat vague
Stoical formula, that “no one is born for himself only.” The fourth, again, is
the merely formal principle that “right and wrong must be the same to all in
all circumstances,” which belongs equally to all systems of objective
morality; while the fifth prescribes the religious duty of “veneration or
submission to God.” Thus, the only principle which ever appears to offer
definite guidance as to social duty is the second, “that so far as the intention
of nature appears in the constitution of man, we ought to act according to
that intention,” the vagueness38 of which is obvious. (For Reid’s views on
moral freedom see A. Bain, Mental Science, pp. 422, seq.)
A similar incompleteness in the statement of moral principles is found if
we turn to Reid’s disciple, Dugald Stewart, whose Philosophy of the Active
and Moral Powers of Man (1828) contains the general view of Butler and
Reid, and to some extent that of Price,—expounded with
Dugald Stewart. more fulness and precision, but without important
original additions or modifications. Stewart lays stress on
the obligation of justice as distinct from benevolence; but his definition of
justice represents it as essentially impartiality,—a virtue which (as was just
now said of Reid’s fourth principle) must equally find a place in the
utilitarian or any other system that lays down universally applicable rules of
morality. Afterwards, however, Stewart distinguishes “integrity or honesty”
as a branch of justice concerned with the rights of other men, which form
the subject of “natural jurisprudence.” In this department he lays down the
moral axiom “that the labourer is entitled to the fruit of his own labour” as
Page 549
the principle on which complete rights of property are founded; maintaining
that occupancy alone would only confer a transient right of possession
during use. The only other principles which he discusses are veracity and
fidelity to promises, gratitude being treated as a natural instinct prompting
to a particular kind of just actions.
It will be seen that neither Reid nor Stewart offers more than a very
meagre and tentative contribution to that ethical science by which, as they
maintain, the received rules of morality may be rationally deduced from
self-evident first principles. A more ambitious attempt in
Whewell. the same direction was made by Whewell in his Elements
of Morality (1846). Whewell’s general moral view differs
from that of his Scottish predecessors chiefly in a point where we may trace
the influence of Kant—viz. in his rejection of self-love as an independent
rational and governing principle, and his consequent refusal to admit
happiness, apart from duty, as a reasonable end for the individual. The
moral reason, thus left in sole supremacy, is represented as enunciating five
ultimate principles,—those of benevolence, justice, truth, purity and order.
With a little straining these are made to correspond to five chief divisions of
Jus,—personal security (benevolence being opposed to the ill-will that
commonly causes personal injuries), property, contract, marriage and
government; while the first, second and fourth, again, regulate respectively
the three chief classes of human motives,—affections, mental desires and
appetites. Thus the list, with the addition of two general principles,
“earnestness” and “moral purpose,” has a certain air of systematic
completeness. When, however, we look closer, we find that the principle of
order, or obedience to government, is not seriously intended to imply the
political absolutism which it seems to express, and which English common
sense emphatically repudiates; while the formula of justice is given in the
tautological or perfectly indefinite proposition “that every man ought to
have his own.” Whewell, indeed, explains that this latter formula must be
that occupancy alone would only confer a transient right of possession
during use. The only other principles which he discusses are veracity and
fidelity to promises, gratitude being treated as a natural instinct prompting
to a particular kind of just actions.
It will be seen that neither Reid nor Stewart offers more than a very
meagre and tentative contribution to that ethical science by which, as they
maintain, the received rules of morality may be rationally deduced from
self-evident first principles. A more ambitious attempt in
Whewell. the same direction was made by Whewell in his Elements
of Morality (1846). Whewell’s general moral view differs
from that of his Scottish predecessors chiefly in a point where we may trace
the influence of Kant—viz. in his rejection of self-love as an independent
rational and governing principle, and his consequent refusal to admit
happiness, apart from duty, as a reasonable end for the individual. The
moral reason, thus left in sole supremacy, is represented as enunciating five
ultimate principles,—those of benevolence, justice, truth, purity and order.
With a little straining these are made to correspond to five chief divisions of
Jus,—personal security (benevolence being opposed to the ill-will that
commonly causes personal injuries), property, contract, marriage and
government; while the first, second and fourth, again, regulate respectively
the three chief classes of human motives,—affections, mental desires and
appetites. Thus the list, with the addition of two general principles,
“earnestness” and “moral purpose,” has a certain air of systematic
completeness. When, however, we look closer, we find that the principle of
order, or obedience to government, is not seriously intended to imply the
political absolutism which it seems to express, and which English common
sense emphatically repudiates; while the formula of justice is given in the
tautological or perfectly indefinite proposition “that every man ought to
have his own.” Whewell, indeed, explains that this latter formula must be
Page 550
practically interpreted by positive law, though he inconsistently speaks as if
it supplied a standard for judging laws to be right or wrong. The principle of
purity, again, “that the lower parts of our nature ought to be subject to the
higher,” merely particularizes that supremacy of reason over non-rational
impulses which is involved in the very notion of reasoned morality. Thus, in
short, if we ask for a clear and definite fundamental intuition, distinct from
regard for happiness, we find really nothing in Whewell’s doctrine except
the single rule of veracity (including fidelity to promises); and even of this
the axiomatic character becomes evanescent on closer inspection, since it is
not maintained that the rule is practically unqualified, but only that it is
practically undesirable to formulate its qualifications.
On the whole, it must be admitted that the doctrine of the intuitional
school of the 18th and 19th centuries has been developed with less care and
consistency than might have been expected, in its statement of the
fundamental axioms or intuitively known premises of
Intuitional and moral reasoning. And if the controversy which this
utilitarian schools. school has conducted with utilitarianism had turned
principally on the determination of the matter of duty,
there can be little doubt that it would have been forced into more serious
and systematic effort to define precisely and completely the principles and
method on which we are to reason deductively to particular rules of
conduct.39 But in fact the difference between intuitionists and utilitarians as
to the method of determining the particulars of the moral code was
complicated with a more fundamental disagreement as to the very meaning
of “moral obligation.” This Paley and Bentham (after Locke) interpreted as
merely the effect on the will of the pleasures or pains attached to the
observance or violation of moral rules, combining with this the doctrine of
Hutcheson that “general good” or “happiness” is the final end and standard
of these rules; while they eliminated all vagueness from the notion of
general happiness by defining it to consist in “excess of pleasure over
it supplied a standard for judging laws to be right or wrong. The principle of
purity, again, “that the lower parts of our nature ought to be subject to the
higher,” merely particularizes that supremacy of reason over non-rational
impulses which is involved in the very notion of reasoned morality. Thus, in
short, if we ask for a clear and definite fundamental intuition, distinct from
regard for happiness, we find really nothing in Whewell’s doctrine except
the single rule of veracity (including fidelity to promises); and even of this
the axiomatic character becomes evanescent on closer inspection, since it is
not maintained that the rule is practically unqualified, but only that it is
practically undesirable to formulate its qualifications.
On the whole, it must be admitted that the doctrine of the intuitional
school of the 18th and 19th centuries has been developed with less care and
consistency than might have been expected, in its statement of the
fundamental axioms or intuitively known premises of
Intuitional and moral reasoning. And if the controversy which this
utilitarian schools. school has conducted with utilitarianism had turned
principally on the determination of the matter of duty,
there can be little doubt that it would have been forced into more serious
and systematic effort to define precisely and completely the principles and
method on which we are to reason deductively to particular rules of
conduct.39 But in fact the difference between intuitionists and utilitarians as
to the method of determining the particulars of the moral code was
complicated with a more fundamental disagreement as to the very meaning
of “moral obligation.” This Paley and Bentham (after Locke) interpreted as
merely the effect on the will of the pleasures or pains attached to the
observance or violation of moral rules, combining with this the doctrine of
Hutcheson that “general good” or “happiness” is the final end and standard
of these rules; while they eliminated all vagueness from the notion of
general happiness by defining it to consist in “excess of pleasure over
Page 551
pain”—pleasures and pains being regarded as “differing in nothing but
continuance or intensity.” The utilitarian system gained an attractive air of
simplicity by thus using a single perfectly clear notion—pleasure and its
negative quantity pain—to answer both the fundamental questions of
mortals, “What is right?” and “Why should I do it?” But since there is no
logical connexion between the answers that have thus come to be
considered as one doctrine, this apparent unity and simplicity has really
hidden fundamental disagreements, and caused no little confusion in ethical
debate.
In Paley’s Principles of Moral and Political Philosophy40 (1785), the link
between general pleasure (the standard) and private pleasure or pain (the
motive) is supplied by the conception of divine legislation. To be “obliged”
is to be “urged by a violent motive resulting from the
Paley. command of another”; in the case of moral obligation,
the command proceeds from God, and the motive lies in
the expectation of being rewarded and punished after this life. The
commands of God are to be ascertained “from scripture and the light of
nature combined.” Paley, however, holds that scripture is given less to teach
morality than to illustrate it by example and enforce it by new sanctions and
greater certainty, and that the light of nature makes it clear that God wills
the happiness of his creatures. Hence, his method in deciding moral
questions is chiefly that of estimating the tendency of actions to promote or
diminish the general happiness. To meet the obvious objections to this
method, based on the immediate happiness caused by admitted crimes (such
as “knocking a rich villain on the head”), he lays stress on the necessity of
general rules in any kind of legislation;41 while, by urging the importance of
forming and maintaining good habits, he partly evades the difficulty of
calculating the consequences of particular actions. In this way the utilitarian
method is freed from the subversive tendencies which Butler and others had
discerned in it; as used by Paley, it merely explains the current moral and
continuance or intensity.” The utilitarian system gained an attractive air of
simplicity by thus using a single perfectly clear notion—pleasure and its
negative quantity pain—to answer both the fundamental questions of
mortals, “What is right?” and “Why should I do it?” But since there is no
logical connexion between the answers that have thus come to be
considered as one doctrine, this apparent unity and simplicity has really
hidden fundamental disagreements, and caused no little confusion in ethical
debate.
In Paley’s Principles of Moral and Political Philosophy40 (1785), the link
between general pleasure (the standard) and private pleasure or pain (the
motive) is supplied by the conception of divine legislation. To be “obliged”
is to be “urged by a violent motive resulting from the
Paley. command of another”; in the case of moral obligation,
the command proceeds from God, and the motive lies in
the expectation of being rewarded and punished after this life. The
commands of God are to be ascertained “from scripture and the light of
nature combined.” Paley, however, holds that scripture is given less to teach
morality than to illustrate it by example and enforce it by new sanctions and
greater certainty, and that the light of nature makes it clear that God wills
the happiness of his creatures. Hence, his method in deciding moral
questions is chiefly that of estimating the tendency of actions to promote or
diminish the general happiness. To meet the obvious objections to this
method, based on the immediate happiness caused by admitted crimes (such
as “knocking a rich villain on the head”), he lays stress on the necessity of
general rules in any kind of legislation;41 while, by urging the importance of
forming and maintaining good habits, he partly evades the difficulty of
calculating the consequences of particular actions. In this way the utilitarian
method is freed from the subversive tendencies which Butler and others had
discerned in it; as used by Paley, it merely explains the current moral and
Page 552
jural distinctions, exhibits the obvious basis of expediency which supports
most of the received rules of law and morality and furnishes a simple
solution, in harmony with common sense, of some perplexing casuistical
questions. Thus (e.g.) “natural rights” become rights of which the general
observance would be useful apart from the institution of civil government;
as distinguished from the no less binding “adventitious rights,” the utility of
which depends upon this institution. Private property is in this sense
“natural” from its obvious advantages in encouraging labour, skill,
preservative care; though actual rights of property depend on the general
utility of conforming to the law of the land by which they are determined.
We observe, however, that Paley’s method is often mixed with reasonings
that belong to an alien and older manner of thought; as when he supports
the claim of the poor to charity by referring to the intention of mankind
“when they agreed to a separation of the common fund,” or when he infers
that monogamy is a part of the divine design from the equal numbers of
males and females born. In other cases his statement of utilitarian
considerations is fragmentary and unmethodical, and tends to degenerate
into loose exhortation on rather trite topics.
In unity, consistency and thoroughness of method, Bentham’s
utilitarianism has a decided superiority over Paley’s. He considers actions
solely in respect of their pleasurable and painful consequences, expected or
actual; and he recognizes the need of making a
Bentham and his systematic register of these consequences, free from the
school. influences of common moral opinion, as expressed in the
“eulogistic” and “dyslogistic” terms in ordinary use.
Further, the effects that he estimates are all of a definite, palpable,
empirically ascertainable quality; they are such pleasures and pains as most
men feel and all can observe, so that all his political or moral inferences lie
open at every point to the test of practical experience. Every one, it would
seem, can tell what value he sets on the pleasures of alimentation, sex, the
most of the received rules of law and morality and furnishes a simple
solution, in harmony with common sense, of some perplexing casuistical
questions. Thus (e.g.) “natural rights” become rights of which the general
observance would be useful apart from the institution of civil government;
as distinguished from the no less binding “adventitious rights,” the utility of
which depends upon this institution. Private property is in this sense
“natural” from its obvious advantages in encouraging labour, skill,
preservative care; though actual rights of property depend on the general
utility of conforming to the law of the land by which they are determined.
We observe, however, that Paley’s method is often mixed with reasonings
that belong to an alien and older manner of thought; as when he supports
the claim of the poor to charity by referring to the intention of mankind
“when they agreed to a separation of the common fund,” or when he infers
that monogamy is a part of the divine design from the equal numbers of
males and females born. In other cases his statement of utilitarian
considerations is fragmentary and unmethodical, and tends to degenerate
into loose exhortation on rather trite topics.
In unity, consistency and thoroughness of method, Bentham’s
utilitarianism has a decided superiority over Paley’s. He considers actions
solely in respect of their pleasurable and painful consequences, expected or
actual; and he recognizes the need of making a
Bentham and his systematic register of these consequences, free from the
school. influences of common moral opinion, as expressed in the
“eulogistic” and “dyslogistic” terms in ordinary use.
Further, the effects that he estimates are all of a definite, palpable,
empirically ascertainable quality; they are such pleasures and pains as most
men feel and all can observe, so that all his political or moral inferences lie
open at every point to the test of practical experience. Every one, it would
seem, can tell what value he sets on the pleasures of alimentation, sex, the
Page 553
senses generally, wealth, power, curiosity, sympathy, antipathy
(malevolence), the goodwill of individuals or of society at large, and on the
corresponding pains, as well as the pains of labour and organic disorders;42
and can guess the rate at which they are valued by others; therefore if it be
once granted that all actions are determined by pleasures and pains, and are
to be tried by the same standard, the art of legislation and private conduct is
apparently placed on an empirical, basis. Bentham, no doubt, seems to go
beyond the limits of experience proper in recognizing “religious” pains and
pleasures in his fourfold division of sanctions, side by side with the
“physical,” “political,” and “moral” or “social”; but the truth is that he does
not seriously take account of them, except in so far as religious hopes and
fears are motives actually operating, which therefore admit of being
observed and measured as much as any other motives. He does not himself
use the will of an omnipotent and benevolent being as a means of logically
connecting individual and general happiness. He thus undoubtedly
simplifies his system, and avoids the doubtful inferences from nature and
Scripture in which Paley’s position is involved; but this gain is dearly
purchased. For in answer to the question that immediately arises, How then
are the sanctions of the moral rules which it will most conduce to the
general happiness for men to observe, shown to be always adequate in the
case of all the individuals whose observance is required? he is obliged to
admit that “the only interests which a man is at all times sure to find
adequate motives for consulting are his own.” Indeed, in many parts of his
work, in the department of legislative and constitutional theory, it is rather
assumed that the interests of some men will continually conflict with those
of their fellows, unless we alter the balance of prudential calculation by a
readjustment of penalties. But on this assumption a system of private
conduct on utilitarian principles cannot be constructed until legislative and
constitutional reform has been perfected. And, in fact, “private ethics,” as
conceived by Bentham, does not exactly expound such a system; but rather
(malevolence), the goodwill of individuals or of society at large, and on the
corresponding pains, as well as the pains of labour and organic disorders;42
and can guess the rate at which they are valued by others; therefore if it be
once granted that all actions are determined by pleasures and pains, and are
to be tried by the same standard, the art of legislation and private conduct is
apparently placed on an empirical, basis. Bentham, no doubt, seems to go
beyond the limits of experience proper in recognizing “religious” pains and
pleasures in his fourfold division of sanctions, side by side with the
“physical,” “political,” and “moral” or “social”; but the truth is that he does
not seriously take account of them, except in so far as religious hopes and
fears are motives actually operating, which therefore admit of being
observed and measured as much as any other motives. He does not himself
use the will of an omnipotent and benevolent being as a means of logically
connecting individual and general happiness. He thus undoubtedly
simplifies his system, and avoids the doubtful inferences from nature and
Scripture in which Paley’s position is involved; but this gain is dearly
purchased. For in answer to the question that immediately arises, How then
are the sanctions of the moral rules which it will most conduce to the
general happiness for men to observe, shown to be always adequate in the
case of all the individuals whose observance is required? he is obliged to
admit that “the only interests which a man is at all times sure to find
adequate motives for consulting are his own.” Indeed, in many parts of his
work, in the department of legislative and constitutional theory, it is rather
assumed that the interests of some men will continually conflict with those
of their fellows, unless we alter the balance of prudential calculation by a
readjustment of penalties. But on this assumption a system of private
conduct on utilitarian principles cannot be constructed until legislative and
constitutional reform has been perfected. And, in fact, “private ethics,” as
conceived by Bentham, does not exactly expound such a system; but rather
Page 554
exhibits the coincidence, so far as it extends, between private and general
happiness, in that part of each man’s conduct that lies beyond the range of
useful legislation. It was not his place, as a practical philanthropist, to dwell
on the defects in this coincidence;43 and since what men generally expect
from a moralist is a completely reasoned account of what they ought to do,
it is not surprising that some of Bentham’s disciples should have either
ignored or endeavoured to supply the gap in his system. One section of the
school even maintained it to be a cardinal doctrine of utilitarianism that a
man always gains his own greatest happiness by promoting that of others;
another section, represented by John Austin, apparently returned to Paley’s
position, and treated utilitarian morality44 as a code of divine legislation;
others, with Grote, are content to abate the severity of the claims made by
“general happiness” on the individual, and to consider utilitarian duty as
practically limited by reciprocity; while on the opposite side an unqualified
subordination of private to general happiness was advocated by J.S. Mill,
who did more than any other member of the school to spread and popularize
utilitarianism in ethics and politics.
The fact is that there are several different ways in which a utilitarian
system of morality may be used, without deciding whether the sanctions
attached to it are always adequate. (1) It may be presented as practical
guidance to all who choose “general good” as their
Varieties of ultimate end, whether they do so on religious grounds, or
utilitarian through the predominance in their minds of impartial
doctrine. sympathy, or because their conscience acts in harmony
with utilitarian principles, or for any combination of
these or any other reasons; or (2) it may be offered as a code to be obeyed
not absolutely, but only so far as the coincidence of private and general
interest may in any case be judged to extend; or again (3) it may be
proposed as a standard by which men may reasonably agree to praise and
blame the conduct of others, even though they may not always think fit to
happiness, in that part of each man’s conduct that lies beyond the range of
useful legislation. It was not his place, as a practical philanthropist, to dwell
on the defects in this coincidence;43 and since what men generally expect
from a moralist is a completely reasoned account of what they ought to do,
it is not surprising that some of Bentham’s disciples should have either
ignored or endeavoured to supply the gap in his system. One section of the
school even maintained it to be a cardinal doctrine of utilitarianism that a
man always gains his own greatest happiness by promoting that of others;
another section, represented by John Austin, apparently returned to Paley’s
position, and treated utilitarian morality44 as a code of divine legislation;
others, with Grote, are content to abate the severity of the claims made by
“general happiness” on the individual, and to consider utilitarian duty as
practically limited by reciprocity; while on the opposite side an unqualified
subordination of private to general happiness was advocated by J.S. Mill,
who did more than any other member of the school to spread and popularize
utilitarianism in ethics and politics.
The fact is that there are several different ways in which a utilitarian
system of morality may be used, without deciding whether the sanctions
attached to it are always adequate. (1) It may be presented as practical
guidance to all who choose “general good” as their
Varieties of ultimate end, whether they do so on religious grounds, or
utilitarian through the predominance in their minds of impartial
doctrine. sympathy, or because their conscience acts in harmony
with utilitarian principles, or for any combination of
these or any other reasons; or (2) it may be offered as a code to be obeyed
not absolutely, but only so far as the coincidence of private and general
interest may in any case be judged to extend; or again (3) it may be
proposed as a standard by which men may reasonably agree to praise and
blame the conduct of others, even though they may not always think fit to
Page 555
act on it. We may regard morality as a kind of supplementary legislation,
supported by public opinion, which we may expect the public, when duly
enlightened, to frame in accordance with the public interest. Still, even from
this point of view, which is that of the legislator or social reformer rather
than the moral philosopher, our code of duty must be greatly influenced by
our estimate of the degrees in which men are normally influenced by self-
regard (in its ordinary sense of regard for interests not sympathetic) and by
sympathy or benevolence, and of the range within which sympathy may be
expected to be generally effective. Thus, for example, the moral standard
for which a utilitarian will reasonably endeavour to gain the support of
public opinion must be essentially different in quality, according as he holds
with Bentham that nothing but self-regard will “serve for diet,” though “for
a dessert benevolence is a very valuable addition”; or
J.S. Mill. with J.S. Mill that disinterested public spirit should be
the prominent motive in the performance of all socially
useful work, and that even hygienic precepts should be inculcated, not
chiefly on grounds of prudence, but because “by squandering our health we
disable ourselves from rendering services to our fellow-creatures.”
Not less important is the interval that separates Bentham’s polemical
attitude towards the moral sense from Mill’s conciliatory position, that “the
mind is not in a state conformable to utility unless it loves virtue as a thing
desirable in itself.” Such love of virtue Mill holds to be in a sense natural,
though not an ultimate and inexplicable fact of human nature; it is to be
explained by the “Law of Association” of feelings and ideas, through which
objects originally desired as a means to some further end come to be
directly pleasant or desirable. Thus, the miser first sought money as a means
to comfort, but ends by sacrificing comfort to money; and similarly though
the first promptings to justice (or any other virtue) spring from the non-
moral pleasures gained or pains avoided by it, through the link formed by
repeated virtuous acts the performance of them ultimately comes to have
supported by public opinion, which we may expect the public, when duly
enlightened, to frame in accordance with the public interest. Still, even from
this point of view, which is that of the legislator or social reformer rather
than the moral philosopher, our code of duty must be greatly influenced by
our estimate of the degrees in which men are normally influenced by self-
regard (in its ordinary sense of regard for interests not sympathetic) and by
sympathy or benevolence, and of the range within which sympathy may be
expected to be generally effective. Thus, for example, the moral standard
for which a utilitarian will reasonably endeavour to gain the support of
public opinion must be essentially different in quality, according as he holds
with Bentham that nothing but self-regard will “serve for diet,” though “for
a dessert benevolence is a very valuable addition”; or
J.S. Mill. with J.S. Mill that disinterested public spirit should be
the prominent motive in the performance of all socially
useful work, and that even hygienic precepts should be inculcated, not
chiefly on grounds of prudence, but because “by squandering our health we
disable ourselves from rendering services to our fellow-creatures.”
Not less important is the interval that separates Bentham’s polemical
attitude towards the moral sense from Mill’s conciliatory position, that “the
mind is not in a state conformable to utility unless it loves virtue as a thing
desirable in itself.” Such love of virtue Mill holds to be in a sense natural,
though not an ultimate and inexplicable fact of human nature; it is to be
explained by the “Law of Association” of feelings and ideas, through which
objects originally desired as a means to some further end come to be
directly pleasant or desirable. Thus, the miser first sought money as a means
to comfort, but ends by sacrificing comfort to money; and similarly though
the first promptings to justice (or any other virtue) spring from the non-
moral pleasures gained or pains avoided by it, through the link formed by
repeated virtuous acts the performance of them ultimately comes to have
Page 556
that immediate satisfaction attached to it which we distinguished as moral.
Indeed, the acquired tendency to virtuous conduct may become so strong
that the habit of willing it may continue, “even when the reward which the
virtuous man receives from the consciousness of well-doing is anything but
an equivalent for the sufferings he undergoes or the wishes he may have to
renounce.” It is thus that the before-mentioned self-sacrifice of the moral
hero is conceived by Mill to be possible and actual. The moral sentiments,
on this view, are not phases of self-love as Hobbes held; nor can they be
directly identified with sympathy, either in Hume’s way or in Adam
Smith’s; in fact, though apparently simple they are really derived in a
complex manner from self-love and sympathy combined with more
primitive impulses. Justice (e.g.) is regarded by Mill as essentially
resentment moralized by enlarged sympathy and intelligent self-interest;
what we mean by injustice is harm done to an assignable individual by a
breach of some rule for which we desire the violator to be punished, for the
sake both of the person injured and of society at large, including ourselves.
As regards moral sentiments generally, the view suggested by Mill is more
definitely given by the chief living representative of the associationist
school, Alexander Bain; by whom the distinctive characteristics of
conscience are traced to “education under government or authority,” though
prudence, disinterested sympathy and other emotions combine to swell the
mass of feeling vaguely denoted by the term moral. The combination of
antecedents is somewhat differently given by different writers; but all agree
in representing the conscience of any individual as naturally correlated to
the interests of the community of which he is a member, and thus a natural
ally in enforcing utilitarian rules, or even a valuable guide when utilitarian
calculations are difficult and uncertain.
This substitution of hypothetical history for direct analysis of the moral
sense is really older than the utilitarianism of Paley and Bentham, which it
has so profoundly modified. The effects of association in modifying mental
Indeed, the acquired tendency to virtuous conduct may become so strong
that the habit of willing it may continue, “even when the reward which the
virtuous man receives from the consciousness of well-doing is anything but
an equivalent for the sufferings he undergoes or the wishes he may have to
renounce.” It is thus that the before-mentioned self-sacrifice of the moral
hero is conceived by Mill to be possible and actual. The moral sentiments,
on this view, are not phases of self-love as Hobbes held; nor can they be
directly identified with sympathy, either in Hume’s way or in Adam
Smith’s; in fact, though apparently simple they are really derived in a
complex manner from self-love and sympathy combined with more
primitive impulses. Justice (e.g.) is regarded by Mill as essentially
resentment moralized by enlarged sympathy and intelligent self-interest;
what we mean by injustice is harm done to an assignable individual by a
breach of some rule for which we desire the violator to be punished, for the
sake both of the person injured and of society at large, including ourselves.
As regards moral sentiments generally, the view suggested by Mill is more
definitely given by the chief living representative of the associationist
school, Alexander Bain; by whom the distinctive characteristics of
conscience are traced to “education under government or authority,” though
prudence, disinterested sympathy and other emotions combine to swell the
mass of feeling vaguely denoted by the term moral. The combination of
antecedents is somewhat differently given by different writers; but all agree
in representing the conscience of any individual as naturally correlated to
the interests of the community of which he is a member, and thus a natural
ally in enforcing utilitarian rules, or even a valuable guide when utilitarian
calculations are difficult and uncertain.
This substitution of hypothetical history for direct analysis of the moral
sense is really older than the utilitarianism of Paley and Bentham, which it
has so profoundly modified. The effects of association in modifying mental
Page 557
phenomena were noticed by Locke, and made a cardinal
Association and point in the metaphysic of Hume; who also referred to
evolution. the principle slightly in his account of justice and other
“artificial” virtues. Some years earlier, Gay,45 admitting
Hutcheson’s proof of the actual disinterestedness of moral and benevolent
impulses, had maintained that these (like the desires of knowledge or fame,
the delight of reading, hunting and planting, &c.) were derived from self-
love by “the power of association.” But a thorough and systematic
application of the principle to ethical psychology is first found in Hartley’s
Observations on Man (1748). Hartley, too, was the first to conceive
association as producing, instead of mere cohesion of mental phenomena, a
quasi-chemical combination of these into a compound apparently different
from its elements. He shows elaborately how the pleasures and pains of
“imagination, ambition, self-interest, sympathy, theopathy, and the moral
sense” are developed out of the elementary pleasures and pains of
sensation; by the coalescence into really complex but apparently single
ideas of the “miniatures” or faint feelings which the repetition of sensations
contemporaneously or in immediate succession tends to produce in
cohering groups. His theory assumes the correspondence of mind and body,
and is applied pari passu to the formation of ideas from sensations, and of
“compound vibratiuncules in the medullary substance” from the original
vibrations that arise in the organ of sense.46 The same general view was
afterwards developed with much vigour and clearness on the psychical side
alone by James Mill in his Analysis of the Human Mind. The whole theory
has been persistently controverted by writers of the intuitional school, who
(unlike Hartley) have usually thought that this derivation of moral
sentiments from more primitive feelings would be detrimental to the
authority of the former. The chief argument against this theory has been
based on the early period at which these sentiments are manifested by
children, which hardly allows time for association to produce the effects
Association and point in the metaphysic of Hume; who also referred to
evolution. the principle slightly in his account of justice and other
“artificial” virtues. Some years earlier, Gay,45 admitting
Hutcheson’s proof of the actual disinterestedness of moral and benevolent
impulses, had maintained that these (like the desires of knowledge or fame,
the delight of reading, hunting and planting, &c.) were derived from self-
love by “the power of association.” But a thorough and systematic
application of the principle to ethical psychology is first found in Hartley’s
Observations on Man (1748). Hartley, too, was the first to conceive
association as producing, instead of mere cohesion of mental phenomena, a
quasi-chemical combination of these into a compound apparently different
from its elements. He shows elaborately how the pleasures and pains of
“imagination, ambition, self-interest, sympathy, theopathy, and the moral
sense” are developed out of the elementary pleasures and pains of
sensation; by the coalescence into really complex but apparently single
ideas of the “miniatures” or faint feelings which the repetition of sensations
contemporaneously or in immediate succession tends to produce in
cohering groups. His theory assumes the correspondence of mind and body,
and is applied pari passu to the formation of ideas from sensations, and of
“compound vibratiuncules in the medullary substance” from the original
vibrations that arise in the organ of sense.46 The same general view was
afterwards developed with much vigour and clearness on the psychical side
alone by James Mill in his Analysis of the Human Mind. The whole theory
has been persistently controverted by writers of the intuitional school, who
(unlike Hartley) have usually thought that this derivation of moral
sentiments from more primitive feelings would be detrimental to the
authority of the former. The chief argument against this theory has been
based on the early period at which these sentiments are manifested by
children, which hardly allows time for association to produce the effects
Page 558
ascribed to it. This argument has been met in recent times by the application
to mind of the physiological theory of heredity, according to which changes
produced in the mind (brain) of a parent, by association of ideas or
otherwise, tend to be inherited by his offspring; so that the development of
the moral sense or any other faculty or susceptibility of existing man may
be hypothetically carried back into the prehistoric life of the human race,
without any change in the manner of derivation supposed. At present,
however, the theory of heredity is usually held in conjunction with Darwin’s
theory of natural selection; according to which different kinds of living
things in the course of a series of generations come gradually to be
endowed with organs, faculties and habits tending to the preservation of the
individual or species under the conditions of life in which it is placed. Thus
we have a new zoological factor in the history of the moral sentiments;
which, though in no way opposed to the older psychological theory of their
formation through coalescence of more primitive feelings, must yet be
conceived as controlling and modifying the effects of the law of association
by preventing the formation of sentiments other than those tending to the
preservation of human life. The influence of the Darwinian theory,
moreover, has extended from historical psychology to ethics, tending to
substitute “preservation of the race under its conditions of existence” for
“happiness” as the ultimate end and standard of virtue.
Before concluding this sketch of the development of English ethical
thought from Hobbes to the thinkers of the 19th century, it will be well to
notice briefly the views held by different moralists on the question of free-
will,—so far, that is, as they have been put forward as
Free-will. ethically important. We must first distinguish three
meanings in which “freedom” is attributed to the will or
“inner self” of a human being, viz. (1) the general power of choosing
among different alternatives of action without a motive, or against the
resultant force of conflicting motives; (2) the power of choice between the
to mind of the physiological theory of heredity, according to which changes
produced in the mind (brain) of a parent, by association of ideas or
otherwise, tend to be inherited by his offspring; so that the development of
the moral sense or any other faculty or susceptibility of existing man may
be hypothetically carried back into the prehistoric life of the human race,
without any change in the manner of derivation supposed. At present,
however, the theory of heredity is usually held in conjunction with Darwin’s
theory of natural selection; according to which different kinds of living
things in the course of a series of generations come gradually to be
endowed with organs, faculties and habits tending to the preservation of the
individual or species under the conditions of life in which it is placed. Thus
we have a new zoological factor in the history of the moral sentiments;
which, though in no way opposed to the older psychological theory of their
formation through coalescence of more primitive feelings, must yet be
conceived as controlling and modifying the effects of the law of association
by preventing the formation of sentiments other than those tending to the
preservation of human life. The influence of the Darwinian theory,
moreover, has extended from historical psychology to ethics, tending to
substitute “preservation of the race under its conditions of existence” for
“happiness” as the ultimate end and standard of virtue.
Before concluding this sketch of the development of English ethical
thought from Hobbes to the thinkers of the 19th century, it will be well to
notice briefly the views held by different moralists on the question of free-
will,—so far, that is, as they have been put forward as
Free-will. ethically important. We must first distinguish three
meanings in which “freedom” is attributed to the will or
“inner self” of a human being, viz. (1) the general power of choosing
among different alternatives of action without a motive, or against the
resultant force of conflicting motives; (2) the power of choice between the
Page 559
promptings of reason and those of appetites (or other non-rational impulses)
when the latter conflict with reason; (3) merely the quality of acting
rationally in spite of conflicting impulses, however strong, the non posse
peccare of the medieval theologians.47 It is obvious that “freedom” in this
third sense is in no way incompatible with complete determination; and,
indeed, is rather an ideal state after which the moral agent ought to aspire
than a property which the human will can be said to possess. In the first
sense, again, as distinct from the second, the assertion of “freedom” has no
ethical significance, except in so far as it introduces a general uncertainty
into all our inferences respecting human conduct. Even in the second sense
it hardly seems that the freedom of a man’s will can be an element to be
considered in examining what it is right or best for him to do (though of
course the clearest convictions of duty will be fruitless if a man has not
sufficient self-control to enable him to act on them); it is rather when we
ask whether it is just to punish him for wrong-doing that it seems important
to know whether he could have done otherwise. But in spite of the strong
interest taken in the theological aspect of this question by the Protestant
divines of the 17th century, it does not appear that English moralists from
Hobbes to Hume laid any stress on the relation of free-will either to duty
generally or to justice in particular. Neither the doctrine of Hobbes, that
deliberation is a mere alternation of competing desires, voluntary action
immediately following the “last appetite,” nor the hardly less decided
Determinism of Locke, who held that the will is always moved by the
greatest present uneasiness, appeared to either author to require any
reconciliation with the belief in human responsibility. Even in Clarke’s
system, where Indeterminism is no doubt a cardinal notion, its importance
is metaphysical rather than ethical; Clarke’s view being that the apparently
arbitrary particularity in the constitution of the cosmos is really only
explicable by reference to creative free-will. In the ethical discussion of
Shaftesbury and sentimental moralists generally this question drops
when the latter conflict with reason; (3) merely the quality of acting
rationally in spite of conflicting impulses, however strong, the non posse
peccare of the medieval theologians.47 It is obvious that “freedom” in this
third sense is in no way incompatible with complete determination; and,
indeed, is rather an ideal state after which the moral agent ought to aspire
than a property which the human will can be said to possess. In the first
sense, again, as distinct from the second, the assertion of “freedom” has no
ethical significance, except in so far as it introduces a general uncertainty
into all our inferences respecting human conduct. Even in the second sense
it hardly seems that the freedom of a man’s will can be an element to be
considered in examining what it is right or best for him to do (though of
course the clearest convictions of duty will be fruitless if a man has not
sufficient self-control to enable him to act on them); it is rather when we
ask whether it is just to punish him for wrong-doing that it seems important
to know whether he could have done otherwise. But in spite of the strong
interest taken in the theological aspect of this question by the Protestant
divines of the 17th century, it does not appear that English moralists from
Hobbes to Hume laid any stress on the relation of free-will either to duty
generally or to justice in particular. Neither the doctrine of Hobbes, that
deliberation is a mere alternation of competing desires, voluntary action
immediately following the “last appetite,” nor the hardly less decided
Determinism of Locke, who held that the will is always moved by the
greatest present uneasiness, appeared to either author to require any
reconciliation with the belief in human responsibility. Even in Clarke’s
system, where Indeterminism is no doubt a cardinal notion, its importance
is metaphysical rather than ethical; Clarke’s view being that the apparently
arbitrary particularity in the constitution of the cosmos is really only
explicable by reference to creative free-will. In the ethical discussion of
Shaftesbury and sentimental moralists generally this question drops
Page 560
naturally out of sight; and the cautious Butler tries to exclude its
perplexities as far as possible from the philosophy of practice. But since the
reaction, led by Price and Reid, against the manner of philosophizing that
had culminated in Hume, free-will has been generally maintained by the
intuitional school to be an essential point of ethics; and, in fact, it is
naturally connected with the judgment of good and ill desert which these
writers give as an essential element in their analysis of the moral
consciousness. An irresistible motive, it is forcibly said, palliates or takes
away guilt; no one can blame himself for yielding to necessity, and no one
can properly be punished for what he could not have prevented. In answer
to this argument some necessarians have admitted that punishment can be
legitimate only if it be beneficial to the person punished; others, again, have
held that the lawful use of force is to restrain lawless force; but most of
those who reject free-will defend punishment on the ground of its utility in
deterring others from crime, as well as in correcting or restraining the
criminal on whom it falls.
In the preceding sketch we have traced the course of English ethical
speculation without bringing it into relation with contemporary European
thought on the same subject. And in fact almost all the systems described,
from Hobbes downward, have been of essentially native
French influence growth, showing hardly any traces of foreign influence.
on English ethics. We may observe that ethics is the only department in
which this result appears. The physics and psychology of
Descartes were much studied in England, and his metaphysical system was
certainly the most important antecedent of Locke’s; but Descartes hardly
touched ethics proper. So again the controversy that Clarke conducted with
Spinoza, and afterwards with Leibnitz, was entirely confined to the
metaphysical region. Catholic France was a school for Englishmen in many
subjects, but not in morality; the great struggle between Jansenists and
Jesuits had a very remote interest for them. It was not till near the close of
perplexities as far as possible from the philosophy of practice. But since the
reaction, led by Price and Reid, against the manner of philosophizing that
had culminated in Hume, free-will has been generally maintained by the
intuitional school to be an essential point of ethics; and, in fact, it is
naturally connected with the judgment of good and ill desert which these
writers give as an essential element in their analysis of the moral
consciousness. An irresistible motive, it is forcibly said, palliates or takes
away guilt; no one can blame himself for yielding to necessity, and no one
can properly be punished for what he could not have prevented. In answer
to this argument some necessarians have admitted that punishment can be
legitimate only if it be beneficial to the person punished; others, again, have
held that the lawful use of force is to restrain lawless force; but most of
those who reject free-will defend punishment on the ground of its utility in
deterring others from crime, as well as in correcting or restraining the
criminal on whom it falls.
In the preceding sketch we have traced the course of English ethical
speculation without bringing it into relation with contemporary European
thought on the same subject. And in fact almost all the systems described,
from Hobbes downward, have been of essentially native
French influence growth, showing hardly any traces of foreign influence.
on English ethics. We may observe that ethics is the only department in
which this result appears. The physics and psychology of
Descartes were much studied in England, and his metaphysical system was
certainly the most important antecedent of Locke’s; but Descartes hardly
touched ethics proper. So again the controversy that Clarke conducted with
Spinoza, and afterwards with Leibnitz, was entirely confined to the
metaphysical region. Catholic France was a school for Englishmen in many
subjects, but not in morality; the great struggle between Jansenists and
Jesuits had a very remote interest for them. It was not till near the close of
Page 561
the 18th century that the impress of the French revolutionary philosophy
began to manifest itself in England; and even then its influence was mostly
political rather than ethical. It is striking to observe how even in the case of
writers such as Godwin, who were most powerfully affected by the French
political movement, the moral basis, on which the new social order of
rational and equal freedom is constructed, is almost entirely of native
origin; even when the tone and spirit are French, the forms of thought and
manner of reasoning are still purely English. In the derivation of
Benthamism alone—which, it may be observed, first becomes widely
known in the French paraphrase of Dumont—an important element is
supplied by the works of a French writer, Helvetius; as
Helvetius. Bentham himself was fully conscious. It was from
Helvetius that he learnt that, men being universally and
solely governed by self-love, the so-called moral judgments are really the
common judgments of any society as to its common interests; that it is
therefore futile on the one hand to propose any standard of virtue, except
that of conduciveness to general happiness, and on the other hand useless
merely to lecture men on duty and scold them for vice; that the moralist’s
proper function is rather to exhibit the coincidence of virtue with private
happiness; that, accordingly, though nature has bound men’s interests
together in many ways, and education by developing sympathy and the
habit of mutual help may much extend the connexion, still the most
effective moralist is the legislator, who by acting on self-love through legal
sanctions may mould human conduct as he chooses. These few simple
doctrines give the ground plan of Bentham’s indefatigable and lifelong
labours.
So again, in the modified Benthamism which the persuasive exposition of
J.S. Mill afterwards made popular in England, the influence of Auguste
Comte (Philosophie positive, 1829-1842, and Système de politique positive,
1851-1854) appears as the chief modifying element. This influence, so far
began to manifest itself in England; and even then its influence was mostly
political rather than ethical. It is striking to observe how even in the case of
writers such as Godwin, who were most powerfully affected by the French
political movement, the moral basis, on which the new social order of
rational and equal freedom is constructed, is almost entirely of native
origin; even when the tone and spirit are French, the forms of thought and
manner of reasoning are still purely English. In the derivation of
Benthamism alone—which, it may be observed, first becomes widely
known in the French paraphrase of Dumont—an important element is
supplied by the works of a French writer, Helvetius; as
Helvetius. Bentham himself was fully conscious. It was from
Helvetius that he learnt that, men being universally and
solely governed by self-love, the so-called moral judgments are really the
common judgments of any society as to its common interests; that it is
therefore futile on the one hand to propose any standard of virtue, except
that of conduciveness to general happiness, and on the other hand useless
merely to lecture men on duty and scold them for vice; that the moralist’s
proper function is rather to exhibit the coincidence of virtue with private
happiness; that, accordingly, though nature has bound men’s interests
together in many ways, and education by developing sympathy and the
habit of mutual help may much extend the connexion, still the most
effective moralist is the legislator, who by acting on self-love through legal
sanctions may mould human conduct as he chooses. These few simple
doctrines give the ground plan of Bentham’s indefatigable and lifelong
labours.
So again, in the modified Benthamism which the persuasive exposition of
J.S. Mill afterwards made popular in England, the influence of Auguste
Comte (Philosophie positive, 1829-1842, and Système de politique positive,
1851-1854) appears as the chief modifying element. This influence, so far
Page 562
as it has affected moral as distinct from political
Comte. speculation, has been exercised primarily through the
general conception of human progress; which, in
Comte’s view, consists in the ever-growing preponderance of the
distinctively human attributes over the purely animal, social feelings being
ranked highest among human attributes, and highest of all the most
universalized phase of human affection, the devotion to humanity as a
whole. Accordingly, it is the development of benevolence in man, and of the
habit of “living for others,” which Comte takes as the ultimate aim and
standard of practice, rather than the mere increase of happiness. He holds,
indeed, that the two are inseparable, and that the more altruistic any man’s
sentiments and habits of action can be made, the greater will be the
happiness enjoyed by himself as well as by others. But he does not
seriously trouble himself to argue with egoism, or to weigh carefully the
amount of happiness that might be generally attained by the satisfaction of
egoistic propensities duly regulated; a supreme unquestioning self-devotion,
in which all personal calculations are suppressed, is an essential feature of
his moral ideal. Such a view is almost diametrically opposed to Bentham’s
conception of normal human existence; the newer utilitarianism of Mill
represents an endeavour to find the right middle path between the two
extremes.
It is to be observed that, in Comte’s view, devotion to humanity is the
principle not merely of morality, but of religion; i.e. it should not merely be
practically predominant, but should be manifested and sustained by regular
and partly symbolical forms of expression, private and public. This side of
Comte’s system, however, and the details of his ideal reconstruction of
society, in which this religion plays an important part, have had but little
influence either in England or elsewhere. It is more important to notice the
general effect of his philosophy on the method of determining the
particulars of morality as well as of law (as it ought to be). In the
Comte. speculation, has been exercised primarily through the
general conception of human progress; which, in
Comte’s view, consists in the ever-growing preponderance of the
distinctively human attributes over the purely animal, social feelings being
ranked highest among human attributes, and highest of all the most
universalized phase of human affection, the devotion to humanity as a
whole. Accordingly, it is the development of benevolence in man, and of the
habit of “living for others,” which Comte takes as the ultimate aim and
standard of practice, rather than the mere increase of happiness. He holds,
indeed, that the two are inseparable, and that the more altruistic any man’s
sentiments and habits of action can be made, the greater will be the
happiness enjoyed by himself as well as by others. But he does not
seriously trouble himself to argue with egoism, or to weigh carefully the
amount of happiness that might be generally attained by the satisfaction of
egoistic propensities duly regulated; a supreme unquestioning self-devotion,
in which all personal calculations are suppressed, is an essential feature of
his moral ideal. Such a view is almost diametrically opposed to Bentham’s
conception of normal human existence; the newer utilitarianism of Mill
represents an endeavour to find the right middle path between the two
extremes.
It is to be observed that, in Comte’s view, devotion to humanity is the
principle not merely of morality, but of religion; i.e. it should not merely be
practically predominant, but should be manifested and sustained by regular
and partly symbolical forms of expression, private and public. This side of
Comte’s system, however, and the details of his ideal reconstruction of
society, in which this religion plays an important part, have had but little
influence either in England or elsewhere. It is more important to notice the
general effect of his philosophy on the method of determining the
particulars of morality as well as of law (as it ought to be). In the
Page 563
utilitarianism of Paley and Bentham the proper rules of conduct, moral and
legal, are determined by comparing the imaginary consequences of different
modes of regulation on men and women, conceived as specimens of a
substantially uniform and unchanging type. It is true that Bentham
expressly recognizes the varying influences of climate, race, religion,
government, as considerations which it is important for the legislator to take
into account; but his own work of social construction was almost entirely
independent of such considerations, and his school generally appear to have
been convinced of their competence to solve all important ethical and
political questions for human beings of all ages and countries, without
regard to their specific differences. But in the Comtian conception of social
science, of which ethics and politics are the practical application, the
knowledge of the laws of the evolution of society is of fundamental and
continually increasing importance; humanity is regarded as having passed
through a series of stages, in each of which a somewhat different set of laws
and institutions, customs and habits, is normal and appropriate. Thus
present man is a being that can only be understood through a knowledge of
his past history; and any effort to construct for him a moral and political
ideal, by a purely abstract and unhistorical method, must necessarily be
futile; whatever modifications may at any time be desirable in positive law
and morality can only be determined by the aid of “social dynamics.” This
view extends far beyond the limits of Comte’s special school or sect, and
has been widely accepted.
When we turn from French philosophy to German, we find the influence
of the latter on English ethical thought almost insignificant until a very
recent period. In the 17th century, indeed, the treatise of Pufendorf on the
Law of Nature, in which the general view of Grotius was restated with
modifications, partly designed to effect a compromise with the doctrine of
Hobbes, seems to have been a good deal read at Oxford and elsewhere.
Locke includes it among the books necessary to the complete education of a
legal, are determined by comparing the imaginary consequences of different
modes of regulation on men and women, conceived as specimens of a
substantially uniform and unchanging type. It is true that Bentham
expressly recognizes the varying influences of climate, race, religion,
government, as considerations which it is important for the legislator to take
into account; but his own work of social construction was almost entirely
independent of such considerations, and his school generally appear to have
been convinced of their competence to solve all important ethical and
political questions for human beings of all ages and countries, without
regard to their specific differences. But in the Comtian conception of social
science, of which ethics and politics are the practical application, the
knowledge of the laws of the evolution of society is of fundamental and
continually increasing importance; humanity is regarded as having passed
through a series of stages, in each of which a somewhat different set of laws
and institutions, customs and habits, is normal and appropriate. Thus
present man is a being that can only be understood through a knowledge of
his past history; and any effort to construct for him a moral and political
ideal, by a purely abstract and unhistorical method, must necessarily be
futile; whatever modifications may at any time be desirable in positive law
and morality can only be determined by the aid of “social dynamics.” This
view extends far beyond the limits of Comte’s special school or sect, and
has been widely accepted.
When we turn from French philosophy to German, we find the influence
of the latter on English ethical thought almost insignificant until a very
recent period. In the 17th century, indeed, the treatise of Pufendorf on the
Law of Nature, in which the general view of Grotius was restated with
modifications, partly designed to effect a compromise with the doctrine of
Hobbes, seems to have been a good deal read at Oxford and elsewhere.
Locke includes it among the books necessary to the complete education of a
Page 564
gentleman. But the subsequent development of the
German influence theory of conduct in Germany dropped almost entirely
on English ethics. out of the cognizance of Englishmen; even the long
dominant system of Wolff (d. 1754) was hardly known.
Nor had Kant any serious influence in England until the second quarter of
the 19th century. We find, however, distinct traces of Kantian influence in
Whewell and other writers of the intuitional school, and at a later date it
became so strong that its importance on subsequent ethical thought can
scarcely be over-estimated.
The English moralist with whom Kant has most affinity is Price; in fact,
Kantism, in the ethical thought of modern Europe, holds a place somewhat
analogous to that formerly occupied by the teaching of Price and Reid
among English moralists. Kant, like Price and Reid,
Kant. holds that man as a rational being is unconditionally
bound to conform to a certain rule of right, or
“categorical imperative” of reason. Like Price he holds that an action is not
good unless done from a good motive, and that this motive must be
essentially different from natural inclination of any kind; duty, to be duty,
must be done for duty’s sake; and he argues, with more subtlety than Price
or Reid, that though a virtuous act is no doubt pleasant to the virtuous
agent, and any violation of duty painful, this moral pleasure (or pain)
cannot strictly be the motive to the act, because it follows instead of
preceding the recognition of our obligation to do it.48 With Price, again, he
holds that rightness of intention and motive is not only an indispensable
condition or element of the rightness of an action, but actually the sole
determinant of its moral worth; but with more philosophical consistency he
draws the inference—of which the English moralist does not seem to have
dreamt—that there can be no separate rational principles for determining
the “material” rightness of conduct, as distinct from its “formal” rightness;
and therefore that all rules of duty, so far as universally binding, must admit
German influence theory of conduct in Germany dropped almost entirely
on English ethics. out of the cognizance of Englishmen; even the long
dominant system of Wolff (d. 1754) was hardly known.
Nor had Kant any serious influence in England until the second quarter of
the 19th century. We find, however, distinct traces of Kantian influence in
Whewell and other writers of the intuitional school, and at a later date it
became so strong that its importance on subsequent ethical thought can
scarcely be over-estimated.
The English moralist with whom Kant has most affinity is Price; in fact,
Kantism, in the ethical thought of modern Europe, holds a place somewhat
analogous to that formerly occupied by the teaching of Price and Reid
among English moralists. Kant, like Price and Reid,
Kant. holds that man as a rational being is unconditionally
bound to conform to a certain rule of right, or
“categorical imperative” of reason. Like Price he holds that an action is not
good unless done from a good motive, and that this motive must be
essentially different from natural inclination of any kind; duty, to be duty,
must be done for duty’s sake; and he argues, with more subtlety than Price
or Reid, that though a virtuous act is no doubt pleasant to the virtuous
agent, and any violation of duty painful, this moral pleasure (or pain)
cannot strictly be the motive to the act, because it follows instead of
preceding the recognition of our obligation to do it.48 With Price, again, he
holds that rightness of intention and motive is not only an indispensable
condition or element of the rightness of an action, but actually the sole
determinant of its moral worth; but with more philosophical consistency he
draws the inference—of which the English moralist does not seem to have
dreamt—that there can be no separate rational principles for determining
the “material” rightness of conduct, as distinct from its “formal” rightness;
and therefore that all rules of duty, so far as universally binding, must admit
Page 565
of being exhibited as applications of the one general principle that duty
ought to be done for duty’s sake. This deduction is the
Categorical most original part of Kant’s doctrine. The dictates of
Imperative. reason, he points out, must necessarily be addressed to
all rational beings as such; hence, my intention cannot be
right unless I am prepared to will the principle on which I act to be a
universal law. He considers that this fundamental rule or imperative “act on
a maxim which thou canst will to be law universal” supplies a sufficient
criterion for determining particular duties in all cases. The rule excludes
wrong conduct with two degrees of stringency. Some offences, such as
making promises with the intention of breaking them, we cannot even
conceive universalized; as soon as every one broke promises no one would
care to have promises made to him. Other maxims, such as that of leaving
persons in distress to shift for themselves, we can easily conceive to be
universal laws, but we cannot without contradiction will them to be such;
for when we are ourselves in distress we cannot help desiring that others
should help us.
Another important peculiarity of Kant’s doctrine is his development of
the connexion between duty and free-will. He holds that it is through our
moral consciousness that we know that we are free; in the cognition that I
ought to do what is right because it is right and not because I like it, it is
implied that this purely rational volition is possible; that my action can be
determined, not “mechanically,” through the necessary operation of the
natural stimuli of pleasurable and painful feelings, but in accordance with
the laws of my true, reasonable self. The realization of reason, or of human
wills so far as rational, thus presents itself as the absolute end of duty; and
we get, as a new form of the fundamental practical rule, “act so as to treat
humanity, in thyself or any other, as an end always, and never as a means
only.” We may observe, too, that the notion of freedom connects ethics with
jurisprudence in a simple and striking manner. The fundamental aim of
ought to be done for duty’s sake. This deduction is the
Categorical most original part of Kant’s doctrine. The dictates of
Imperative. reason, he points out, must necessarily be addressed to
all rational beings as such; hence, my intention cannot be
right unless I am prepared to will the principle on which I act to be a
universal law. He considers that this fundamental rule or imperative “act on
a maxim which thou canst will to be law universal” supplies a sufficient
criterion for determining particular duties in all cases. The rule excludes
wrong conduct with two degrees of stringency. Some offences, such as
making promises with the intention of breaking them, we cannot even
conceive universalized; as soon as every one broke promises no one would
care to have promises made to him. Other maxims, such as that of leaving
persons in distress to shift for themselves, we can easily conceive to be
universal laws, but we cannot without contradiction will them to be such;
for when we are ourselves in distress we cannot help desiring that others
should help us.
Another important peculiarity of Kant’s doctrine is his development of
the connexion between duty and free-will. He holds that it is through our
moral consciousness that we know that we are free; in the cognition that I
ought to do what is right because it is right and not because I like it, it is
implied that this purely rational volition is possible; that my action can be
determined, not “mechanically,” through the necessary operation of the
natural stimuli of pleasurable and painful feelings, but in accordance with
the laws of my true, reasonable self. The realization of reason, or of human
wills so far as rational, thus presents itself as the absolute end of duty; and
we get, as a new form of the fundamental practical rule, “act so as to treat
humanity, in thyself or any other, as an end always, and never as a means
only.” We may observe, too, that the notion of freedom connects ethics with
jurisprudence in a simple and striking manner. The fundamental aim of
Page 566
jurisprudence is to realize external freedom by removing the hindrances
imposed on each one’s free action through the interferences of other wills.
Ethics shows how to realize internal freedom by resolutely pursuing
rational ends in opposition to those of natural inclination. If we ask what
precisely are the ends of reason, Kant’s proposition that “all rational beings
as such are ends in themselves for every rational being” hardly gives a clear
answer. It might be interpreted to mean that the result to be practically
sought is simply the development of the rationality of all rational beings—
such as men—whom we find to be as yet imperfectly rational. But this is
not Kant’s view. He holds, indeed, that each man should aim at making
himself the most perfect possible instrument of reason; but he expressly
denies that the perfection of others can be similarly prescribed as an end to
each. It is, he says, “a contradiction to regard myself as in duty bound to
promote the perfection of another, ... a contradiction to make it a duty for
me to do something for another which no other but himself can do.” In what
practical sense, then, am I to make other rational beings my ends? Kant’s
answer is that what each is to aim at in the case of others is not Perfection,
but Happiness, i.e. to help them to attain those purely subjective ends that
are determined for each not by reason, but by natural inclination. He
explains also that to seek one’s own happiness cannot be prescribed as a
duty, because it is an end to which every man is inevitably impelled by
natural inclination: but that just because each inevitably desires his own
happiness, and therefore desires that others should assist him in time of
need, he is bound to make the happiness of others his ethical end, since he
cannot morally demand aid from others, without accepting the obligation of
aiding them in like case. The exclusion of private happiness from the ends
at which it is a duty to aim contrasts strikingly with the view of Butler and
Reid, that man, as a rational being, is under a “manifest obligation” to seek
his own interest. The difference, however, is not really so great as it seems;
since in another part of his system Kant fully recognizes the reasonableness
imposed on each one’s free action through the interferences of other wills.
Ethics shows how to realize internal freedom by resolutely pursuing
rational ends in opposition to those of natural inclination. If we ask what
precisely are the ends of reason, Kant’s proposition that “all rational beings
as such are ends in themselves for every rational being” hardly gives a clear
answer. It might be interpreted to mean that the result to be practically
sought is simply the development of the rationality of all rational beings—
such as men—whom we find to be as yet imperfectly rational. But this is
not Kant’s view. He holds, indeed, that each man should aim at making
himself the most perfect possible instrument of reason; but he expressly
denies that the perfection of others can be similarly prescribed as an end to
each. It is, he says, “a contradiction to regard myself as in duty bound to
promote the perfection of another, ... a contradiction to make it a duty for
me to do something for another which no other but himself can do.” In what
practical sense, then, am I to make other rational beings my ends? Kant’s
answer is that what each is to aim at in the case of others is not Perfection,
but Happiness, i.e. to help them to attain those purely subjective ends that
are determined for each not by reason, but by natural inclination. He
explains also that to seek one’s own happiness cannot be prescribed as a
duty, because it is an end to which every man is inevitably impelled by
natural inclination: but that just because each inevitably desires his own
happiness, and therefore desires that others should assist him in time of
need, he is bound to make the happiness of others his ethical end, since he
cannot morally demand aid from others, without accepting the obligation of
aiding them in like case. The exclusion of private happiness from the ends
at which it is a duty to aim contrasts strikingly with the view of Butler and
Reid, that man, as a rational being, is under a “manifest obligation” to seek
his own interest. The difference, however, is not really so great as it seems;
since in another part of his system Kant fully recognizes the reasonableness
Page 567
of the individual’s regard for his own happiness. Though duty, in his view,
excludes regard for private happiness, the summum bonum is not duty
alone, but happiness combined with moral worth; the demand for happiness
as the reward of duty is so essentially reasonable that we must postulate a
universal connexion between the two as the order of the universe; indeed,
the practical necessity of this postulate is the only adequate rational ground
that we have for believing in the existence of God.
Before the ethics of Kant had begun to be seriously studied in England,
the rapid and remarkable development of metaphysical view and method of
which the three chief stages are represented by Fichte, Schelling and Hegel
respectively had already taken place; and the system of
Hegel. the latter was occupying the most prominent position in
the philosophical thought of Germany.49 Hegel’s ethical
doctrine (expounded chiefly in his Philosophie des Rechts, 1821) shows a
close affinity, and also a striking contrast, to Kant’s. He holds, with Kant,
that duty or good conduct consists in the conscious realization of the free
reasonable will, which is essentially the same in all rational beings. But in
Kant’s view the universal content of this will is only given in the formal
condition of “only acting as one can desire all to act,” to be subjectively
applied by each rational agent to his own volition; whereas Hegel conceives
the universal will as objectively presented to each man in the laws,
institutions and customary morality of the community of which he is a
member. Thus, in his view, not merely natural inclinations towards
pleasures, or the desires for selfish happiness, require to be morally resisted;
but even the prompting of the individual’s conscience, the impulse to do
what seems to him right, if it comes into conflict with the common sense of
his community. It is true that Hegel regards the conscious effort to realize
one’s own conception of good as a higher stage of moral development than
the mere conformity to the jural rules establishing property, maintaining
contract and allotting punishment to crime, in which the universal will is
excludes regard for private happiness, the summum bonum is not duty
alone, but happiness combined with moral worth; the demand for happiness
as the reward of duty is so essentially reasonable that we must postulate a
universal connexion between the two as the order of the universe; indeed,
the practical necessity of this postulate is the only adequate rational ground
that we have for believing in the existence of God.
Before the ethics of Kant had begun to be seriously studied in England,
the rapid and remarkable development of metaphysical view and method of
which the three chief stages are represented by Fichte, Schelling and Hegel
respectively had already taken place; and the system of
Hegel. the latter was occupying the most prominent position in
the philosophical thought of Germany.49 Hegel’s ethical
doctrine (expounded chiefly in his Philosophie des Rechts, 1821) shows a
close affinity, and also a striking contrast, to Kant’s. He holds, with Kant,
that duty or good conduct consists in the conscious realization of the free
reasonable will, which is essentially the same in all rational beings. But in
Kant’s view the universal content of this will is only given in the formal
condition of “only acting as one can desire all to act,” to be subjectively
applied by each rational agent to his own volition; whereas Hegel conceives
the universal will as objectively presented to each man in the laws,
institutions and customary morality of the community of which he is a
member. Thus, in his view, not merely natural inclinations towards
pleasures, or the desires for selfish happiness, require to be morally resisted;
but even the prompting of the individual’s conscience, the impulse to do
what seems to him right, if it comes into conflict with the common sense of
his community. It is true that Hegel regards the conscious effort to realize
one’s own conception of good as a higher stage of moral development than
the mere conformity to the jural rules establishing property, maintaining
contract and allotting punishment to crime, in which the universal will is
Page 568
first expressed; since in such conformity this will is only accomplished
accidentally by the outward concurrence of individual wills, and is not
essentially realized in any of them. He holds, however, that this
conscientious effort is self-deceived and futile, is even the very root of
moral evil, except it attains its realization in harmony with the objective
social relations in which the individual finds himself placed. Of these
relations the first grade is constituted by the family, the second by civil
society, and the third by the state, the organization of which is the highest
manifestation of universal reason in the sphere of practice.
Hegelianism appears as a distinct element in modern English ethical
thought; but the direct influence of Hegel’s system is perhaps less important
than that indirectly exercised through the powerful stimulus which it has
given to the study of the historical development of human thought and
human society. According to Hegel, the essence of the universe is a process
of thought from the abstract to the concrete; and a right understanding of
this process gives the key for interpreting the evolution in time of European
philosophy. So again, in his view, the history of mankind is a history of the
necessary development of the free spirit through the different forms of
political organization: the first being that of the Oriental monarchy, in
which freedom belongs to the monarch only; the second, that of the Graeco-
Roman republics, in which a select body of free citizens is sustained on a
basis of slavery; while finally in the modern societies, sprung from the
Teutonic invasion of the decaying Roman empire, freedom is recognized as
the natural right of all members of the community. The effect of the lectures
(posthumously edited) in which Hegel’s “Philosophy of History” and
“History of Philosophy” were expounded, has extended far beyond the
limits of his special school; indeed, the predominance of the historical
method in all departments of the theory of practice is not a little due to their
influence.
accidentally by the outward concurrence of individual wills, and is not
essentially realized in any of them. He holds, however, that this
conscientious effort is self-deceived and futile, is even the very root of
moral evil, except it attains its realization in harmony with the objective
social relations in which the individual finds himself placed. Of these
relations the first grade is constituted by the family, the second by civil
society, and the third by the state, the organization of which is the highest
manifestation of universal reason in the sphere of practice.
Hegelianism appears as a distinct element in modern English ethical
thought; but the direct influence of Hegel’s system is perhaps less important
than that indirectly exercised through the powerful stimulus which it has
given to the study of the historical development of human thought and
human society. According to Hegel, the essence of the universe is a process
of thought from the abstract to the concrete; and a right understanding of
this process gives the key for interpreting the evolution in time of European
philosophy. So again, in his view, the history of mankind is a history of the
necessary development of the free spirit through the different forms of
political organization: the first being that of the Oriental monarchy, in
which freedom belongs to the monarch only; the second, that of the Graeco-
Roman republics, in which a select body of free citizens is sustained on a
basis of slavery; while finally in the modern societies, sprung from the
Teutonic invasion of the decaying Roman empire, freedom is recognized as
the natural right of all members of the community. The effect of the lectures
(posthumously edited) in which Hegel’s “Philosophy of History” and
“History of Philosophy” were expounded, has extended far beyond the
limits of his special school; indeed, the predominance of the historical
method in all departments of the theory of practice is not a little due to their
influence.
Page 569
( ; )
D. Ethics since 1879.—Ethical controversies, like most other speculative
disputes, have, during the latter part of the 19th and the beginning of the
20th century, centred round Darwinian theories. The chief characteristic of
English moral philosophy in its previous history has been its comparative
isolation from great movements, sometimes contemporary movements, of
philosophical or scientific thought. Ethics in England no less than on the
continent of Europe suffered until the time of Bacon from the excessive
domination of theological dogma and the traditional scholastic and
Aristotelian philosophy. But the moral philosophy of the 18th century, freed
from scholastic trammels, was a genuine native product, arising out of the
real problem of conduct and reaching its conclusions, at least ostensibly, by
an analysis of, and an appeal to, the facts of conduct and the nature of
morality. Even at the beginning of the 19th century, when the main interest
of writers who belonged to the Utilitarian school was mainly political, the
influence of political theories upon contemporary moral philosophy was
upon the whole an influence of which the moral philosophers themselves
were unconscious; and from the nature of things moral and political
philosophy have a tendency to become one and the same inquiry. Mill, it is
true, and Comte both encouraged the idea that society and conduct alike
were susceptible of strictly scientific investigation. But the attempt not only
to treat ethics scientifically, but actually to subordinate the principles of
conduct to the principles of existing biological science or group of sciences
biological in character, was reserved for post-Darwinian moral
philosophers. That attempt has not, in the opinion of the majority of critics,
been successful, and perhaps what is most permanent in the contribution of
modern times to ethical theory will ultimately be attributed to philosophers
antagonistic to evolutionary ethics. Nevertheless the application of the
historical method to inquiries concerning the facts of morality and the moral
life—itself part of the great movement of thought to which Darwin gave the
chief impetus—has caused moral problems to be presented in a novel
D. Ethics since 1879.—Ethical controversies, like most other speculative
disputes, have, during the latter part of the 19th and the beginning of the
20th century, centred round Darwinian theories. The chief characteristic of
English moral philosophy in its previous history has been its comparative
isolation from great movements, sometimes contemporary movements, of
philosophical or scientific thought. Ethics in England no less than on the
continent of Europe suffered until the time of Bacon from the excessive
domination of theological dogma and the traditional scholastic and
Aristotelian philosophy. But the moral philosophy of the 18th century, freed
from scholastic trammels, was a genuine native product, arising out of the
real problem of conduct and reaching its conclusions, at least ostensibly, by
an analysis of, and an appeal to, the facts of conduct and the nature of
morality. Even at the beginning of the 19th century, when the main interest
of writers who belonged to the Utilitarian school was mainly political, the
influence of political theories upon contemporary moral philosophy was
upon the whole an influence of which the moral philosophers themselves
were unconscious; and from the nature of things moral and political
philosophy have a tendency to become one and the same inquiry. Mill, it is
true, and Comte both encouraged the idea that society and conduct alike
were susceptible of strictly scientific investigation. But the attempt not only
to treat ethics scientifically, but actually to subordinate the principles of
conduct to the principles of existing biological science or group of sciences
biological in character, was reserved for post-Darwinian moral
philosophers. That attempt has not, in the opinion of the majority of critics,
been successful, and perhaps what is most permanent in the contribution of
modern times to ethical theory will ultimately be attributed to philosophers
antagonistic to evolutionary ethics. Nevertheless the application of the
historical method to inquiries concerning the facts of morality and the moral
life—itself part of the great movement of thought to which Darwin gave the
chief impetus—has caused moral problems to be presented in a novel
Page 570
aspect; while the influence of Darwinism upon studies which have
considerable bearing upon ethics, e.g. anthropology or the study of
comparative religion, has been incalculable.
The other great movement in modern moral philosophy due to the
influence of German, and especially Hegelian, idealism followed naturally
for the most part from the revival of interest in metaphysics noticeable in
the latter half of the 19th century.
But metaphysical systems of ethics are no novelty even in England, and,
while the increased interest in ultimate issues of philosophy has enormously
deepened and widened men’s appreciation of moral problems and the issues
involved in conduct, the actual advance in ethical theory produced by such
speculations has been comparatively slight. What is of lasting importance is
the re-affirmation upon metaphysical grounds of the right of the moral
consciousness to state and solve its own difficulties, and the successful
repulsion of the claims of particular sciences such as biology to include the
sphere of conduct within their scope and methods. And both evolutionary
and idealistic ethics agree in repudiating the standpoint of narrow
individualism, alike insist upon the necessity of regarding the self as social
in character, and regard the end of moral progress as only realizable in a
perfect society.
It is perhaps too much to hope that the long-continued controversy
between hedonists and anti-hedonists has been finally settled. But certainly
few modern moral philosophers would be found in the present day ready to
defend the crudities of hedonistic psychology as they appear in Bentham
and Mill. A certain common agreement has been reached concerning the
impossibility of regarding pleasure as the sole motive criterion and end of
moral action, though different opinions still prevail as to the place occupied
by pleasure in the summum bonum, and the possibility of a hedonistic
calculus.
considerable bearing upon ethics, e.g. anthropology or the study of
comparative religion, has been incalculable.
The other great movement in modern moral philosophy due to the
influence of German, and especially Hegelian, idealism followed naturally
for the most part from the revival of interest in metaphysics noticeable in
the latter half of the 19th century.
But metaphysical systems of ethics are no novelty even in England, and,
while the increased interest in ultimate issues of philosophy has enormously
deepened and widened men’s appreciation of moral problems and the issues
involved in conduct, the actual advance in ethical theory produced by such
speculations has been comparatively slight. What is of lasting importance is
the re-affirmation upon metaphysical grounds of the right of the moral
consciousness to state and solve its own difficulties, and the successful
repulsion of the claims of particular sciences such as biology to include the
sphere of conduct within their scope and methods. And both evolutionary
and idealistic ethics agree in repudiating the standpoint of narrow
individualism, alike insist upon the necessity of regarding the self as social
in character, and regard the end of moral progress as only realizable in a
perfect society.
It is perhaps too much to hope that the long-continued controversy
between hedonists and anti-hedonists has been finally settled. But certainly
few modern moral philosophers would be found in the present day ready to
defend the crudities of hedonistic psychology as they appear in Bentham
and Mill. A certain common agreement has been reached concerning the
impossibility of regarding pleasure as the sole motive criterion and end of
moral action, though different opinions still prevail as to the place occupied
by pleasure in the summum bonum, and the possibility of a hedonistic
calculus.
Page 571
The failure of “laissez-faire” individualism in politics to produce that
common prosperity and happiness which its advocates hoped for caused
men to question the egoistic basis upon which its ethical counterpart was
constructed. Similarly the comparative failure of science to satisfy men’s
aspirations alike in knowledge and, so far as the happiness of the masses is
concerned, in practice has been largely instrumental in producing that revolt
against material prosperity as the end of conduct which is characteristic of
idealist moral philosophy. To this revolt, and to the general tendency to find
the principle of morality in an ideal good present to the consciousness of all
persons capable of acting morally, the widespread recognition of reason as
the ultimate court of appeal alike in religion or politics, and latterly in
economics also, has no doubt contributed largely. In the main the appeal to
reason has followed the traditional course of such movements in ethics, and
has reaffirmed in the light of fuller reflection the moral principles implicit
in the ordinary moral consciousness. It is only in the present day that there
are noticeable signs of dissatisfaction with current morality itself, and a
tendency to substitute or advocate a new morality based ostensibly upon
conclusions derived from the facts of scientific observation.
Darwin himself seems never to have questioned, in the sceptical direction
in which his followers have applied his principles, the absolute character of
moral obligation. What interested him chiefly, in so far as he made a study
of morality, was the development of moral conduct in its
Darwin. preliminary stages. He was principally concerned to
show that in morality, as in other departments of human
life, it was not necessary to postulate a complete and abrupt gap between
human and merely animal existence, but that the instincts and habits which
contribute to survival in the struggle for existence among animals develop
into moral qualities which have a similar value for the preservation of
human and social life. Regarding the social tendency as originally itself an
instinct developed out of parental or filial affection, he seems to suggest
common prosperity and happiness which its advocates hoped for caused
men to question the egoistic basis upon which its ethical counterpart was
constructed. Similarly the comparative failure of science to satisfy men’s
aspirations alike in knowledge and, so far as the happiness of the masses is
concerned, in practice has been largely instrumental in producing that revolt
against material prosperity as the end of conduct which is characteristic of
idealist moral philosophy. To this revolt, and to the general tendency to find
the principle of morality in an ideal good present to the consciousness of all
persons capable of acting morally, the widespread recognition of reason as
the ultimate court of appeal alike in religion or politics, and latterly in
economics also, has no doubt contributed largely. In the main the appeal to
reason has followed the traditional course of such movements in ethics, and
has reaffirmed in the light of fuller reflection the moral principles implicit
in the ordinary moral consciousness. It is only in the present day that there
are noticeable signs of dissatisfaction with current morality itself, and a
tendency to substitute or advocate a new morality based ostensibly upon
conclusions derived from the facts of scientific observation.
Darwin himself seems never to have questioned, in the sceptical direction
in which his followers have applied his principles, the absolute character of
moral obligation. What interested him chiefly, in so far as he made a study
of morality, was the development of moral conduct in its
Darwin. preliminary stages. He was principally concerned to
show that in morality, as in other departments of human
life, it was not necessary to postulate a complete and abrupt gap between
human and merely animal existence, but that the instincts and habits which
contribute to survival in the struggle for existence among animals develop
into moral qualities which have a similar value for the preservation of
human and social life. Regarding the social tendency as originally itself an
instinct developed out of parental or filial affection, he seems to suggest
Page 572
that natural selection, which was the chief cause of its development in the
earlier stages, may very probably influence the transition from purely tribal
and social morality into morality in its later and more complex forms. But
he admits that natural selection is not necessarily the only cause, and he
refrains from identifying the fully developed morality of civilized nations
with the “social instinct.” Moreover, he recognizes that qualities, e.g.
loyalty and sympathy, which may have been of great service to the tribe in
its primitive struggle for existence, may become a positive hindrance to
physical efficiency (leading as they do to the preservation of the unfit) at a
later stage. Nevertheless to check our sympathy would lead to the
“deterioration of the noblest part of our nature,” and the question, which is
obviously of vital importance, whether we should obey the dictates of
reason, which would urge us only to such conduct as is conducive to natural
selection, or remain faithful to the noblest part of our nature at the expense
of reason, he leaves unsolved.
It was in Herbert Spencer, the triumphant “buccinator novi temporis,”
that the advocates of evolutionary ethics found their protagonist. Spencer
looked to ideas derived from the biological sciences to provide a solution of
all the enigmas of morality, as of most other departments
Spencer. of life; and he conceived it “to be the business of moral
science to deduce from the laws of life and the
conditions of existence what kinds of action necessarily tend to produce
happiness and what kinds to produce unhappiness.” It is clear, therefore,
that any moral science which is to be of value must wait until the “laws of
life” and “conditions of existence” have been satisfactorily determined,
presumably by biology and the allied sciences; and there are few more
melancholy instances of failure in philosophy than the paucity of the actual
results attained by Spencer in his lifetime in his application of the so-called
laws of evolution to human conduct—a failure recognized by Spencer
himself. His own contribution to ethics was vitiated at the outset by the fact
earlier stages, may very probably influence the transition from purely tribal
and social morality into morality in its later and more complex forms. But
he admits that natural selection is not necessarily the only cause, and he
refrains from identifying the fully developed morality of civilized nations
with the “social instinct.” Moreover, he recognizes that qualities, e.g.
loyalty and sympathy, which may have been of great service to the tribe in
its primitive struggle for existence, may become a positive hindrance to
physical efficiency (leading as they do to the preservation of the unfit) at a
later stage. Nevertheless to check our sympathy would lead to the
“deterioration of the noblest part of our nature,” and the question, which is
obviously of vital importance, whether we should obey the dictates of
reason, which would urge us only to such conduct as is conducive to natural
selection, or remain faithful to the noblest part of our nature at the expense
of reason, he leaves unsolved.
It was in Herbert Spencer, the triumphant “buccinator novi temporis,”
that the advocates of evolutionary ethics found their protagonist. Spencer
looked to ideas derived from the biological sciences to provide a solution of
all the enigmas of morality, as of most other departments
Spencer. of life; and he conceived it “to be the business of moral
science to deduce from the laws of life and the
conditions of existence what kinds of action necessarily tend to produce
happiness and what kinds to produce unhappiness.” It is clear, therefore,
that any moral science which is to be of value must wait until the “laws of
life” and “conditions of existence” have been satisfactorily determined,
presumably by biology and the allied sciences; and there are few more
melancholy instances of failure in philosophy than the paucity of the actual
results attained by Spencer in his lifetime in his application of the so-called
laws of evolution to human conduct—a failure recognized by Spencer
himself. His own contribution to ethics was vitiated at the outset by the fact
Page 573
that he never shook himself free from the trammels of the philosophy which
his own system was intended to supersede. He began by disclaiming any
affinity to Utilitarianism on the part of his own philosophy. He pointed out
that the principle of the greatest happiness of the greatest number is a
principle without any definite meaning, since men are nowhere unanimous
in their standard of happiness, but regard the conception of happiness rather
as a problem to be solved than a test to be applied. Universal happiness
would require omniscience to legislate for it and the “normal” or, as some
would say, “perfect” man to desire it; neither of these conditions of its
realization is at present in existence. Further, the principle that “everybody
is to count for one, nobody for more than one,” is equally unsatisfactory. It
may be taken to imply that the useless and the criminal should be entitled to
as much happiness as the useful and the virtuous. While it gives no rule for
private as distinct from public conduct, it provides no real guidance for the
legislator. For neither happiness, nor the concrete means to happiness, nor
finally the conditions of its realization can be distributed; and in the end
“not general happiness becomes the ethical standard by which legislative
action is to be guided, but universal justice.” Yet the implications of this
latter conclusion Spencer never fully thought out. He accepted bodily
without farther questioning the hedonistic psychology by which the
Utilitarians sought to justify their theory while he rejected the theory itself.
Good, e.g. defined by him “as conduct conducive to life,” is also further
defined as that which is “conducive to a surplus of pleasures over pains.”
Happiness, again, is always regarded as consisting in feeling, ultimately in
pleasant feeling, and there is no attempt to apply the same principles of
criticism which he had successfully applied to the Utilitarians’ “happiness”
to the conception of “pleasure.” And, though he maintains as against the
Utilitarians the existence of certain fundamental moral intuitions which
have come to be quite independent of any present conscious experience of
their utility, he yet holds that they are the results of accumulated racial
his own system was intended to supersede. He began by disclaiming any
affinity to Utilitarianism on the part of his own philosophy. He pointed out
that the principle of the greatest happiness of the greatest number is a
principle without any definite meaning, since men are nowhere unanimous
in their standard of happiness, but regard the conception of happiness rather
as a problem to be solved than a test to be applied. Universal happiness
would require omniscience to legislate for it and the “normal” or, as some
would say, “perfect” man to desire it; neither of these conditions of its
realization is at present in existence. Further, the principle that “everybody
is to count for one, nobody for more than one,” is equally unsatisfactory. It
may be taken to imply that the useless and the criminal should be entitled to
as much happiness as the useful and the virtuous. While it gives no rule for
private as distinct from public conduct, it provides no real guidance for the
legislator. For neither happiness, nor the concrete means to happiness, nor
finally the conditions of its realization can be distributed; and in the end
“not general happiness becomes the ethical standard by which legislative
action is to be guided, but universal justice.” Yet the implications of this
latter conclusion Spencer never fully thought out. He accepted bodily
without farther questioning the hedonistic psychology by which the
Utilitarians sought to justify their theory while he rejected the theory itself.
Good, e.g. defined by him “as conduct conducive to life,” is also further
defined as that which is “conducive to a surplus of pleasures over pains.”
Happiness, again, is always regarded as consisting in feeling, ultimately in
pleasant feeling, and there is no attempt to apply the same principles of
criticism which he had successfully applied to the Utilitarians’ “happiness”
to the conception of “pleasure.” And, though he maintains as against the
Utilitarians the existence of certain fundamental moral intuitions which
have come to be quite independent of any present conscious experience of
their utility, he yet holds that they are the results of accumulated racial
Page 574
experiences gradually organized and inherited. Finally, side by side with a
theory of the nature of moral obligation thus fundamentally empirical and a
posteriori in its outlook, he maintains in his account of justice the existence
of the idea of justice as distinct from a mere sentiment, carrying with it an a
priori belief in its existence and identical in its a priori and intuitive
character with the ultimate criterion of Utilitarianism itself. The fact is that
any close philosophical analysis of Spencer’s system of ethics can only
result in the discovery of a multitude of mutually conflicting and for the
most part logically untenable theories. It is frequently impossible to
discover whether he wishes by an appeal to evolutionary principles to
reinforce the sanctions and emphasize the absolute character of the
traditional morality which in the main he accepts without question from the
current opinions about conduct of his age, or whether he wishes to discredit
and disprove the validity of that morality in order to substitute by the aid of
the biological sciences a new ethical code. The argument, for instance, that
intuitive and a priori beliefs gain their absolute character from the fact that
they are the result of continued transmission and accumulation of past
nervous modifications in the history of the race would, if taken seriously,
lead us to the belief that ultimate ethical sanctions are to be sought, not by
an appeal to the moral consciousness, but by the investigation of brain
tissue and the relation of man’s bodily organism to its environment. Yet
such a view would be totally at variance with much that Spencer says
(especially in his treatment of justice) concerning the trustworthiness and
inevitable character of men’s constant appeal to the intuitions of their moral
consciousness. Moreover, the very fact itself of the possibility of inheriting
acquired moral characteristics is still hotly debated by those biologists with
whom should rest the ultimate verdict. Again, the argument that “conduct is
good or bad according as its total effects are pleasurable or painful,” and
that ultimately “pleasure-giving acts are life-sustaining acts,” seems to
involve Spencer in a multitude of unverified assumptions and contradictory
theory of the nature of moral obligation thus fundamentally empirical and a
posteriori in its outlook, he maintains in his account of justice the existence
of the idea of justice as distinct from a mere sentiment, carrying with it an a
priori belief in its existence and identical in its a priori and intuitive
character with the ultimate criterion of Utilitarianism itself. The fact is that
any close philosophical analysis of Spencer’s system of ethics can only
result in the discovery of a multitude of mutually conflicting and for the
most part logically untenable theories. It is frequently impossible to
discover whether he wishes by an appeal to evolutionary principles to
reinforce the sanctions and emphasize the absolute character of the
traditional morality which in the main he accepts without question from the
current opinions about conduct of his age, or whether he wishes to discredit
and disprove the validity of that morality in order to substitute by the aid of
the biological sciences a new ethical code. The argument, for instance, that
intuitive and a priori beliefs gain their absolute character from the fact that
they are the result of continued transmission and accumulation of past
nervous modifications in the history of the race would, if taken seriously,
lead us to the belief that ultimate ethical sanctions are to be sought, not by
an appeal to the moral consciousness, but by the investigation of brain
tissue and the relation of man’s bodily organism to its environment. Yet
such a view would be totally at variance with much that Spencer says
(especially in his treatment of justice) concerning the trustworthiness and
inevitable character of men’s constant appeal to the intuitions of their moral
consciousness. Moreover, the very fact itself of the possibility of inheriting
acquired moral characteristics is still hotly debated by those biologists with
whom should rest the ultimate verdict. Again, the argument that “conduct is
good or bad according as its total effects are pleasurable or painful,” and
that ultimately “pleasure-giving acts are life-sustaining acts,” seems to
involve Spencer in a multitude of unverified assumptions and contradictory
Page 575
theories. In the first place it is never clear whether Spencer regards the fact
that a particular course of conduct is accompanied by a feeling of pleasure
as a test of its life-preserving and life-sustaining character, or whether he
wishes us to use as our criterion of what is pleasant in conduct the fact that
the conduct in question seems conducive to the continued existence of
man’s organic life. He apparently passes from one criterion to the other as
best suits the purpose of the moment. He does not prove the coincidence of
life-sustaining and pleasant activities. He assumes throughout that the
pleasant is the opposite of what is painful, and seems unaware of the
difficulty of determining by means of terms so highly abstract the specific
character of moral action. We find in his theory no satisfactory attempt to
discriminate between the pleasure aimed at by the altruist and the
immediate pleasure of egoistic action. Similarly he disregards the
distinction between pleasant feeling as an immediate motive of conduct and
the idea of the attainment of future pleasure whether by the race or by the
individual. Spencer is involved in effect in most of the confusions and
contradictions of hedonistic psychology.
Nor is his attempt to construct a scientific criterion out of data derived
from the biological sciences productive of satisfactory results. He is
hampered by a distinction between “absolute” and “relative” ethics
definitely formulated in the last two chapters of The Data of Ethics.
Absolute ethics would deal with such laws as would regulate the conduct of
ideal man in an ideal society, i.e. a society where conduct has reached the
stage of complete adjustment to the needs of social life. Relative ethics, on
the other hand, is concerned only with such conduct as is advantageous for
that society which has not yet reached the end of complete adaptation to its
environment, i.e. which is at present imperfect. It is hardly necessary to say
that Spencer does not tell us how to bring the two ethical systems into
correlation. And the actual criteria of conduct derived from biological
considerations are almost ludicrously inadequate. Conduct, e.g., is said to
that a particular course of conduct is accompanied by a feeling of pleasure
as a test of its life-preserving and life-sustaining character, or whether he
wishes us to use as our criterion of what is pleasant in conduct the fact that
the conduct in question seems conducive to the continued existence of
man’s organic life. He apparently passes from one criterion to the other as
best suits the purpose of the moment. He does not prove the coincidence of
life-sustaining and pleasant activities. He assumes throughout that the
pleasant is the opposite of what is painful, and seems unaware of the
difficulty of determining by means of terms so highly abstract the specific
character of moral action. We find in his theory no satisfactory attempt to
discriminate between the pleasure aimed at by the altruist and the
immediate pleasure of egoistic action. Similarly he disregards the
distinction between pleasant feeling as an immediate motive of conduct and
the idea of the attainment of future pleasure whether by the race or by the
individual. Spencer is involved in effect in most of the confusions and
contradictions of hedonistic psychology.
Nor is his attempt to construct a scientific criterion out of data derived
from the biological sciences productive of satisfactory results. He is
hampered by a distinction between “absolute” and “relative” ethics
definitely formulated in the last two chapters of The Data of Ethics.
Absolute ethics would deal with such laws as would regulate the conduct of
ideal man in an ideal society, i.e. a society where conduct has reached the
stage of complete adjustment to the needs of social life. Relative ethics, on
the other hand, is concerned only with such conduct as is advantageous for
that society which has not yet reached the end of complete adaptation to its
environment, i.e. which is at present imperfect. It is hardly necessary to say
that Spencer does not tell us how to bring the two ethical systems into
correlation. And the actual criteria of conduct derived from biological
considerations are almost ludicrously inadequate. Conduct, e.g., is said to
Page 576
be more moral in proportion as it exhibits a tendency on the part of the
individual or society to become more “definite,” “coherent” and
“heterogeneous.” Or, again, we should recognize as a test of the
“authoritative” character of moral ideas or feelings the fact that they are
complex and representative, referring to a remote rather than to a proximate
good, remembering the while that “the sense of duty is transitory, and will
diminish as fast as moralization increases.” In fact, no acceptable scientific
criterion emerges, and the outcome of Spencer’s attempt to ascertain the
laws of life and the conditions of existence is either a restatement of the
dictates of the moral consciousness in vague and cumbrous quasi-scientific
phraseology, or the substitution of the meaningless test of “survivability” as
a standard of perfection for the usual and intelligible standards of “good”
and “right.”
A similar criticism might fairly be passed upon the majority of
philosophers who approach ethics from the standpoint of evolution. Sir
Leslie Stephen, for instance, wishes to substitute the conception of “social
health” for that of universal happiness, and considers that
Leslie Stephen. the conditions of social health are to be discovered by an
examination of the “social organism” or of “social
tissue,” the laws of which can be studied apart from those laws by which
the individuals composing society regulate their conduct. “The social
evolution means the evolution of a strong social tissue; the best type is the
type implied by the strongest tissue.” But on the important question as to
what constitutes the strongest social tissue, or to what extent the analogy
between society as at present constituted and organic life is really
applicable, we are left without certain guidance. The fact is that with few
exceptions evolutionary moral philosophers evade the choice between
alternatives which is always presented to them. They begin, for the most
part, with a belief that in ethics as in other departments of human
knowledge “the more developed must be interpreted by the less
individual or society to become more “definite,” “coherent” and
“heterogeneous.” Or, again, we should recognize as a test of the
“authoritative” character of moral ideas or feelings the fact that they are
complex and representative, referring to a remote rather than to a proximate
good, remembering the while that “the sense of duty is transitory, and will
diminish as fast as moralization increases.” In fact, no acceptable scientific
criterion emerges, and the outcome of Spencer’s attempt to ascertain the
laws of life and the conditions of existence is either a restatement of the
dictates of the moral consciousness in vague and cumbrous quasi-scientific
phraseology, or the substitution of the meaningless test of “survivability” as
a standard of perfection for the usual and intelligible standards of “good”
and “right.”
A similar criticism might fairly be passed upon the majority of
philosophers who approach ethics from the standpoint of evolution. Sir
Leslie Stephen, for instance, wishes to substitute the conception of “social
health” for that of universal happiness, and considers that
Leslie Stephen. the conditions of social health are to be discovered by an
examination of the “social organism” or of “social
tissue,” the laws of which can be studied apart from those laws by which
the individuals composing society regulate their conduct. “The social
evolution means the evolution of a strong social tissue; the best type is the
type implied by the strongest tissue.” But on the important question as to
what constitutes the strongest social tissue, or to what extent the analogy
between society as at present constituted and organic life is really
applicable, we are left without certain guidance. The fact is that with few
exceptions evolutionary moral philosophers evade the choice between
alternatives which is always presented to them. They begin, for the most
part, with a belief that in ethics as in other departments of human
knowledge “the more developed must be interpreted by the less
Page 577
developed”—though frequently in the sequel complexity or posteriority of
development is erected as a standard by means of which to judge the
process of development itself. They are not content to write a history of
moral development, applying to it the principles by which Darwinians seek
to explain the development of animal life. But the search of origins
frequently leads them into theories of the nature of that moral conduct
whose origin they are anxious to find quite at variance with current and
accepted beliefs concerning its nature. The discovery of the so-called
evolution of morality out of non-moral conditions is very frequently an
unconscious subterfuge by which the evolutionist hides the fact that he is
making a priori judgments upon the value of the moral concepts held to be
evolved. To accept such theories of the origin of morality would carry with
it the conviction that what we took for “moral” conduct was in reality
something very different, and has been so throughout its history. The
legitimate inference which should follow would be the denial of the validity
of those moral laws which have hitherto been regarded as absolute in
character, and the substitution for all customary moral terms of an entirely
new set based upon biological considerations. But it is precisely this, the
only logical inference, which most evolutionary philosophers are unwilling
to draw. They cannot give up their belief in customary morality. Professor
Huxley maintained, for example, in a famous lecture that “the ethical
progress of society depends not on imitating the cosmic process, still less in
running away from it, but in combating it” (Romanes Lecture, ad fin.). And
very frequently arguments are adduced by evolutionists to prove that men’s
belief in the absolute character of moral precepts is one of the necessary
means adopted by nature to carry out her designs for the social welfare of
mankind. Yet the other alternative, to which such reasoning points, they are
reluctant to accept. For the belief that moral obligation is absolute in
character, that it is alike impossible to explain its origin and transcend its
laws, would make the search for a scientific criterion of conduct to be
development is erected as a standard by means of which to judge the
process of development itself. They are not content to write a history of
moral development, applying to it the principles by which Darwinians seek
to explain the development of animal life. But the search of origins
frequently leads them into theories of the nature of that moral conduct
whose origin they are anxious to find quite at variance with current and
accepted beliefs concerning its nature. The discovery of the so-called
evolution of morality out of non-moral conditions is very frequently an
unconscious subterfuge by which the evolutionist hides the fact that he is
making a priori judgments upon the value of the moral concepts held to be
evolved. To accept such theories of the origin of morality would carry with
it the conviction that what we took for “moral” conduct was in reality
something very different, and has been so throughout its history. The
legitimate inference which should follow would be the denial of the validity
of those moral laws which have hitherto been regarded as absolute in
character, and the substitution for all customary moral terms of an entirely
new set based upon biological considerations. But it is precisely this, the
only logical inference, which most evolutionary philosophers are unwilling
to draw. They cannot give up their belief in customary morality. Professor
Huxley maintained, for example, in a famous lecture that “the ethical
progress of society depends not on imitating the cosmic process, still less in
running away from it, but in combating it” (Romanes Lecture, ad fin.). And
very frequently arguments are adduced by evolutionists to prove that men’s
belief in the absolute character of moral precepts is one of the necessary
means adopted by nature to carry out her designs for the social welfare of
mankind. Yet the other alternative, to which such reasoning points, they are
reluctant to accept. For the belief that moral obligation is absolute in
character, that it is alike impossible to explain its origin and transcend its
laws, would make the search for a scientific criterion of conduct to be
Page 578
deduced from the laws of life and conditions of existence meaningless, if
not absurd.
Perhaps the one European thinker who has carried evolutionary
principles in ethics to their logical conclusion is Friedrich Nietzsche.
Almost any system of morality or immorality might find some justification
in Nietzsche’s writings, which are extraordinarily chaotic
Nietzsche. and full of the wildest exaggerations. Yet it has been a
true instinct which has led popular opinion as testified to
by current literature to find in Nietzsche the most orthodox exponent of
Darwinian ideas in their application to ethics. For he saw clearly that to be
successful evolutionary ethics must involve the “transvaluation of all
values,” the “demoralization” of all ordinary current morality. He accepted
frankly the glorification of brute strength, superior cunning and all the
qualities necessary for success in the struggle for existence, to which the
ethics of evolution necessarily tend. He proclaimed himself, before
everything else, a physiologist, and looked to physiology to provide the
ultimate standard for everything that has value; and though his own ethical
code necessarily involves the disappearance of sympathy, love, toleration
and all existing altruistic emotions, he yet in a sense finds room for them in
such altruistic self-sacrifice as prepares the way for the higher man of the
future. Thus, after a fashion, he is able to reconcile the conflicting claims of
egoism and altruism and succeed where most apostles of evolution fail. The
Christian virtues, sympathy for the weak, the suffering, &c., represent a
necessary stage to be passed through in the evolution of the Übermensch,
i.e. the stage when the weak and suffering combine in revolt against the
strong. They are to be superseded, not so much because all social virtues are
to be scorned and rejected, as because in their effects, i.e. in their tendency
to perpetuate and prolong the existence of the weak and those who are least
well equipped and endowed by nature, they are anti-social in character and
inimical to the survival of the strongest and most vigorous type of
not absurd.
Perhaps the one European thinker who has carried evolutionary
principles in ethics to their logical conclusion is Friedrich Nietzsche.
Almost any system of morality or immorality might find some justification
in Nietzsche’s writings, which are extraordinarily chaotic
Nietzsche. and full of the wildest exaggerations. Yet it has been a
true instinct which has led popular opinion as testified to
by current literature to find in Nietzsche the most orthodox exponent of
Darwinian ideas in their application to ethics. For he saw clearly that to be
successful evolutionary ethics must involve the “transvaluation of all
values,” the “demoralization” of all ordinary current morality. He accepted
frankly the glorification of brute strength, superior cunning and all the
qualities necessary for success in the struggle for existence, to which the
ethics of evolution necessarily tend. He proclaimed himself, before
everything else, a physiologist, and looked to physiology to provide the
ultimate standard for everything that has value; and though his own ethical
code necessarily involves the disappearance of sympathy, love, toleration
and all existing altruistic emotions, he yet in a sense finds room for them in
such altruistic self-sacrifice as prepares the way for the higher man of the
future. Thus, after a fashion, he is able to reconcile the conflicting claims of
egoism and altruism and succeed where most apostles of evolution fail. The
Christian virtues, sympathy for the weak, the suffering, &c., represent a
necessary stage to be passed through in the evolution of the Übermensch,
i.e. the stage when the weak and suffering combine in revolt against the
strong. They are to be superseded, not so much because all social virtues are
to be scorned and rejected, as because in their effects, i.e. in their tendency
to perpetuate and prolong the existence of the weak and those who are least
well equipped and endowed by nature, they are anti-social in character and
inimical to the survival of the strongest and most vigorous type of
Page 579
humanity. Consequently Nietzsche in effect maintains the following
paradoxical position: he explains the existence of altruism upon egoistical
principles; he advocates the total abolition of all altruism by carrying these
same egoistical principles to their logical conclusion; he nevertheless
appeals to that moral instinct which makes men ready to sacrifice their own
narrow personal interests to the higher good of society—an instinct
profoundly altruistic in character—as the ultimate justification of the ethics
he enunciates. Such a position is a reductio ad absurdum of the attempt to
transcend the ultimate character of those intuitions and feelings which
prompt men to benevolence. Thus, though incidentally there is much to be
learned from Nietzsche, especially from his criticism of the ethics of
pessimism, or from the strictures he passes upon the negative morality of
extreme asceticism or quietism, his system inevitably provides its own
refutation. For no philosophy which travesties the real course of history and
distorts the moral facts is likely to commend itself to the sober judgment of
mankind however brilliant be its exposition or ingenious its arguments.
Finally, the conceptions of strength, power and masterfulness by which
Nietzsche attempts to determine his own moral ideal, become, when
examined, as relative and unsatisfactory as other criteria of moral action
said to be deduced from evolutionary principles. Men desire strength or
power not as ends but as means to ends beyond them; Nietzsche is most
convincing when the Übermensch is left undefined. Imagined as ideal man,
i.e. as morality depicts him, he becomes intelligible; imagined as Nietzsche
describes him he reels back into the beast, and that distinction which chiefly
separates man from the animal world out of which he has emerged, viz. his
unique power of self-consciousness and self-criticism, is obliterated.
It was upon this crucial difficulty, i.e. the transition in the evolution of
morality from the stage of purely animal and unconscious action to
specifically human action,—i.e. action directed by self-conscious and
purposive intelligence to an end conceived as good,—that the polemic of
paradoxical position: he explains the existence of altruism upon egoistical
principles; he advocates the total abolition of all altruism by carrying these
same egoistical principles to their logical conclusion; he nevertheless
appeals to that moral instinct which makes men ready to sacrifice their own
narrow personal interests to the higher good of society—an instinct
profoundly altruistic in character—as the ultimate justification of the ethics
he enunciates. Such a position is a reductio ad absurdum of the attempt to
transcend the ultimate character of those intuitions and feelings which
prompt men to benevolence. Thus, though incidentally there is much to be
learned from Nietzsche, especially from his criticism of the ethics of
pessimism, or from the strictures he passes upon the negative morality of
extreme asceticism or quietism, his system inevitably provides its own
refutation. For no philosophy which travesties the real course of history and
distorts the moral facts is likely to commend itself to the sober judgment of
mankind however brilliant be its exposition or ingenious its arguments.
Finally, the conceptions of strength, power and masterfulness by which
Nietzsche attempts to determine his own moral ideal, become, when
examined, as relative and unsatisfactory as other criteria of moral action
said to be deduced from evolutionary principles. Men desire strength or
power not as ends but as means to ends beyond them; Nietzsche is most
convincing when the Übermensch is left undefined. Imagined as ideal man,
i.e. as morality depicts him, he becomes intelligible; imagined as Nietzsche
describes him he reels back into the beast, and that distinction which chiefly
separates man from the animal world out of which he has emerged, viz. his
unique power of self-consciousness and self-criticism, is obliterated.
It was upon this crucial difficulty, i.e. the transition in the evolution of
morality from the stage of purely animal and unconscious action to
specifically human action,—i.e. action directed by self-conscious and
purposive intelligence to an end conceived as good,—that the polemic of
Page 580
T.H. Green and his idealistic followers fastened. And it is
T.H. Green. perhaps unfortunate that metaphysical doctrines
enunciated chiefly for the purposes of criticism not in
themselves vitally necessary to the theory of morality propounded should
have been regarded as the main contribution to ethical theory of idealist
writers, and as such treated severely by hostile critics. Green’s principal
objection to evolutionary moral philosophy is contained in the argument
that no merely “natural” explanation of the facts of morality is conceivable.
The knowing consciousness,—i.e. so far as conduct is concerned the moral
consciousness,—can never become an object of knowledge in the sense in
which natural phenomena are objects of scientific knowledge. For such
knowledge implies the existence of a knowing consciousness as a relating
and uniting intelligence capable of distinguishing itself from the objects to
which it relates. And more particularly the existence of the moral
consciousness implies “the transition from mere want to consciousness of
wanted object, from impulse to satisfy the want to effort for the realization
of the wanted objects, implies the presence of the want to a subject which
distinguishes itself from it.” Consequently the facts of moral development
imply with the emergence of human consciousness the appearance of
something qualitatively different from the facts with which physiology for
instance deals, imply a stratum as it were in development which no
examination of animal tissues, no calculation of consequences with regard
to the preservation of the species can ever satisfactorily explain. However
far back we go in the history of humanity, if the presence of consciousness
be admitted at all, it will be necessary to admit also the presence to
consciousness of an ideal which can be accepted or rejected, of a power of
looking before and after, and aiming at a future which is not yet fully
realized. But unfortunately the temporary exigencies of criticism made it
necessary for Green to emphasize the metaphysic of the self, i.e. to insist
upon the necessity of a critical examination of the pre-requisites of any
T.H. Green. perhaps unfortunate that metaphysical doctrines
enunciated chiefly for the purposes of criticism not in
themselves vitally necessary to the theory of morality propounded should
have been regarded as the main contribution to ethical theory of idealist
writers, and as such treated severely by hostile critics. Green’s principal
objection to evolutionary moral philosophy is contained in the argument
that no merely “natural” explanation of the facts of morality is conceivable.
The knowing consciousness,—i.e. so far as conduct is concerned the moral
consciousness,—can never become an object of knowledge in the sense in
which natural phenomena are objects of scientific knowledge. For such
knowledge implies the existence of a knowing consciousness as a relating
and uniting intelligence capable of distinguishing itself from the objects to
which it relates. And more particularly the existence of the moral
consciousness implies “the transition from mere want to consciousness of
wanted object, from impulse to satisfy the want to effort for the realization
of the wanted objects, implies the presence of the want to a subject which
distinguishes itself from it.” Consequently the facts of moral development
imply with the emergence of human consciousness the appearance of
something qualitatively different from the facts with which physiology for
instance deals, imply a stratum as it were in development which no
examination of animal tissues, no calculation of consequences with regard
to the preservation of the species can ever satisfactorily explain. However
far back we go in the history of humanity, if the presence of consciousness
be admitted at all, it will be necessary to admit also the presence to
consciousness of an ideal which can be accepted or rejected, of a power of
looking before and after, and aiming at a future which is not yet fully
realized. But unfortunately the temporary exigencies of criticism made it
necessary for Green to emphasize the metaphysic of the self, i.e. to insist
upon the necessity of a critical examination of the pre-requisites of any
Page 581
form of self-consciousness and especially of the knowing consciousness, to
such an extent that critics have lost sight of the real dependence of his
metaphysic upon the direct evidence of the moral consciousness. The
philosophic value, the sincerity, the breadth and depth of his treatment of
moral facts and institutions have been fully recognized. What has not been
adequately realized is that the metaphysical basis of his system of ethics—
the argument, for example, contained in the introduction to the
Prolegomena—is unfairly treated if divorced from his treatment of morals
as a whole, and that it can be justly estimated only if interpreted as much as
the conclusion as the starting-point of moral theory. The doctrine of the
eternity of the self, for instance, against which much criticism (e.g. Taylor,
The Problem of Conduct, chap. ii.) has been directed, though it is chiefly
expressed in the language of epistemology, has its roots nevertheless in the
direct testimony of moral experience. For morality implies a power in the
individual of rising above the interests of his own narrower self and
identifying himself in the pursuit of a universal good with the true interests
of all other selves. Similarly the conception of the self as a moral unity
arises naturally out of the impossibility of finding the summum bonum in a
succession of transient states of consciousness such as hedonism for
example postulates. Good as a true universal can only be realized by a true
self, and both imply a principle of unity not wholly expressible in terms of
the particulars which it unifies. But whether the idealistic interpretation of
the nature of universal good be the true one, i.e. whether we are justified in
identifying that self-consciousness which is capable of grasping the
principle of unity with the principle of unity which it grasps is a
metaphysical and theistic problem comparatively irrelevant to Green’s
moral theory. It would be quite possible to accept his criticisms of
naturalism and hedonism while rejecting many of the metaphysical
inferences which he draws. A somewhat similar answer might be returned
to those critics who find Green’s use of the term “self-realization” or “self-
such an extent that critics have lost sight of the real dependence of his
metaphysic upon the direct evidence of the moral consciousness. The
philosophic value, the sincerity, the breadth and depth of his treatment of
moral facts and institutions have been fully recognized. What has not been
adequately realized is that the metaphysical basis of his system of ethics—
the argument, for example, contained in the introduction to the
Prolegomena—is unfairly treated if divorced from his treatment of morals
as a whole, and that it can be justly estimated only if interpreted as much as
the conclusion as the starting-point of moral theory. The doctrine of the
eternity of the self, for instance, against which much criticism (e.g. Taylor,
The Problem of Conduct, chap. ii.) has been directed, though it is chiefly
expressed in the language of epistemology, has its roots nevertheless in the
direct testimony of moral experience. For morality implies a power in the
individual of rising above the interests of his own narrower self and
identifying himself in the pursuit of a universal good with the true interests
of all other selves. Similarly the conception of the self as a moral unity
arises naturally out of the impossibility of finding the summum bonum in a
succession of transient states of consciousness such as hedonism for
example postulates. Good as a true universal can only be realized by a true
self, and both imply a principle of unity not wholly expressible in terms of
the particulars which it unifies. But whether the idealistic interpretation of
the nature of universal good be the true one, i.e. whether we are justified in
identifying that self-consciousness which is capable of grasping the
principle of unity with the principle of unity which it grasps is a
metaphysical and theistic problem comparatively irrelevant to Green’s
moral theory. It would be quite possible to accept his criticisms of
naturalism and hedonism while rejecting many of the metaphysical
inferences which he draws. A somewhat similar answer might be returned
to those critics who find Green’s use of the term “self-realization” or “self-
Page 582
development” as characteristic of the moral ideal unsatisfactory. It is quite
easy to exhibit the futility of such a conception if understood formally for
the practical purposes of moral philosophy. If the phrase be understood to
mean the realization of some capacities of the self it does not appear to
discriminate sufficiently between the good and bad capacities; while the
realization under present conditions of all the capacities of a self is
impossible. And to aim so far as is possible at all-round development would
again ignore the distinction between vice and virtue. But used in the sense
in which Green habitually uses it self-realization implies, as he puts it, the
fulfilment by the good man of his rational capacity or the idea of a best that
is in time, i.e. the distinction between the good and the bad self is never
ignored, but is the fundamental assumption of his theory. And if it be urged
that the expression is in any case tautological, i.e. that the good is defined in
terms of self-realization and self-realization in terms of the good, it may be
doubted whether any rational system of ethics can avoid a similar
imputation. Green would admit that in a certain sense the conception of
“good” is indefinable, i.e. that it can only be recognized in the particulars of
conduct of which it is the universal form. Only, therefore, to those
philosophers who believe in the existence of a criterion of morality, i.e. a
universal test such as that of pleasure, happiness and the like, by which we
can judge of the worth of actions, will Green’s position seem absurd; since,
on the contrary, such conceptions as those of “self-development” or “self-
realization” seem to have a definite and positive value if they call attention
to the metaphysical implications of morality and accurately characterize the
moral facts. What ambiguity they possess arises from the ambiguity of
morality itself. For moral progress consists in the actualization of what is
already potentially in existence. The striking merit of Green’s moral
philosophy is that the idealism which he advocates is rooted and grounded
in moral habits and institutions: and the metaphysic in which it culminates
is based upon principles already implicitly recognized by the moral
easy to exhibit the futility of such a conception if understood formally for
the practical purposes of moral philosophy. If the phrase be understood to
mean the realization of some capacities of the self it does not appear to
discriminate sufficiently between the good and bad capacities; while the
realization under present conditions of all the capacities of a self is
impossible. And to aim so far as is possible at all-round development would
again ignore the distinction between vice and virtue. But used in the sense
in which Green habitually uses it self-realization implies, as he puts it, the
fulfilment by the good man of his rational capacity or the idea of a best that
is in time, i.e. the distinction between the good and the bad self is never
ignored, but is the fundamental assumption of his theory. And if it be urged
that the expression is in any case tautological, i.e. that the good is defined in
terms of self-realization and self-realization in terms of the good, it may be
doubted whether any rational system of ethics can avoid a similar
imputation. Green would admit that in a certain sense the conception of
“good” is indefinable, i.e. that it can only be recognized in the particulars of
conduct of which it is the universal form. Only, therefore, to those
philosophers who believe in the existence of a criterion of morality, i.e. a
universal test such as that of pleasure, happiness and the like, by which we
can judge of the worth of actions, will Green’s position seem absurd; since,
on the contrary, such conceptions as those of “self-development” or “self-
realization” seem to have a definite and positive value if they call attention
to the metaphysical implications of morality and accurately characterize the
moral facts. What ambiguity they possess arises from the ambiguity of
morality itself. For moral progress consists in the actualization of what is
already potentially in existence. The striking merit of Green’s moral
philosophy is that the idealism which he advocates is rooted and grounded
in moral habits and institutions: and the metaphysic in which it culminates
is based upon principles already implicitly recognized by the moral
Page 583
consciousness of the ordinary man. Nothing could be farther from Green’s
teaching than the belief that constructive metaphysics could, unaided by the
intuitions of the moral consciousness, discover laws for the regulation of
conduct.
But although Green’s loyalty to the primary facts of the moral
consciousness prevented him from constructing a rationalistic system of
morals based solely upon the conclusions of metaphysics, it was perhaps
inevitable that the revival of interest in metaphysics so prominent in his
own speculations should lead to a more daring criticism of ethical first
principles in other writers. Bradley’s Ethical Studies had presented with
great brilliancy an idealist theory of morality not very far removed from
that of Green’s Prolegomena. But the publication of Appearance and
Reality by the same author marked a great advance in philosophical
criticism of ethical postulates, and a growing dissatisfaction with current
reconciliations between moral first principles and the conclusions of
metaphysics. Appearance and Reality was not primarily concerned with
morals, yet it inevitably led to certain conclusions affecting conduct, and it
was no very long time before these conclusions were elaborated in detail.
Professor A.E. Taylor’s Problem of Conduct (1901) is
Taylor. one of the most noteworthy and independent
contributions to Moral Philosophy published in recent
years. But it nevertheless follows in the main Bradley’s line of criticism and
may therefore be regarded as representative of his school. There are two
principal positions in Professor Taylor’s work:—(1) a refusal to base ethics
upon metaphysics, and (2) the discovery of an irreconcilable dualism in the
nature of morality which takes many shapes, but may be summarized
roughly as consisting in an ultimate opposition between egoism and
altruism. With regard to the first of these Taylor says (op. cit. p. 4) that his
object is to show that “ethics is as independent of metaphysical speculation
for its principles and methods as any of the so-called ‘natural sciences’; that
teaching than the belief that constructive metaphysics could, unaided by the
intuitions of the moral consciousness, discover laws for the regulation of
conduct.
But although Green’s loyalty to the primary facts of the moral
consciousness prevented him from constructing a rationalistic system of
morals based solely upon the conclusions of metaphysics, it was perhaps
inevitable that the revival of interest in metaphysics so prominent in his
own speculations should lead to a more daring criticism of ethical first
principles in other writers. Bradley’s Ethical Studies had presented with
great brilliancy an idealist theory of morality not very far removed from
that of Green’s Prolegomena. But the publication of Appearance and
Reality by the same author marked a great advance in philosophical
criticism of ethical postulates, and a growing dissatisfaction with current
reconciliations between moral first principles and the conclusions of
metaphysics. Appearance and Reality was not primarily concerned with
morals, yet it inevitably led to certain conclusions affecting conduct, and it
was no very long time before these conclusions were elaborated in detail.
Professor A.E. Taylor’s Problem of Conduct (1901) is
Taylor. one of the most noteworthy and independent
contributions to Moral Philosophy published in recent
years. But it nevertheless follows in the main Bradley’s line of criticism and
may therefore be regarded as representative of his school. There are two
principal positions in Professor Taylor’s work:—(1) a refusal to base ethics
upon metaphysics, and (2) the discovery of an irreconcilable dualism in the
nature of morality which takes many shapes, but may be summarized
roughly as consisting in an ultimate opposition between egoism and
altruism. With regard to the first of these Taylor says (op. cit. p. 4) that his
object is to show that “ethics is as independent of metaphysical speculation
for its principles and methods as any of the so-called ‘natural sciences’; that
Page 584
its real basis must be sought not in philosophical theories about the nature
of the Absolute or the ultimate constitution of the Universe, but in the
empirical facts of human life as they are revealed to us in our concrete
everyday experience of the world and mankind, and sifted and systematized
by the sciences of psychology and sociology.... Ethics should be regarded as
a purely ‘positive’ or ‘experimental’ and not as a ‘speculative’ science.”
With regard to the second position one quotation will suffice (op. cit. p.
183). “Altruism and egoism are divergent developments from the common
psychological root of primitive ethical sentiment. Both developments are
alike unavoidable, and each is ultimately irreconcilable with the other.
Neither egoism nor altruism can be made the sole basis of moral theory
without mutilation of the facts, nor can any higher category be discovered
by the aid of which their rival claims may be finally adjusted.”
Professor Taylor expounds these two theories with great brilliance of
argument and much ingenuity, yet neither of them will perhaps carry
complete conviction to the minds of the majority of his critics. It is curious,
in the first place, to find the independence of moral philosophy upon
metaphysics supported by metaphysical arguments. For whatever may be
the real character of the interrelation of moral and metaphysical first
principles it is obvious that Taylor’s own dissatisfaction with current moral
principles arises from an inability to believe in their ultimate rationality, i.e.
a belief that they are untenable from the standpoint of ultimate metaphysics;
and perhaps the most interesting portion of his book is the chapter entitled
“Beyond Good and Bad,” in which the highest and final form of the ethical
consciousness of mankind is subjected to searching criticism. But further, it
is becoming increasingly apparent that psychology (upon which Taylor
would base morality) itself involves metaphysical assumptions; its position
in fact cannot be stated except as a metaphysical position, whether that of
subjective idealism or any other. And the need which most philosophers
have felt for some philosophical foundation for morality arises, not from
of the Absolute or the ultimate constitution of the Universe, but in the
empirical facts of human life as they are revealed to us in our concrete
everyday experience of the world and mankind, and sifted and systematized
by the sciences of psychology and sociology.... Ethics should be regarded as
a purely ‘positive’ or ‘experimental’ and not as a ‘speculative’ science.”
With regard to the second position one quotation will suffice (op. cit. p.
183). “Altruism and egoism are divergent developments from the common
psychological root of primitive ethical sentiment. Both developments are
alike unavoidable, and each is ultimately irreconcilable with the other.
Neither egoism nor altruism can be made the sole basis of moral theory
without mutilation of the facts, nor can any higher category be discovered
by the aid of which their rival claims may be finally adjusted.”
Professor Taylor expounds these two theories with great brilliance of
argument and much ingenuity, yet neither of them will perhaps carry
complete conviction to the minds of the majority of his critics. It is curious,
in the first place, to find the independence of moral philosophy upon
metaphysics supported by metaphysical arguments. For whatever may be
the real character of the interrelation of moral and metaphysical first
principles it is obvious that Taylor’s own dissatisfaction with current moral
principles arises from an inability to believe in their ultimate rationality, i.e.
a belief that they are untenable from the standpoint of ultimate metaphysics;
and perhaps the most interesting portion of his book is the chapter entitled
“Beyond Good and Bad,” in which the highest and final form of the ethical
consciousness of mankind is subjected to searching criticism. But further, it
is becoming increasingly apparent that psychology (upon which Taylor
would base morality) itself involves metaphysical assumptions; its position
in fact cannot be stated except as a metaphysical position, whether that of
subjective idealism or any other. And the need which most philosophers
have felt for some philosophical foundation for morality arises, not from
Page 585
any desire to subordinate moral insight to speculative theory, but because
the moral facts themselves are inexplicable except in the light of first
principles which metaphysics alone can criticize.
Taylor himself attempts to find the roots of ethics in the moral sentiments
of mankind, the moral sentiments being primarily feelings or emotions,
though they imply and result in judgments of approval and disapproval
upon conduct. But it may be doubted whether he succeeds in clearly
distinguishing ethical feelings from ethical judgments, and if they are to be
treated as synonymous it seems difficult to avoid the conclusion that the
implications of moral “judgment” must involve a reference to metaphysics.
Moreover, it is obvious that a great part of Taylor’s quarrel with current
moral ideals arises from the fact that they do not commend themselves to
the moral judgment, i.e. from the standpoint of real goodness they are
unsatisfactory, being tainted with evil. Hence it appears difficult to
reconcile what is in effect a belief in the validity of the judgments of the
moral consciousness with a belief that the real source and justification of
that consciousness are to be found in the very sentiments and vague mass of
floating feelings upon which it pronounces. Scepticism seems to be the only
possible result of such a position. Taylor’s polemic against metaphysical
systems of ethics is based throughout upon an alleged discrepancy and
separation between the facts of moral “experience,” the judgments of the
moral consciousness, and theories as to the nature of these which the
philosophers whom he attacks would by no means accept. There is no doubt
a distinction between morality as a form of consciousness and reflection
upon that morality. But such a distinction neither corresponds to, nor
testifies to, the existence of a distinction between morality as “experience”
and morality as “theory” or “idea.”
Taylor is more persuasive when he is developing his second main thesis
—that of the alleged existence of an ultimate dualism in the nature of
the moral facts themselves are inexplicable except in the light of first
principles which metaphysics alone can criticize.
Taylor himself attempts to find the roots of ethics in the moral sentiments
of mankind, the moral sentiments being primarily feelings or emotions,
though they imply and result in judgments of approval and disapproval
upon conduct. But it may be doubted whether he succeeds in clearly
distinguishing ethical feelings from ethical judgments, and if they are to be
treated as synonymous it seems difficult to avoid the conclusion that the
implications of moral “judgment” must involve a reference to metaphysics.
Moreover, it is obvious that a great part of Taylor’s quarrel with current
moral ideals arises from the fact that they do not commend themselves to
the moral judgment, i.e. from the standpoint of real goodness they are
unsatisfactory, being tainted with evil. Hence it appears difficult to
reconcile what is in effect a belief in the validity of the judgments of the
moral consciousness with a belief that the real source and justification of
that consciousness are to be found in the very sentiments and vague mass of
floating feelings upon which it pronounces. Scepticism seems to be the only
possible result of such a position. Taylor’s polemic against metaphysical
systems of ethics is based throughout upon an alleged discrepancy and
separation between the facts of moral “experience,” the judgments of the
moral consciousness, and theories as to the nature of these which the
philosophers whom he attacks would by no means accept. There is no doubt
a distinction between morality as a form of consciousness and reflection
upon that morality. But such a distinction neither corresponds to, nor
testifies to, the existence of a distinction between morality as “experience”
and morality as “theory” or “idea.”
Taylor is more persuasive when he is developing his second main thesis
—that of the alleged existence of an ultimate dualism in the nature of
Page 586
morality. His accounts of the genesis of the conceptions of obligation and
responsibility as of most of the ultimate conceptions with which moral
philosophy deals will be accepted or rejected to the extent to which the
main contention concerning the psychological basis of ethics commends
itself to the reader. But in his exposition of the fundamental contradiction
involved in morality elaborated with much care and illustrative argument he
appeals for the most part to facts familiar to the unphilosophical moral
consciousness. He begins by finding an ultimate opposition between the
instincts of self-assertion and instincts which secure the production and
protection of the coming generation even in the infra-ethical world with
which biology deals. He traces this opposition into the forms in which it
appears in the social life of mankind (as, e.g., in the difficulty of reconciling
the conflicting claims of individual self-development and self-culture and
social service), and finds “a hidden root of insincerity and hypocrisy
beneath all morality” (p. 243), inasmuch as it is not possible to pursue any
one type of ideal without some departure from singleness of purpose. And
he finds all the conceptions by which men have hoped to reconcile admitted
antagonisms and divergencies between moral ideals claiming to be ultimate
and authoritative alike unsatisfactory (p. 285). Progress is illusory; there is
no satisfactory goal to which moral development inevitably tends; religion
in which some take refuge when distressed by the inexplicable
contradictions of moral conduct itself “contains and rests upon an element
of make believe” (p. 489).
With Taylor’s presentation of the difficulties with which morality is
expected to grapple probably few would be found seriously to disagree,
though they might consider it unduly pessimistic. But when he turns what is
in effect a statement of certain forms of moral difficulty into an attack upon
the logical and coherent character of morality itself, he is not so likely to
command assent. For the difficulty all men meet with in realizing goodness,
or in being moral, is not in itself evidence of an inherent contradiction in the
responsibility as of most of the ultimate conceptions with which moral
philosophy deals will be accepted or rejected to the extent to which the
main contention concerning the psychological basis of ethics commends
itself to the reader. But in his exposition of the fundamental contradiction
involved in morality elaborated with much care and illustrative argument he
appeals for the most part to facts familiar to the unphilosophical moral
consciousness. He begins by finding an ultimate opposition between the
instincts of self-assertion and instincts which secure the production and
protection of the coming generation even in the infra-ethical world with
which biology deals. He traces this opposition into the forms in which it
appears in the social life of mankind (as, e.g., in the difficulty of reconciling
the conflicting claims of individual self-development and self-culture and
social service), and finds “a hidden root of insincerity and hypocrisy
beneath all morality” (p. 243), inasmuch as it is not possible to pursue any
one type of ideal without some departure from singleness of purpose. And
he finds all the conceptions by which men have hoped to reconcile admitted
antagonisms and divergencies between moral ideals claiming to be ultimate
and authoritative alike unsatisfactory (p. 285). Progress is illusory; there is
no satisfactory goal to which moral development inevitably tends; religion
in which some take refuge when distressed by the inexplicable
contradictions of moral conduct itself “contains and rests upon an element
of make believe” (p. 489).
With Taylor’s presentation of the difficulties with which morality is
expected to grapple probably few would be found seriously to disagree,
though they might consider it unduly pessimistic. But when he turns what is
in effect a statement of certain forms of moral difficulty into an attack upon
the logical and coherent character of morality itself, he is not so likely to
command assent. For the difficulty all men meet with in realizing goodness,
or in being moral, is not in itself evidence of an inherent contradiction in the
Page 587
nature of goodness as such. And what perhaps would first strike an
unprejudiced critic in Taylor’s examples of conflicting ideals or antagonistic
yet ultimate moral judgments would be the perception that they are not
necessarily moral ideas or judgments at all, and hence necessarily not
ultimate.
The claims of self-culture and of social service may when considered in
the abstract or in some hypothetical case appear antagonistic and
irreconcilable. But when they present themselves to the individual moral
consciousness it may be safely asserted (1) that there can be only one moral
choice possible, i.e. that their opposition (where they are opposed) involves
no conflict of duties; and (2) that whichever ideal is in the end preferred,
opportunities will nevertheless be provided within its realization for the
concurrent realization of activities and capacities ordinarily associated with
the ideal alleged to be contradictory. For just as there is no self-realization
which does not involve self-sacrifice, so there is no room for that species of
egoism within the confines of morality which is incompatible with social
service.
It will be clear from the foregoing account of Taylor’s work that the
tendency of his thought, as of that of Bradley, is by no means directed to the
confirmation or re-establishment of those principles of conduct recognized
by the ordinary moral consciousness. Psychology or metaphysics tend in
their systems to usurp the place of authority formerly assigned to ethics
proper.
It would be true on the whole to assert that evolutionary systems of ethics
such as those of Herbert Spencer, Sir Leslie Stephen or Professor S.
Alexander (Moral Order and Progress, 1899), together with the
metaphysical theories of morals of which T.H. Green and
Martineau. Bradley and Taylor are the chief representatives, have
dominated the field of ethical speculation since 1870.
unprejudiced critic in Taylor’s examples of conflicting ideals or antagonistic
yet ultimate moral judgments would be the perception that they are not
necessarily moral ideas or judgments at all, and hence necessarily not
ultimate.
The claims of self-culture and of social service may when considered in
the abstract or in some hypothetical case appear antagonistic and
irreconcilable. But when they present themselves to the individual moral
consciousness it may be safely asserted (1) that there can be only one moral
choice possible, i.e. that their opposition (where they are opposed) involves
no conflict of duties; and (2) that whichever ideal is in the end preferred,
opportunities will nevertheless be provided within its realization for the
concurrent realization of activities and capacities ordinarily associated with
the ideal alleged to be contradictory. For just as there is no self-realization
which does not involve self-sacrifice, so there is no room for that species of
egoism within the confines of morality which is incompatible with social
service.
It will be clear from the foregoing account of Taylor’s work that the
tendency of his thought, as of that of Bradley, is by no means directed to the
confirmation or re-establishment of those principles of conduct recognized
by the ordinary moral consciousness. Psychology or metaphysics tend in
their systems to usurp the place of authority formerly assigned to ethics
proper.
It would be true on the whole to assert that evolutionary systems of ethics
such as those of Herbert Spencer, Sir Leslie Stephen or Professor S.
Alexander (Moral Order and Progress, 1899), together with the
metaphysical theories of morals of which T.H. Green and
Martineau. Bradley and Taylor are the chief representatives, have
dominated the field of ethical speculation since 1870.
Page 588
Nevertheless it is only necessary to mention such a work as Martineau’s
Types of Ethical Theory to dispel the notion that the type of moral
philosophy most characteristically English, i.e. consisting in the patient
analysis of the form and nature of the moral consciousness itself, has given
way or is likely to give way to more ambitious and constructive efforts.
Martineau’s chief endeavour was, as he himself says, to interpret, to
vindicate, and to systematize the moral sentiments, and if the actual
exhibition of what is involved, e.g., in moral choice is the vindication of
morality Martineau may be said to have been successful. It is with his
interpretation and systematization of the moral sentiments that most of
Martineau’s critics have found fault. It is impossible, e.g., to accept his
ordered hierarchy of “springs of action” without perceiving that the real
principle upon which they can be arranged in order at all must depend upon
considerations of circumstances and consequences, of stations and duties,
with which a strict intuitionalism such as that of Martineau would have no
dealing.50 Similarly the notion of Conscience as a special faculty giving its
pronouncements immediately and without reflection cannot be maintained
in the face of modern psychological analysis and is untrue to the nature of
moral judgment itself. And Martineau is curiously unsympathetic to the
universal and social aspect of morality with which evolutionary and idealist
moral philosophers are so largely occupied. Nevertheless there have been
few moral philosophers who have, apart from the idiosyncrasies of their
special prepossessions, set forth with clearer insight or with greater nobility
of language the essential nature of the moral consciousness.
Equal in importance to Martineau’s work is Professor Sidgwick’s
Methods of Ethics which appeared in 1874. The two works are alike in
loftiness of outlook and in the fact that they are devoted to the re-
examination of the nature of the moral consciousness to
Sidgwick. the exclusion of alien branches of inquiry. In most other
respects they differ. Martineau is much more in
Types of Ethical Theory to dispel the notion that the type of moral
philosophy most characteristically English, i.e. consisting in the patient
analysis of the form and nature of the moral consciousness itself, has given
way or is likely to give way to more ambitious and constructive efforts.
Martineau’s chief endeavour was, as he himself says, to interpret, to
vindicate, and to systematize the moral sentiments, and if the actual
exhibition of what is involved, e.g., in moral choice is the vindication of
morality Martineau may be said to have been successful. It is with his
interpretation and systematization of the moral sentiments that most of
Martineau’s critics have found fault. It is impossible, e.g., to accept his
ordered hierarchy of “springs of action” without perceiving that the real
principle upon which they can be arranged in order at all must depend upon
considerations of circumstances and consequences, of stations and duties,
with which a strict intuitionalism such as that of Martineau would have no
dealing.50 Similarly the notion of Conscience as a special faculty giving its
pronouncements immediately and without reflection cannot be maintained
in the face of modern psychological analysis and is untrue to the nature of
moral judgment itself. And Martineau is curiously unsympathetic to the
universal and social aspect of morality with which evolutionary and idealist
moral philosophers are so largely occupied. Nevertheless there have been
few moral philosophers who have, apart from the idiosyncrasies of their
special prepossessions, set forth with clearer insight or with greater nobility
of language the essential nature of the moral consciousness.
Equal in importance to Martineau’s work is Professor Sidgwick’s
Methods of Ethics which appeared in 1874. The two works are alike in
loftiness of outlook and in the fact that they are devoted to the re-
examination of the nature of the moral consciousness to
Sidgwick. the exclusion of alien branches of inquiry. In most other
respects they differ. Martineau is much more in
Page 589
sympathy with idealism than Sidgwick, whose work consists in a
restatement from a novel and independent standpoint of the Utilitarian
position. And Sidgwick has been far more successful than any other moral
philosopher with the exception of T.H. Green and Bradley in founding a
school of thought. Many of his most acute critics would be the first to admit
how much they owe to his teaching. Chief among the more recent of these
is G.E. Moore, whose book Principia Ethica is an important original
contribution to ethical thought. And although Dr Hastings Rashdall (The
Theory of Good and Evil Oxford, 1907) is not in agreement with Sidgwick’s
own particular type of hedonistic theory in his own philosophical position,
he occupies a point of view somewhat similar to that of Sidgwick’s main
attitude of Rational Utilitarianism. Rashdall’s two volumes exhibit also a
welcome return on the part of English thought to the proper business of the
moral philosopher—the examination of the nature of moral conduct. Other
works, such as Professor L.T. Hobhouse’s Morals in Evolution or Professor
E.A. Westermarck’s Origin and Development of the Moral Ideas, testify to
a continued interest in the history of morality and in the anthropological
inquiries with which moral philosophy is closely connected.
Much that is of importance for moral philosophy has recently been
written upon problems that more properly belong to the philosophy of
religion and the theory of knowledge. J.F. M‘Taggart’s Studies in Hegelian
Cosmology, and his later work, Some Dogmas of Religion, contain
interesting contributions to the theory of pleasure and of the problem of free
will and determinism. A notable instance of this tendency is seen in the
developments of the theory of pragmatism (q.v.), for which F.C.S. Schiller
has proposed the general term “humanism.” Such aspects as concern ethics
include, for example, the limited indeterminism involved in the theory, the
attitude of the religious consciousness expressed by William James (Will to
Believe and Pragmatism), and the pragmatic conception of the good. And
the widespread interest in social problems has produced a revival of
restatement from a novel and independent standpoint of the Utilitarian
position. And Sidgwick has been far more successful than any other moral
philosopher with the exception of T.H. Green and Bradley in founding a
school of thought. Many of his most acute critics would be the first to admit
how much they owe to his teaching. Chief among the more recent of these
is G.E. Moore, whose book Principia Ethica is an important original
contribution to ethical thought. And although Dr Hastings Rashdall (The
Theory of Good and Evil Oxford, 1907) is not in agreement with Sidgwick’s
own particular type of hedonistic theory in his own philosophical position,
he occupies a point of view somewhat similar to that of Sidgwick’s main
attitude of Rational Utilitarianism. Rashdall’s two volumes exhibit also a
welcome return on the part of English thought to the proper business of the
moral philosopher—the examination of the nature of moral conduct. Other
works, such as Professor L.T. Hobhouse’s Morals in Evolution or Professor
E.A. Westermarck’s Origin and Development of the Moral Ideas, testify to
a continued interest in the history of morality and in the anthropological
inquiries with which moral philosophy is closely connected.
Much that is of importance for moral philosophy has recently been
written upon problems that more properly belong to the philosophy of
religion and the theory of knowledge. J.F. M‘Taggart’s Studies in Hegelian
Cosmology, and his later work, Some Dogmas of Religion, contain
interesting contributions to the theory of pleasure and of the problem of free
will and determinism. A notable instance of this tendency is seen in the
developments of the theory of pragmatism (q.v.), for which F.C.S. Schiller
has proposed the general term “humanism.” Such aspects as concern ethics
include, for example, the limited indeterminism involved in the theory, the
attitude of the religious consciousness expressed by William James (Will to
Believe and Pragmatism), and the pragmatic conception of the good. And
the widespread interest in social problems has produced a revival of
Page 590
speculation concerning questions partly political and party ethical in
character, e.g. the nature of justice. Finally it has become apparent that
many problems hitherto left for political economy to solve belong more
properly to the moralist, if not to the moral philosopher, and it may be
confidently expected that with the increased complexity of social life and
the disappearance of many sanctions of morality hitherto regarded as
inviolable, the future will bring a renewed and practical interest in the
theory of conduct likely to lead to fresh developments in ethical
speculation.
Bibliography.—The literature of the subject is so large in all
languages that only a small selection can be given here. For further
works reference may be made to subsidiary articles. See also Baldwin’s
Dict. of Philos. and Psychol. vol. iii. (1905), pp. 812 foll.
(bibliography).
I. Historical.—Sir L. Stephen, History of English Thought in the
18th Century (1876, 3rd ed. 1892); W.E.H. Lecky, History of European
Morals from Augustus to Charlemagne (1869, many editions); works
of Ed. Zeller (q.v.); G.H. Lewes, History of Philosophy (1880); W.
Gass, Geschichte der christlichen Ethik (1881); A.W. Benn, The Greek
Philosophers (1882); F. Jödl, Geschichte der Ethik in der neueren
Philos. (2 vols., 1882-1889); L. Schmidt, Ethik der alten Griechen
(1882); E. Howley, The Old Morality traced Historically (1885); J.
Martineau, Types of Ethical Theory (Oxford, 1885, 3rd ed. 1891); Th.
Ziegler, Gesch. d. christl. Ethik (1886); Ch. Letourneaux, L’Évolution
de la morale (1887); K. Köstlin, Gesch. der Ethik (1887); C.E.
Luthardt, Die antike Ethik in ihrer geschichtlichen Entwicklung (1887),
and Hist. of Christian Ethics (1888); C.M. Williams, A Review of the
Systems of Ethics founded on the Theory of Evolution (1893); J.
Watson, Hedonistic Theories from Aristippus to Spencer (1895); L.A.
character, e.g. the nature of justice. Finally it has become apparent that
many problems hitherto left for political economy to solve belong more
properly to the moralist, if not to the moral philosopher, and it may be
confidently expected that with the increased complexity of social life and
the disappearance of many sanctions of morality hitherto regarded as
inviolable, the future will bring a renewed and practical interest in the
theory of conduct likely to lead to fresh developments in ethical
speculation.
Bibliography.—The literature of the subject is so large in all
languages that only a small selection can be given here. For further
works reference may be made to subsidiary articles. See also Baldwin’s
Dict. of Philos. and Psychol. vol. iii. (1905), pp. 812 foll.
(bibliography).
I. Historical.—Sir L. Stephen, History of English Thought in the
18th Century (1876, 3rd ed. 1892); W.E.H. Lecky, History of European
Morals from Augustus to Charlemagne (1869, many editions); works
of Ed. Zeller (q.v.); G.H. Lewes, History of Philosophy (1880); W.
Gass, Geschichte der christlichen Ethik (1881); A.W. Benn, The Greek
Philosophers (1882); F. Jödl, Geschichte der Ethik in der neueren
Philos. (2 vols., 1882-1889); L. Schmidt, Ethik der alten Griechen
(1882); E. Howley, The Old Morality traced Historically (1885); J.
Martineau, Types of Ethical Theory (Oxford, 1885, 3rd ed. 1891); Th.
Ziegler, Gesch. d. christl. Ethik (1886); Ch. Letourneaux, L’Évolution
de la morale (1887); K. Köstlin, Gesch. der Ethik (1887); C.E.
Luthardt, Die antike Ethik in ihrer geschichtlichen Entwicklung (1887),
and Hist. of Christian Ethics (1888); C.M. Williams, A Review of the
Systems of Ethics founded on the Theory of Evolution (1893); J.
Watson, Hedonistic Theories from Aristippus to Spencer (1895); L.A.
Page 591
Selby-Bigge, British Moralists (1897); R. Mackintosh, From Comte to
Benjamin Kidd (1899); S. Patten, The Development of English Thought
(1899); A.B. Bruce, The Moral Order of the World in Ancient and
Modern Thought (1899); Sir L. Stephen, The English Utilitarians
(1901); Henry Sidgwick, Outlines of the History of Ethics (5th ed.,
1902); Paul Janet, History of the Problems of Philosophy (1902-1903),
Eng. trans. Ada Monahan, vol. ii. “Ethics”; W.R. Sorley, Recent
Tendencies in Ethics (1904).
II. Constructive and Critical.—Besides the works mentioned above
the following may be mentioned:—J.M. Guyau, La Morale anglaise
(1879), Éducation et hérédité (1889; Eng. trans. Greenstreet, with
introd. by G.F. Stout, 1891), Esquisse d’une morale sans obligation ni
sanction (Eng. trans., 1898); G.H. Lewes, Problems of Life and Mind
(1879); Sir L. Stephen, Science of Ethics (1882); P. Janet, The Theory
of Morals (Eng. trans., 1884); W.R. Sorley, On the Ethics of Naturalism
(1885); W.L. Courtney, Constructive Ethics (1886); Wilson and Fowler,
Principles of Morals (1886); H. Höffding, Ethik (1888), Psychologie
(1882, 1892; trans. Lowndes, 1892); W. Wundt, Ethik (1886; trans.
Titchener and others, 1897); F. Paulsen, Ethik (1889, 1893; trans.
Thilly, 1899); H. Sidgwick, Method of Ethics (1890); J.T. Bixby, The
Crisis in Morals: An Examination of Rational Ethics (1891); J. Seth,
Freedom an Ethical Postulate (1891); J.H. Muirhead, Elements of
Ethics (1892); G. Simnel, Einleitung in die Moralwissenschaft (1892,
1893); T. Ziegler, Social Ethics (1892); T.H. Huxley, Evolution and
Ethics (1893); W. Knight, The Christian Ethic (1893); J.S. Mackenzie,
Manual of Ethics (1893); F. Ryland, Ethics (1893); J. Seth, A Study of
Ethical Principles (1894, 6th ed. 1902); C.F. D’Arcy, Short Study of
Ethics (1895); J.H. Hyslop, The Elements of Ethics (1895); J. Kidd,
Morality and Religion (1895); Sir L. Stephen, Social Rights and Duties
(1896); J.M. Baldwin, Social and Ethical Interpretations in Mental
Benjamin Kidd (1899); S. Patten, The Development of English Thought
(1899); A.B. Bruce, The Moral Order of the World in Ancient and
Modern Thought (1899); Sir L. Stephen, The English Utilitarians
(1901); Henry Sidgwick, Outlines of the History of Ethics (5th ed.,
1902); Paul Janet, History of the Problems of Philosophy (1902-1903),
Eng. trans. Ada Monahan, vol. ii. “Ethics”; W.R. Sorley, Recent
Tendencies in Ethics (1904).
II. Constructive and Critical.—Besides the works mentioned above
the following may be mentioned:—J.M. Guyau, La Morale anglaise
(1879), Éducation et hérédité (1889; Eng. trans. Greenstreet, with
introd. by G.F. Stout, 1891), Esquisse d’une morale sans obligation ni
sanction (Eng. trans., 1898); G.H. Lewes, Problems of Life and Mind
(1879); Sir L. Stephen, Science of Ethics (1882); P. Janet, The Theory
of Morals (Eng. trans., 1884); W.R. Sorley, On the Ethics of Naturalism
(1885); W.L. Courtney, Constructive Ethics (1886); Wilson and Fowler,
Principles of Morals (1886); H. Höffding, Ethik (1888), Psychologie
(1882, 1892; trans. Lowndes, 1892); W. Wundt, Ethik (1886; trans.
Titchener and others, 1897); F. Paulsen, Ethik (1889, 1893; trans.
Thilly, 1899); H. Sidgwick, Method of Ethics (1890); J.T. Bixby, The
Crisis in Morals: An Examination of Rational Ethics (1891); J. Seth,
Freedom an Ethical Postulate (1891); J.H. Muirhead, Elements of
Ethics (1892); G. Simnel, Einleitung in die Moralwissenschaft (1892,
1893); T. Ziegler, Social Ethics (1892); T.H. Huxley, Evolution and
Ethics (1893); W. Knight, The Christian Ethic (1893); J.S. Mackenzie,
Manual of Ethics (1893); F. Ryland, Ethics (1893); J. Seth, A Study of
Ethical Principles (1894, 6th ed. 1902); C.F. D’Arcy, Short Study of
Ethics (1895); J.H. Hyslop, The Elements of Ethics (1895); J. Kidd,
Morality and Religion (1895); Sir L. Stephen, Social Rights and Duties
(1896); J.M. Baldwin, Social and Ethical Interpretations in Mental
Page 592
Development (1897); Th. Ribot, Psychology of Emotions (1897); A.
Seth Pringle-Pattison, Man’s Place in the Cosmos (1897); H.R.
Marshall, Instinct and Reason (1898); W. Wallace, Natural Theology
and Ethics (1898); F. Paulsen, Partei-politik und Moral (1900); A.E.
Taylor, Problem of Conduct (1901); G.T. Ladd, Philosophy of Conduct
(1902); H. Sidgwick, Ethics of Green, Spencer, Martineau (1902); D.
Irons, Study in Psychology of Ethics (1903); G.E. Moore, Principia
Ethica (1903); R. Eucken, Geistige Strömungen der Gegenwart (1904),
and other works (see Eucken, Rudolf); works of A. Fouillée (q.v.); G.
Santayana, Life of Reason (1905); E.A. Westermarck, Origin and
Development of Moral Ideas (1906); George Gore, Scientific Basis of
Morality (1899), and New Scientific Basis of Morality (1906),
containing an interesting if unconvincing attempt to explain ethics on
purely physical principles. (H. H. W.)
1 This well-known phrase was originally attributed to the Pythagoreans.
2 It is highly characteristic of Platonism that the issue in this dialogue, as originally
stated, is between virtue and vice, whereas, without any avowed change of ground, the
issue ultimately discussed is between the philosophic life and the life of vulgar ambition or
sensual enjoyment.
3 This cardinal term is commonly translated “happiness”; and it must be allowed that it
is the most natural term for what we (in English) agree to call “our being’s end and aim.”
But happiness so definitely signifies a state of feeling that it will not admit the
interpretation that Aristotle (as well as Plato and the Stoics) expressly gives to εὐδαιμονία;
the confusion is best avoided by rendering the word by the less familiar “well-being.”
4 Aristotle follows Plato and Socrates in identifying the notions of καλός (“fair,”
“beautiful”) and ἀγαθός (“good”) in their application to conduct. We may observe,
however, that while the latter term is used to denote the virtuous man, and (in the neuter)
equivalent to End generally, the former is rather chosen to express the quality of virtuous
acts which in any particular case is the end of the virtuous agent. Aristotle no doubt
faithfully represents the common sense of Greece in considering that, in so far as virtue is
in itself good to the virtuous agent, it belongs to that species of good which we distinguish
as beautiful. In later Greek philosophy the term καλόν (“honestum”) became still more
technical in the signification of “morally good.”
Seth Pringle-Pattison, Man’s Place in the Cosmos (1897); H.R.
Marshall, Instinct and Reason (1898); W. Wallace, Natural Theology
and Ethics (1898); F. Paulsen, Partei-politik und Moral (1900); A.E.
Taylor, Problem of Conduct (1901); G.T. Ladd, Philosophy of Conduct
(1902); H. Sidgwick, Ethics of Green, Spencer, Martineau (1902); D.
Irons, Study in Psychology of Ethics (1903); G.E. Moore, Principia
Ethica (1903); R. Eucken, Geistige Strömungen der Gegenwart (1904),
and other works (see Eucken, Rudolf); works of A. Fouillée (q.v.); G.
Santayana, Life of Reason (1905); E.A. Westermarck, Origin and
Development of Moral Ideas (1906); George Gore, Scientific Basis of
Morality (1899), and New Scientific Basis of Morality (1906),
containing an interesting if unconvincing attempt to explain ethics on
purely physical principles. (H. H. W.)
1 This well-known phrase was originally attributed to the Pythagoreans.
2 It is highly characteristic of Platonism that the issue in this dialogue, as originally
stated, is between virtue and vice, whereas, without any avowed change of ground, the
issue ultimately discussed is between the philosophic life and the life of vulgar ambition or
sensual enjoyment.
3 This cardinal term is commonly translated “happiness”; and it must be allowed that it
is the most natural term for what we (in English) agree to call “our being’s end and aim.”
But happiness so definitely signifies a state of feeling that it will not admit the
interpretation that Aristotle (as well as Plato and the Stoics) expressly gives to εὐδαιμονία;
the confusion is best avoided by rendering the word by the less familiar “well-being.”
4 Aristotle follows Plato and Socrates in identifying the notions of καλός (“fair,”
“beautiful”) and ἀγαθός (“good”) in their application to conduct. We may observe,
however, that while the latter term is used to denote the virtuous man, and (in the neuter)
equivalent to End generally, the former is rather chosen to express the quality of virtuous
acts which in any particular case is the end of the virtuous agent. Aristotle no doubt
faithfully represents the common sense of Greece in considering that, in so far as virtue is
in itself good to the virtuous agent, it belongs to that species of good which we distinguish
as beautiful. In later Greek philosophy the term καλόν (“honestum”) became still more
technical in the signification of “morally good.”
Page 593
5 The above account is considerably expanded in H. Sidgwick’s Hist. of Ethics (5th ed.,
1902), pp. 59-70.
6 There is a certain difficulty in discussing Aristotle’s views on the subject of practical
wisdom, and the relation of the intellect to moral action, since it is most probable that the
only accounts that we have of these views are not part of the genuine writings of Aristotle.
Still books vi. and vii. of the Nicomachean Ethics contain no doubt as pure Aristotelian
doctrine as a disciple could give, and appear to supply a sufficient foundation for the
general criticism expressed in the text.
7 It has been suggestively said that Cynicism was to Stoicism what monasticism was to
early Christianity. The analogy, however, must not be pressed too far, since orthodox Stoics
do not ever seem to have regarded Cynicism as the more perfect way.
8 The Stoics were not quite agreed as to the immutability of virtue, but they were
agreed that, when once possessed, it could only be lost through the loss of reason itself.
9 Hence some members of the school, without rejecting the definition of virtue =
knowledge, also defined it as “strength and force.”
10 It is apparently in view of this union in reason of rational beings that friends are
allowed to be “external goods” to the sage, and that the possession of good children is also
counted a good.
11 The Stoics seem to have varied in their view of “good repute,” εὐδοξία; at first,
when the school was more under the influence of Cynicism, they professed an outward as
well as an inward indifference to it; ultimately they conceded the point to common sense,
and included it among προηγμένα.
12 It is noted of him that he did not disdain the co-operation either of women or of
slaves in his philosophical labours.
13 The last charge of Epicurus to his disciples is said to have been, τῶν δογμάτων
μεμνῆσθαι.
14 Epictetus.
15 Marcus Aurelius.
16 E.g. Justin Martyr, Origen, Tertullian, Cyprian.
17 Citra sanguinis effusionem.
18 To show the crudity of the notion of redemption in early Christianity, it is sufficient
to mention that many fathers represent Christ’s ransom as having been paid to the devil;
1902), pp. 59-70.
6 There is a certain difficulty in discussing Aristotle’s views on the subject of practical
wisdom, and the relation of the intellect to moral action, since it is most probable that the
only accounts that we have of these views are not part of the genuine writings of Aristotle.
Still books vi. and vii. of the Nicomachean Ethics contain no doubt as pure Aristotelian
doctrine as a disciple could give, and appear to supply a sufficient foundation for the
general criticism expressed in the text.
7 It has been suggestively said that Cynicism was to Stoicism what monasticism was to
early Christianity. The analogy, however, must not be pressed too far, since orthodox Stoics
do not ever seem to have regarded Cynicism as the more perfect way.
8 The Stoics were not quite agreed as to the immutability of virtue, but they were
agreed that, when once possessed, it could only be lost through the loss of reason itself.
9 Hence some members of the school, without rejecting the definition of virtue =
knowledge, also defined it as “strength and force.”
10 It is apparently in view of this union in reason of rational beings that friends are
allowed to be “external goods” to the sage, and that the possession of good children is also
counted a good.
11 The Stoics seem to have varied in their view of “good repute,” εὐδοξία; at first,
when the school was more under the influence of Cynicism, they professed an outward as
well as an inward indifference to it; ultimately they conceded the point to common sense,
and included it among προηγμένα.
12 It is noted of him that he did not disdain the co-operation either of women or of
slaves in his philosophical labours.
13 The last charge of Epicurus to his disciples is said to have been, τῶν δογμάτων
μεμνῆσθαι.
14 Epictetus.
15 Marcus Aurelius.
16 E.g. Justin Martyr, Origen, Tertullian, Cyprian.
17 Citra sanguinis effusionem.
18 To show the crudity of the notion of redemption in early Christianity, it is sufficient
to mention that many fathers represent Christ’s ransom as having been paid to the devil;
Page 594
sometimes adding that by the concealment of Christ’s divinity under the veil of humanity a
certain deceit was (fairly) practised on the great deceiver.
19 It is to be observed that Augustine prefers to use “freedom” not for the power of
willing either good or evil, but the power of willing good. The highest freedom, in his view,
excludes the possibility of willing evil.
20 Cicero’s works are unimportant in the history of ancient ethics, as their philosophical
matter was entirely borrowed from Greek treatises now lost; but the influence exercised by
them (especially by the De officiis) over medieval and even modern readers was very
considerable.
21 Abelard afterwards retracted this view, at least in its extreme form; and in fact does
not seem to have been fully conscious of the difference between (1) unfulfilled intention to
do an act objectively right, and (2) intention to do what is merely believed by the agent to
be right.
22 He was condemned by two synods, in 1121 and 1140.
23 Synderesis (Gr. συντήρησις, from συντηρεῖν, to watch closely, observe) is used in
this sense in Jerome (Com. in Ezek. i. 4-10).
24 The refusal of the council of Constance to condemn Jean Petit’s advocacy of
assassination is a striking example of this weakness. Cf. Milman, Lat. Christ. book xiii. c.
9.
25 As the chief English casuists we may mention Perkins, Hall, Sanderson, as well as
the more eminent Jeremy Taylor, whose Ductor dubitantium appeared in 1660.
26 This influence was not exercised in the region of ethics. Bacon’s brief outline of
moral philosophy (in the Advancement of Learning, ii. 20-22) is highly pregnant and
suggestive. But Bacon’s great task of reforming scientific method was one which, as he
conceived it, left morals on one side; he never made any serious effort to reduce his ethical
views to a coherent system, methodically reasoned on an independent basis. The outline
given in the Advancement was never filled in, and does not seem to have had any effect on
the subsequent course of ethical speculation.
27 He even identifies the desire with the pleasure, apparently regarding the stir of
appetite and that of fruition as two parts of the same “motion.”
28 In spite of Hobbes’s uncompromising egoism, there is a noticeable discrepancy
between his theory of the ends that men naturally seek and his standard for determining
their natural rights. This latter is never Pleasure simply, but always Preservation—though
on occasion he enlarges the notion of “preservation” into “preservation of life so as not to
be weary of it.” His view seems to be that in a state of nature most men will fight, rob, &c.,
certain deceit was (fairly) practised on the great deceiver.
19 It is to be observed that Augustine prefers to use “freedom” not for the power of
willing either good or evil, but the power of willing good. The highest freedom, in his view,
excludes the possibility of willing evil.
20 Cicero’s works are unimportant in the history of ancient ethics, as their philosophical
matter was entirely borrowed from Greek treatises now lost; but the influence exercised by
them (especially by the De officiis) over medieval and even modern readers was very
considerable.
21 Abelard afterwards retracted this view, at least in its extreme form; and in fact does
not seem to have been fully conscious of the difference between (1) unfulfilled intention to
do an act objectively right, and (2) intention to do what is merely believed by the agent to
be right.
22 He was condemned by two synods, in 1121 and 1140.
23 Synderesis (Gr. συντήρησις, from συντηρεῖν, to watch closely, observe) is used in
this sense in Jerome (Com. in Ezek. i. 4-10).
24 The refusal of the council of Constance to condemn Jean Petit’s advocacy of
assassination is a striking example of this weakness. Cf. Milman, Lat. Christ. book xiii. c.
9.
25 As the chief English casuists we may mention Perkins, Hall, Sanderson, as well as
the more eminent Jeremy Taylor, whose Ductor dubitantium appeared in 1660.
26 This influence was not exercised in the region of ethics. Bacon’s brief outline of
moral philosophy (in the Advancement of Learning, ii. 20-22) is highly pregnant and
suggestive. But Bacon’s great task of reforming scientific method was one which, as he
conceived it, left morals on one side; he never made any serious effort to reduce his ethical
views to a coherent system, methodically reasoned on an independent basis. The outline
given in the Advancement was never filled in, and does not seem to have had any effect on
the subsequent course of ethical speculation.
27 He even identifies the desire with the pleasure, apparently regarding the stir of
appetite and that of fruition as two parts of the same “motion.”
28 In spite of Hobbes’s uncompromising egoism, there is a noticeable discrepancy
between his theory of the ends that men naturally seek and his standard for determining
their natural rights. This latter is never Pleasure simply, but always Preservation—though
on occasion he enlarges the notion of “preservation” into “preservation of life so as not to
be weary of it.” His view seems to be that in a state of nature most men will fight, rob, &c.,
Page 595
“for delectation merely” or “for glory,” and that hence all men must be allowed an
indefinite right to fight, rob, &c., “for preservation.”
29 It should be noticed, however, that it is only in his treatment of Equity and
Benevolence that he really follows out the mathematical analogy (cf. Sidgwick’s History of
Ethics, 5th ed., pp. 180-181).
30 It should be observed that, while Clarke is sincerely anxious to prove that most
principles are binding independently of Divine appointment, he is no less concerned to
show that morality requires the practical support of revealed religion.
31 Three classes of impulses are thus distinguished by Shaftesbury:—(1) “Natural
Affections,” (2) “Self-affections,” and (3) “Un-natural Affections.” Their characteristics are
further considered in the History of Ethics, p. 186 seq.
32 In a remarkable passage near the close of his eleventh sermon Butler seems even to
allow that conscience would have to give way to self-love, if it were possible (which it is
not) that the two should come into ultimate and irreconcilable conflict.
33 It is worth noticing that Hutcheson’s express definition of the object of self-love
includes “perfection” as well as “happiness”; but in the working out of his system he
considers private good exclusively as happiness or pleasure.
34 Hume’s ethical view was finally stated in his Inquiry into the Principles of Morals
(1751), which is at once more popular and more purely utilitarian than his earlier work.
35 Hume remarks that in some cases, by “association of ideas,” the rule by which we
praise and blame is extended beyond the principle of utility from which it arises; but he
allows much less scope to this explanation in his second treatise than in his first.
36 In earlier editions of the Inquiry Hume expressly included all approved qualities
under the general notion of “virtue.” In later editions he avoided this strain on usage by
substituting or adding “merit” in several passages—allowing that some of the laudable
qualities which he mentions would be more commonly called “talents,” but still
maintaining that “there is little distinction made in our internal estimation” of “virtues” and
“talents.”
37 It is to be observed that whereas Price and Stewart (after Butler) identify the object
of self-love with happiness or pleasure, Reid conceives this “good” more vaguely as
including perfection and happiness; though he sometimes uses “good” and happiness as
convertible terms, and seems practically to have the latter in view in all that he says of self-
love.
38 E.g. Reid proposes to apply this principle in favour of monogamy, arguing from the
proportion of males and females born; without explaining why, if the intention of nature
indefinite right to fight, rob, &c., “for preservation.”
29 It should be noticed, however, that it is only in his treatment of Equity and
Benevolence that he really follows out the mathematical analogy (cf. Sidgwick’s History of
Ethics, 5th ed., pp. 180-181).
30 It should be observed that, while Clarke is sincerely anxious to prove that most
principles are binding independently of Divine appointment, he is no less concerned to
show that morality requires the practical support of revealed religion.
31 Three classes of impulses are thus distinguished by Shaftesbury:—(1) “Natural
Affections,” (2) “Self-affections,” and (3) “Un-natural Affections.” Their characteristics are
further considered in the History of Ethics, p. 186 seq.
32 In a remarkable passage near the close of his eleventh sermon Butler seems even to
allow that conscience would have to give way to self-love, if it were possible (which it is
not) that the two should come into ultimate and irreconcilable conflict.
33 It is worth noticing that Hutcheson’s express definition of the object of self-love
includes “perfection” as well as “happiness”; but in the working out of his system he
considers private good exclusively as happiness or pleasure.
34 Hume’s ethical view was finally stated in his Inquiry into the Principles of Morals
(1751), which is at once more popular and more purely utilitarian than his earlier work.
35 Hume remarks that in some cases, by “association of ideas,” the rule by which we
praise and blame is extended beyond the principle of utility from which it arises; but he
allows much less scope to this explanation in his second treatise than in his first.
36 In earlier editions of the Inquiry Hume expressly included all approved qualities
under the general notion of “virtue.” In later editions he avoided this strain on usage by
substituting or adding “merit” in several passages—allowing that some of the laudable
qualities which he mentions would be more commonly called “talents,” but still
maintaining that “there is little distinction made in our internal estimation” of “virtues” and
“talents.”
37 It is to be observed that whereas Price and Stewart (after Butler) identify the object
of self-love with happiness or pleasure, Reid conceives this “good” more vaguely as
including perfection and happiness; though he sometimes uses “good” and happiness as
convertible terms, and seems practically to have the latter in view in all that he says of self-
love.
38 E.g. Reid proposes to apply this principle in favour of monogamy, arguing from the
proportion of males and females born; without explaining why, if the intention of nature
Page 596
hence inferred excludes occasional polygamy, it does not also exclude occasional celibacy.
39 We may observe that some recent writers, who would generally be included in this
school, avoid in various ways the difficulty of constructing a code of external conduct.
Sometimes they consider moral intuition as determining the comparative excellence of
conflicting motives (James Martineau), or the comparative quality of pleasures chosen
(Laurie), which seems to be the same view in a hedonistic garb; others hold that what is
intuitively perceived is the rightness or wrongness of individual acts—a view which
obviously renders ethical reasoning practically superfluous.
40 The originality—such as it is—of Paley’s system (as of Bentham’s) lies in its method
of working out details rather than in its principles of construction. Paley expressly
acknowledges his obligations to the original and suggestive, though diffuse and whimsical,
work of Abraham Tucker (Light of Nature Pursued, 1768-1774). In this treatise, as in
Paley’s, we find “every man’s own satisfaction, the spring that actuates all his motives,”
connected with “general good, the root whereout all our rules of conduct and sentiments of
honour are to branch,” by means of natural theology demonstrating the “unniggardly
goodness of the author of nature.” Tucker is also careful to explain that satisfaction or
pleasure is “one and the same in kind, however much it may vary in degree, ... whether a
man is pleased with hearing music, seeing prospects, tasting dainties, performing laudable
actions, or making agreeable reflections,” and again that by “general good” he means
“quantity of happiness,” to which “every pleasure that we do to our neighbour is an
addition.” There is, however, in Tucker’s theological link between private and general
happiness a peculiar ingenuity which Paley’s common sense has avoided. He argues that
men having no free will have really no desert; therefore the divine equity must ultimately
distribute happiness in equal shares to all; therefore I must ultimately increase my own
happiness most by conduct that adds most to the general fund which Providence
administers.
But in fact the outline of Paley’s utilitarianism is to be found a generation earlier—in
Gay’s dissertation prefixed to Law’s edition of King’s Origin of Evil—as the following
extracts will show:—“The idea of virtue is the conformity to a rule of life, directing the
actions of all rational creatures with respect to each other’s happiness; to which every one
is always obliged.... Obligation is the necessity of doing or omitting something in order to
be happy.... Full and complete obligation which will extend to all cases can only be that
arising from the authority of God.... The will of God [so far as it directs behaviour to
others] is the immediate rule or criterion of virtue ... but it is evident from the nature of
God that he could have no other design in creating mankind than their happiness; and
therefore he wills their happiness; therefore that my behaviour so far as it may be a means
to the happiness of mankind should be such; so this happiness of mankind may be said to
be the criterion of virtue once removed.”
39 We may observe that some recent writers, who would generally be included in this
school, avoid in various ways the difficulty of constructing a code of external conduct.
Sometimes they consider moral intuition as determining the comparative excellence of
conflicting motives (James Martineau), or the comparative quality of pleasures chosen
(Laurie), which seems to be the same view in a hedonistic garb; others hold that what is
intuitively perceived is the rightness or wrongness of individual acts—a view which
obviously renders ethical reasoning practically superfluous.
40 The originality—such as it is—of Paley’s system (as of Bentham’s) lies in its method
of working out details rather than in its principles of construction. Paley expressly
acknowledges his obligations to the original and suggestive, though diffuse and whimsical,
work of Abraham Tucker (Light of Nature Pursued, 1768-1774). In this treatise, as in
Paley’s, we find “every man’s own satisfaction, the spring that actuates all his motives,”
connected with “general good, the root whereout all our rules of conduct and sentiments of
honour are to branch,” by means of natural theology demonstrating the “unniggardly
goodness of the author of nature.” Tucker is also careful to explain that satisfaction or
pleasure is “one and the same in kind, however much it may vary in degree, ... whether a
man is pleased with hearing music, seeing prospects, tasting dainties, performing laudable
actions, or making agreeable reflections,” and again that by “general good” he means
“quantity of happiness,” to which “every pleasure that we do to our neighbour is an
addition.” There is, however, in Tucker’s theological link between private and general
happiness a peculiar ingenuity which Paley’s common sense has avoided. He argues that
men having no free will have really no desert; therefore the divine equity must ultimately
distribute happiness in equal shares to all; therefore I must ultimately increase my own
happiness most by conduct that adds most to the general fund which Providence
administers.
But in fact the outline of Paley’s utilitarianism is to be found a generation earlier—in
Gay’s dissertation prefixed to Law’s edition of King’s Origin of Evil—as the following
extracts will show:—“The idea of virtue is the conformity to a rule of life, directing the
actions of all rational creatures with respect to each other’s happiness; to which every one
is always obliged.... Obligation is the necessity of doing or omitting something in order to
be happy.... Full and complete obligation which will extend to all cases can only be that
arising from the authority of God.... The will of God [so far as it directs behaviour to
others] is the immediate rule or criterion of virtue ... but it is evident from the nature of
God that he could have no other design in creating mankind than their happiness; and
therefore he wills their happiness; therefore that my behaviour so far as it may be a means
to the happiness of mankind should be such; so this happiness of mankind may be said to
be the criterion of virtue once removed.”
Page 597
The same dissertation also contains the germ of Hartley’s system, as we shall presently
notice.
41 It must be allowed that Paley’s application of this argument is somewhat loosely
reasoned, and does not sufficiently distinguish the consequence of a single act of beneficent
manslaughter from the consequences of a general permission to commit such acts.
42 This list gives twelve out of the fourteen classes in which Bentham arranges the
springs of action, omitting the religious sanction (mentioned afterwards), and the pleasures
and pains of self-interest, which include all the other classes except sympathy and
antipathy.
43 In the Deontology published by Bowring from MSS. left after Bentham’s death, the
coincidence is asserted to be complete.
44 It should be observed that Austin, after Bentham, more frequently uses the term
“moral” to connote what he more distinctly calls “positive morality,” the code of rules
supported by common opinion in any society.
45 In the before-mentioned dissertation. Cf. note 2 to p. 835. Hartley refers to this
treatise as having supplied the starting-point for his own system.
46 It should be noticed that Hartley’s sensationalism is far from leading him to exalt the
corporeal pleasures. On the contrary, he tries to prove elaborately that they (as well as the
pleasures of imagination, ambition, self-interest) cannot be made an object of primary
pursuit without a loss of happiness on the whole—one of his arguments being that these
pleasures occur earlier in time, and “that which is prior in the order of nature is always less
perfect than that which is posterior.”
47 It may be observed that in the view of Kant and others (2) and (3) are somewhat
confusingly blended.
48 Singularly enough, the English writer who approaches most nearly to Kant on this
point is the utilitarian Godwin, in his Political Justice. In Godwin’s view, reason is the
proper motive to acts conducive to general happiness: reason shows me that the happiness
of a number of other men is of more value than my own; and the perception of this truth
affords me at least some inducement to prefer the former to the latter. And supposing it to
be replied that the motive is really the moral uneasiness involved in choosing the selfish
alternative, Godwin answers that this uneasiness, though a “constant step” in the process of
volition, is a merely “accidental” step—“I feel pain in the neglect of an act of benevolence,
because benevolence is judged by me to be conduct which it becomes me to adopt.”
49 In Kantism, as we have partly seen, the most important ontological beliefs—in God,
freedom and immortality of the soul—are based on necessities of ethical thought. In
Fichte’s system the connexion of ethics and metaphysics is still more intimate; indeed, we
notice.
41 It must be allowed that Paley’s application of this argument is somewhat loosely
reasoned, and does not sufficiently distinguish the consequence of a single act of beneficent
manslaughter from the consequences of a general permission to commit such acts.
42 This list gives twelve out of the fourteen classes in which Bentham arranges the
springs of action, omitting the religious sanction (mentioned afterwards), and the pleasures
and pains of self-interest, which include all the other classes except sympathy and
antipathy.
43 In the Deontology published by Bowring from MSS. left after Bentham’s death, the
coincidence is asserted to be complete.
44 It should be observed that Austin, after Bentham, more frequently uses the term
“moral” to connote what he more distinctly calls “positive morality,” the code of rules
supported by common opinion in any society.
45 In the before-mentioned dissertation. Cf. note 2 to p. 835. Hartley refers to this
treatise as having supplied the starting-point for his own system.
46 It should be noticed that Hartley’s sensationalism is far from leading him to exalt the
corporeal pleasures. On the contrary, he tries to prove elaborately that they (as well as the
pleasures of imagination, ambition, self-interest) cannot be made an object of primary
pursuit without a loss of happiness on the whole—one of his arguments being that these
pleasures occur earlier in time, and “that which is prior in the order of nature is always less
perfect than that which is posterior.”
47 It may be observed that in the view of Kant and others (2) and (3) are somewhat
confusingly blended.
48 Singularly enough, the English writer who approaches most nearly to Kant on this
point is the utilitarian Godwin, in his Political Justice. In Godwin’s view, reason is the
proper motive to acts conducive to general happiness: reason shows me that the happiness
of a number of other men is of more value than my own; and the perception of this truth
affords me at least some inducement to prefer the former to the latter. And supposing it to
be replied that the motive is really the moral uneasiness involved in choosing the selfish
alternative, Godwin answers that this uneasiness, though a “constant step” in the process of
volition, is a merely “accidental” step—“I feel pain in the neglect of an act of benevolence,
because benevolence is judged by me to be conduct which it becomes me to adopt.”
49 In Kantism, as we have partly seen, the most important ontological beliefs—in God,
freedom and immortality of the soul—are based on necessities of ethical thought. In
Fichte’s system the connexion of ethics and metaphysics is still more intimate; indeed, we
Page 598
may compare it in this respect to Platonism; as Plato blends the most fundamental notions
of each of these studies in the one idea of good, so Fichte blends them in the one idea free-
will. “Freedom,” in his view, is at once the foundation of all being and the end of all moral
action. In the systems of Schelling and Hegel ethics falls again into a subordinate place;
indeed, the ethical view of the former is rather suggested than completely developed.
Neither Fichte nor Schelling has exercised more than the faintest and most indirect
influence on ethical philosophy in England; it therefore seems best to leave the ethical
doctrines of each to be explained in connexion with the rest of his system.
50 Cf. A. Seth Pringle-Pattison, The Philosophical Radicals. Martineau’s Philosophy, p.
92.
of each of these studies in the one idea of good, so Fichte blends them in the one idea free-
will. “Freedom,” in his view, is at once the foundation of all being and the end of all moral
action. In the systems of Schelling and Hegel ethics falls again into a subordinate place;
indeed, the ethical view of the former is rather suggested than completely developed.
Neither Fichte nor Schelling has exercised more than the faintest and most indirect
influence on ethical philosophy in England; it therefore seems best to leave the ethical
doctrines of each to be explained in connexion with the rest of his system.
50 Cf. A. Seth Pringle-Pattison, The Philosophical Radicals. Martineau’s Philosophy, p.
92.
Page 599
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENCYCLOPAEDIA
BRITANNICA, 11TH EDITION, "EQUATION" TO "ETHICS" ***
Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be
renamed.
Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law
means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the
Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States
without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying
and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the
PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a
registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook,
except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying
royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge
anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is
very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation
of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project Gutenberg
eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may do
practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected by
U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license,
especially commercial redistribution.
START: FULL LICENSE
BRITANNICA, 11TH EDITION, "EQUATION" TO "ETHICS" ***
Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be
renamed.
Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law
means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the
Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States
without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying
and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the
PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a
registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook,
except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying
royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge
anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is
very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation
of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project Gutenberg
eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may do
practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected by
U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license,
especially commercial redistribution.
START: FULL LICENSE
Page 600
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any
other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project Gutenberg”), you
agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg License
available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license.
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing
Project Gutenberg electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg electronic work,
you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the
terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright)
agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement,
you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg
electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy
of or access to a Project Gutenberg electronic work and you do not agree to
be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the
person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be used on
or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be
bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can
do with most Project Gutenberg electronic works even without complying
with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a
lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg electronic works if you
follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to
Project Gutenberg electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation”
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual
work is unprotected by copyright law in the United States and you are
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any
other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project Gutenberg”), you
agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg License
available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license.
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing
Project Gutenberg electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg electronic work,
you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the
terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright)
agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement,
you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg
electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy
of or access to a Project Gutenberg electronic work and you do not agree to
be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the
person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be used on
or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be
bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can
do with most Project Gutenberg electronic works even without complying
with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a
lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg electronic works if you
follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to
Project Gutenberg electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation”
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual
work is unprotected by copyright law in the United States and you are
Page 601
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works
based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are
removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg
mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing
Project Gutenberg works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for
keeping the Project Gutenberg name associated with the work. You can
easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg License when you
share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a
constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the
laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before
downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating
derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg work.
The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status
of any work in any country other than the United States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg work (any work on which the
phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project
Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied
or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License included with
this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in
the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country
where you are located before using this eBook.
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works
based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are
removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg
mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing
Project Gutenberg works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for
keeping the Project Gutenberg name associated with the work. You can
easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the
same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg License when you
share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a
constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the
laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before
downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating
derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg work.
The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status
of any work in any country other than the United States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg work (any work on which the
phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project
Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied
or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License included with
this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in
the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country
where you are located before using this eBook.
Page 602
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is derived from
texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a notice
indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the
work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without
paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a
work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on
the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs
1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is posted with the
permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply
with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed
by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project
Gutenberg License for all works posted with the permission of the
copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg License
terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any
other work associated with Project Gutenberg.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently
displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or
immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg work in a format other than “Plain
Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the
official Project Gutenberg website (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no
additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of
exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work
in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format
must include the full Project Gutenberg License as specified in paragraph
1.E.1.
texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a notice
indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the
work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without
paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a
work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on
the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs
1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is posted with the
permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply
with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed
by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project
Gutenberg License for all works posted with the permission of the
copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg License
terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any
other work associated with Project Gutenberg.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently
displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or
immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg work in a format other than “Plain
Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the
official Project Gutenberg website (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no
additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of
exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work
in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format
must include the full Project Gutenberg License as specified in paragraph
1.E.1.
Page 603
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing,
copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg works unless you comply
with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to
or distributing Project Gutenberg electronic works provided that:
• You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the
use of Project Gutenberg works calculated using the method you
already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the
owner of the Project Gutenberg trademark, but he has agreed to donate
royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days
following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to
prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly
marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about
donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.”
• You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does
not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You
must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works
possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all
access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works.
• You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
receipt of the work.
• You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution
of Project Gutenberg™ works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in
this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project
copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg works unless you comply
with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to
or distributing Project Gutenberg electronic works provided that:
• You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the
use of Project Gutenberg works calculated using the method you
already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the
owner of the Project Gutenberg trademark, but he has agreed to donate
royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days
following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to
prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly
marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about
donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.”
• You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does
not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You
must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works
possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all
access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works.
• You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of
receipt of the work.
• You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution
of Project Gutenberg™ works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in
this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project
Page 604
Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3
below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread works
not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project Gutenberg™
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and
the medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as,
but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription
errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or
damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that
damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except
for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to
you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE
THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT
EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE
THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY
DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE
TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL,
PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE
NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you
discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you
can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the
defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund.
If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to
below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread works
not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project Gutenberg™
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and
the medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as,
but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription
errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or
damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that
damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except
for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to
you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE
THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT
EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE
THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY
DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE
TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL,
PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE
NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you
discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you
can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the
defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund.
If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to
Page 605
you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work
electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you
may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the
problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in
paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING
BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR
FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or
the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or
limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable
to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum
disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity
or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that
arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause
to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg work, (b)
alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg
work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project
Gutenberg
Project Gutenberg is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic
works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including
obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the
electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you
may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the
problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in
paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING
BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR
FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or
the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or
limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable
to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum
disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity
or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the
remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that
arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause
to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg work, (b)
alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg
work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project
Gutenberg
Project Gutenberg is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic
works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including
obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the
Page 606
efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of
life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance
they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg’s goals and ensuring
that the Project Gutenberg collection will remain freely available for
generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for
Project Gutenberg and future generations. To learn more about the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations
can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at
www.gutenberg.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)
(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of
Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service.
The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541.
Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax
deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s
laws.
The Foundation’s business office is located at 41 Watchung Plaza #516,
Montclair NJ 07042, USA, +1 (862) 621-9288. Email contact links and up
to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website and
official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread
public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the
number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed
in machine-readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment
life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance
they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg’s goals and ensuring
that the Project Gutenberg collection will remain freely available for
generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for
Project Gutenberg and future generations. To learn more about the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations
can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at
www.gutenberg.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)
(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of
Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service.
The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541.
Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax
deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s
laws.
The Foundation’s business office is located at 41 Watchung Plaza #516,
Montclair NJ 07042, USA, +1 (862) 621-9288. Email contact links and up
to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website and
official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread
public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the
number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed
in machine-readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment
Page 607
including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are
particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States.
Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort,
much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these
requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not
received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or
determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit
www.gutenberg.org/donate.
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have
not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against
accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us
with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any
statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the
United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation methods
and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including
checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit:
www.gutenberg.org/donate.
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg
electronic works
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with
anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg
eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed editions,
all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S. unless a
particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States.
Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort,
much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these
requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not
received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or
determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit
www.gutenberg.org/donate.
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have
not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against
accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us
with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any
statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the
United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation methods
and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including
checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit:
www.gutenberg.org/donate.
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg
electronic works
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with
anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg
eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed editions,
all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S. unless a
Page 608
copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in
compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our website which has the main PG search facility:
www.gutenberg.org.
This website includes information about Project Gutenberg, including how
to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation,
how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email
newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our website which has the main PG search facility:
www.gutenberg.org.
This website includes information about Project Gutenberg, including how
to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation,
how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email
newsletter to hear about new eBooks.