There are two allusions to smallpox in "Don Juan," which was published in 1819, showing to what an extent Jennerian teachings were in the air. The first is:

The doctor paid off an old pox By borrowing a new one from an ox. (Canto I., stanza 129.)

The second is:

I said the smallpox has gone out of late, Perhaps it may be followed by the great. (Stanza 130.)



Before 1812, Jenner had been made an honorary member of nearly every scientific society in Europe, and had received the freedom of the cities of London, Edinburgh, Dublin and Glasgow. The Medical Society of London presented him with a gold medal struck in his honor; in Berlin in 1812 there was a Jennerian festival on the anniversary of Phipps's vaccination. Addresses and diplomas were showered on him, and in 1813 the University of Oxford conferred on him the degree of M.D. honoris causa. As he refused point blank to pass the examination in Latin and Greek required by the Royal College of Physicians of London, Jenner never obtained admission into that learned body. When some one recommended him to revise his classics so that he might become an F.R.C.P. he replied, "I would not do it for a diadem"; and then, thinking of a far better reward, added: "I would not do it for John Hunter's museum."

But while the pure in heart were thus receiving the blessing offered them by the benovelent man of science, the pests of society, those discontented and jaundiced ones who are always to be found in the dark recesses of the cave of Adullam, were not idle. Many of his medical colleagues did indeed sneer, as some are always apt to do at any new thing however good. To all these Jenner replied, and a very great deal of his valuable time was consumed in arguing with them. But the sect of the anti-vaccinators had arisen, and was to some extent organized. Caricatures, lampoons, scurrilities, vulgarities and misrepresentations, the mean, were scattered on all sides. Nothing was too absurd to be stated or believed—that vaccinated persons had their faces grow like oxen, that they coughed like cows, bellowed like bulls and became hairy on the body. One omniscient objector declared that, "vaccination was the most degrading relapse of philosophy that had ever disgraced the civilized world." A Dr. Rowley, evidently imagining himself honored by a special participation in the Divine counsels, declared that "smallpox is a visitation from God, but cowpox is produced by presumptuous man. The former was what Heaven had ordained, the latter is a daring violation of our holy religion." It was rather hard to blame Dr. Jenner for the origin of cowpox. It took much forbearance to endure this sort of thing; but Jenner's was a first-class mind and he evidently dealt leniently even with fools. It was not for the first time in the world's history that a lover of mankind had been spurned with the words—"He hath a devil and is mad."

Besides enduring all these mental and physical worries, and the annoyance that the Royal Jennerian Society established in 1802 was so mismanaged that it collapsed in 1808, Jenner had spent a very large sum of private money on the introduction of vaccination. He had been, as he himself expressed it, "Vaccine clerk to the whole world." Parliament, it is true, in 1801, voted him a sum of 10,000 pounds which was not paid for three years afterwards and was diminished by 1,000 pounds deducted for fees, so that it barely recompensed him for his outlays. By 1806, the immensity of the benefit conferred upon his diseased fellow-creatures having been recognized more perfectly in every other country than his own, the British Parliament woke up, and voted him a sum of 20,000 pounds, only one member representing the anti-vaccinators opposing the grant. Parliament, which had previously received from the Colleges of Physicians of London, Edinburgh and Dublin the most favorable reports of the efficacy of vaccination, decided to reestablish the Royal Jennerian Institute. A subscription of 7,383 pounds from grateful India reached Jenner in 1812. In 1814 he was in London for the last time, when he was presented to the Emperor of Russia, Alexander I., who told him that he had very nearly subdued smallpox throughout that vast Empire. Jenner refused a Russian order on the ground that he was not a man of independent means.

The management of the Institute caused him much concern in his later years; he disapproved of the personnel and of many of the details of its working. One of the last worries of his life was an article in the November number for 1822 of the famous Edinburgh Review. Although it contained a good deal of praise, it was not favorable to Jenner, who said of it, "I put it down at 100,000 deaths at least." I have ascertained that this article was not written by the celebrated Francis Jeffrey, although he was editor of the Review until 1829.

Jenner's life, apart from his great discovery and his developing the practice of vaccination, has not much incident in it. He was born on May 17, 1749, the son of the Rev. Stephen Jenner, vicar of Berkeley, Gloucestershire, England, the same Berkeley in whose castle, Edward II., the vanquished at Banockburn, was murdered in 1327. Jenner's mother's name was Head. Edward went to school at Wotton-under-Edge and at Cirencester, and began to study medicine with a Mr. Ludlow, a surgeon at Sodbury near Bristol. In his twenty-first year, Jenner went to London as a pupil of the great John Hunter, in whose house, he lived two years, during which time he was entered as a medical student at St. George's Hospital. It is interesting to know that while still a student he was asked by Sir Joseph Banks to arrange and catalogue the zoological specimens brought home by the circumnavigator Captain Cook in his first voyage of 1771. Jenner devoted considerable attention to natural history, to geology and to the study of fossils, on which topics he kept up correspondence with Hunter long after he left London. In the year 1788 he married a Miss Kingscote, and settled down to practice in his native place. Mrs. Jenner died in 1815, after which date Jenner never left Berkeley again.

Curiously enough, it was not until 1792 that Jenner obtained the degree of M.D., and it was not from an English university at all, but from the University of St. Andrews in Scotland. This university, the smallest although the oldest of the Scottish universities, has therefore the honor of being the Alma Mater to the epoch-making Englishman. I have seen the entry of the name in the list of graduates for the year 1792; it has evidently been misspelled, for the name is corrected. The first foreign university to recognize Jenner's eminence was Gottingen. In 1794 Jenner had an attack of typhus fever. Jenner never cared for London or a city life, and although in 1808 he was persuaded to take a house in town, he soon gave it up and went back to his beautiful Gloucestershire. For many years he practiced during the season in the pleasant health-resort of Cheltenham. He loved the country, he studied lovingly the living things around him there: many are familiar with a piece of verse he wrote on "The signs of rain."

The year 1810 was a sad one for Jenner: his eldest son died, and that noticeably depressed his health. In 1823 he presented a paper to the Royal Society on the migration of birds, a subject not even yet fully cleared up. On January 26, in the same year, he was stricken with paralysis on the right side and died within twenty-four hours. His body was buried in the chancel of the parish church of Berkeley, where there is a memorial window placed by public subscription. In person, Edward Jenner was short and rather heavily built; his expression of face was pleasant with a touch of sadness. All reports agree that in dress he was conspicuously neat, looking more like a gentleman-farmer than a physician, with his blue coat, yellow buttons, red waistcoat, buff breeches and top-boots.[5]

[5] He was painted by Sir Thomas Lawrence, by Northcote and by Vigneron.



There is no disguising the fact that during his lifetime Dr. Jenner was much more appreciated in foreign countries than in England. The medico-social club of Alverton, near where he lived, would not listen to him when he addressed them on vaccination. The effort to collect enough money from the medical men of England in order to place a marble statue to Jenner in the nave of Gloucester Cathedral, was successful only after a long delay. An attempt to erect a statue in London died of apathy; but in 1858, 32 years after he died, a statue was erected in Trafalgar Square. In 1862 it was removed to a quiet corner of Kensington gardens; and perhaps its surroundings, the trees, the flowers and the birds he loved are more suitable than the effigies of those national heroes who served their country by taking, not by saving life. No, Nelson the hero is hardly the suitable companion for Jenner the hero.

There is no doubt that Jenner's medical contemporaries, at least in England, failed to appreciate the magnitude of the gift their colleague had presented not merely to his own country, but to the world at large. The discovery had, of course, been led up to by several different lines of indication, but this in no way detracts from the genius of Jenner in drawing his memorable inductions from the few facts which others had known before his time. The fame of Newton is no whit diminished because Copernicus, Kepler and Galileo lived and worked before him, the credit due to Harvey is none the less because many before his time had worked on the problem of the heart and vessels, and because some of them, notably Cesalpinus, came within a very little of the discovery of the circulation; the achievements of Darwin are not to be belittled because Lamarck, Malthus or Monboddo had notions in accordance with the tenor of his great generalization of evolution among living beings. Certainly Jenner had precursors; but it was his genius and his genius alone which, putting together the various fragments of knowledge already possessed, gave us the grand but simple induction based on his own experiments that vaccinia prevents from variola. It was too simple and too new to be appreciated in all its bearings either by the medical men or the laity of his own day. Its impressiveness is not inherent in it, as it is in the mathematical demonstration of universal gravitation, as it is in the atomic theory or in that of the survival of the fittest through natural selection. The English country doctor merely said in essence—"let me give you cowpox and you will not get smallpox." Unless the fact of this immunity is regarded as possessed by all the nations of the world for ever more there is nothing particularly impressive in it; and so it failed to impress his contemporaries. It is only when we contrast the loathsomeness and danger of smallpox with the mildness and safety of vaccinia and varioloid that we grasp the greatness of the work which Jenner did for mankind. The very simplicity of vaccination detracts from its impressiveness unless its results are viewed through the vista of the centuries. We need the proper historical perspective in this as in all else. Thus viewed, however, the simplicity of the procedure and the universality of its application are most imposing. Vaccination does not, indeed, dazzle the scientific imagination like some of the other generalizations of biology, but it is one that has been gloriously vindicated by the subsequent history of the world's hygiene.

Jenner knew himself to be a benefactor of the human race; he would have been insincere if he had pretended otherwise; he finished his first paper with these words: "I shall endeavor still farther to prosecute this enquiry, an enquiry, I trust, not merely speculative, but of sufficient moment to inspire the pleasing hope of its becoming essentially useful to mankind"; and on his death-bed he said, "I do not marvel that men are not grateful to me, but I am surprised that they do not feel grateful to God for making me a medium of good."

In private life Dr. Jenner was amiable and kind-hearted. Dibden said of him: "I never knew a man of simpler mind or of warmer heart." He was particularly kind to the poor. Dr. Matthew Baillie said of him: "Jenner might have been immensely rich if he had not published his discovery."

We may in conclusion examine some of the objections to and criticisms of vaccination. The objections can be classified as those entertained (a) by medical men and (b) those by the public generally.

The objections raised by medical men are now a matter of ancient history. Each generation of medical men has refused at first to admit any new teaching promulgated in its time; physiological inertia is not at once overcome. The most enlightened of Jenner's critics did really believe that he was drawing too extensive an induction from insufficient data; this was the position of the Royal Society in 1788; but the Edinburgh reviewer of 1822 should have known better. The purely technical criticisms of Jenner's work have by this time been fully assessed and replied to. It is true that at one time it was not clear what were the relationships of chickenpox and smallpox, of vaccinia and variola, of vaccinia and varioloid, of the various forms of pox in animals—cowpox, swinepox, horsepox or grease—either inter se or to human smallpox. But I do not suppose that in this year of grace 1914 there can be found one properly trained medical man, acquainted with the history of Jennerian vaccination, familiar with the ravages of smallpox and with the protective power of vaccinia, who could be induced, by no matter how large a bribe, to say that he disapproved of vaccination or that he believed it did not protect from smallpox. There are cranks in all walks of life, but the medical crank who is also an anti-vaccinationist is happily the rarest of them all.

The lay objectors—the professed anti-vaccinators—are with us yet in spite of some very serious lessons which have been taught them. We may pass by the objectors of the class who believe that vaccinated persons cough like cows and bellow like bulls; these objections go into the limbo of old wives' fables or into the category of wilful misrepresentation. Unfortunately there is a large class of persons who can believe the absurdest nonsense about any subject which is particularly distasteful to them.[6] Another class of objection is the sentimental repugnance to the idea of being given one of the diseases of "the lower animals." Now the fact is that already we share a great many diseases with the lower animals, a few of them being tuberculosis, anthrax, rabies, tetanus, cancer, pleuro-pneumonia, certain insect-borne diseases, some parasitic worm diseases and some skin diseases like favus. As the knowledge of the lowly origin of many of our diseases is more widespread, this sort of objection will die out.

[6] Antivaccinators constantly allude to calf-lymph as "filth"; if lymph is filth, then I am able to assure them that each one of them has about three liters of it in his own body.



An objection which is worthy of more consideration is that in being vaccinated a child is apt to contract some infectious disease such as tuberculosis or syphilis which are the two most dreaded. Now so long as arm-to-arm vaccination was the routine practice, there was a remote probability that this sort of accident might occur. It appears to be true that a few accidents of this kind have occurred, just as a few arms have become septic or had erysipelas develop in them. But when the few such cases are compared with the millions and millions of uncomplicated vaccinations, their importance becomes very insignificant. Now that arm-to-arm vaccination is no longer practiced, but fresh calf-lymph used for each child, these accidental inoculations are a thing of the past. The ignorance of cause and effect is responsible for a great deal of the most childish objections to vaccination as to much else. One woman lately told me that she could not have her child vaccinated because a child in the same street was made a cripple for life by being vaccinated. Could we have a better example of the "post hoc sed non propter hoc."[7]

[7] Now and again, however, we have the sad spectacle of some one really well educated but apparently either ignorant of logic or desirous of wilfully misrepresenting facts. The Hon. Stephen Coleridge has an article in the June (1914) number of the Contemporary Review which is, to say the least of it, highly immoral in ethics and statistics.

I shall examine only that part of it bearing on vaccination. The statements are that in the last five recorded years, 58 persons died from smallpox vaccination (he means vaccination against smallpox), whereas in the same five years, 85 persons died from smallpox itself. The inference we are intended to draw from these figures is that to be vaccinated is nearly as fatal as to have smallpox itself.

Now this kind of argument is a very common one with statistically immoral persons, and is known as the suppression of the ratio. Before we can appreciate the fact that in five years 58 persons died after being vaccinated, we at least need to know the total number of persons who were vaccinated. If only 58 persons were vaccinated and they all died, then the mortality was 100 per cent., but if, as was practically the case, thousands of infants in Great Britain were vaccinated in five years, then if only 58 died after vaccination (although not necessarily in consequence of it) the mortality falls some thousands of a per cent. The suppression of the ratio, i. e., 58/many thousands is the deceit that is practiced.

Fifty-eight per year for five years, is 11.6 deaths per year of persons vaccinated: presumably these were infants: taking the birth-rate in England as 30 per 1,000 living, we may say that 900,000 infants were born; deduct 100,000 as not vaccinated, we have 800,000 infants vaccinated, of these 11.6 died after being vaccinated, which is 0.0014 per cent. This is not much of a mortality from any cause; but using Mr. Coleridge's own figures, it is a splendid demonstration of the safety of infant-vaccination, the opposite of what he pretends it shows.

Mr. Coleridge proceeds to tell us that in five years 85 persons died of smallpox in Great Britain, i. e., an average of 17 persons per year. In other words 17 persons died of smallpox in a country with 30 million inhabitants, or 0.000056 per cent. of persons living, not a high mortality. And we strongly suspect, may we hope, that those 17 were persons who had not been vaccinated.

But in Pre-Jennerian days, 17 persons died of smallpox out of every 100 persons dying from all causes.

Mr. Coleridge's figures, properly and honestly interpreted, testify loudly to conclusions exactly the opposite of what he desires to insinuate; he has no doubt taken the statistics of the Registrar-General, but he has prostituted them.

Mr. Coleridge's paper could not be a better example of the art of concealing the causes of phenomena.

He exhibits the following table:

Deaths from smallpox per annum per a million living:

1862-1870 ................................. 172.2 1871-1880 ................................. 244.6 1881-1890 ................................. 45.8 1891-1900 ................................. 13.3 1901-1910 ................................. 12.8

So that the table shows that since 1880 in Great Britain the deaths from smallpox per million per year have declined until they are only about 1/14th of their original number.

The natural inference from these figures, viewed in the light of the history of smallpox in Great Britain, is that compulsory vaccination has been steadily eradicating the disease; but this is not Mr. Coleridge's conclusion: He says it is due to the large number of persons who have refused to be vaccinated! This would be laughable if it were not really serious; it is sad and serious that a man of Mr. Coleridge's education and social position should so consistently mislead the uncritical readers of the Contemporary Review to whose pages he has unfortunately very free access. If Mr. Coleridge really believes these things he is either very stupid or very ignorant; if he knows them to be otherwise, but wilfully deceives the public, he is immoral. He suffers from the worst form of bias, the anti-scientific. {the end of long footnote}



There is still that group of persons who object to everything—anti-vivisection, anti-meat eating, anti-breakfast, anti-hats and of course also anti-vaccination. They are anti the usual and the normal that are quite good enough for the most of people. They generally also believe that the earth is flat; they are past praying for, all we can do with them is to look them, like the difficulty of Jonah and the whale, "full in the face and pass on."

Many people at the present time allow themselves to be persuaded into being anti-vaccinators because neither they nor their deluders have ever known what an epidemic of smallpox is, have never seen with their own eyes the awful spectacle of a person suffering from smallpox in any of its forms—discrete, confluent or hemorrhagic. Thanks to this very Jenner, the world has now for 100 years been almost free from epidemic, virulent smallpox and most perfectly so in the vaccinated countries, so that millions, the majority, of Englishmen, have never seen a case of smallpox at all. Not knowing the awful danger they have escaped, through Great Britain having had compulsory vaccination since 1853, they have become lax in their belief in the necessity for the continuance of that precaution. "They jest at scars that never felt a wound." Towns such as Gloucester in England, in which a large number of children have been allowed to grow up unvaccinated, have always been visited sooner or later by a serious outbreak of smallpox. It must be so; the laws of natural phenomena can not be changed to suit the taste of those persons who are mentally incapable of understanding them. They can not be evaded; ignorance of the law is no more an excuse in the realm of natural than of man-made law.

We now come to that undesirable product of present-day, grandmotherly legislation, the conscientious objector. As I am not a politician, I shall not say anything for or against the policy of inserting in a bill which makes vaccination compulsory a clause giving to the conscientious objector the power or right to refuse to have his child vaccinated, but as a medical man who knows a little of the history of medicine, I can only describe it as gratuitous folly. I am one of those who believe that the laity should have no say in the matter of whether any given procedure is or is not advantageous for the public health. The efficacy of universal inoculation of vaccinia as a prophylactic against variola is a question of scientific medicine to be decided on technical grounds and ought not to be a matter open to debate by the public at all. It is perfectly monstrous to suppose that the ordinary person, quite untrained to weigh evidence for or against the advisability of the carrying out of a particular form of national immunization against a horrid disease, is qualified to form any opinion. He might as well be consulted on the advisability of making the channel tunnel or on the safest type of aeroplane or on any other subject involving the technical training of the engineer. To permit the so-called "man in the street" to say whether he shall or shall not permit the carrying out of some important piece of civic hygiene is to introduce a principle subversive of all system and obstructive of all progress in the science of public health. It is absurd that in a case like this the pronouncements of the judges are to be submitted to the criticisms of the jury. England has already had one or two pretty severe lessons through allowing such places as Gloucester and Leicester to exercise their right of private judgment on the question of vaccination. In Gloucester where there was at one time a vigorous anti-vaccination movement, a serious epidemic overtook the city a few years ago (1896). What science pronounces to be beneficial, the layman must submit to. What we want in these days is less superstition and more faith—in science. I am informed that there are more than 2,000 unvaccinated children in the schools of this city at the present moment, and all because a piece of legislation allows any unintelligent, prejudiced or credulous parent to decide on the momentous question of the vaccination of his children.

Our quarantine regulations are extremely strict, and rightly so, on the subject of smallpox; but is it not a farce to take so much trouble about the health of our immigrants when inside the city we are all the time encouraging a high degree of receptivity towards this very disease? I should call this a very clear case of straining at the international gnat and swallowing the municipal camel. The community at present is at the mercy of its least instructed members. A most sensible suggestion is that if an outbreak of smallpox occurs in Halifax, the cost of it should be borne by the unvaccinated and by the anti-vaccinators. The fact is we have forgotten what smallpox is like. In 1796 before Jennerian vaccination, the death-rate from smallpox in England was 18.5 per cent. of deaths from all causes; in London between 1838 and 1869 it was 1.4 per cent., while in 1871—the worst year for smallpox since vaccination became compulsory—the deaths from smallpox were barely 4.5 per cent. of deaths from all causes, a proportion which was exceeded 93 times in the eighteenth century. At the present moment the deaths from smallpox in London constitute a little under 0.24 per cent. of deaths from all causes, or 77 times less than in pre-Jennerian times.

According to MacVail, in the pre-vaccination period smallpox was nine times as fatal as measles and seven and one half times as fatal as whooping cough. To-day in the vaccinated community its fatality is negligable, in the unvaccinated it is as high as it was in the Middle Ages. In the city of Berlin, where vaccination is absolutely compulsory, there is no smallpox hospital at all; the cases of smallpox in that city being only a few unvaccinated foreigners. In 1912 the deaths in New York City were as follow: 671 from measles, 614 from scarlatina, 500 from typhoid fever, 187 from whooping cough and 2 from smallpox.

In London there were in 48 years of the seventeenth century no less than 10 epidemics of smallpox; in the whole of the eighteenth, 19; and in the nineteenth no epidemic at all during which smallpox was responsible for more than one tenth of the deaths from all causes in any one year.

In Sweden, the highest death-rate before vaccination was 7.23 per 1,000 persons, the lowest 0.30; under permissive vaccination the highest was 2.57, the lowest 0.12; under compulsory vaccination the highest was 0.94, the lowest 0.0005.

It is so frequently said that the disappearance of smallpox is due not to vaccination, but to improved general hygiene, that we must look into this criticism with some care. In the first place, a large diminution in the mortality from smallpox occurred before there was any great change in the unsanitary conditions of the English towns, before there was any enforcing of the isolation of patients either in hospitals or in their own homes. Since the introduction of vaccination, measles and whooping cough still remain in the status quo ante, while smallpox has been exterminated in all fully vaccinated communities, these two diseases of children are as prevalent as ever in England even although the general sanitary conditions have been immensely improved in that country. Of course the effects of vaccination wear out in time, and that is why it is well to be revaccinated once or twice. Now there has been a remarkable progressive change in the age-incidence of smallpox "which can only be explained," says Dr. Newsholme, "on the assumption that vaccination protects children from smallpox and that the protection diminishes, though it never entirely disappears, as age advances.

The "conscience clause" should be immediately removed from the act in which it was inserted on the grounds that it is weak and reactionary in principle, not in the interests of the development of the legislative aspect of the science of public health, and that it permits in certain unintelligent communities quite a considerable number of unvaccinated children to grow up as a permanent menace to their town and district.

When the history of medicine becomes more widely known, when the principles of prophylactic inoculation are more generally understood, when respect for science is the rule rather than the exception, when great achievements in the saving rather than the destroying of life are objects of national veneration, then we may hope to see the day when it will be unhesitatingly admitted that the discovery by Dr. Edward Jenner, the Englishman, was one of the most momentous in the history of the human race, and that his life was one of the noblest, most unselfish and, in its far-reaching effects, most important that has ever been lived on this planet.



THE VALUE OF INDUSTRIAL RESEARCH

BY W. A. HAMOR

MELLON INSTITUTE OF INDUSTRIAL RESEARCH, UNIVERSITY OF PITTSBURGH

THE aim of all industrial operations is toward perfection, both in process and mechanical equipment, and every development in manufacturing creates new problems. It is only to be expected, therefore, that the industrial researcher is becoming less and less regarded as a burden unwarranted by returns. Industrialists have, in fact, learned to recognize chemistry as the intelligence department of industry, and manufacturing is accordingly becoming more and more a system of scientific processes. The accruement of technical improvements in particularly the great chemical industry is primarily dependent upon systematic industrial research, and this is being increasingly fostered by American manufacturers.

Ten thousand American chemists are at present engaged in pursuits which affect over 1,000,000 wage-earners and produce over $5,000,000,000 worth of manufactured products each year. These trained men have actively and effectively collaborated in bringing about stupendous results in American industry. There are, in fact, at least nineteen American industries in which the chemist has been of great assistance, either in founding the industry, in developing it, or in refining the methods of control or of manufacture, thus ensuring profits, lower costs and uniform outputs.

At the recent symposium on the contributions of the chemist to American industries, at the fiftieth meeting of the American Chemical Society in New Orleans, the industrial achievements of that scientific scout, the chemist, were brought out clearly.[1]

[1] In this connection, see Hesse, J. Ind. Eng. Chem., 7 (1915), 293.



The chemist has made the wine industry reasonably independent of climatic conditions; he has enabled it to produce substantially the same wine, year in and year out, no matter what the weather; he has reduced the spoilage from 25 per cent. to 0.46 per cent. of the total; he has increased the shipping radius of the goods and has made preservatives unnecessary. In the copper industry he has learned and has taught how to make operations so constant and so continuous that in the manufacture of blister copper valuations are less than $1.00 apart on every $10,000 worth of product and in refined copper the valuations of the product do not differ by more than $1.00 in every $50,000 worth of product. The quality of output is maintained constant within microscopic differences. Without the chemist the corn-products industry would never have arisen and in 1914 this industry consumed as much corn as was grown in that year by the nine states of Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, New York, New Jersey and Delaware combined; this amount is equal to the entire production of the state of North Carolina and about 80 per cent. of the production of each of the states of Georgia, Michigan and Wisconsin; the chemist has produced over 100 useful commercial products from corn, which, without him, would never have been produced. In the asphalt industry the chemist has taught how to lay a road surface that will always be good, and he has learned and taught how to construct a suitable road surface for different conditions of service. In the cottonseed oil industry, the chemist standardized methods of production, reduced losses, increased yields, made new use of wastes and by-products, and has added somewhere between $10 and $12 to the value of each bale of cotton grown. In the cement industry, the chemist has ascertained new ingredients, has utilized theretofore waste products for this purpose, has reduced the waste heaps of many industries and made them his starting material; he has standardized methods of manufacture, introduced methods of chemical control and has insured constancy and permanency of quality and quantity of output. In the sugar industry, the chemist has been active for so long a time that "the memory of man runneth not to the contrary." The sugar industry without the chemist is unthinkable. The Welsbach mantle is distinctly a chemist's invention and its successful and economical manufacture depends largely upon chemical methods. It would be difficult to give a just estimate of the economic effect of this device upon illumination, so great and valuable is it. In the textile industry, he has substituted uniform, rational, well-thought out and simple methods of treatment of all the various textile fabrics and fibers where mystery, empiricism, "rule-of-thumb" and their accompanying uncertainties reigned. In the fertilizer industry, it was the chemist who learned and who taught how to make our immense beds of phosphate rock useful and serviceable to man in the enrichment of the soil; he has taught how to make waste products of other industries useful and available for fertilization and he has shown how to make the gas works contribute to the fertility of the soil. In the soda industry, the chemist can successfully claim that he has founded it, developed it and brought it to its present state of perfection and utility, but not without the help of other technical men; the fundamental ideas were and are chemical. In the leather industry, the chemist has given us all of the modern methods of mineral tanning, and without them the modern leather industry is unthinkable. In the case of vegetable-tanned leather he has also stepped in, standardized the quality of incoming material and of outgoing product. In the flour industry the chemist has learned and taught how to select the proper grain for specific purposes, to standardize the product, and how to make flour available for certain specific culinary and food purposes. In the brewing industry, the chemist has standardized the methods of determining the quality of incoming material and of outgoing products, and has assisted in the development of a product of a quality far beyond that obtaining prior to his entry into that industry. In the preservation of foods, the chemist made the fundamental discoveries; up to twenty years ago, however, he took little or no part in the commercial operations, but now is almost indispensable to commercial success. In the water supply of cities, the chemist has put certainty in the place of uncertainty; he has learned and has shown how, by chemical methods of treatment and control, raw water of varying quality can be made to yield potable water of substantially uniform composition and quality. The celluloid industry and the nitro-cellulose industry owe their very existence and much of their development to the chemist. In the glass industry the chemist has learned and taught how to prepare glasses suitable for the widest ranges of uses and to control the quality and quantity of the output. In the pulp and paper industry, the chemist made the fundamental observations, inventions and operations and to-day he is in control of all the operations of the plant itself; to the chemist also is due the cheap production of many of the materials entering into this industry, as well as the increased and expanding market for the product itself.

Sufficient has been presented to show that certain industries of the United States have been elevated by an infusion of scientific spirit through the medium of the chemist, and that manufacturing, at one time entirely a matter of empirical judgment and individual skill, is more and more becoming a system of scientific processes. The result is that American manufacturers are growing increasingly appreciative of scientific research, and are depending upon industrial researchers—"those who catalyze raw materials by brains"—as their pathfinders. It is now appropriate to consider just how industrialists are taking advantage of the universities and the products of these.

THE METHODS EMPLOYED IN THE ATTACK OF INDUSTRIAL PROBLEMS[2]

[2] See also Bacon, Science, N. S., 40 (1914), 871.

When an industry has problems requiring solution, these problems can be attacked either inside or outside of the plant. If the policy of the industrialist is that all problems are to be investigated only within the establishment, a research laboratory must be provided for the plant or for the company. At present, in the United States, probably not more than one hundred chemical manufacturing establishments have research laboratories or employ research chemists, although at least five companies are spending over $100,000 per year in research. In Germany, and perhaps also in England, such research laboratories in connection with chemical industries have been much more common. The great laboratories of the Badische Anilin und Soda Fabrik and of the Elberfeld Company are striking examples of the importance attached to such research work in Germany, and it would be difficult to adduce any stronger argument in support of its value than the marvelous achievements of these great firms.

A frequent difficulty encountered in the employment of researchers or in the establishment of a research laboratory, is that many manufacturers have been unable to grasp the importance of such work, or know how to treat the men in charge so as to secure the best results. The industrialist may not even fully understand just what is the cause of his manufacturing losses or to whom to turn for aid. If he eventually engages a researcher, he is sometimes likely to regard him as a sort of master of mysteries who should be able to accomplish wonders, and, if he can not see definite results in the course of a few months, is occasionally apt to consider the investment a bad one and to regard researchers, as a class, as a useless lot. It has not been unusual for the chemist to be told to remain in his laboratory, and not to go in or about the works, and he must also face the natural opposition of workmen to any innovations, and reckon with the jealousies of foremen and of various officials.

From the standpoint of the manufacturer, one decided advantage of the policy of having all problems worked out within the plant is that the results secured are not divulged, but are stored away in the laboratory archives and become part of the assets and working capital of the corporation which has paid for them; and it is usually not until patent applications are filed that this knowledge, generally only partially and imperfectly, becomes publicly known. When it is not deemed necessary to take out patents, such knowledge is often permanently buried.

In this matter of the dissemination of knowledge concerning industrial practice, it must be evident to all that there is but little cooperation between manufacturers and the universities. Manufacturers, and especially chemical manufacturers, have been quite naturally opposed to publishing any discoveries made in their plants, since "knowledge is power" in manufacturing as elsewhere, and new knowledge gained in the laboratories of a company may often very properly be regarded as among the most valuable assets of the concern. The universities and the scientific societies, on the other hand, exist for the diffusion of knowledge, and from their standpoint the great disadvantage of the above policy is this concealment of knowledge, for it results in a serious retardation of the general growth and development of science in its broader aspects, and renders it much more difficult for the universities to train men properly for such industries, since all the text-books and general knowledge available would in all probability be far behind the actual manufacturing practice. Fortunately, the policy of industrial secrecy is becoming more generally regarded in the light of reason, and there is a growing inclination among manufacturers to disclose the details of investigations, which, according to tradition, would be carefully guarded. These manufacturers appreciate the facts that public interest in chemical achievements is stimulating to further fruitful research, that helpful suggestions and information may come from other investigators upon the publication of any results, and that the exchange of knowledge prevents many costly repetitions.

INDUSTRIAL FELLOWSHIPS

If the manufacturer elects to refer his problem to the university or technical school—and because of the facilities for research to be had in certain institutions, industrialists are following this plan in constantly increasing numbers—such reference may take the form of an industrial fellowship and much has been said and may be said in favor of these fellowships. They allow the donor to keep secret for three years the results secured, after which they may be published with the donor's permission. They also secure to him patent rights. They give highly specialized training to properly qualified men, and often secure for them permanent positions and shares in the profits of their discoveries. It should be obvious at the outset that a fellowship of this character can be successful only when there are close confidential relations obtaining between the manufacturer and the officer in charge of the research; for no such cooperation can be really effective unless based upon a thorough mutual familiarity with the conditions and an abiding faith in the integrity and sincerity of purpose of each other. It is likely to prove a poor investment for a manufacturer to seek the aid of an investigator if he is unwilling to take such expert into his confidence and to familiarize him with all the local and other factors which enter into the problem from a manufacturing standpoint.

THE MELLON INSTITUTE OF INDUSTRIAL RESEARCH[3]

[3] For a detailed description of the Mellon Institute and its work, see Bacon and Hamor, J. Ind. Eng. Chem., 7 (1915), 326-48.



According to the system of industrial research in operation at the Mellon Institute of Industrial Research of the University of Pittsburgh, which is not, in any sense of the word, a commercial institution, a manufacturer having a problem requiring solution may become the donor of a fellowship; the said manufacturer provides the salary of the researcher selected to conduct the investigation desired, the institute furnishing such facilities as are necessary for the conduct of the work.

The money paid in to found a fellowship is paid over by the institute in salary to the investigator doing the work. In every case, this researcher is most carefully selected for the problem in hand. The institute supplies free laboratory space and the use of all ordinary chemicals and equipment. The chemist or engineer who is studying the problem works under the immediate supervision of men who are thoroughly trained and experienced in conducting industrial research.

At the present time, the Mellon Institute, which, while an integral part of the University of Pittsburgh, has its own endowment, is expending over $150,000 annually for salaries and maintenance. A manufacturer secures for a small expenditure—just sufficient to pay the salary of the fellow, as the man engaged on the investigation is called—all the benefits of an organization of this size, and many have availed themselves of the advantages, twenty-eight companies maintaining fellowships at the present time.

Each fellow has the benefit of the institute's very excellent apparatus, chemical and library equipment—facilities which are so essential in modern research; and because of these opportunities and that of being able to pursue post-graduate work for higher degrees, it has been demonstrated that a higher type of researcher can be obtained by the institute for a certain remuneration than can be generally secured by manufacturers themselves. There is a scarcity of men gifted with the genius for research, and it requires much experience in selecting suitable men and in training them to the desirable degree of efficiency, after having determined the special qualities required. Important qualifications in industrial researchers are keenness, inspiration and confidence; these are often unconsidered by manufacturers, who in endeavoring to select, say, a research chemist, are likely to regard every chemist as a qualified scientific scout.

All researches conducted at the Mellon Institute are surrounded with the necessary secrecy, and any and all discoveries made by the fellow during the term of his fellowship become the property of the donor.

When the Mellon Institute moved into its $350,000 home in February, 1915, the industrial fellowship system in operation therein passed out of its experimental stage. During the years of its development no inherent sign of weakness on the part of any one of its constituent factors appeared; in fact, the results of the fellowships have been uniformly successful. While problems have been presented by companies which, upon preliminary investigation, have proved to be so difficult as to be practically impossible of solution, there have been so many other problems confronting these companies that important ones were found which lent themselves to solution; and often the companies did not realize, until after investigations were started, just what the exact nature of their problems was and just what improvements and savings could be made in their manufacturing processes.

Fellowships at the Mellon Institute are constantly increasing in the amounts subscribed by industrialists for their maintenance and, as well, in their importance. The renewal, year after year, of such fellowships, as those on baking, petroleum and ores, goes to show the confidence which industrialists have in the Mellon Institute. Again, the large sums of money which are being spent by companies in bringing small unit plants to develop the processes which have been worked out in the laboratory, demonstrate that practical results are being secured.

Where there have been sympathy and hearty cooperation between the Mellon Institute and the company concerned, the institute has been able to push through to a successful conclusion large scale experiments in the factory of the company, which in the beginning of the fellowship seemed almost impossible: it may be said that the results of the fellowships at the Mellon Institute indicate that a form of service to industry has been established, the possibilities of which no man can say.



A FEW CLASSIC UNKNOWNS IN MATHEMATICS

BY PROFESSOR G. A. MILLER

UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS

KING HIERO is said to have remarked, in view of the marvelous mechanical devices of Archimedes, that he would henceforth doubt nothing that had been asserted by Archimedes. This spirit of unbounded confidence in those who have exhibited unusual mathematical ability is still extant. Even our large city papers sometimes speak of a mathematical genius who could solve every mathematical problem that was proposed to him. The numerous unexpected and far-reaching results contained in the elementary mathematical text-books, and the ease with which the skilful mathematics teachers often cleared away what appeared to be great difficulties to the students have filled many with a kind of awe for unusual mathematical ability.

In recent years the unbounded confidence in mathematical results has been somewhat shaken by a wave of mathematical skepticism which gained momentum through some of the popular writings of H. Poincare and Bertrand Russell. As instances of expressions which might at first tend to diminish such confidence we may refer to Poincare's contention that geometrical axioms are conventions guided by experimental facts and limited by the necessity to avoid all contradictions, and to Russell's statement that "mathematics may be defined as the subject in which we never know what we are talking about nor whether what we are saying is true."

The mathematical skepticism which such statements may awaken is usually mitigated by reflection, since it soon appears that philosophical difficulties abound in all domains of knowledge, and that mathematical results continue to inspire relatively the highest degrees of confidence. The unknowns in mathematics to which we aim to direct attention here are not of this philosophical type but relate to questions of the most simple nature. It is perhaps unfortunate that in the teaching of elementary mathematics the unknowns receive so little attention. In fact, it seems to be customary to direct no attention whatever to the unsolved mathematical difficulties until the students begin to specialize in mathematics in the colleges or universities.

One of the earliest opportunities to impress on the student the fact that mathematical knowledge is very limited in certain directions presents itself in connection with the study of prime numbers. Among the small prime numbers there appear many which differ only by 2. For instance, 3 and 5, 5 and 7, 11 and 13, 17 and 19, 29 and 31, constitute such pairs of prime numbers. The question arises whether there is a limit to such pairs of primes, or whether beyond each such pair of prime numbers there must exist another such pair.

This question can be understood by all and might at first appear to be easy to answer, yet no one has succeeded up to the present time in finding which of the two possible answers is correct. It is interesting to note that in 1911 E. Poincare transmitted a note written by M. Merlin to the Paris Academy of Sciences in which a theorem was announced from which its author deduced that there actually is an infinite number of such prime number pairs, but this result has not been accepted because no definite proof of the theorem in question was produced.

Another unanswered question which can be understood by all is whether every even number is the sum of two prime numbers. It is very easy to verify that each one of the small even numbers is the sum of a pair of prime numbers, if we include unity among the prime numbers; and, in 1742, C. Goldbach expressed the theorem, without proof, that every possible even number is actually the sum of at least one pair of prime numbers. Hence this theorem is known as Goldbach's theorem, but no one has as yet succeeded in either proving or disproving it.

Although the proof or the disproof of such theorems may not appear to be of great consequence, yet the interdependence of mathematical theorems is most marvelous, and the mathematical investigator is attracted by such difficulties of long standing. These particular difficulties are mentioned here mainly because they seem to be among the simplest illustrations of the fact that mathematics is teeming with classic unknowns as well as with knowns. By classic unknowns we mean here those things which are not yet known to any one, but which have been objects of study on the part of mathematicians for some time. As our elementary mathematical text-books usually confine themselves to an exposition of what has been fully established, and hence is known, the average educated man is led to believe too frequently that modern mathematical investigations relate entirely to things which lie far beyond his training.

It seems very unfortunate that there should be, on the part of educated people, a feeling of total isolation from the investigations in any important field of knowledge. The modern mathematical investigator seems to be in special danger of isolation, and this may be unavoidable in many cases, but it can be materially lessened by directing attention to some of the unsolved mathematical problems which can be most easily understood. Moreover, these unsolved problems should have an educational value since they serve to exhibit boundaries of modern scientific achievements, and hence they throw some light on the extent of these achievements in certain directions.

Both of the given instances of unanswered classic questions relate to prime numbers. As an instance of one which does not relate to prime numbers we may refer to the question whether there exists an odd perfect number. A perfect number is a natural number which is equal to the sum of its aliquot parts. Thus 6 is perfect because it is equal to 1 + 2 + 3, and 28 is perfect because it is equal to 1 + 2 + 4 + 7 + 14. Euclid stated a formula which gives all the even perfect numbers, but no one has ever succeeded in proving either the existence or the non-existence of an odd perfect number. A considerable number of properties of odd perfect numbers are known in case such numbers exist.

In fact, a very noted professor in Berlin University developed a series of properties of odd perfect numbers in his lectures on the theory of numbers, and then followed these developments with the statement that it is not known whether any such numbers exist. This raises the interesting philosophical question whether one can know things about what is not known to exist; but the main interest from our present point of view relates to the fact that the meaning of odd perfect number is so very elementary that all can easily grasp it, and yet no one has ever succeeded in proving either the existence or the non-existence of such numbers.

It would not be difficult to increase greatly the number of the given illustrations of unsolved questions relating directly to the natural numbers. In fact, the well-known greater Fermat theorem is a question of this type, which does not appear more important intrinsically than many others but has received unusual attention in recent years on account of a very large prize offered for its solution. In view of the fact that those who have become interested in this theorem often experience difficulty in finding the desired information in any English publication, we proceed to give some details about this theorem and the offered prize. The following is a free translation of a part of the announcement made in regard to this prize by the Konigliche Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften, Gottingen, Germany:

On the basis of the bequest left to us by the deceased Dr. Paul Wolskehl, of Darmstadt, a prize of 100,000 mk., in words, one hundred thousand marks, is hereby offered to the one who will first succeed to produce a proof of the great Fermat theorem. Dr. Wolfskehl remarks in his will that Fermat had maintained that the equation

x <superscript Greek 1> + y <superscript Greek 1> = z <superscript Greek 1>

could not be satisfied by integers whenever is an odd prime number. This Fermat theorem is to be proved either generally in the sense of Fermat, or, in supplementing the investigations by Kummer, published in Crelle's Journal, volume 40, it is to be proved for all values of for which it is actually true. For further literature consult Hibert's report on the theory of algebraic number realms, published in volume 4 of the Jahreshericht der Deutschen Mathernatiker-Vereinigung, and volume 1 of the Encyklopadie der mathematischen Wissenschaften.

The prize is offered under the following more particular conditions.

The Konigliche Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften in Gottingen decides independently on the question to whom the prize shall be awarded. Manuscripts intended to compete for the prize will not be received, but, in awarding the prize only such mathematical papers will be considered as have appeared either in the regular periodicals or have been published in the form of monographs or books which were for sale in the book-stores. The Gesellschaft leaves it to the option of the author of such a paper to send to it about five printed copies.

Among the additional stipulations it may be of interest to note that the prize will not be awarded before at least two years have elapsed since the first publication of the paper which is adjudged as worthy of the prize. In the meantime the mathematicians of various countries are invited to express their opinion as regards the correctness of this paper. The secretary of the Gesellschaft will write to the person to whom the prize is awarded and will also publish in various places the fact that the award has been made. If the prize has not been awarded before September 13, 2007, no further applications will be considered.

While this prize is open to the people of all countries it has become especially well known in Germany, and hundreds of Germans from a very noted university professor of mathematics to engineers, pastors, teachers, students, bankers, officers, etc., have published supposed proofs. These publications are frequently very brief, covering only a few pages, and usually they disclose the fact that the author had no idea in regard to the real nature of the problem or the meaning of a mathematical proof. In a few cases the authors were fully aware of the requirements but were misled by errors in their work. Although the prize was formally announced more than seven years ago no paper has as yet been adjudged as fulfilling the conditions.

It may be of interest to note in this connection that a mathematical proof implies a marshalling of mathematical results, or accepted assumptions, in such a manner that the thing to be proved is a NECESSARY consequence. The non-mathematician is often inclined to think that if he makes statements which can not be successfully refuted he has carried his point. In mathematics such statements have no real significance in an attempted proof. Unknowns must be labeled as such and must retain these labels until they become knowns in view of the conditions which they can be proved to satisfy. The pure mathematician accepts only necessary conclusions with the exception that basal postulates have to be assumed by common agreement.

The mathematical subject in which the student usually has to contend most frequently with unknowns at the beginning of his studies is the history of mathematics. The ancient Greeks had already attempted to trace the development of every known concept, but the work along this line appears still in its infancy. Even the development of our common numerals is surrounded with many perplexing questions, as may be seen by consulting the little volume entitled "The Hindu-Arabic Numerals," by D. E. Smith and L. C. Karpinski.

The few mathematical unknowns explicitly noted above may suffice to illustrate the fact that the path of the mathematical student often leads around difficulties which are left behind. Sometimes the later developments have enabled the mathematicians to overcome some of these difficulties which had stood in the way for more than a thousand years. This was done, for instance, by Gauss when he found a necessary and sufficient condition that a regular polygon of a prime number of sides can be constructed by elementary methods. It was also done by Hermite, Lindemann and others by proving that epsilon and rho are transcendental numbers. While such obstructions are thus being gradually removed some of the most ancient ones still remain, and new ones are rising rapidly in view of modern developments along the lines of least resistance.

These obstructions have different effects on different people. Some fix their attention almost wholly on them and are thus impressed by the lack of progress in mathematics, while others overlook them almost entirely and fix their attention on the routes into new fields which avoid these difficulties. A correct view of mathematics seems to be the one which looks at both, receiving inspiration from the real advances but not forgetting the desirability of making the developments as continuous as possible. At any rate the average educated man ought to know that there is no mathematician who is able to solve all the mathematical questions which could be proposed even by those having only slight attainments along this line.



THE ABORIGINAL ROCK-STENCILLINGS OF NEW SOUTH WALES

BY DR. CHAS. B. DAVENPORT

COLD SPRING HARBOR, N. Y.

IN a number of places in eastern Australia curious aboriginal markings are found on the faces of the sandstone cliffs. A good idea of them is given by the photographs. These came from Wolgan Gap near Wallerang in the Blue Mountain region of New South Wales. They are found on overhanging rocks that have served as shelters or camping places for the aborigines and which doubtless have protected their works of art.

These stencillings are made by a sort of spatter work, something like that in vogue a generation ago in this country, using leaves, etc., as forms. The rocks at Wolgan Gap are a coarse sandstone stained almost black by an iron oxide derived from included bands of ironstone. These black surfaces were selected by the artists. Nearby in the rock is a band of shale which had disintegrated at its exposed edge to a white powder. The native artist put some of this white powder in his mouth, placed his hand or foot upon the rock, and blew the moistened powder upon and around his outstretched fingers or toes. When he removed them they were outlined on the rock. Since the sandstone is coarse and deeply pitted, the moist powder was blown into minute cavities where it has remained despite the erosive activities of some generations. The presence of the powder is shown on the photographs as a sort of halo around the object. The hands are either right or left, and, in some cases, both hands seem to have been stencilled at once. Sometimes the whole arm and hand are stencilled together, and in one of the photographs a boomerang is shown. The age of these stencils is not known. They were first discovered at Wolgan Gap about sixty years ago, but others have been known for a longer time, for instance, those at Greenwich, Parametta River, near Sydney.

The significance of these stencillings has been the subject of some controversy. The natives may have been induced to make them as boys carve their names on benches or even rocks. The materials for making the stencillings were present and, the example once having been set, others would emulate it. It is interesting that similar stencillings of the hands were made by cave men on the walls of some of the European caves, as, for instance, those of Aurignac in southern France. Evidently spatter work is no modern pastime.



THE PROGRESS OF SCIENCE

SUBSTITUTES FOR WAR

THIS war, beyond measure disastrous to civilization, is a trial also of our democracy. We may hope that it is an old-world war and an old-men's war, repugnant to the genius of our newer life. The statements of some of our public men and the contents of some of our newspapers can not be read without discouragement. But it is also true that there has perhaps not appeared a cartoon in any American newspaper tending to glorify war, and no legislation has so far been enacted in preparation for war. There is good reason to believe that the people have not been infected by the contagion of blood.

As Professor Patrick argued in a recent issue of the Monthly, man is by genetic inheritance a fighting and a playing animal, not an animal delighting in steady work. The ape and the tiger will be exterminated elsewhere in nature before they will be suppressed in man. It is a slow process, but surely proceeding.

The writer of this note has determined the proportion of each century in which the leading nations have been engaged in war. The curve thus found has no great reliability; for it does not take into account the percentages of the peoples concerned, but its course clearly indicates that even under circumstances as they have been, wars will come to an end. And there is good reason to believe that the newer condition—universal education and universal suffrage, democratic control, improved economic conditions of living for the people, the scientific attitude—will tend to bend the curve more rapidly toward the base line of permanent "peace on earth and good will to men."

While man has inherited instincts which exhibit themselves in playing and fighting, the same instincts may by social control be diverted to playing the games of art or science, to fighting disease and vice. It is rarely wise or feasible to attempt to suppress instincts; they should be directed so as to provide desirable conduct. Loyalty to family, to group, to neighborhood and to nation can not be lightly cast away for an abstract cosmopolitanism. But it can be expressed otherwise than by seizing everything in sight by cunning or by violence.

William James, the great psychologist, in one of his brilliant essays published in The Popular Science Monthly for October, 1910, tells us that history is a bath of blood; we inherit the war-like type; our ancestors have bred pugnacity into our bone and marrow; showing the irrationality and horror of war does not prevent it; but a moral equivalent can be found by enlisting an army to toil and suffer pain in doing the hard and routine work of the world. It is doubtful, however, if the "gilded youths" to whom James refers would accept "dish-washing, clothes-washing and window-washing, road-building and tunnel-making, foundries and stoke-holes," as a substitute for war, and for the great mass of the people there is more than enough of these things. It is to escape from them that we seek excitement and adventure, intoxication by drugs and war.

Professor Cannon, of Harvard University, proposes international football and other athletic contests as substitutes for war. The adrenal glands, whose secretions excite the combative and martial emotions, must function, and their activity, he argues, can be directed in this way. Mr. Bryan has just now made the proposal that we build six great national roads by which armies might be collected for defence; the secretary of the navy has founded a Naval Inventions Board; the postmaster general has suggested that aeroplanes be used to deliver mail in order that we may have an aerial corps ready for service. There may be an element of the absurd in some of these proposals, as there would be in using submarines to catch cod fish, so that there might be practise in building and managing such crafts for peaceful pursuits. There is, however, psychological justification for aiming to direct the emotions so that their discharge is not destructive, but of benefit to the nation and to the world. Such would be the development of our national resources, the construction of railways, roads, waterworks and the like; social and political reforms; progress in the care of public health, in education and in scientific research. It is proposed that the next congress should spend half a billion dollars on the army and navy. It is possible that on a plebiscite vote, exactly under existing conditions, a majority would vote to make the department of war a department of public works, military defence being only one of its functions, and to spend the sum proposed on public works useful in case of war, but not an incitement to war.

NATIONAL WEALTH AND PUBLIC INDEBTEDNESS

WHILE the lives and the wealth of the European nations are being sacrificed on a scale hitherto unparalleled, it is well in the interests of those nations, as well as of our own, that we conserve the lives and wealth of our own people. The greatest wealth of a nation is its children, its productive workers, its scientific men and other leaders, its accumulated knowledge and social traditions. These are immeasurable, but the Bureau of the Census has recently prepared a report on the material wealth and indebtedness, according to which it is estimated that the total value of all classes of property in the United States, exclusive of Alaska and the insular possessions, in 1912, was $187,739,000,000, or $1,965 per capita. This estimate is presented merely as the best approximation which can be made from the data available and as being fairly comparable with that published eight years ago. The increase between 1904 and 1912 was 75 per cent., for the total amount and 49 per cent. for the per capita. Real estate and improvements, including public property, alone constituted $110,677,000,000, or 59 per cent. of the total, in 1912. The next greatest item, $16,149,000,000, was contributed by the railroads; and the third, $14,694,000,000, represented the value of manufactured products, other than clothing and personal adornments, furniture, vehicles and kindred property.

The net public-indebtedness in 1913 amounted to $4,850,461,000. This amount was made up as follows: National debt, $1,028,564,000, or $10.59 per capita; state debt, $345,942,000, or $3.57 per capita; county debt, $371,528,000, or $4.33 per capita; and municipal debt, $2,884,883,000, or $54.27 per capita. Thus the average urban citizen's share of the net federal, state, county and municipal debt combined was $72.76; and the average rural citizen's share of the net federal, state and county debt combined was $18.49.

The total federal debt in 1910 was $2,916,205,000, of which amount $967,366,000 was represented by bonds, $375,682,000 by non-interest-bearing debt (principally United States notes or "greenbacks"), and $1,573,157,000 by certificates and notes issued on deposits of coin and bullion. Against this indebtedness there was in the treasury $1,887,641,000 in cash available for payment of debt, leaving the net national indebtedness at $1,028,564,000, or $10.59 per capita. The increase in the net indebtedness between 1902 and 1913 amounted to 6 per cent., but for the per capita figure there was a decrease of 13 per cent. The burden due to the national debt is thus very light in comparison with that imposed by the indebtedness of other great nations.

The state debt, however, rests still more easily on the shoulders of the average citizen, being only one third as great as that of the nation. The total state indebtedness in 1913 was $422,797,000, and the net debt—that is, the total debt less sinking-fund assets—was $345,942,000, or $3.57 per capita. The net debt increased by 44.5 per cent. between 1902 and 1913, and the per capita net debt by 18 per cent.

The total county debt in 1913 amounted to $393,207,000, of which amount $371,528,000, or $4.33 per capita, was net debt. The net indebtedness increased by 89 per cent. between 1902 and 1913, and the per capita net indebtedness by 55 per cent. By far the greatest item of indebtedness in this country is that of municipalities. This amounted in 1913 to an aggregate of $3,460,000,000, of which $2,884,883,000, or $54.27 per capita, represented net indebtedness. The rate of increase in net indebtedness between 1902 and 1913 was 114 per cent.

While the nations of Europe are involving themselves in the toils of debts, we should use our vast surplus wealth to pay the national, state and municipal debts, even those contracted for public improvements. We save every year about $100 for each adult and child of the country and waste about an equal sum. It would be well if this wealth could be invested for the benefit of each, and education and scientific research are the most productive of all investments.



SCIENTIFIC ITEMS

WE record with regret the death of Karl Eugen Guthe, professor of physics in the University of Michigan and dean of the Graduate School, in Hanover, Germany; of John Howard Van Amringe, long dean of Columbia College and professor of mathematics; of Carlos J. Finlay, known for his advocacy of the theory that yellow fever is transmitted by mosquitoes; of A. J. Herbertson, of Wadham College, Oxford, professor of geography in the university; of Julius von Payer, the distinguished polar explorer and artist, of Vienna, and of Guido Goldsehmiedt, professor of chemistry in the University of Vienna.

DR. JACQUES LORE, of the Rockefeller Institute for Medical Research, has been elected a foreign fellow of the Linnean Society, London.—Dr. David Bancroft Johnson, president of Winthrop Normal and Industrial College, of Rockhill, S. C., has been elected president of the National Education Association, in succession to Dr. David Starr Jordan, chancellor of Stanford University.

A MEMORIAL to Johann C. Reil, the anatomist, has been erected in Halle. It stands in front of the university clinic, the seat of his labors until called to Berlin in 1810. He died in 1813, aged fifty-five years.—A bronze bas-relief—the work of Mr. S. N. Babb—is about to be erected in St. Paul's Cathedral in memory of Captain Scott and his companions who perished in the Antarctic. At the request of the committee responsible for the memorial an inscription has been written by Lord Curzon, which reads as follows: "In memory of Captain Robert Falcon Scott, C.V.O., R.N., Dr. Edward Adrian Wilson, Captain Lawrence E. G. Oates, Lieut. Henry R. Bowers and Petty Officer Edgar Evans, who died on their return journey from the South Pole in February and March, 1912. Inflexible of purpose, steadfast in courage, resolute in endurance in the face of unparalleled misfortune. Their bodies are lost in the Antarctic ice. But the memory of their deeds is an everlasting monument."



THE SCIENTIFIC MONTHLY

NOVEMBER, 1915

PAPUA, WHERE THE STONE-AGE LINGERS

BY DR. ALFRED GOLDSBOROUGH MAYER

WITH their undaunted spirit for braving the wilds, the English entered New Guinea in 1885. For centuries the great island had remained a mere outline upon the map the fever-haunted glades of its vast swamps and the broken precipices of its mountain ranges having defied exploration, more than the morose and savage character of its inhabitants. Even in the summer of 1913, Massy Baker the explorer, discovered a lake probably 100 miles or more in shore-line, which had remained hidden in the midst of the dark forests of the Fly and Strickland River regions, and here savages still in the stone age, who had never seen a white man, measured the potency of their weapons against the modern rifle.

To-day there are vast areas upon which the foot of the white man has not yet trodden, and of all the regions in the tropical world New Guinea beckons with most alluring fascination to him to whom adventure is dearer than life.

Far back in the dawn of European exploration, the Portuguese voyager Antonio de Abreu, may have seen the low shores of western New Guinea, but it is quite certain that sixteen years later, in 1527, Don Jorge de Meneses cruised along the coast and observed the wooly-headed natives whom he called "Papuas." The name "New Guinea" was bestowed upon the island by the Spanish captain, Ynigo Ortz de Retes, in 1515, when he saw the negroid natives of its northern shores.

Then there came and passed some of the world's greatest navigators. Torres wandering from far Peru, to unknowingly discover the strait which bears his name; Dampier, the buccancer-adventurer, and, in 1768, the cultured, esthetic Bougainville, who was enraptured by the beauty of the deep forest-fringed fjords of the northeastern coast. Cook, greatest of all geographers, mapped the principal islands and shoals of the intricate Torres Strait in 1770; and a few years later came Captain Bligh, the resourceful leader of his faithful few, crouching in their frail sail boat that had survived many a tempest; since the mutineers of the Bounty had cast them adrift in the mid-Pacific. In the early years of the nineteenth century the scientifically directed Astrolabe arrived, under the command of Dumont D'Urville, and, later, Captain Owen Stanley in the Rattlesnake, with Huxley as his zoologist, Then, in 1858, came Alfred Russel Wallace, the codiscoverer of Darwinism, who, by the way, is said to have been the first Englishman who ever actually resided in New Guinea.

The daring explorers and painstaking surveyors came and went, but the great island remained a land of dread and mystery, guarded by the jagged reefs of its eastern shores, and the shallow mud flats, stretching far to sea-ward beyond the mouths of the great rivers of its southern coast. So inaccessible was Papua that even the excellent harbor of Port Moresby, the site: of the present capital, was not discovered until 1873. One has but to stifle for a while in the heavy air that flows lifeless and fetid over the lowlands as if from a steaming furnace, or to scent the rank odors of the dark swamps, where for centuries malaria must linger, to appreciate the reason for the long-delayed European settlement of the country. But those who blaze the path of colonial progress are not to be deterred by temperatures or smells; let us remember that Batavia, "the white man's graveyard," is now one of the world's great commercial centers; and Jamaica, the old fever camp of the British army, is now a health resort for tourists.

Papua, the land of the tired eyes and the earnest face, of the willing spirit and the weary body, waning as strength fails year by year in malaria and heat, the land wherein the heart aches for the severed ties of wife and home; its history has hardly yet begun, but the reward of generations of heroism will be the conquest of another empire where England's high standards of freedom are to he raised anew. A victory of peace it is to be, as noble as any yet achieved in war; and great through its death roll, and forgotten though the workers be, the fruits of their labors will bless that better world Great Britain is preparing for those of ages yet to come.

There are great resources in Papua with its area of 90,500 square miles. Untrodden forests where the dark soil moulders beneath the everlasting shade; swamps bearing a harvest of thousands of sago and nipa palms, and mountains in a riot of contorted peaks rising to a height of 13,200 feet in the Owen Stanley range.

It is still a country of surprises, as when petroleum fields, probably 1,000 square miles in area, were discovered only about four years ago along the Vailala River, the natives having concealed their knowledge of the bubbling gas springs through fear of offending the evil spirits of the place. It is evident that although the country has been merely glanced over, there are both agricultural and mineral resources of a promising nature in Papua. It remains but for modern medicine to over-come the infections of the tropics for the region to rise into prominence as one of the self-supporting colonies of the British empire.

The early history of British occupation centers around the striking personality of James Chalmers, the great-hearted, broad-minded, missionary, one of the most courageous who ever devoted his life to extending the brotherhood of the white man's ideals. Chafing, as a young man, under the petty limitations of his mission in the Cook Islands, he sought New Guinea, as being the wildest and most dangerous field in the tropical Pacific. Here, for twenty-five years, he devoted his mighty soul to the work of introducing the rudiments of civilization and Christianity to the most sullen and dangerous savages upon earth. Scores of times his life hung in the balance of native caprice; wives and friends died by his side, victims to the malignant climate and to native spears, while he seemed to possess a charmed life; until, true to his prediction, he was murdered by the cannibals of Dopina at the mouth of the Fly River in 1901.

Hundreds of scattered tribes had learned to revere their great leader "Tamate," as they called him, who brought peace and prosperity to his followers. Yet a danger to Papua that he himself foresaw and did all in his power to avert came as a result of the introduction of the very civilization of which he was the champion, for with peace came new wants that the most unscrupulous of traders at once sought to supply at prices ruinous to the social and moral welfare of the natives.

Also, the proximity of Queensland threatened to become a menace; for Chalmers himself was well aware of the dark history of the "blackbird trade" wherein practical slavery was forced upon the indentured laborers, lured from their island homes to toil as hopeless debtors upon the Australian plantations. A government of the natives for the native interests he desired; not one administered from the Australian mainland in the interest of alien whites. The hopes of Chalmers were only partially realized, for Papua is still only a territory of Australia.

In most respects this condition appears to be unfortunate. The crying needs of a new country are usually peculiarly local and not likely to be appreciated by a distant ruling power. Moreover, Australia is itself an undeveloped land and requires too large a proportion of its own capital for expansion at home to be a competent protector of a colony across the sea. One feels that Papuan development might have proceeded with greater smoothness had the colony been more directly under the British empire, rather shall an Australian dependency.

The strategic necessity that Australia should command both the northern and the southern shores of Torres Straits might still have been secured without the sacrifice of any important initiative in matters of government upon the part of Papua.

The cardinal evil that Chalmers feared has, however, been averted. The natives still own 97 1/2 per cent. of the entire land area, and wise laws guard them in this precious possession, and aim to protect them from all manner of unjust exploitation. It is much to the credit of the government that the cleanest native villages and the most healthy, ambitious and industrious tribes, are those nearest the white settlements. Contact between the races has resulted in the betterment, not in the degradation, of the Papuan natives.

The touch of a master hand is apparent in a multitude of details in managing the natives of Papua; and it is of interest to see that in broad essentials the plan of government is adapted from that which the English have put to the test of practice in Fiji; the modifications being of a character designed to meet the conditions peculiar to Melanesia, wherein the chiefs are relatively unimportant in comparison with their role in the social systems of the Polynesians and Fijians. Foremost in the shaping of the destiny of Papua stands the commanding figure of Sir William Macgregor, administrator and lieutenant governor from 1888 to 1898. As a young man Macgregor was government physician in Fiji, where he became prominent not only as a competent guardian of the health of the natives, but as a leader in the suppression of the last stronghold of cannibalism along the Singatoka River. In Papua his tireless spirit found a wide field for high endeavor, and upon every department of the government one finds to-day the stamp of his powerful personality. Nor did he remain closeted in Port Moresby, a stranger to the races of his vast domains, for over the highest mountains and through the densest swamps his expeditions forced their way; the Great Governor always in the van. It was thus that he conquered the fierce Tugeri of the Dutch border, who for generations had been the terror of the coasts; and wherever his expeditions passed, peace followed, and the law of the British magistrate supplanted the caprice of the sorcerer.

But his hardest fight was not with the mountain wilds or the malarious morasses. It was to secure from the powerful ones of his own race the privileges of freemen for the natives of Papua.

In his youth he had seen the blessings that came with the advent of British rule in Fiji; and here, in broad New Guinea, upon a vaster scale, he strove to make fair play the dominant note in the white man's treatment of a savage race.

Arrayed against Chalmers and Macgregor were conservatism and suspicion founded in ancient precedent, and a commercial avarice that saw in native exploitation the readiest means to convert New Guinea into a "white man's country." Aversion there was also in high places to embarking upon a possibly fruitless experiment, involving generations of labor and expense for a remote and uncertain harvest. Chalmers and Macgregor, however, through the force of their high convictions and the wisdom of their wide experience, won the great fight for fairness; for civilization's cardinal victories are those, not of the soldier, but of the civil servant who dares risk his reputation and his all for those things he deems just and generous; and when Papua comes to erect statues to her great leaders, those of these two patriots must surely occupy the highest places, as champions of the liberties of the weak. The noble policy of Macgregor is still, and let us hope it long may be, the keynote of the administration in Papua, which to-day is being ably carried forward under the great governor's disciple, the Honorable John H. P. Murray.

The proclamation given by Captain Erskine in 1884 declared that a British Protectorate had become essential for the safeguarding of the lives and property of the natives of New Guinea and for the purpose of preventing the occupation of the country by persons whose proceedings might lead to injustice, strife and bloodshed, or whose illegitimate trade might endanger the liberties and alienate the lands of the natives.

It is, however, one thing for a government to declare its altruistic intentions, but often quite another to carry them into effect.

In Papua, every effort has been made to prevent robbery of the natives by unscrupulous whites. The natives are firmly secured in the possession of their lands, which they can neither sell, lease nor dispose of, except to the government itself. Thus the natives and the government are the only two landlords in the country. To acquire land in Papua, the European settler must rent it from the government, for he is not permitted to acquire fee simple rights. The whites are thus tenants of the government, and are subject to such rules and regulations as their landlord may decree. The tenant is, however, recognized as the creator and owner of any improvements he may erect upon the land, and, at the expiration of his lease, the government undertakes to pay him a fair compensation for such improvements, provided he has lived up to the letter of regulations respecting his tenure.

For agricultural land a merely nominal rental is demanded, ranging from nothing for the first ten years to a final maximum of six pence per acre; yet this system has had the effect of retarding European settlement, for, although its area is twice that of Cuba, Papua had but 1,064 whites in 1912, and only one one hundred and seventy-fourth of the territory is held under lease.

Men of the type who can conquer the primeval forests and create industries prefer to own their land outright, and are apt to resent the restrictions of complex government regulations, however wisely administered. Socialism, while it may in some measure be desirable in old and settled communities, serves but to dull that sense of personal freedom which above all spurs the pioneer onward to success in a wild and dangerous region.

Possibly in the end, the government may find it advantageous to permit certain lands to be acquired by Europeans, in fee simple; for until this is done the settlement of the country must proceed with extreme slowness. Moreover, mere tenants owning nothing but their improvements, and even these being subject to government appraisement, may be unduly tempted to drain, rather than to develop, the resources of the land they occupy.

But the chief aim of the Papuan government is to introduce civilization among the natives, and a slow increase in the European population is of primary necessity to the accomplishment of this result.

At present the natives are not taxed, the chief sources of revenue being derived from the customs duties upon imports, the bulk of which are consumed by the Europeans, and this source of income is supplemented by an annual grant of about 25,000 pounds from the Australian Commonwealth, but, due to the duties upon food and necessities, the cost of living is higher than it should be in a new country.

Judging, however, from the experience of the English in Fiji and of the Dutch in Java, the natives would be benefited rather than oppressed by a moderate poll tax to be paid in produce, thus developing habits of industry, and in some measure offsetting the evil effects of that insidious apathy which follows upon the sudden abolition of native warfare.

Every effort should also he made to encourage and educate the Papuans in the production and sale of manufactured articles. One must regret the loss of many arts and crafts among the primitive peoples of the Pacific, which, if properly fostered under European protection to insure a market and an adequate payment for their wares, would have been a source of revenue and a factor of immeasurable import in developing that self respect and confidence in themselves which the too sudden modification of their social and religious Systems is certain to destroy. The ordinary mission schools are deficient in this respect, devoting their major energies to the "three R's" and to religious instruction, and, while it is pleasing to observe a boy whose father was a cannibal extracting cube roots, one can not but conclude that the acquisition of some money-making trade would be more conducive to his happiness in after life.

It is not too much to say that the chief problem in dealing with an erstwhile savage race is to overcome the universal loss of interest and decline in energy which inevitably follows upon the development of that semblance of civilization which is enforced with the advent of the white man. The establishment of manual training schools wherein arts and crafts which may be profitably practiced by the natives as life-professions, is a first essential to the salvation of the race. These schools should and would in no manner interfere with the religious teaching received from missionaries, but would indeed be a most potent factor in the spread of true Christianity among the natives. Whether Christianity be true or false does not affect the case, for the natives are destined to be dominated by Christian peoples, and it primarily essential that they should understand at least the rudiments of Christian ideals and behavior.

The realization of the importance of training them to the pursuit of useful arts and trades, which would enable the natives to become self-supporting in the European sense, has been perceived by certain thinkers among the missionaries themselves, and in certain regions efforts are being made the success of which should revolutionize our whole method of dealing with the problem of introducing civilization among a primitive people.

Keep their minds active and their hands employed in self-supporting work and their morals and religion will safely fall into accord with Christian standards.

Up to the present native education has been left to the devoted efforts of the missionaries, who have more than 10,000 pupils under their charge, but the time is coming when the government should cooperate in establishing trade schools wherein crafts, providing life-vocations to the natives, may be taught.

There may be more than 275,000 natives in Papua, but, due to lack of knowledge of the country, the actual number is unknown.

Among the mountain fastnesses, defending themselves in tree-houses, one finds a frizzly-headed black negrito-like race hardly more than five feet in height. These are probably remnants of the "pigmy" pre-Dravidian or Negrito-Papuan element, which constituted the most ancient inhabitants of the island and who long ago were driven inland from the coveted coast.

The burly negroid Papuans of the Great River deltas of western Papua differ widely from the lithe, active, brown-skinned, mop-headed natives of the eastern half of the southern coast; and Professors Haddon and Seligmann have decided that in eastern New Guinea many Proto-Polynesian, Melanesian and Malayan immigrants have mingled their blood with that of the more primitive Papuans. Thus there are many complexly associated ethnic elements in New Guinea, and often people living less than a hundred miles apart can not understand one another; in fact, each village has its peculiar dialect. Social customs and cultural standards in art and manufacture vary greatly from the same cause, and each tribe has some remarkable individual characteristics. In the Fly-River region, the village consists of a few huge houses with mere stalls for the families, which crowd for defence under the shelter of a single roof. Along the southern side of the eastern end of the island, however, each family has its own little thatched hut, and these are often built for defense upon piling over the sea, reminding one of the manner of life of the prehistoric Swiss-lake dwellers.