The Project Gutenberg Encyclopedia Volume 1 of 28 by Project Gutenberg - Pages 2961-3453

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The Project Gutenberg Encyclopedia Volume 1 of 28

We may broad­ly dis­tin­guish two main ge­ograph­ical el­ements in the alpine flo­ra, name­ly, the north­ern el­ement and the en­dem­ic el­ement. This di­vi­sion (which is not, how­ev­er, strict­ly ex­haus­tive) di­rects spe­cial at­ten­tion to what is un­doubt­ed­ly the most strik­ing fea­ture of the flo­ra — name­ly, that of its 693 species no less than 271 reap­pear in the ex­treme north. This re­la­tion of the arc­tic to the alpine flo­ra is all the more re­mark­able in view of the very im­por­tant dif­fer­ences be­tween the arc­tic and alpine cli­mates. The fol­low­ing cir­cum­po­lar species are com­mon, and wide­ly dif­fused through­out the whole of the Alps: Si­lene acaulis, Dryas oc­topeta­la, Sax­if­saga op­posi­ti­fo­lia, S. aizoides, S. steliaris, Erigeron alpi­nus, Aza­lea procum­bens, M. yoso­tis alpestris, Poly­gon­um viviparum, Sal­ix re­tusa, S. herbacea, Phleum alpinum, Ju­nipe­rus nana. The pro­por­tion of north­ern forms, as re­gards both species and in­di­vid­uals, in­creas­es as we as­cend to the high­er re­gions. In the high­est veg­eta­tion-​zone, the snow-​re­gion — i.e. on is­lands of rock above the snow-​line — they at­tain to an equal­ity with the en­dem­ic forms. As ex­am­ples of north­ern flow­ers which are char­ac­ter­is­tic of the snow-​re­gion, we may men­tion Si­lene acaulis, Er­itrichi­um nan­uin and Are­nar­ia cil­ia­ta. On the oth­er hand, typ­ical en­dem­ic species of this high­est zone are An­drosace hel­veti­ca, A. glacialis, Petro­cal­lis pyre­naica and Cher­leria se­doides. All the plants just named, we may ob­serve, are “cush­ion-​plants.” Their com­pact, moss-​like growth and gen­er­al struc­tural pe­cu­liar­ities are not an ex­pres­sion of mu­tu­al affin­ity, but are in adap­ta­tion to the com­bined cold and dry­ness of their habi­tat. It is note­wor­thy that among the north­ern plants of the alpine zone, in the nar­row­er sense of the term (i.e. of the re­gion be­tween the tree-​lim­it and the snow-​line), there is a marked pre­dom­inance of species that af­fect moist lo­cal­ities; and con­verse­ly, the ma­jor­ity of alpine flow­ers of wet habi­tat are found al­so in the north. For ex­am­ple, in the genus Prim­ula, a high­ly char­ac­ter­is­tic genus of the alpine flo­ra, whose mem­bers are among the most strik­ing or­na­ments of the rocks, the sin­gle north­ern species, P. Jari­nosa, grows on­ly in marshy mead­ows. On the whole, then, adap­ta­tion to cold and wet is the note of the north­ern el­ement.

As for the ex­pla­na­tion of the com­mu­ni­ty be­tween the alpine and arc­tic flo­ras, all au­thor­ities are agreed that the key to the prob­lem is fur­nished by the oc­cur­rence of the glacial pe­ri­od. In the ice-​free belt, be­tween the north­ern ice-​sheet and the vast­ly ex­tend­ed glaciers of the Alps, the two flo­ras must have found a com­mon refuge and con­ge­nial con­di­tions of ex­is­tence; and this view is con­firmed by di­rect palaeon­to­log­ical ev­idence. With the re­turn of a milder cli­mate, the so-​called north­ern forms of the present alpine flo­ra were split in two, one por­tion fol­low­ing close on the north­ern ice in its grad­ual re­treat to the Arc­tic, the oth­er fol­low­ing the shrink­ing glaciers till the plants were able to es­tab­lish (or re-​es­tab­lish) them­selves on the slopes of the Alps. The same ex­pla­na­tion cov­ers the case of the sim­ilar­ity of the flo­ra (not mere­ly as re­gards the north­ern el­ement) on all the high moun­tains of cen­tral Eu­rope. So much seems to be be­yond rea­son­able doubt. But at this point dis­agree­ment be­gins be­tween the most em­inent writ­ers on the sub­ject. While some (e.g. Sir J. D. Hook­er, Heer) re­gard the Arc­tic, and some (e.g. Wettstein) the Alps, as the orig­inal home of at least the bulk of the “north­ern” el­ement, oth­ers (e.g. Ball, Christ) lo­cate this in the high­lands of tem­per­ate Asia. For it is a re­mark­able fact that, of the 230 north­ern species which are most typ­ical of the far north, 182 are found al­so in the Al­tai (tak­ing this as a col­lec­tive name for the moun­tains that form the south­ern bound­ary of Siberia). In any case, how­ev­er, the mi­gra­tion of these plants to the Alps must for the most part have tak­en place via the Arc­tic. The pos­si­bil­ity of any ex­ten­sive east to west mi­gra­tion hav­ing tak­en place di­rect from the Al­tai to the Alps seems ex­clud­ed by the fact that 50% of the arc­ti­co-​al­ta­ic alpine plants are ab­sent from the Cau­ca­sus. A score of species, it is true — not such a num­ber, be it ob­served, as was for­mer­ly sup­posed — are com­mon to the Alps and Al­tai, but ab­sent from the Arc­tic. But the species com­pos­ing this Al­ta­ic el­ement are not so nu­mer­ous as the arc­ti­co-​alpine species that are ab­sent from the Al­tai. On the whole, a com­mon ori­gin in the north for at least the arc­ti­co-​al­ta­ic group of alpine plants seems to be the most rea­son­able hy­poth­esis.

Side by side with the north­ern el­ement (which in some re­spects, we may ob­serve to point the con­trast, would be bet­ter named the tun­dra-​el­ement) we find a group of species usu­al­ly spo­ken of as the xe­rother­mic or merid­ion­al el­ement. These do not, how­ev­er, form an “el­ement,” in the strict ge­ograph­ical sense in which this term is oth­er­wise used here. They are those species which, on gen­er­al phy­to-​ge­ograph­ical grounds, must be re­gard­ed as hav­ing orig­inat­ed un­der steppe-​like con­di­tions. Their affini­ties are chiefly, though not ex­clu­sive­ly, with the present Mediter­ranean flo­ra — about fifty are of pre­sum­ably Mediter­ranean ori­gin — and a large pro­por­tion of them are re­strict­ed to the south­ern slopes of the Alps. The fol­low­ing, how­ev­er, among oth­ers, are dis­tribut­ed through­out the whole, or a great part, of the range: Colchicum alpinain, Cro­cus ver­nus, Or­chis glo­bosa, Petroeal­lis pyre­naica, As­tra­galus de­pres­sus, A. aris­ta­tus, Oxytropis Hal­leri, Erynigium alpinum, Er­ica carnea, Linar­ia alpina, Glob­ular­ia nudi­caulis, G. cordi­fo­lia, Leon­topodi­um alpinum. The last named (the well-​known “edel­weiss”) is at the present day char­ac­ter­is­tic of the Siberi­an steppes. The pres­ence of these plants among the alpine flo­ra is trace­able to the steppe-​like con­di­tions which pre­vailed in cen­tral Eu­rope both dur­ing the warmer in­ter-​glacial pe­ri­ods and (prob­ably) for a time af­ter the close of the ice-​age. Sub­se­quent­ly, as the cli­mate of the plains as­sumed a cold­er and more hu­mid char­ac­ter, they re­tired be­fore the in­vad­ing forests to the high moun­tains. Here, in the in­tenser in­so­la­tion which they en­joy on the alpine slopes, they seem to find a com­pen­sa­tion for the draw­backs in­ci­den­tal to the al­ti­tude of their present sta­tion.

As re­gards now the en­dem­ic el­ement as a whole, the ques­tion as to the time and place of its ori­gin is of a high­ly com­pli­cat­ed and con­tro­ver­sial na­ture. The ques­tion, too, in the case of this el­ement, is nec­es­sar­ily of ge­net­ic rather than pure­ly ge­ograph­ical scope. It must suf­fice to say that the weight of sci­en­tif­ic opin­ion in­clines to the view that at least the ma­jor­ity of en­dem­ic species are of pre-​glacial ori­gin, and are ei­ther strict­ly in­dige­nous or prod­ucts of the neigh­bour­ing low­lands. About 40% of the en­dem­ic el­ement in the alpine flo­ra are en­dem­ic al­so in the nar­row­er sense, i.e. they are con­fined to the Alps. Many of them are re­strict­ed to some one small por­tion of the chain; these oc­cur chiefly in the south­ern and east­ern Alps. It is an in­ter­est­ing fact that the cen­tral­ly sit­uat­ed Bernese Alps pro­duce hard­ly a sin­gle pe­cu­liar species. The greater rich­ness of cer­tain dis­tricts in the mat­ter of species is part­ly due to the va­ri­ety of soils en­coun­tered there­in; but in part may be ex­plained by the fact that these dis­tricts were the first to be freed from the ice-​sheet at the end of the glacial pe­ri­od.

The fol­low­ing is a list of the most thor­ough­ly char­ac­ter­is­tic alpine plants — all of them ip­so fac­to mem­bers of the en­dem­ic el­ement — which are at once pe­cu­liar to the Alps (or prac­ti­cal­ly so) and wide­ly dis­tribut­ed with­in the lim­its of the chain. These are: Fes­tu­ca pul­chel­la, Carex mi­crosty­la, Sal­ix cae­sia, Rumex ni­valis, Al­sine are­tioides, Aqui­le­gia alpina, Thlaspi ro­tun­di­foli­um, Sax­ifea­ga Seguieri, S. aphyl­la, As­tra­galus leon­ti­nus, Daphne stri­ata, Eryn­gium alpinum, Bu­pleu­rum stel­la­tum, An­drosace hel­veti­ca, A. glacialis, Gen­tiana bavar­ica, Phy­teu­ma hu­mile, Cam­pan­ula thyr­soidea, C. cenisia, Achil­lea atra­ta, Cir­si­um spinosis­si­mum, Crepis Ter­glouen­sis.

AU­THOR­ITIES. — Among the vo­lu­mi­nous lit­er­ature on Alpine flo­ra, the fol­low­ing works are par­tic­ular­ly note­wor­thy: — Ball, “On the Ori­gin of the Flo­ra of the Eu­ro­pean Alps,” in pro­ceed. of the Roy. Ge­og. Soc., 1879; Ben­nett, The Flo­ra of the Alps, 2 vols. with 120 coloured plates (1896); Bri­quet, “Les Colonies veg­etales xe­rother­miques des alpes le­mani­ennes,” in Bull. d. l. Mu­rithi­enne, soc. valaisi­enne des sci­ences nat., xxvii. and xxvi­ii. (1898-1899); Alph. de Can­dolle, “Sur les caus­es de l’in­eaale dis­tri­bu­tion des Plantes rares dans la chaine des Alpes,” Ex­tr. des Actes du Con­gres botan. in­ter­nat. de Flo­rence (1875); Cho­dat u. Pam­pani­ni, “Sur la dis­tri­bu­tion des plantes des alpes aus­tro-​ori­en­tales,” Ex­tr. du Globe, or­gane de la soc. de ge­ogra­phie de Gen­eve, tome xli. (1902); H. Christ, Das Pflanzen­leben der Schweiz (1882) — the chief clas­sic on the sub­ject; En­gler, Die Pfanzen­for­ma­tio­nen und die pflanzen­geographis­che Gliederung der Alpen­kette (1901); Heer, Ule­ber die ni­vale Ko­ra der Schweiz (1885); Jerosch, Geschichte und Herkun­ft der schweiz­erischen Alpenf­foral cine Uber­sicht uber den gegen­warti­gen Stand der Frage (1903). Schrot­er, Das Pflanzen­leben der Alpen (Zurich, 1908); R. von Wettstein, Die Geschichte un­ser­er Alpen­flo­ra (1896). The best book of coloured plates is the At­las der Alpem­flo­ra, in 5 vols., pub. by the Deutsch­er u. Oester­re­ichis­ch­er Alpen­vere­in (2nd. ed., 1897).

12. Fau­na. — The fau­na of the low­er zones in the Alps is, on the north­ern side of the chain, prac­ti­cal­ly iden­ti­cal with that of cen­tral Eu­rope, and on the south­ern side with that of the Mediter­ranean basin. But in the high­er re­gions it presents many fea­tures of spe­cial in­ter­est alike to the zo­ol­ogist and the trav­eller. It seems there­fore best to treat here prin­ci­pal­ly of the an­imal in­hab­itants of the high Alps.

Though among mam­malia — as al­so in the case of the birds — there are but few forms pe­cu­liar to the Alps, many in­ter­est­ing an­imals have found in the high moun­tains at least a tem­po­rary refuge from man. The Eu­ro­pean bi­son, the urus, the elk and the wild swine have dis­ap­peared since Ro­man times. But the lynx (Lynx vul­garis) per­haps lingers in re­mote parts, and the brown bear (Hrsus arc­tos) still sur­vives in the dense forests of the Low­er En­ga­dine. The fox (Ca­nis vulpes), the stone­marten (Martes foina) and the stoat or er­mine (Puto­rius er­mi­iiea) range in sum­mer above the tree-​lim­it. The Un­gu­la­ta are rep­re­sent­ed by the chamois (Rup­icapra tra­gus) and the bou­quetin or stein­bock (Capra ibex). The for­mer — the sole rep­re­sen­ta­tive, in west­ern Eu­rope, of the an­telopes — is found else­where on­ly in the Pyre­nees, Carpathi­ans, Cau­ca­sus and the moun­tains of east­ern Turkey; the lat­ter sur­vives on­ly in the east­ern Gra­ian Alps. Of the Ro­den­tia the most in­ter­est­ing and con­spic­uous is the mar­mot (Arc­to­mys mar­mo­ta), which lives in colonies close to the snow-​line. The snow-​mouse (Ar­vi­co­la ni­valis) is con­fined to the alpine and snow re­gions, and is abun­dant at these lev­els through­out the whole chain of the Alps. The moun­tain hare (Le­pus vari­abilis or timidus) re­places the com­mon hare (Le­pus eu­ropaeus) in the high­er re­gions; though ab­sent from the in­ter­ven­ing plains it again ap­pears in the north of Eu­rope and in Scot­land. Among the In­sec­tivo­ra, the alpine shrew (Sorex alpi­nus) is re­strict­ed to the Alps. Of the Cheiroptera (bats) on­ly Ves­pe­ru­go mau­rus is char­ac­ter­is­ti­cal­ly alpine.

The birds of the Alps are pro­por­tion­ate­ly very nu­mer­ous. The lam­mergey­er (Gy­pae­tus bar­ba­tus), once com­mon, is now ex­treme­ly rare, even if it has not al­ready be­come ex­tinct in the Alps; but the gold­en ea­gle (Aquila chrysae­tos) still holds its own. Some of the small­er birds of prey are not un­com­mon, but there is none that can be re­gard­ed as spe­cial­ly char­ac­ter­is­tic ei­ther of the Alps as a whole or of the alpine re­gion. As char­ac­ter­is­tic birds of the snow-​re­gion may be men­tioned the alpine chough (Pyrrho­co­rax alpi­nus), which is fre­quent­ly seen at the sum­mits even of the lofti­est moun­tains, the alpine swift (Cypselus mel­ba), the wall­creep­er ( Ti­chodro­ma mu­raria), snow-​finch (Mon­tif­ringilla ni­valis) and ptarmi­gan (Lago­pus mu­tus); the ge­ograph­ical dis­tri­bu­tion of this last be­ing sim­ilar to that of the moun­tain hare. The black red­start (Ruli­cil­la titys), though com­mon in the low­er re­gions, is

al­so met with in fair num­bers al­most up to the snow-​line. The raven (Cor­pus corax) is fair­ly com­mon in the alpine and sub-​alpine re­gions. On the high­est pas­tures we find, fur­ther, the alpine ac­cen­tor (Ac­cen­tor col­laris) and the alpine pip­it (An­thus spipo­let­ta). The crag-​mar­tin (Cotyle ru­pestris) haunts lofty cliffs in the alpine re­gion. On the up­per verge of the pine forests, or in the scrub­by veg­eta­tion just be­yond, the fol­low­ing are not un­com­mon — black wood­peck­er (Pi­cus mar­tius), ring-​ousel (Tur­dus torqua­tus), Bonel­li’s war­bler (Phyl­lo­sco­pus Bonel­lii), crest­ed til (Parus crista­tus), cit­ril finch (Cit­rinel­la alpina), siskin (Chrysomitris spi­nus), cross­bill (Lox­ia curvi­ros­tra), nutcrack­er (Nu­cifra­ga cary­ocat­actes), black­cock (Tetrao tetrix), and the alpine va­ri­eties of the marsh-​tit (Parus palus­tris, bo­re­alis) and tree-​creep­er (Certhia fa­mil­iaris, costae).

The re­main­ing class­es of Ver­te­bra­ta are very sparse­ly rep­re­sent­ed in the high Alps; and what few species oc­cur are most­ly com­mon to the plains as well. In fact, among the re­main­ing land ver­te­brates, on­ly the black sala­man­der (Sala­man­dra atra) is ex­clu­sive­ly alpine. This in­ter­est­ing an­imal, though a mem­ber of the Am­phib­ia, is ter­res­tri­al and viviparous.

The for­mer con­nex­ion be­tween the Arc­tic and the Alps, which has left such un­mis­tak­able traces in the present alpine flo­ra, af­fords, as re­gards the fau­na al­so, the on­ly pos­si­ble ex­pla­na­tion of the present ge­ograph­ical dis­tri­bu­tion of many alpine forms; but it is chiefly among the In­ver­te­bra­ta that we find this col­lat­er­al tes­ti­mo­ny to the in­flu­ence of the glacial pe­ri­od. In this re­spect we may note that two small crus­taceans, Di­ap­to­mus bacil­lif­er and D. den­ti­cor­nis, swarm in the ice-​cold wa­ters of the high­est alpine tarns through­out the en­tire chain; and the for­mer of these is al­so a char­ac­ter­is­tic in­hab­itant of pools formed from melt­ing snow in the ex­treme north. Among the re­main­ing di­vi­sions of In­ver­te­bra­ta spe­cial men­tion may be made of the air-​breath­ing Arthro­po­da — on the whole the most im­por­tant and in­ter­est­ing group. About one-​third of the an­imals be­long­ing there­to that oc­cur in the high­er re­gions are ex­clu­sive­ly alpine (or alpine and north­ern); these char­ac­ter­is­ti­cal­ly alpine forms be­ing fur­nished chiefly by the spi­ders, bee­tles and but­ter­flies. Most nu­mer­ous are the bee­tles. Those of the high­est zone are re­mark­able for the great pre­dom­inance of preda­ceous species and of wing­less forms. In this last re­spect they present a strik­ing anal­ogy with the en­dem­ic coleopter­ous fau­na of ocean­ic is­lands. As for the but­ter­flies, not more than one-​third of the species found in the alpine re­gion oc­cur in the neigh­bour­ing low­lands. The re­la­tions be­tween alpine but­ter­flies and plants are es­pe­cial­ly in­ter­est­ing, as re­gards not on­ly their bio­nom­ic in­ter­de­pen­dence but al­so the analo­gies of their ge­ograph­ical dis­tri­bu­tion. It should be not­ed that but­ter­flies are the chief agents in se­cur­ing the con­tin­ued ex­is­tence of such alpine flow­ers as de­pend on in­sect fer­til­iza­tion, the oth­er in­sect fer­til­iz­ers be­ing most­ly want­ing at great heights.

The clas­sic of alpine zo­ol­ogy is F. von Tschu­di’s Das Tier­leben der Alpen­welt (11th ed., 1890). See al­so zo­olog­ical sec­tion, by K. W. v. Dal­la Torre, of An­leitung zu wis­senschaftlichen Beobach­tun­gen auf Alpen­reisen. For the Ver­te­bra­ta, see V. Fa­tio’s Faune des ver­te­bres de la Su­isse (3 vols., 1869-1904). Die Tier­welt der Hochge­birgsseen, by F. Zschokke (1900) is an im­por­tant trea­tise on an in­ter­est­ing de­part­ment of alpine nat­ural his­to­ry. C. Zeller’s Alpen­tiere im Wech­sel der Zeit (1892) gives a re­li­able ac­count of the grad­ual dis­ap­pear­ance of some of the larg­er forms of life from the Alps. For the in­ter-​re­la­tions of alpine in­sects and flow­ers, see H. Muller’s Alpen­blu­men, ihre Be­fruch­tung durch In­sek­ten, und ihre An­pas­sung an diesel­ben (1881). (H. V. K.)

ALPU­JAR­RAS or ALPUXAR­RAS, THE (Moor­ish al Busher­at, “the grass-​land”), a moun­tain­ous dis­trict of south­ern Spain, in the province of Grana­da, con­sist­ing prin­ci­pal­ly of val­leys which de­scend at right an­gles from the crest of the Sier­ra Neva­da on the north, to the Sier­ras Almi­jara, Con­traviesa and Gador, which sev­er it from the Mediter­ranean Sea, on the south. These val­leys are among the most beau­ti­ful and fer­tile in Spain. They con­tain a rich abun­dance of fruit trees, es­pe­cial­ly vines, or­anges, lemons and figs, and in some parts present scenes of al­most Alpine grandeur. The in­hab­itants are the de­scen­dants of the Moors, who, af­ter the Span­ish con­quest of Grana­da in 1492, vain­ly sought to pre­serve the last relics of their in­de­pen­dence in their moun­tain fast­ness­es. Many of the names of places in the Alpu­jar­ras are of Moor­ish ori­gin. The dis­trict con­tains many vil­lages of 1000 to 4000 in­hab­itants, the four largest be­ing Lan­jaron, with its ru­ined cas­tle and chaly­beate baths, Orgi­ba, Trev­elez and Ugi­jar; all sit­uat­ed at a con­sid­er­able el­eva­tion. Trev­elez, the high­est, stands 5332 ft. above the sea.

`ALQA­MA IBN `ABA­DA, gen­er­al­ly known as `ALQA­MA AL-​FAHL, an Ara­bi­an po­et of the tribe Tamim, who flour­ished in the sec­ond half of the 6th cen­tu­ry. Of his life we know prac­ti­cal­ly noth­ing ex­cept that his chief po­em con­cerns an in­ci­dent in the wars be­tween the Lakhmids and the Ghas­sanids (see ARA­BIA, His­to­ry). Even the date of this is doubt­ful, but it is gen­er­al­ly re­ferred to the pe­ri­od af­ter the mid­dle of the 6th cen­tu­ry. His po­et­ic de­scrip­tion of os­trich­es is said to have been fa­mous among the Arabs. His di­wan con­sists of three qusi­das (ele­gies) and eleven frag­ments. As­ma` i con­sid­ered three of the po­ems gen­uine.

The po­ems were edit­ed by A. Swain with Latin trans­la­tion as Die Gedichte des Alka­ma Al­fahl (Leipzig, 1867), and are con­tained in W. Ahlwardt’s The Di­wans of the six an­cient Ara­bic Po­ets (Lond., 1870); cf. W. Ahlwardt’s Be­merkun­gen uber die Aechtheit der al­ten ara­bis­chen Gledichte (Greif­swald, 1872), pp. 65-71 and 146-168. (G. W. T.)

ALQUIFOU (et­ymo­log­ical­ly the same word as “al­co­hol”), a lead ore found in Corn­wall, used by pot­ters for its green glaze.

ALRE­DUS, ALURED or ALURE­DUS, OF BEV­ER­LEY, was sac­ristan of the church of Bev­er­ley in the first half of the 12th cen­tu­ry. He wrote, ap­par­ent­ly about the year 1143, a chron­icle en­ti­tled An­nales sive His­to­ria de gestis regum Bri­tan­ni­ae, which be­gins with Bru­tus and car­ries the his­to­ry of Eng­land down to 1129. This work was edit­ed by T. Hearne (Ox­ford, 1716), and at one time en­joyed some rep­uta­tion as an au­thor­ity. It is, how­ev­er, a mere com­pi­la­tion and of no val­ue. Ge­of­frey of Mon­mouth and Sime­on of Durham are Alured’s chief sources. Among the Cot­to­ni­an MSS. there is a col­lec­tion of records re­lat­ing to Bev­er­ley, Liber­lales Ec­cle­si­ae S. Jo­han­nis de Bev­er­lae, which is at­tribut­ed to Alured, but on no good au­thor­ity. (H. W. C. D.)

AL­SACE (Ger. El­sass), a for­mer province of France, di­vid­ed af­ter the Rev­olu­tion in­to the de­part­ments of Haut-​Rhin and Bas-​Rhin, and in­cor­po­rat­ed since the war of 1870 with the Ger­man em­pire (see AL­SACE-​LOR­RAINE). It is bound­ed on the north by the Rhen­ish Palati­nate, on the east by the Rhine, on the south by Switzer­land and on the west by the Vos­ges Moun­tains; and it com­pris­es an area of 3344 En­glish sq. m. The dis­trict pos­sess­es many nat­ural at­trac­tions, and is one of the most fer­tile in cen­tral Eu­rope. There are sev­er­al ranges of hills, but no point with­in the province at­tains a great el­eva­tion. The on­ly riv­er of im­por­tance is the Ill, which falls in­to the Rhine af­ter a course of more than 100 m., and is nav­iga­ble be­low Col­mar. The hills are gen­er­al­ly rich­ly wood­ed, chiefly with fir, beech and oak. The agri­cul­tur­al prod­ucts are corn, flax, to­bac­co, grapes and var­ious oth­er fruits. The coun­try has a great wealth of min­er­als, sil­ver hav­ing been found, and cop­per, lead, iron, coal and rock-​salt be­ing wrought with prof­it. There are con­sid­er­able man­ufac­tures, chiefly of cot­ton and linen. The chief towns are Mul­hausen and Col­mar in the up­per dis­trict and Strass­burg in the low­er. The province is tra­versed from east to west by the rail­way from Strass­burg to Nan­cy, and the main line north and south runs be­tween Basel and Strass­burg.

His­to­ry. — From a very ear­ly pe­ri­od Al­sace has been a dis­put­ed ter­ri­to­ry, and has suf­fered in the con­tentions of ri­val races. In­hab­it­ed by the Rau­raci and the Se­quani, it formed part of an­cient Gaul, and was there­fore in­clud­ed in the Ro­man em­pire in the provinces of Ger­ma­nia Su­pe­ri­or and Max­ima Se­quano­rum. The Ro­mans held it near­ly five hun­dred years, and on the dis­so­lu­tion of their pow­er it passed un­der the sway of the Franks. In the Merovin­gian pe­ri­od it formed a duchy at­tached to the king­dom of Aus­tra­sia, and was gov­erned by the de­scen­dants of duke Eti­cho, one of whom was St Odil­ia. Af­ter the death of Charle­magne, Al­sace, like the rest of the em­pire, was di­vid­ed in­to countships. But the duchy was re-​es­tab­lished af­ter the death of the Ger­man king Hen­ry I., and be­came hered­itary in the Ho­hen­staufen fam­ily, and then in the house of Aus­tria,

which suc­ceed­ed in 1273 to the im­pe­ri­al dig­ni­ty. In the be­gin­ning of the 12th cen­tu­ry the coun­try was di­vid­ed be­tween the two land­gravi­ates of Up­per and Low­er Al­sace, but to coun­ter­act the pow­er of the no­bles the em­per­ors es­tab­lished in Al­sace a great num­ber of free towns. This state of things con­tin­ued un­til 1648, when a large part of Al­sace, com­pris­ing the two land­gravi­ates of Up­per and Low­er Al­sace and the pre­fec­ture of the ten free im­pe­ri­al towns, was ced­ed to France by the treaty of West­phalia. In the war which pre­ced­ed this peace (gen­er­al­ly known as the Thir­ty Years’ War) Al­sace had been so ter­ri­bly dev­as­tat­ed by the Swedes and the French that the Ger­man em­per­or found him­self un­able to hold it. The pop­ula­tion was great­ly re­duced in num­bers, and much of the land was left un­cul­ti­vat­ed. In the war be­tween France and the Em­pire, aris­ing out of the at­tempt of Louis XIV to seize Hol­land, that part of Al­sace which re­mained to Ger­many was again over­run by the French. Al­though this war was ter­mi­nat­ed in 1678 by the treaty of Ni­jmwe­gen, the French monarch was de­sirous of in­cor­po­rat­ing a still larg­er amount of Rhine ter­ri­to­ry; and ac­cord­ing­ly in 1680 he laid claim to a num­ber of ter­ri­to­ries, be­long­ing to princes of the Em­pire, which he al­leged had been dis­mem­bered from Al­sace. It was or­dered that these ter­ri­to­ries should be at once re­stored to that province un­der the crown of France, and sev­er­al in­de­pen­dent sovereigns were cit­ed to ap­pear be­fore two cham­bers of in­quiry, called cham­bres de re­union, which Louis had es­tab­lished at Brisach and Metz. The princes ap­pealed to the em­per­or and to the di­et; but the pre­vi­ous wars had so ex­haust­ed the pow­er of the for­mer that noth­ing could be done to re­sist the ag­gres­sion. In 1681 the French troops un­der Lou­vois seized Strass­burg, aid­ed by the treach­ery of the bish­op and oth­er great men of the city. A fur­ther war broke out, but by the treaty of Ratis­bon (Re­gens­burg) in 1684, Strass­burg was se­cured to France. The war was re­newed in 1688 and con­tin­ued un­til 1697, when the peace of Ryswick con­firmed defini­tive­ly the an­nex­ation of Strass­burg to France. Some re­main­ing ter­ri­to­ries of small ex­tent were ac­quired by the French af­ter the rev­olu­tion of 1789, in­clud­ing Mul­hausen, which had been a re­pub­lic al­lied to Switzer­land.

Orig­inal­ly Celtic, the pop­ula­tion was mod­ified dur­ing the Ro­man pe­ri­od by the ar­rival of a Ger­man­ic peo­ple, the Tri­bo­ci. In the 5th cen­tu­ry came oth­er Ger­man tribes, the Ala­man­ni, and then the Franks, who drove the Ala­man­ni in­to the south. Since that pe­ri­od the pop­ula­tion has in the main been Teu­ton­ic; and the French con­quests of the 17th cen­tu­ry, while mod­ify­ing this el­ement, still left it pre­dom­inant. The peo­ple con­tin­ued to use a Ger­man di­alect as their na­tive tongue, though the ed­ucat­ed class­es al­so spoke French. Protes­tantism was pro­fessed by a large num­ber of the in­hab­itants; and in many re­spects their char­ac­ter­is­tics iden­ti­fied them rather with the race to the east than that to the west of the Rhine. In pro­cess of time, how­ev­er, they con­sid­ered them­selves French, and lost all de­sire for re­an­nex­ation to any of the Ger­man states.

Al­sace suf­fered a good deal in the war of 1870-71. The ear­li­er bat­tles of the cam­paign were fought there; Strass­burg and oth­er of its for­ti­fied towns were be­sieged and tak­en; and its peo­ple were com­pelled to sub­mit to very se­vere ex­ac­tions. The civ­il and mil­itary gov­ern­ment of the province, as well as that of Lor­raine, was as­sumed by the Ger­mans as soon as they ob­tained pos­ses­sion of those parts of France, which was very short­ly af­ter the com­mence­ment of the war. The Al­sa­tian rail­ways were re­or­ga­nized and pro­vid­ed with a staff of Ger­man of­fi­cials. Ger­man stamps were in­tro­duced from Berlin; the oc­cu­pied towns were gar­risoned by the Landwehr; and req­ui­si­tions on a large scale were de­mand­ed, and paid for in cheques which, at the close of the war, were to be hon­oured by whichev­er side should stand in the un­pleas­ant po­si­tion of the con­quered. The peo­ple, notwith­stand­ing their Ger­man ori­gin, showed a very strong feel­ing against the in­vaders, and in no part of France was the en­emy re­sist­ed with greater stub­born­ness. It was ev­ident from an ear­ly pe­ri­od of the war, how­ev­er, that Prus­sia was re­solved to re­an­nex Al­sace to Ger­man ter­ri­to­ry. When the pre­lim­inar­ies of peace came to be dis­cussed at Ver­sailles in Febru­ary 1871, the ces­sion of Al­sace, to­geth­er with what is called Ger­man Lor­raine, was one of the ear­li­est con­di­tions laid down by Bis­mar­ck and ac­cept­ed by Thiers. This sac­ri­fice of ter­ri­to­ry was af­ter­wards rat­ified by the Na­tion­al As­sem­bly at Bor­deaux, though not with­out a protest from the rep­re­sen­ta­tives of the de­part­ments about to be giv­en up; and thus Al­sace once more be­came Ger­man. By the bill for the in­cor­po­ra­tion of Al­sace and Ger­man Lor­raine, in­tro­duced in­to the Ger­man par­lia­ment in May 1871, it was pro­vid­ed that the sole and supreme con­trol of the two provinces should be vest­ed in the Ger­man em­per­or and the fed­er­al coun­cil un­til the 1st of Jan­uary 1874, when the con­sti­tu­tion of the Ger­man em­pire was es­tab­lished. Bis­mar­ck ad­mit­ted the aver­sion of the pop­ula­tion to Prus­sian rule, but said that ev­ery­thing would be done to con­cil­iate the peo­ple. This pol­icy ap­pears re­al­ly to have been car­ried out, and it was not long in bear­ing fruit. Many of the in­hab­itants of the con­quered dis­tricts, how­ev­er, still clung to the old con­nex­ion, and on the 30th of Septem­ber 1872 — the day by which the peo­ple were re­quired to de­ter­mine whether they would con­sid­er them­selves Ger­man sub­jects and re­main, or French sub­jects and trans­fer their domi­cile to France — 45,000 elect­ed to be still French, and sor­row­ful­ly took their de­par­ture. The Ger­man sys­tem of com­pul­so­ry ed­uca­tion of ev­ery child above the age of six was in­tro­duced di­rect­ly af­ter the an­nex­ation.

AL­SACE-​LOR­RAINE (Ger. El­sass-​Lothrin­gen), a Ger­man im­pe­ri­al ter­ri­to­ry (since 1871), con­sist­ing of the for­mer French province Al­sace (then di­vid­ed in­to the de­part­ments of Haut-​Rhin and Bas-​Rhin), to­geth­er with its cap­ital Strass­burg, and Ger­man Lor­raine (which in­clud­ed the de­part­ment of the Moselle and por­tions of the de­part­ments of Meur­the and Vos­ges), to­geth­er with the cap­ital and fortress of Metz. The im­pe­ri­al ter­ri­to­ry (Re­ich­sland) is bound­ed S. by Switzer­land; E. by Baden, from which it is sep­arat­ed by the Rhine; N.E. and N. by the Bavar­ian Palati­nate, the Prus­sian Rhine Province and Lux­em­burg, and W. by France. Its area is 5601 sq. m. The max­imum length from N. to S. is 145 m.; the max­imum breadth E. to W. 105 m., and the min­imum breadth, on a line drawn through Schlettstadt, 24 m. In re­spect of its phys­ical fea­tures, Al­sace-​Lor­raine falls in­to three parts — moun­tain land, plain and plateau. The first, prac­ti­cal­ly co-​ex­ten­sive with the west­ern half of Al­sace, con­sists of the Vos­ges range, which run­ning in a norther­ly di­rec­tion from the deep gap or pass of Belfort (trouee de Belfort) forms in its high­est ridges the nat­ural fron­tier line be­tween Ger­many and France. Be­tween this moun­tain chain and its spurs, which fall steeply to the E., and the Rhine, stretch­es a fer­tile plain form­ing the east­ern half of Al­sace. In the N.W. a high and un­du­lat­ing plateau, which gen­tly de­scends in the W. to the val­ley of the Moselle, oc­cu­pies near­ly the whole area of Lor­raine. The drainage of the Vos­ges val­leys and of the Rhine val­ley is col­lect­ed and car­ried in­to the Rhine about 10 m. be­low Strass­burg by the Ill, which has a course of more than 100 m. and is nav­iga­ble be­low Col­mar. With the ex­cep­tion of a few streams which run to the Rhone, all the wa­ters of Al­sace flow in­to the Rhine. The cli­mate is on the whole tem­per­ate — warmest in the low­est dis­tricts (460 ft. above sea-​lev­el) of N. Al­sace, and cold­est on the sum­mits of the Vos­ges, where snow lies six months in the year. The mean an­nu­al tem­per­ature at Strass­burg is 49.8 deg. F., at Metz 48.2 deg.; the rain­fall at Strass­burg 26 1/4 in., and at Metz 27 1/2 in. The Rhine Val­ley is in great part fer­tile, yield­ing good crops of pota­toes, ce­re­als (in­clud­ing maize), sug­ar beet, hops, to­bac­co, flax, hemp and prod­ucts of oleagi­nous plants. But grapes and fruit are amongst the most valu­able of the crops. The ce­re­als chiefly grown are wheat, oats, bar­ley and rye. Great quan­ti­ties of hay are har­vest­ed. This de­scrip­tion em­braces al­so the pro­duc­tion of Lor­raine, where agri­cul­ture is less stren­uous­ly car­ried on, and the fer­til­ity of the soil is less. But Lor­raine pos­sess­es, in com­pen­sa­tion, greater rich­es in the earth, in coal and iron and salt mines. Cows are grazed on the S. Vos­ges in sum­mer, and large quan­ti­ties of cheese (Mun­ster cheese) are made and ex­port­ed. To­tal pop­ula­tion (1905) 1,814,626.

The farms in Al­sace are most­ly small and are beld part­ly as a

pri­vate pos­ses­sion, part­ly on the com­mu­nal sys­tem; in Lor­raine there are some larg­er oc­cu­pa­tions. The man­ufac­ture of cot­tons, and on a small­er scale of wool­lens, is spe­cial to Al­sace, the chief cen­tres of the in­dus­try be­ing Mul­hausen, Col­mar and the val­leys of the Vos­ges. The ter­ri­to­ry has al­ways been the cen­tre of an ac­tive com­merce, ow­ing to its sit­ua­tion on the con­fines of Ger­many, France and Switzer­land, and along­side the great high­way of the Rhine. The com­mu­ni­ca­tions em­braced some 1249 m. of rail­way (1903), of which 1108 m. be­longed to the state, a good sys­tem of roads, and sev­er­al canals (no­tably the Rhine-​Rhone, the Rhine-​Marie and the Saar Canals), in ad­di­tion to the rivers. Ad­min­is­tra­tive­ly the ter­ri­to­ry is di­vid­ed in­to the fol­low­ing three dis­tricts, show­ing a den­si­ty of pop­ula­tion of about 316 to the sq. m.:–

Pop­ula­tion. Dis­tricts. Area in sq. miles. 1885. 1905. Up­per Al­sace . . 1354 462,549 512,709 Low­er Al­sace . . 1845 612,077 686,359 Lor­raine . . . 2402 489,729 615,558

On the sex di­vi­sion, 935,305 were in 1905 males, and 879,321 fe­males. The per­cent­age of il­le­git­ima­cy is about 7. The ru­ral pop­ula­tion em­braces 51% of the whole, the ur­ban pop­ula­tion 48%. The largest towns are Strass­burg (the cap­ital of the ter­ri­to­ry), Mul­hausen, Metz, Col­mar, all above 20,000 in­hab­itants each. Clas­si­fied ac­cord­ing to re­li­gion there were, in 1904, 372,078 Protes­tants, 1,310,391 Ro­man Catholics, and 32,379 Jews. Ed­uca­tion is pro­vid­ed for at the uni­ver­si­ty of Strass­burg, in 21 clas­si­cal and pro-​clas­si­cal schools, in 18 mod­ern schools, and in near­ly 4000 el­emen­tary schools. Over 85% of the peo­ple speak Ger­man as their moth­er-​tongue, the rest French, or a pa­tois of French. The an­nu­al rev­enue and ex­pen­di­ture are each some­what in ex­cess of L. 3,000,000. Cus­toms and in­di­rect tax­es yield more than three-​fifths of the to­tal rev­enue, and di­rect tax­es less than one-​fourth. The state forests give about one-​ninth of the whole. The high­er ad­min­is­tra­tion of jus­tice is de­volved up­on six provin­cial courts and a supreme court, sit­ting at Col­mar. More­over, there are pure­ly in­dus­tri­al tri­bunals at Mul­hausen, Thann, Markirch, Strass­burg and Metz. The fish-​breed­ing es­tab­lish­ment at Hunin­gen in Up­per Al­sace should be men­tioned.

Con­sti­tu­tion. — The sovereign­ty over the ter­ri­to­ry was by a law (Re­ichs­ge­setz) of the 9th of June 1871 vest­ed in the Ger­man em­per­or, who, un­til the in­tro­duc­tion of the im­pe­ri­al con­sti­tu­tion on the 1st of Jan­uary 1874, had, with the as­sent of the fed­er­al coun­cil (Bun­desrat) and, in a few cas­es, that of the im­pe­ri­al di­et (Re­ich­stag), the sole right of ini­ti­at­ing leg­is­la­tion. In Oc­to­ber of this last year a com­mit­tee (Lan­desauss­chuss) of the whole ter­ri­to­ry was ap­point­ed to de­lib­er­ate on laws pro­posed to it be­fore they re­ceived the fi­nal sanc­tion of the em­per­or. On the 2nd of May 1877, the Lan­desauss­chuss was it­self em­pow­ered to ini­ti­ate leg­is­la­tion with­in the com­pe­tence of the ter­ri­to­ry, and in 1879 the im­pe­ri­al viceroy (Statthal­ter), rep­re­sent­ing the im­pe­ri­al chan­cel­lor, who had un­til then been the re­spon­si­ble min­is­ter, took up his res­idence in Strass­burg. He is as­sist­ed in the gov­ern­ment by 4 min­is­ters of de­part­ments, un­der the pres­iden­cy of a sec­re­tary of state, and, when oc­ca­sion de­mands the ex­traor­di­nary dis­cus­sion of leg­isla­tive pro­pos­als, by a coun­cil of state (Staat­srat), con­sist­ing of the sec­re­tary of state, un­der sec­re­taries, the pres­ident of the supreme court of jus­tice of the ter­ri­to­ry and, as a rule, of 12 nom­inees of the em­per­or. The Lan­ite­saus-​schuss, a con­sti­tu­tion­al body with par­lia­men­tary priv­ileges, con­sists of 58 mem­bers, 34 be­ing ap­point­ed out of their num­ber by the var­ious dis­trict coun­cils (Bezirk­slage), 4 by the large towns, and 20 by the ru­ral dis­tricts. Al­sace-​Lor­raine is rep­re­sent­ed in the Bun­desrat by two com­mis­sion­ers, who have, how­ev­er, but one voice; and the ter­ri­to­ry re­turns 15 mem­bers to the Re­ich­stag.

See A. Schmidt, El­sass unid Lothrin­gen (Lerp., 1859); Spach, His­toire de la bas­so Al­sace et de la ville de Stras­bourg (Stras., 1860); von Mul­len­heim Rech­berg, Die An­nex­ion des El­sass durch Frankre­ich und Ruck­blick auf die Ver­wal­tung des Lan­des, 1648-1697 (Stras., 1897); Du Prel, Die deutsche Ver­wal­tung in El­sass, 1870-1879 (Stras., 1879); L. Pe­tersen, Das Deutsch­tum in El­sass-​Lothrin­gen (Mu­nich, 1902). (P. A. A.)

AL­SA­TIA (the old French province of Al­sace), long a “de­bat­able ground” be­tween France and Ger­many, and hence a name ap­plied in the 17th cen­tu­ry to the dis­trict of White­fri­ars, be­tween the Thames and Fleet Street, in Lon­don, which af­ford­ed sanc­tu­ary (q.v.) to debtors and crim­inals. The priv­ileges were abol­ished in 1697. The term is al­so used gen­er­al­ly of any refuge for crim­inals.

ALSEN (Dan­ish Als), an is­land in the Baltic, off the coast of Schleswig, in the Lit­tle Belt. It for­mer­ly be­longed to Den­mark, but, as a re­sult of the Dan­ish war of 1864, was in­cor­po­rat­ed with Ger­many. Its area is 105 sq. m.; the length near­ly 20, and the breadth from 3 to 12 m. Pop. (1900) 25,000, most of whom speak Dan­ish. The is­land is fer­tile, rich­ly wood­ed, and yields grain and fruit. Son­der­burg, the cap­ital, with a good har­bour and a con­sid­er­able trade, is con­nect­ed with the main­land by a pon­toon bridge. Oth­er places of note are Nor­burg and Au­gusten­burg. On the penin­su­la Reke­nis at the S.W. end of Alsen there is a light­house. Here, in 1848, the Danes di­rect­ed their main at­tack against Field-​mar­shal Wrangel’s army. In 1864 the Prus­sians un­der Her­warth von Bit­ten­feld took Alsen, which was oc­cu­pied by 9000 Dan­ish troops un­der Stein­mann, thus bring­ing the Dan­ish war to a close. Since 1870 Alsen has been for­ti­fied.

‘AL­SHEKH, MOSES, Jew­ish rab­bi in Safed (Pales­tine) in the lat­er part of the 16th cen­tu­ry. He was the au­thor of many homilet­ical com­men­taries on the He­brew Bible. His works still just­ly en­joy much pop­ular­ity, large­ly be­cause of their pow­er­ful in­flu­ence as prac­ti­cal ex­hor­ta­tions to vir­tu­ous life.

ALSI­ET­INUS LA­CUS (mod. La­go di Mar­tig­nano), a small lake in south­ern Etruria, 15 m. due N.N.W. of Rome, in an ex­tinct crater. Au­gus­tus drew from it the Aqua Alsi­eti­na; the wa­ter was hard­ly fit to drink, and was main­ly in­tend­ed to sup­ply his nau­machia (lake made for a sham naval bat­tle) at Rome, near S. Francesco a Ri­pa, on the right bank of the Tiber, where some traces of the aque­duct were per­haps found in 1720. The course of the aque­duct, which was main­ly sub­ter­ranean, is prac­ti­cal­ly un­known: Fron­ti­nus tells us that it re­ceived a branch from the lake of Brac­ciano near Careiae (Galera): and an in­scrip­tion re­lat­ing to it was found in this dis­trict in 1887 (F. Barn­abei, No­tizie degli Scavi, 1887, 181).

AL­SI­UM (mod. Pa­lo), an an­cient town of Etruria, 29 m. W. by N. of Rome by rail, on the Via Au­re­lia, by which it is about 22 m. from Rome. It was one of the old­est cities of Etruria, but does not ap­pear in his­to­ry till the Ro­man col­oniza­tion of 247 B.C., and was nev­er of great im­por­tance, ex­cept as a re­sort of wealthy Ro­mans, many of whom (Pom­pey, the An­to­nine em­per­ors) had vil­las there. About 1 1/2 m. N.E. of Pa­lo is a row of large mounds called I Mon­teroni, which be­long to tombs of the Etr­uscan ceme­tery. Con­sid­er­able re­mains of an­cient vil­las still ex­ist along the low sandy coast, one of which, about 1 m. E. of Pa­lo, oc­cu­pies an area of some 400 by 250 yds. The me­dieval cas­tle be­longs to the Odescalchi fam­ily. Near Pa­lo is the mod­ern sea-​bathing re­sort Ladis­poli, found­ed by Prince Odescalchi. See G. Den­nis, Cities and Ceme­ter­ies of Etruria, i. 219.

AL­SOP, VIN­CENT (c. 1630- 1703), En­glish Non­con­formist di­vine, was of Northamp­ton­shire ori­gin and was ed­ucat­ed at St John’s Col­lege, Cam­bridge. He re­ceived dea­con’s or­ders from a bish­op, where­upon he set­tled as as­sis­tant-​mas­ter in the free school of Oakham, Rut­land. He was re­claimed from in­dif­fer­ent cours­es and as­so­ciates here by a very “painful” min­is­ter, the Rev. Ben­jamin King. Sub­se­quent­ly he mar­ried Mr King’s daugh­ter, and “be­com­ing a con­vert to his prin­ci­ples, re­ceived or­di­na­tion in the Pres­by­te­ri­an way, not be­ing sat­is­fied with that which he had from the bish­op.” He was pre­sent­ed to the liv­ing of Wil­by in Northamp­ton­shire; but was thence eject­ed un­der the act of Uni­for­mi­ty in 1662. Af­ter his ejec­tion he preached pri­vate­ly at Oakham and Welling­bor­ough, shar­ing the com­mon pains and penal­ties of non­con­formists, — e.g. he was im­pris­oned six months for pray­ing with a sick per­son. A book against William She­do­ck, dean of St Paul’s, called An­ti­soz­zo (against Soci­nus), writ­ten in the vein of An­drew Mar­vell’s Re­hearsal Transprosed, pro­cured him much celebri­ty as a wit. Dr Robert South, no friend to non­con­formists, pub­licly pro­nounced that Al­sop had the ad­van­tage of Sher­lock in ev­ery way. Be­sides fame, An­ti­soz­zo pro­cured for its au­thor an in­vi­ta­tion to suc­ceed the ven­er­able Thomas Caw­ton (the younger) as in­de­pen­dent min­is­ter in West­min­ster. He ac­cept­ed the call and drew great mul­ti­tudes to his chapel. He pub­lished oth­er books which showed a fe­cun­di­ty of wit, a play­ful strength of rea­son­ing, and a pro­vok­ing in­domitable­ness of raillery. Even with Dr Good­man and Dr Still­ingfleet for an­tag­onists, he more than held his own. His Mis­chief of Im­po­si­tions (1680) in an­swer to Still­ingfleet’s Mis­chief of Sep­ara­tion, and Melius In­quiren­duni (1679) in an­swer to Good­man’s Com­pas­sion­ate In­quiry, re­main his­tor­ical land­marks in the his­to­ry of non­con­for­mi­ty. Lat­er on, from the en­tan­gle­ments of a son in al­leged trea­son­able prac­tices, he had to sue for and ob­tained par­don from King James II. This seems to have giv­en a some­what diplo­mat­ic char­ac­ter to his clos­ing years, inas­much as, while re­main­ing a non­con­formist, he had a good deal to do with pro­posed po­lit­ical- ec­cle­si­as­ti­cal com­pro­mis­es. He died on the 8th of May 1703, hav­ing pre­served his “spir­its and smart­ness” to the last.

See Wood’s A thenae (Bliss) iv. 106; Calamy’s Life of Bax­ter, ii. 487; Wil­son’s His­to­ry and Ant. of Dis­sent­ing Church­es, iv. 63-66. (A. J. G.) AL­ST­ED, JO­HANN HEIN­RICH (1588-1638), Ger­man Protes­tant di­vine. He was some time pro­fes­sor of phi­los­ophy and the­ol­ogy at Her­born, in Nas­sau, and af­ter­wards at Weis­senburg in Tran­syl­va­nia, where he re­mained till his death in 1638. He was a mar­vel­lous­ly pro­lif­ic writ­er. His En­cy­clopae­dia (1630), the most con­sid­er­able of the ear­li­er works of that class, was long held in high es­ti­ma­tion.

AL­STON, CHARLES (1683-1760), Scot­tish botanist, was born at Ed­dle­wood, near Hamil­ton, in 1683, and be­came lec­tur­er in ma­te­ria med­ica and botany at Ed­in­burgh and al­so su­per­in­ten­dent of the botan­ical gar­dens, of the plants in which he pub­lished a cat­alogue in 1740. He was a crit­ic of Lin­naeus’s sys­tem of plant-​clas­si­fi­ca­tion (see BOTANY.) He died on the 22nd of Novem­ber 1760 at Ed­in­burgh. His Lec­tures on Ma­te­ria Med­ica were pub­lished posthu­mous­ly in 1770.

AL­STON, a mar­ket-​town in the Pen­rith par­lia­men­tary di­vi­sion of Cum­ber­land, Eng­land, 29 m. by road E.S.E. of Carlisle, on a branch of the North-​East­ern rail­way from Haltwhis­tle. Pop. (1901) 3133. It lies in the up­per­most part of the val­ley of the South Tyne, among the high bleak moors of the Pen­nines. Cop­per and blende are found, and there are lime­stone quar­ries. The mines of ar­gen­tif­er­ous lead, be­long­ing to Green­wich Hos­pi­tal, Lon­don, were for­mer­ly of great val­ue, and it was in or­der that roy­al­ties on the Al­ston lead mines and on those else­where in the coun­ty might be joint­ly col­lect­ed that the parish was first in­clud­ed with­in the bor­ders of Cum­ber­land, in the 18th cen­tu­ry. As many as 119 lead mines were worked in the parish in 1768, but the sup­ply of met­al has been al­most ex­haust­ed. Coal is worked chiefly for lime-​burn­ing, and um­ber is pre­pared for the man­ufac­ture of colours. Thread and flan­nels are al­so made. Whit­ley Cas­tle, 2 m. N., was a Ro­man fort, the orig­inal name of which is not known, guard­ing the road which ran along the South Tyne val­ley and over the Pen­nines. It has no con­nex­ion­with Al­ston it­self.

AL­STROMER, JONAS (1685-1761), Swedish in­dus­tri­al re-​for­mer, was born at Al­ingsas in Vester­got­land, on the 7th of Jan­uary 1685. He left his na­tive vil­lage at an ear­ly age, and in 1707 be­came clerk to Al­berg, a mer­chant of Stock­holm, whom he ac­com­pa­nied to Lon­don. Af­ter car­ry­ing on busi­ness for three years, Al­berg failed, and Al­strom (as his name was be­fore his en­no­ble­ment) en­gaged in the busi­ness of ship­bro­ker on his own ac­count, and even­tu­al­ly proved very suc­cess­ful. Af­ter trav­el­ling for sev­er­al years on the con­ti­nent, he was seized with the pa­tri­ot­ic de­sire to trans­plant to his na­tive coun­try some of the in­dus­tries he had seen flour­ish­ing in Britain. He ac­cord­ing­ly re­turned to Al­ingsas, and in 1724 es­tab­lished a woollen fac­to­ry in the vil­lage. Af­ter pre­lim­inary dif­fi­cul­ties it be­came a very prof­itable busi­ness. He next es­tab­lished a sug­ar re­fin­ery at Gothen­burg, in­tro­duced im­prove­ments in the cul­ti­va­tion of pota­toes and of plants suit­able for dye­ing, and di­rect­ed at­ten­tion to im­proved meth­ods in ship­build­ing, tan­ning and the man­ufac­ture of cut­lery. But his most suc­cess­ful un­der­tak­ing was the im­por­ta­tion of sheep from Eng­land, Spain and An­go­ra. He re­ceived many marks of dis­tinc­tion, was cre­at­ed (1748) knight of the or­der of the North Star, and a few years lat­er re­ceived let­ters of no­bil­ity, with per­mis­sion to change his name to Al­stromer. He died on the 2nd of June 1761, leav­ing sev­er­al works on prac­ti­cal in­dus­tri­al sub­jects. A stat­ue was erect­ed in his hon­our in the ex­change at Stock­holm. One of his sons, Clas (Claude) (1736-1794), was a nat­ural­ist of con­sid­er­able em­inence. Dur­ing a voy­age to Spain he no­ticed a na­tive Pe­ru­vian plant known in Pe­ru as the lily of the In­cas, at the Swedish coun­sul’s at Cadiz; he sent a few seeds to his mas­ter and friend, Lin­naeus, who named the genus in his hon­our Al­strome­ria. He al­so wrote a work on sheep-​breed­ing.

AL­TAI (in Mon­go­lian Al­tain-​ula, the “Moun­tains of Gold”), a term used in Asi­at­ic ge­og­ra­phy with Var­ious sig­ni­fi­ca­tions. The Al­tai re­gion, in West Siberia and Mon­go­lia, is sim­ilar in char­ac­ter to Switzer­land, but cov­ers a very much greater area. It ex­tends from the riv­er Ir­tysh and the Dzun­gar­ian de­pres­sion (46 deg. -47 deg. N.) north­wards to the Siberi­an rail­way and to the Sayan moun­tains. The back­bone of the re­gion is the Sailughem or Silyughe­ma moun­tains, al­so known as Koly­van Al­tai, which stretch north-​east­wards from 49 deg. N. and 86 deg. E. to­wards the west­ern ex­trem­ity of the Sayan moun­tains in 51 deg. 60′ N. and 89 deg. E. Their mean el­eva­tion is 5000-5500 ft. The snow-​line runs at 6700 ft. on the north­ern ver­sant and at 7800 ft. on the south­ern, and above it the rugged peaks tow­er up some 3200 ft. more. Pass­es across the range are few and dif­fi­cult, the chief be­ing the Ulan-​da­ban at 9275 ft. (9445 ft. ac­cord­ing to Ko­zlov), and the Chapchan-​da­ban, at 10,555 ft., in the south and north re­spec­tive­ly. On the east and south-​east this range is flanked by the great plateau of Mon­go­lia, the tran­si­tion be­ing ef­fect­ed grad­ual­ly by means of sev­er­al mi­nor plateaus, such as Ukok (7800 ft.), Chuya (6000 ft.), Kendyk­ty (8200 ft.), Kak (8270 ft.), Suok (8500 ft.), and Ju­vlu-​kul (7900 ft.). This re­gion, which is not ac­cu­rate­ly known, is stud­ded with large lakes, i.e. Ub­sa-​nor (2370 ft. above sea-​lev­el), Kirghiz-​nor, Dur­ga-​nor and Kob­do-​nor (3840 ft.), and tra­versed by var­ious moun­tain ranges, of which the prin­ci­pal are the Tan­nu-​ola, run­ning rough­ly par­al­lel with the Sayan moun­tains as far east as the Kos­so-​gol (100 deg. -101 deg. E. long.), and the Khan-​khu moun­tains, al­so stretch­ing west and east.

The range of the Al­tai prop­er, known al­so as the Ek-​tagh, Mon­go­lian Al­tai, Great Al­tai and South­ern Al­tai, like­wise ex­tend in two twin par­al­lel chains east­wards as far as 99 deg. , if not far­ther. The Ek-​tagh or Mon­go­lian Al­tai, which sep­arates the Kob­do basin on the north from the Ir­tysh basin on the south, is a true bor­der-​range, in that it ris­es in a steep and lofty es­carp­ment from the Dzun­gar­ian de­pres­sion (1550 to 3000 ft.), but de­scends on the north by a rel­ative­ly short slope to the plateau (4000-5500 ft.) of north-​west­ern Mon­go­lia. East of 94 deg. the range is con­tin­ued by a dou­ble se­ries of moun­tain chains, all of which ex­hib­it less sharply marked oro­graph­ical fea­tures and are at con­sid­er­ably low­er el­eva­tions. The south­ern chain bears the names of Karaadzir­ga and Burkhan-​ola, and ter­mi­nates in about 99 deg.; but the north­ern range, the prin­ci­pal names of which are Art­si-​bog­do and Saikhat, ex­tends prob­ably most of the way to the great north­ward bend of the Hwang-​ho or Yel­low Riv­er round the desert of Or­dos. Where­as the west­ern Ek-​tagh Al­tai ris­es above the snow­line and is des­ti­tute of tim­ber, the east­ern dou­ble ranges bare­ly touch the snow-​line and are clothed with thick forests up to an al­ti­tude of 6250 ft. The slopes of the con­stituent chains of the sys­tem are in­hab­it­ed prin­ci­pal­ly by no­mad Kirghiz.

The north-​west­ern and north­ern slopes of the Sailughem moun­tains are ex­treme­ly steep and very dif­fi­cult of ac­cess. On this side lies the cul­mi­nat­ing sum­mit of the range, the dou­ble-​head­ed Byelukha (the Mont Blanc of the Al­tai), whose sum­mits reach 14,890 and 14,560 ft. re­spec­tive­ly,1 and give ori­gin to sev­er­al glaciers (30 sq. m. in ag­gre­gate area). Here al­so are the Kuitun (12,000 ft.) and sev­er­al oth­er lofty peaks. Nu­mer­ous spurs, strik­ing in all di­rec­tions from the Sailughem moun­tains, fill up the space be­tween that range and the low­lands of Tom­sk, but their mu­tu­al re­la­tions are far from be­ing well known. Such are the Chuya Alps, hav­ing an av­er­age al­ti­tude of 9000 ft., with sum­mits from 11,500 to 12,000 ft., and at least ten glaciers on their north­ern slope; the Katun Alps, which have a mean el­eva­tion of about 10,000 ft. and are most­ly snow-​clad; the Kholzun range; the Ko­rgon (6300 to 7600 ft.), Tal­it­sk and Selit­sk ranges; the Tigeretsk Alps, and so on. Sev­er­al sec­ondary plateaus of low­er al­ti­tude are al­so dis­tin­guished by ge­og­ra­phers. The Katun val­ley be­gins as a wild gorge on the south-​west slope of Byelukha; then, af­ter a big bend, the riv­er (400 m. long) pierces the Katun Alps, and en­ters a wider val­ley, ly­ing at an al­ti­tude of from 2000 to 3500 ft., which it fol­lows un­til it emerges from the Al­tai high­lands to join the Biya in a most pic­turesque re­gion. The Katun and the Biya to­geth­er form the Ob. The next val­ley is that of the Charysh, which has the Ko­rgon and Tigeretsk Alps on one side and the Tal­it­sk and Basha­latsk Alps on the oth­er. This, too, is very fer­tile. The Al­tai, seen from this val­ley, presents the most ro­man­tic scenes, in­clud­ing the small but deep Koly­van lake (al­ti­tude, 1180 ft.), which is sur­round­ed by fan­tas­tic gran­ite domes and tow­ers. Far­ther west the val­leys of the Uba, the Ul­ba and the Bukhtar­ma open south-​west­wards to­wards the Ir­tysh. The low­er part of the first, like the low­er val­ley of the Charysh, is thick­ly pop­ulat­ed; in the val­ley of the Ul­ba is the Rid­der­sk mine, at the foot of the Ivanovsk peak (6770 ft.), clothed with beau­ti­ful alpine mead­ows. The val­ley of the Bukhtar­ma, which has a length of 200 m., al­so has its ori­gin at the foot of the Byelukha and the Kuitun peaks, and as it falls some 5000 ft. in less than 200 m., from an alpine plateau at an el­eva­tion of 6200 ft. to the Bukhtar­ma fortress (1130 ft.), it of­fers the most strik­ing con­trasts of land­scape and veg­eta­tion. Its up­per parts abound in glaciers, the best known of which is the Ber­el, which comes down from the Byelukha. On the north­ern side of the range which sep­arates the up­per Bukhtar­ma from the up­per Katun is the Katun glacier, which af­ter two ice-​falls widens out to 700-900 yards. From a grot­to in this glacier bursts tu­mul­tuous­ly the Katun riv­er. The mid­dle and low­er parts of the Bukhtar­ma val­ley have been col­onized since the 18th cen­tu­ry by run­away Rus­sian peas­ants — serfs and non­con­formists (Raskol­niks) — who cre­at­ed there a free re­pub­lic on Chi­nese ter­ri­to­ry; and af­ter this part of the val­ley was an­nexed to Rus­sia in 1869, it was rapid­ly col­onized. The high val­leys far­ther north, on the same west­ern face of the Sailughem range, are but lit­tle known, their on­ly vis­itors be­ing Kirghiz shep­herds. Those of Bashkaus, Chulysh­man, and Chulcha, all three lead­ing to the beau­ti­ful alpine lake of Telet­skoye (length, 48 m.; max­imum width, 3 m.; al­ti­tude, 1700 ft.; area, 87 sq. m.; max­imum depth, 1020 ft.; mean depth, 660 ft.), are on­ly in­hab­it­ed by no­mad Te­lenghites or Teleuts. The shores of the lake — re­mind­ing a vis­itor some­what of the Swiss lake of Lucerne — rise al­most sheer to over 6000 ft. and are too wild to ac­com­mo­date a nu­mer­ous pop­ula­tion. From this lake is­sues the Biya, which joins the Katun at Biysk, and then me­an­ders through the beau­ti­ful prairies of the north-​west of the Al­tai. Far­ther north the Al­tai high­lands are con­tin­ued in the Kuznet­sk dis­trict, which has a slight­ly dif­fer­ent ge­olog­ical as­pect, but still be­longs to the Al­tai sys­tem. But the Abakan riv­er, which ris­es on the west­ern shoul­der of the Sayan moun­tains, be­longs to the sys­tem of the Yeni­sei. The Kuznet­sk Ala-​tau range, on the left bank of the Abakan, runs north-​east in­to the gov­ern­ment of Yeni­seisk, while a com­plexus of im­per­fect­ly mapped moun­tains (Chukchut, Salair, Abakan) fills up the coun­try north­wards to­wards the Siberi­an rail­way and west­wards to­wards the Ob. The Tom and its nu­mer­ous trib­utaries rise on the north­ern slopes of the Kuznet­sk Ala-​tau, and their fer­tile val­leys are oc­cu­pied by a dense Rus­sian pop­ula­tion, the cen­tre of which is Kuznet­sk, on the Tom.

Ge­ol­ogy. — Ge­olog­ical­ly the Al­tai moun­tains con­sist of two dis­tinct el­ements which dif­fer con­sid­er­ably from each oth­er in com­po­si­tion and struc­ture. The Rus­sian Al­tai is com­posed main­ly of mi­ca and chlo­rite schists and slates, to­geth­er with beds of lime­stone, and in the high­er hori­zons De­vo­ni­an and Car­bonif­er­ous fos­sils oc­cur in many places. There is no ax­ial zone of gneiss, but in­tru­sions of gran­ite and oth­er plu­ton­ic rocks oc­cur, and the fa­mous ore de­posits are found chiefly near the con­tact of these in­tru­sions with the schists. The stra­ta are thrown in­to folds which run in the di­rec­tion of the moun­tain ridges, form­ing a curve with the con­vex­ity fac­ing the south-​east. The Mon­go­lian or Great Al­tai, on the oth­er hand, con­sists main­ly of gneiss and Ar­chaean rocks. The strike of the rocks is in­de­pen­dent of the di­rec­tion of the chain, and the chain is bound­ed by faults. It is, in fact, a horst and not a zone of fold­ing.

Flo­ra.–The flo­ra of the Al­tai, ex­plored chiefly by Karl F. von Lede­bour (1785-1851), is rich and very beau­ti­ful. Up to a lev­el of 1000 ft. on the north­ern and 2000 ft. on the south­ern slopes, plant life be­longs to the Eu­ro­pean flo­ra, which ex­tends in­to Siberia as far as the Yeni­sei. The steppe flo­ra pen­etrates in­to the moun­tains, as­cend­ing some 1100-1200 ft., and in shel­tered val­leys even up to 5500 ft., when it of course comes in­to con­tact with the pure­ly alpine flo­ra. Tree veg­eta­tion, which reach­es up as high as 6500 and 8150 ft., the lat­ter lim­it on the north and west, con­sists of mag­nif­icent forests of birch, poplar, as­pen, and Conifer­ae, such as Pi­nus cere­bra, Abies sibir­ica, Lar­ix sibir­ica, Picea obo­va­ta, and so on, though the fir is not found above 2500 ft., while the mead­ows are abun­dant­ly clothed with bright­ly coloured, typ­ical as­sort­ments of herba­ceous plants. The alpine mead­ows, which have many species in com­mon with the Eu­ro­pean Alps, have al­so a num­ber of their own pe­cu­liar Al­ta­ian species.

Min­er­al wealth.–The Al­tai prop­er is rich in sil­ver, cop­per, lead and zinc ores, while in the Kuznet­sk Ala-​tau, gold, iron and coal are the chief min­er­al re­sources. The Kuznet­sk Ala-​tau mines are on­ly now be­gin­ning to be ex­plored, while the cop­per, and per­haps al­so the sil­ver, ores of the Al­tai prop­er were worked by the mys­te­ri­ous pre­his­toric race of the Chudes at a time when the use of iron was not yet known. Rus­sians be­gan to mine in 1727 at Koly­van, and in 1739 at Bar­naul. Most of the Al­tai re­gion, cov­er­ing an area of some 170,000 sq. m. and in­clud­ing the Kuznet­sk dis­trict, has since 1746 formed a do­main of the im­pe­ri­al fam­ily un­der the name of the Al­tai Min­ing Dis­trict. The ores of the Al­tai prop­er near­ly al­ways ap­pear in ir­reg­ular veins, con­tain­ing sil­ver, lead, cop­per and gold — some­times all to­geth­er, — and they are, or were, worked chiefly by Zmeino­gorsk (or Zmeiev), Zyryanovsk, Ust-​Ka­menogorsk and Rid­der­sk (aban­doned in 1861). They of­fer, how­ev­er, great dif­fi­cul­ties, es­pe­cial­ly on ac­count of their con­tin­ual­ly vary­ing pro­duc­tiv­ity and tem­per­ature of fu­sion. The beau­ti­ful va­ri­eties of por­phyry — green, red, striped — which are ob­tained, of­ten in big mono­liths, near Koly­van, are cut at the im­pe­ri­al stone-​cut­ting fac­to­ry in­to vas­es and oth­er or­na­ments, fa­mil­iar in the art gal­leries and palaces of Eu­rope. Aqua­marines of mediocre qual­ity but enor­mous size (up to 3 in. in di­am­eter) are found in the Ko­rgon mine. The north­ern, or Salair, min­ing re­gion is rich in sil­ver ores, and the mine of this name used for­mer­ly to yield up to 93,300 oz. of sil­ver in the year. But the chief wealth of the north­ern Al­tai is in the Kuznet­sk coal-​basin, al­so con­tain­ing iron-​ores, which fills up a val­ley be­tween the Kuznet­sk Ala-​tau and the Salair range for a length of about 270 m., with a width of about 65 m. The coal is con­sid­ered equal to the best coal of Eng­land and south Rus­sia. The coun­try is al­so cov­ered with thick dilu­vial and al­lu­vial de­posits con­tain­ing gold. How­ev­er, all the min­ing is now on the de­cline.

Pop­ula­tion.–The Rus­sian pop­ula­tion has rapid­ly in­creased since the fer­tile val­leys be­long­ing to the im­pe­ri­al fam­ily have been thrown open to set­tle­ment, and it has been es­ti­mat­ed that in 1908 the pop­ula­tion of the re­gion (Biysk, Bar­naul and Kuznet­sk dis­tricts) reached about 800,000. Their chief oc­cu­pa­tions are agri­cul­ture (about 3,500,000 acres un­der cul­ture), cat­tle-​breed­ing, bee-​keep­ing, min­ing, gath­er­ing of cedar-​nuts and hunt­ing. All this pro­duce is ex­port­ed part­ly to Tom­sk and part­ly to Kob­do in Mon­go­lia. The na­tives may rep­re­sent a pop­ula­tion of about 45,000. They are Al­ta­ians in the west and Te­lenghites or Teleuts in the east, with a few Kalmucks and Tatars. Al­though all are called Kalmucks by the Rus­sians, they speak a Turk­ish lan­guage. Both the Te­lenghites and the Al­ta­ians are Shaman­ists in re­li­gion, but many of the for­mer are al­ready quite Rus­si­fied. The vir­gin forests of the Kuznet­sk Ala-​tau — the Chern, or Black For­est of the Rus­sians — are peo­pled by Tatars, who live in very small set­tle­ments, some­times of the Rus­sian type, but most­ly in wood­en yurts or huts of the Mon­go­lian fash­ion. They can hard­ly keep any cat­tle, and lead the pre­car­ious life of for­est-​dwellers, liv­ing up­on var­ious wild roots when there is no grain in the spring. Hunt­ing and fish­ing are re­sort­ed to, and the skins and furs are tanned.

Towns.–The cap­ital of the Al­tai re­gion is Bar­naul, the cen­tre of the min­ing ad­min­is­tra­tion and an an­imat­ed com­mer­cial town; Biysk is the com­mer­cial cen­tre; Kuznet­sk, Ust-​Ka­menogorsk, and the min­ing towns of Koly­van, Zmeino­gorsk, Rid­der­sk and Salairsk are the next largest places.

AU­THOR­ITIES. — P. Se­men­ov and G. N. Potanin, in sup­ple­men­tary vol. of Rus­sian ed. of Rit­ter’s Asien (1877); Lede­bour, Reise durch das Al­taige­birge (1829-1830); P. Chikhatchev, Voy­age sci­en­tifique dans l’Al­tai ori­en­tal (1845); Gebler, Uber­sicht des katunis­chen Gebirges (1837); G. von Helmersen, Reise nach dem Al­tai (St Pe­ters­burg, 1848); T. W. Atkin­son, Ori­en­tal and West­ern Siberia (1838); and Cot­ta, Der Al­tai (1871), are still worth con­sult­ing. Of mod­ern works see Adri­anov, “Jour­ney to the Al­tai,” in Za­eis­ki Russ. Ge­ogr. Soc. xi.; Yadrint­sev, “Jour­ney in West Siberia,” in Za­pis­ki West Sib. Ge­ogr. Soc. ii.; Gol­ubev, Al­tai (1890, Rus­sian); Schmur­lo, “Pass­es in S. Al­tai” (Sailughem), in Izves­tia Russ. Ge­ogr. Soc. (1898), xxxiv. 5; V. Saposh­nikov, var­ious ar­ti­cles in same pe­ri­od­ical (1897), xxxi­ii. and (1899) xxxv., and, by the same, Katun i yeya Is­to­ka (Tom­sk, 1901); S. Turn­er, Siberia (1905); Deniker, on Ko­zlov’s ex­plo­rations, in La Ge­ogra­phie (1901, pp. 41, &c.); and P. Ig­na­tov, in Izves­tia Russ. Ge­og. Soc. (1902, No. 2). (P. A. K.; J. T. BE.)

1 Mr S. Turn­er es­ti­mates the cul­mi­nat­ing peak of Mt. Byelukha at 14,800 ft., but to Willer’s Peak, a lit­tle to the N. W. of Byelukha, he as­signs an al­ti­tude of 17,800 ft. (p. 205 of Siberia.)

AL­TA­MU­RA, a town of Apu­lia, Italy, in the province of Bari, 28 m. S.S.W. of the town of that name, and 56 m. by rail via Gioia del Colle. Pop. (1901) 22,729. It pos­sess­es a fine Ro­manesque cathe­dral be­gun in 1232 and re­stored in 1330 and 1531, the por­tal be­ing es­pe­cial­ly re­mark­able. It is one of the four Pala­tine church­es of Apu­lia. The sur­round­ing ter­ri­to­ry is fer­tile. The me­dieval walls, erect­ed by the em­per­or Fred­er­ick II., rest up­on the walls of an an­cient city of un­known name. These ear­ly walls are of rough blocks of stone with­out mor­tar. An­cient tombs with frag­ments of vas­es have al­so been found, and there are cas­es which have been used as prim­itive tombs or dwellings, and a group of some fifty tu­muli near Al­ta­mu­ra.

AL­TAR (Lat. altare, from al­tus, high; some an­cient et­ymo­log­ical guess­es are record­ed by St Isidore of Seville in Et­ymolo­giae xv. 4), strict­ly a base or pedestal used for sup­pli­ca­tion and sac­ri­fice to gods or to de­ified heroes. The ne­ces­si­ty for such sac­ri­fi­cial fur­ni­ture has been felt in most re­li­gions, and con­se­quent­ly we find its use widespread among races and na­tions which have no mu­tu­al con­nex­ion.

Mesopotamia. — Al­tars are found from the ear­li­est times in the re­mains of Baby­lo­ni­an cities; the old­est are square erec­tions of sun-​dried bricks. In As­syr­ian mounds lime­stone and al­abaster are the chief ma­te­ri­al. They are of vary­ing form; an al­tar shown in a re­lief at Khorsabad is or­na­ment­ed with stepped bat­tle­ments, which are the equiv­alent of the fa­mil­iar “al­tarhorns” in He­brew rit­ual. An al­tar al­so from Khorsabad (now in the British Mu­se­um) has a cir­cu­lar ta­ble and a sol­id base tri­an­gu­lar on plan, with pi­lasters or­na­ment­ed with an­imals’ paws at the an­gles. A third va­ri­ety, of which an 8th cen­tu­ry B.C. ex­am­ple from Nim­rod ex­ists in the British Mu­se­um, is a rect­an­gu­lar block or­na­ment­ed at the ends by cylin­dri­cal rolls. These al­tars are in height from 2 to 3 ft. Ac­cord­ing to Herodotus (i. 183) the great al­tars of Baby­lo­nia were made of gold.

Egypt. — In Egypt al­tars took the form of a trun­cat­ed cone or of a cu­bi­cal block of pol­ished gran­ite or of basalt, with one or more basin-​like de­pres­sions in the up­per sur­face for re­ceiv­ing flu­id li­ba­tions. These had chan­nels where­by flu­ids poured in­to the re­cep­ta­cles could be drained off. The sur­face was plain, in­scribed with ded­ica­to­ry or oth­er leg­ends, or adorned with sym­bol­ical carv­ing.

Pales­tine. — Re­cent ex­ca­va­tions, es­pe­cial­ly at Gez­er, have shown that the ear­li­est al­tars, or rather sac­ri­fice hearths, in Pales­tine were cir­cu­lar spaces marked out by small stones set on end. At Gez­er a pre-​Semitic place of wor­ship was found in which three such hearths stood to­geth­er, and drained in­to a cave which may rea­son­ably be sup­posed to have been re­gard­ed as the res­idence of the di­vin­ity. These cir­cu­lar hearths per­sist­ed in­to the Canaan­ite pe­ri­od, but were ul­ti­mate­ly su­per­seded by the Semitic de­vel­op­ments. To the prim­itive no­madic Semite the pres­ence of the di­vin­ity was in­di­cat­ed by springs, shady trees, re­mark­able rocks and oth­er land­marks; and from this ear­li­est con­cep­tion grew the the­ory that a nu­men might be in­duced to take up an abode in an ar­ti­fi­cial heap of stones, or a pil­lar set up­right for the pur­pose. The blood of the vic­tim was poured over the stone as an of­fer­ing to the di­vin­ity dwelling with­in it; and from this con­cep­tion of the stone arose the fur­ther and fi­nal view, that the stone was a ta­ble on which the vic­tim was to be burned.

Very few spec­imens of ear­ly Pales­tini­an al­tars re­main. The me­galith­ic struc­tures com­mon in the Hau­ran and Moab may be en­tire­ly sepul­chral. At Gez­er no def­inite al­tar was dis­cov­ered in the great High Place; though it is pos­si­ble that a bank of in­tense­ly hard com­pact earth, in which were em­bed­ded a large num­ber of hu­man skulls, took its place. A very re­mark­able al­tar, at present unique, was found at Taanach by the Aus­tri­an ex­ca­va­tors. It is pyra­mi­dal in shape, and the sur­face is or­na­ment­ed with hu­man-​head­ed an­imals in re­lief. This, like the ear­li­est Baby­lo­ni­an al­tars, is of baked earth.

The Old Tes­ta­ment con­cep­tion of the al­tar varies with the stage of re­li­gious de­vel­op­ment. In the pre-​Deutero­nom­ic pe­ri­od al­tars are erect­ed in any place where there had ap­peared to be a man­ifes­ta­tion of de­ity, or un­der any cir­cum­stance in which the aid of de­ity was in­voked; not by hereti­cal in­di­vid­uals, but by the ac­knowl­edged re­li­gious lead­ers, such as Noah at Ararat, Abra­ham at Shechem, Bethel &c., Isaac at Beer­she­ba, Ja­cob at Bethel, Moses at Rephidim, Joshua at Ebal, Gideon at Ophrah, Samuel at Ra­man, Eli­jah at Carmel, and oth­ers. These prim­itive al­tars were of the sim­plest pos­si­ble de­scrip­tion — in fact they were re­quired to be so by the reg­ula­tion af­fect­ing them, pre­served in Ex­odus xx. 24, which pre­scribes that in ev­ery place where Yah­weh records his name an al­tar of earth or of un­hewn stone, with­out steps or oth­er ex­tra­ne­ous or­na­men­ta­tion, shall be erect­ed.

The priest­ly reg­ula­tions af­fect­ing al­tars are of a very elab­orate na­ture, and are framed with a sin­gle eye to the es­sen­tial the­ory of lat­er He­brew wor­ship — the cen­tral­iza­tion of all wor­ship at one shrine. These rec­og­nize two al­tars, which by the au­thors of this por­tion of the Pen­ta­teuch are placed from the first in the taber­na­cle in the wilder­ness — a the­ory which is in­con­sis­tent with the oth­er ev­idences of the na­ture of the ear­li­er He­brew wor­ship, to which we have just al­lud­ed.

The first of these al­tars is that for burnt-​of­fer­ing. This al­tar was in the cen­tre of the court of the taber­na­cle, of aca­cia wood, 3 cu­bits high and 5 square. It was cov­ered with cop­per, was pro­vid­ed with “horns” at the cor­ners (like those of As­syr­ia), hol­low in the mid­dle, and with rings on the sides in­to which the staves for its trans­porta­tion could be run (Ex. xxvii. 1-8). The al­tar of the Solomon­ic tem­ple is on sim­ilar lines, but much larg­er. It is now gen­er­al­ly rec­og­nized that the de­scrip­tion of the taber­na­cle al­tar is in­tend­ed to pro­vide a prece­dent for this vast struc­ture, which would oth­er­wise be in­con­sis­tent with the tra­di­tion­al view of the sim­ple He­brew al­tars. In the sec­ond tem­ple a new al­tar was built af­ter the fash­ion of the for­mer (1 Macc. iv. 47) of “whole stones from the moun­tain.” In Herod’s tem­ple the al­tar was again built af­ter the same mod­el. It is de­scribed by Jose­phus (v. 5. 6) as 15 cu­bits high and 50 cu­bits square, with an­gle horns, and with an “in­sen­si­ble ac­cliv­ity” lead­ing up to it (a de­vice to evade the pre-​Deutero- nom­ic reg­ula­tion about steps). It was made with­out any use of iron, and no iron tool was ev­er al­lowed to touch it. The blood

and refuse were dis­charged through a drain in­to the brook Ke­dron; this drain prob­ably still re­mains, in the Bir el-​Ar­wah, un­der the “Dome of the Rock” in the mosque which cov­ers the site of the tem­ple.

The sec­ond al­tar was the al­tar of in­cense, which was in the holy place of the taber­na­cle. It was of sim­ilar con­struc­tion to the al­tar of burnt-​of­fer­ing, but small­er, be­ing 2 cu­bits high and 1 cu­bit square (Ex. xxx. 1-5). It was over­laid with gold. Solomon’s al­tar of in­cense (1 K. vi. 20) is re­ferred to in a prob­lem­at­ical pas­sage from which it would ap­pear to have been of cedar. But the au­then­tic­ity of the pas­sages de­scrib­ing the al­tar of in­cense in the taber­na­cle, and the his­toric­ity of the cor­re­spond­ing al­tar in Solomon’s tem­ple, are mat­ters of keen dis­pute among crit­ics. The in­cense al­tar in the sec­ond tem­ple was re­moved by An­ti­ochus Epiphanes (1 Macc. i. 21) and re­stored by Ju­das Mac­cabaeus (1 Macc. iv. 49). That in the tem­ple of Herod is re­ferred to in Luke i. 11.

The rit­ual us­es of these al­tars are suf­fi­cient­ly ex­plained by their names. On the first was a fire con­tin­ual­ly burn­ing, in which the burnt-​of­fer­ings were con­sumed. On the sec­ond an of­fer­ing of in­cense was made twice a day.

In the pre-​Deutero­nom­ic pas­sage, Ex­odus xxi. 14, the use of the al­tar as an asy­lum is pos­tu­lat­ed, though de­nied to the wil­ful mur­der­er. This is a sur­vival of the an­cient be­lief that the de­ity resid­ed in the pil­lar or stone-​heap, and that the fugi­tive was plac­ing him­self un­der the pro­tec­tion of the lo­cal nu­men by seek­ing sanc­tu­ary. From 1 Kings i. 50 it would ap­pear that the sup­pli­ant caught hold of the al­tar-​horns (com­pare 1 Kings ii. 28), as though spe­cial pro­tec­tive virtue resid­ed in this im­por­tant though ob­scure part of the struc­ture.

Greece and Rome. — Ac­cord­ing to the dif­fer­ence in the ser­vice for which they were em­ployed, al­tars fell in­to two class­es. Those of the first class were pedestals, so small and low that the sup­pli­ant could kneel up­on them; these stood in­side the tem­ples, in front of the sa­cred im­age. The sec­ond class con­sist­ed of larg­er ta­bles des­tined for burnt sac­ri­fice; these were placed in the open air, and, if con­nect­ed with a tem­ple, in front of the en­trance. Pos­si­bly al­tars of the for­mer class were in his­tor­ical times sub­sti­tutes for, and ren­dered the same ser­vice as, the bases of the sa­cred im­ages with­in the tem­ples in ear­li­er ages. In this case the al­tar of Apol­lo at Del­phi, up­on which on the Greek vas­es Neop­tole­mus is fre­quent­ly rep­re­sent­ed as tak­ing refuge from Orestes, might be re­gard­ed as the pedestal of an in­vis­ible im­age of the god, and as ful­fill­ing the same func­tion as did the base of the ac­tu­al im­age of Athene in Troy, to­wards which Cas­san­dra fled from Ajax. The sec­ond class of al­tars, called bo­moi by the Greeks and al­taria by the Ro­mans, ap­pears to have orig­inat­ed in tem­po­rary con­struc­tions such as heaps of earth, turf or stone, made for kin­dling a sac­ri­fi­cial fire as oc­ca­sion re­quired. But sac­ri­fices to earth di­vini­ties were made on the earth it­self, and those to the in­fer­nal deities in sunk hol­lows (Odyss. x. 25; Fes­tus s. v. Al­taria). The note of Eu­stathius (Odyss. xii. 252) per­haps in­di­cates some cus­toms rem­inis­cent of a prim­itive an­tiq­ui­ty in which the sac­ri­fice was made with­out an al­tar at all. He says apobo­mia tina iera on ouk epi bo­mou o kathagis mos all’ epi edafous — “some holy places away from al­tars, whose of­fer­ing is made not on an al­tar but on the floor.” Pau­sa­nias (vi. 20. 7) speaks of an al­tar at Olympia made of un­baked bricks. In some prim­itive holy shrines the bones and ash­es of the vic­tims sac­ri­ficed were al­lowed to ac­cu­mu­late, and up­on this new fires were kin­dled. Al­tars so raised were, like most re­li­gious sur­vivals, con­sid­ered as en­dowed with par­tic­ular sanc­ti­ty; the most re­mark­able record­ed in­stances of such are the al­tars of Hera at Samos, and of Pan at Olympia (Paus. v. 14. 6; v. 15. 5), of Her­acles at Thebes (Paus. ix. 11. 7), and of Zeus at Olympia (Paus. v. 13. 5). The last-​men­tioned stood on a plat­form (pro­thu­sis) mea­sur­ing 125 ft. in cir­cum­fer­ence, and led up to by steps, the al­tar it­self be­ing 22 ft. high. Wom­en were ex­clud­ed from the plat­form. Where hecatombs were sac­ri­ficed, the pro­thu­sis nec­es­sar­ily as­sumed colos­sal pro­por­tions, as in the case of the al­tar at Par­ion, where it mea­sured on each side 600 ft. The al­tar of Apol­lo at De­los (o ker­ati­nos bo­mos) was made of the horns of goats be­lieved to have been slain by Di­ana; while at Mile­tus was an al­tar com­posed of the blood of vic­tims sac­ri­ficed (Paus. v. 13. 6). The al­tar at Phorae in Achaea was of un­hewn stones (Paus. vii. 22. 3). The al­tar used at the fes­ti­val in hon­our of Daedalus on Mt. Cithaeron was of wood, and was con­sumed along with the sac­ri­fice (Paus. ix. 3. 4). Oth­ers of bronze are men­tioned. But these were ex­cep­tion­al, the usu­al ma­te­ri­al of an al­tar was mar­ble, and its form, both among the Greeks and Ro­mans, was ei­ther square or round; polyg­onal al­tars, of which ex­am­ples still ex­ist, be­ing ex­cep­tions. When sculp­tured dec­ora­tions were added they fre­quent­ly took the form of im­ita­tions of the ac­tu­al fes­toons with which it was usu­al to or­na­ment al­tars, or of sym­bols, such as cra­nia and horns of ox­en, re­fer­ring to the vic­tims sac­ri­ficed. As a rule, the al­tars which ex­ist­ed apart from tem­ples bore the name of the per­son by whom they were ded­icat­ed and the names of the deities in whose ser­vice they were, or, if not the name, some ob­vi­ous rep­re­sen­ta­tion of the de­ity. Such, for ex­am­ple, is the pur­pose of the fig­ures of the Mus­es on an al­tar ded­icat­ed to them, now to be seen in the British Mu­se­um. An al­tar was re­tained for the ser­vice of one par­tic­ular god, ex­cept where through lo­cal tra­di­tion two or more deities had be­come in­ti­mate­ly as­so­ci­at­ed, as in the case of the al­tar at Olympia to Artemis and Alpheus joint­ly, or that of Po­sei­don and Erechtheus in the Erechtheum at Athens. The most re­mark­able in­stance of mul­ti­ple ded­ica­tion was, how­ev­er, at Oro­pus, where the al­tar was di­vid­ed in­to five parts, one ded­icat­ed to Her­acles, Zeus and Paean Apol­lo, a sec­ond to heroes and their wives, a third to Hes­tia, Her­mes, Am­phia­raus and the chil­dren of Am­philochus, a fourth to Aphrodite Panacea, Ja­son, Health, and Heal­ing Athene, and the fifth to the Nymphs, Pan, and the rivers Arch­elous and Cephissus (Paus. i. 34. 2). Such deities were styled sbm­bo­moi, each hav­ing a sep­arate part of the al­tar (Paus. i. 34. 2). Oth­er terms are ag­onioi, or omobomioi. Deities of an in­fe­ri­or or­der, who were con­ceived as work­ing to­geth­er — e.g. the wind gods — had an al­tar in com­mon. In the same way, the “un­known gods” were re­gard­ed as a unit, and had in Athens and at Olympia one al­tar for all (Paus. i. 1. 4; v. 14. 5; cf. Acts of Apos­tles, xvii. 18). An al­tar to all the gods is men­tioned by Aeschy­lus (Sup­pl. 222). Among the ex­cep­tion­al class­es of al­tars are al­so to be men­tioned those on which fire could not be kin­dled (bo­moi apuroi), and those which were kept free from blood (bo­moi ana­iaak­toi), of which in both re­spects the al­tar of Zeus Hy­patos at Athens was an ex­am­ple. The ls­tia was a round al­tar; the es­chara, one em­ployed ap­par­ent­ly for sac­ri­fice to in­fe­ri­or deities or heroes (but lschara Toi­bou, Aesch. Pers. 205). In Rome an al­tar erect­ed in front of a stat­ue of a god was al­ways re­quired to be low­er than the stat­ue it­self (Vit­ru­vius iv. 9). Al­tars were al­ways places of refuge, and even crim­inals and slaves were there safe, vi­olence of­fered to them be­ing in­sults to the gods whose sup­pli­ants the refugees were for the time be­ing. They were al­so tak­en hold of by the Greeks when mak­ing their most solemn oaths.

An­cient Amer­ica. — As a sin­gle spec­imen of an al­tar, whol­ly un­re­lat­ed to any of the fore­go­ing, we may cite the an­cient Mex­ican ex­am­ple de­scribed by W. Bul­lock (Six Months in Mex­ico, Lon­don, 1824, p. 335). This was cylin­dri­cal, 25 ft. in cir­cum­fer­ence, with sculp­ture rep­re­sent­ing the con­quests of the na­tion­al war­riors in fif­teen dif­fer­ent groups round the side.

Portable al­tars and ta­bles of of­fer­ings were used in pre-​Chris­tian as well as in Chris­tian rit­ual. One such was dis­cov­ered in the Gez­er ex­ca­va­tions, dat­ing about 200 B.C. It was a slab of pol­ished lime­stone about 6 in. square with five cups in its up­per sur­face. An­oth­er from the same place was a small cu­bi­cal block of lime­stone bear­ing a ded­ica­tion to Her­acles. They have al­so been found in As­syr­ia. Pock­et al­tars are still used in some forms of wor­ship in In­dia. See the Jour­nal of the Roy­al Asi­at­ic So­ci­ety, 1852, p. 71.

1 Bul­lock al­so says (p. 354) that the al­tar in the church of the in­di­an vil­lage of S. Miguel de los Ran­chos which he vis­it­ed was “of the same na­ture as those in use be­fore the in­tro­duc­tion of Chris­tian­ity.”

AL­TARS IN THE CHRIS­TIAN CHURCH I. The Ear­ly Church. — The al­tar is spo­ken of by the ear­ly Greek and Latin ec­cle­si­as­ti­cal writ­ers un­der a va­ri­ety of names: — trape­fa, the prin­ci­pal name in the Greek fa­thers and the litur­gies; thu­si­as­te­ri­on (rar­er; used in the Sep­tu­agint for He­brew al­tars); ilas­te­ri­on; bo­mos (usu­al­ly avoid­ed, as it is a word with hea­then as­so­ci­ations); men­sa Do­mi­ni; ara (avoid­ed like bo­mos, and for the same rea­son); and, most reg­ular­ly, altare. Af­ter the 4th cen­tu­ry oth­er names or ex­pres­sions come in­to use, such as men­sa tremen­da, se­ries cor­poris et san­gui­nis Christi.

The ear­li­est Chris­tians had no al­tars, and were taunt­ed by the pa­gans for this. It is ad­mit­ted by Ori­gen in his re­ply to Cel­sus (p. 389), who has charged the Chris­tians with be­ing a se­cret so­ci­ety “be­cause they for­bid to build tem­ples, to raise al­tars.” “The al­tars,” says Ori­gen, “are the heart of ev­ery Chris­tian.” The same ap­pears from a pas­sage in Lac­tan­tius, De Orig­ine Er­roris, ii. 2. We gath­er from these pas­sages that down to about A.D. 250, or per­haps a lit­tle lat­er, the com­mu­nion was ad­min­is­tered on a mov­able wood­en ta­ble. In the Cat­acombs, the ar­coso­lia or bench-​like tombs are said (though the state­ment is doubt­ful) to have been used to serve this pur­pose. The ear­li­est church al­tars were cer­tain­ly made of wood; and it would ap­pear from a pas­sage in William of Malmes­bury (De Gest. Pon­tif. An­gl. iii. 14) that En­glish al­tars were of wood down to the mid­dle of the 11th cen­tu­ry, at least in the dio­cese of Worces­ter.

The ces­sa­tion of per­se­cu­tion, and con­se­quent grad­ual elab­ora­tion of church fur­ni­ture and rit­ual, led to the em­ploy­ment of more cost­ly ma­te­ri­als for the al­tar as for the oth­er fit­tings of ec­cle­si­as­ti­cal build­ings. Al­ready in the 4th cen­tu­ry we find ref­er­ence to stone al­tars in the writ­ings of Gre­go­ry ot Nys­sa. In 517 the coun­cil of Epaone in Bur­gundy for­bade any but stone pil­lars to be con­se­crat­ed with chrism; but of course the de­crees of this provin­cial coun­cil would not nec­es­sar­ily be re­ceived through­out the church.

Pope Fe­lix I. (A.D. 269-274) de­creed that “mass should be cel­ebrat­ed above the tombs of mar­tyrs” — an ob­ser­vance prob­ably sug­gest­ed by the pas­sage in Rev­ela­tion vi. 9, “I saw un­der the al­tar the souls of them that were slain for the word of God.” This prac­tice de­vel­oped in­to the me­dieval rule that no al­tar can be con­se­crat­ed un­less it con­tain a rel­ic or relics.

The form of the al­tar was orig­inal­ly ta­ble-​shaped, con­sist­ing of a plane sur­face sup­port­ed by columns. There were usu­al­ly four, but ex­am­ples with one, two and five columns are al­so record­ed. But the de­vel­op­ment of the rel­ic-​cus­tom led to the adop­tion of an­oth­er form, the square box shape of an “al­tar- tomb.” Tran­si­tion­al ex­am­ples, com­bin­ing the box with the ear­li­er ta­ble shape, are found dat­ing about 450. Men­tion is made oc­ca­sion­al­ly of sil­ver and gold al­taus in the 5th to the 8th cen­turies. This means no doubt that gold and sil­ver were co­pi­ous­ly used in its dec­ora­tion. Such an al­tar still re­mains in Sant’ Am­bro­gio at Mi­lan, dat­ing from the 9th cen­tu­ry (see fig. 1).

II. The Me­dieval Church. — It will be con­ve­nient now to pass to the ful­ly-​de­vel­oped al­tar of the West­ern Church with its ac­ces­sories, though the rudi­ments of most of the ad­di­tion­al de­tails are trace­able in the ear­li­er pe­ri­od.

In the Ro­man Catholic Church, which pre­serves in this re­spect the tra­di­tion that had be­come es­tab­lished dur­ing the mid­dle ages, the com­po­nent parts of a fixed al­tar in the litur­gi­cal sense are the ta­ble (men­sa), or su­per-​al­tar, con­sist­ing of a stone slab; the sup­port (stipes), con­sist­ing ei­ther of a sol­id mass or of four or more columns; the sepul­chrum, or al­tar-​cav­ity, a small cham­ber for the re­cep­tion of the relics of mar­tyrs. The sup­port, in the tech­ni­cal sense, must be of stone solid­ly joined to the ta­ble; but, if this sup­port con­sist of columns, the in­ter­vals may be filled with oth­er ma­te­ri­als, e.g. brick or ce­ment. The al­tar- slab or “ta­ble” alone is con­se­crat­ed, and in sign of this are cut in its up­per sur­face five Greek cross­es, one in the cen­tre and one in each cor­ner. These cross­es must have been anoint­ed by the bish­op with chrism in the rit­ual of con­se­cra­tion be­fore the al­tar can be used. Cross­es ap­pear on the portable al­tar buried with St Cuth­bert (A.D. 687), but the his­to­ry of the ori­gin and de­vel­op­ment of this prac­tice is not ful­ly worked out.

Ac­cord­ing to the Caeromo­ni­ale (i. 12. 13) a canopy (bal­da chinum) should be sus­pend­ed over the al­tar; this should be square, and of suf­fi­cient size to cov­er the al­tar and the pre­del­la on which the of­fi­ci­at­ing priest stands. This bal­dachin, called litur­gi­cal­ly the ci­bo­ri­um, is some­times hung from the roof by chains in such a way that it can be low­ered or raised; some­times it is fixed to the wall or rere­dos; some­times it is a sol­id struc­ture of wood cov­ered with met­al or of mar­ble sup­port­ed on four columns. The lat­ter form is, how­ev­er, usu­al on­ly in large church­es, more es­pe­cial­ly of the basil­ica type, e.g. St Pe­ter’s at Rome or the Ro­man Catholic cathe­dral at West­min­ster. The ori­gin of the ci­bo­ri­um is not cer­tain, but it is rep­re­sent­ed in a mo­sa­ic at Thes­sa­loni­ca of a date not lat­er than A.D. 500. Even at the present day, in spite of a de­cree of the Con­gre­ga­tion of Rites (27th of May 1697) or­der­ing it to be placed over all al­tars, it is — even at Rome it­self — usu­al­ly on­ly found over the high al­tar and the al­tar of the Blessed Sacra­ment.

Mul­ti­pli­ca­tion of al­tars is an­oth­er me­dieval char­ac­ter­is­tic. This al­so is prob­ably a re­sult of the edict of Pope Fe­lix al­ready men­tioned. In a vault where more than one mar­tyr was buried an al­tar might be erect­ed for each. It is in the 6th cen­tu­ry that we be­gin to find traces of the mul­ti­pli­ca­tion of al­tars. In the church of St Gall, Switzer­land, in the 9th cen­tu­ry there were sev­en­teen. In the mod­ern Latin Church al­most ev­ery large church con­tains sev­er­al al­tars — ded­icat­ed to cer­tain saints, in pri­vate side chapels, es­tab­lished for mass­es for the re­pose of the founder’s soul, &c. Arch­bish­op Wuifred in 816 or­dered that be­side ev­ery al­tar there should be an in­scrip­tion record­ing its ded­ica­tion. This reg­ula­tion fell in­to abeyance af­ter the 12th cen­tu­ry, and such in­scrip­tions are very rare. One re­mains mu­ti­lat­ed at Deer­hurst (Ar­chae­olo­gia, vol. 1. p. 69).

Where there is in a cathe­dral or church more than one al­tar, the prin­ci­pal one is called a “high al­tar.” Where there is a sec­ond high al­tar, it is gen­er­al­ly at the end of the choir or chan­cel. In monas­tic church­es (e.g. for­mer­ly at St Al­bans) it some­times stands at the end of the nave close to the choir screen.

Be­side the al­tar was a drain (pisci­na) for pour­ing away the wa­ter in which the com­mu­nion ves­sels were rinsed. This seems orig­inal­ly to have been un­der the al­tar, as it is still in the East­ern Church.

That the prim­itive com­mu­nion ta­ble was cov­ered with a com­mu­nion-​cloth is high­ly prob­able, and is men­tioned by Op­ta­tus (c. A.D. 370), bish­op of Alile­vis. This had de­vel­oped by the 14th or 15th cen­tu­ry in­to a cere­cloth, or waxed cloth, on the ta­ble it­self; and three linen cov­er­ings one above the oth­er, two of about the size of the ta­ble and one rather wider than the al­tar, and long enough to hang down at each end. Five cross­es are worked up­on it, four in the cor­ners and one in the mid­dle, and there is an em­broi­dered edg­ing.1 In front was of­ten a hang­ing pan­el of em­broi­dered cloth (the frontal; but frontals of wood, or­na­ment­ed with carv­ing or enam­el, &c., are al­so to be found). These em­broi­dered frontals are change­able, so that the prin­ci­pal colour in the pat­tern can ac­cord with the litur­gi­cal colour of the day. Speak­ing broad­ly, red is the colour for feasts of mar­tyrs, white for vir­gins, vi­olet for pen­iten­tial sea­sons, &c.; no less than six­ty-​three dif­fer­ent us­es dif­fer­ing in de­tails have been enu­mer­at­ed. A sim­ilar pan­el of needle­work (the dos­sal) is sus­pend­ed be­hind the al­tar.

Portable al­tars have been used on oc­ca­sion since the time of Be­de. They are small slabs of hard stone, just large enough for the chal­ice and pat­en. They are con­se­crat­ed and marked with the five in­cised cross­es in the same way as the fixed al­tar, but they may be placed up­on a sup­port of any suit­able ma­te­ri­al, whether wood or stone. They are used on a jour­ney in a hereti­cal or hea­then coun­try, or in pri­vate chapels. In the in­ven­to­ry of the field ap­par­el of Hen­ry, earl of Northum­ber­land, A.D. 1513, is in­clud­ed “A cof­fer wyth ij lid­des to serue for an Awter and ned be” (Ar­chae­olo­gia, xxvi. 403).

On the al­tar are placed a cross and can­dle­sticks — six in num­ber, and sev­en when a bish­op cel­ebrates in his cathe­dral; and over it is sus­pend­ed or fixed a taber­na­cle or re­cep­ta­cle for the reser­va­tion of the Sacra­ment.

III. Post-​Ref­or­ma­tion Al­tars. — At the Ref­or­ma­tion the al­tars in church­es were looked up­on as sym­bols of the un­re­formed doc­trine, es­pe­cial­ly where the strug­gle lay be­tween the Catholics and the Calvin­ists, who on this point were much more rad­ical rev­olu­tion­ar­ies than the Luther­ans. In Eng­land the name “al­tar”2 was re­tained in the Com­mu­nion Of­fice in En­glish, print­ed in 1549, and in the com­plete En­glish Prayer-​book of the fol­low­ing year, known to stu­dents as the First Book of Ed­ward VI. But or­ders were giv­en soon af­ter that the al­tars should be de­stroyed, and re­placed by mov­able wood­en ta­bles; while from the re­vised Prayer book of 1552 the word “al­tar” was care­ful­ly ex­punged, “God’s board” or “the ta­ble” be­ing sub­sti­tut­ed. The short reign of Mary pro­duced a tem­po­rary re­ac­tion, but the work of ref­or­ma­tion was re­sumed on the ac­ces­sion of Eliz­abeth.

The name “al­tar” has been all along re­tained in the Coro­na­tion Of­fice of the kings of Eng­land, where it oc­curs fre­quent­ly. It was al­so rec­og­nized in the canons of 1640, but with the reser­va­tion that “it was an al­tar in the sense in which the prim­itive church called it an al­tar and in no oth­er.” In the same canons the rule for the po­si­tion of the com­mu­nion ta­bles, which has been since reg­ular­ly fol­lowed through­out the Church of Eng­land, was for­mu­lat­ed. In the prim­itive church the al­tars seem to have been so placed that, like those of the He­brews, they could be sur­round­ed on all sides by the wor­ship­pers. The chair of the bish­op or cel­ebrant was on their east side, and the as­sis­tant cler­gy were ranged on each side of him. But in the mid­dle ages the al­tars were placed against the east wall of the church­es, or else against a rere­dos erect­ed at the east side of the al­tar, so as to pre­vent all ac­cess to the ta­ble from that side; the cel­ebrant was thus brought round to the west side and caused to stand be­tween the peo­ple and the al­tar. On the north and south sides there were of­ten cur­tains. When ta­bles were sub­sti­tut­ed for al­tars in the En­glish church­es, these were not mere­ly mov­able, but at the ad­min­is­tra­tion of the Lord’s Sup­per were ac­tu­al­ly moved in­to the body of the church, and placed ta­ble-​wise — that is, with the long sides turned to the north and south, and the nar­row ends to the east and west, — the of­fi­ci­at­ing cler­gy­man stand­ing at the north side. In the time of Arch­bish­op Laud, how­ev­er, the present prac­tice of the Church of Eng­land was in­tro­duced. The com­mu­nion ta­ble, though still of wood and mov­able, is, as a mat­ter of fact, nev­er moved; it is placed al­tar-​wise — that is, with its longer ax­is run­ning north and south, and close against the east wall. Of­ten there is a rere­dos be­hind it; it is al­so fenced in by rails to pre­serve it from pro­fa­na­tion of var­ious kinds.

In 1841 the an­cient church of the Holy Sepul­chre at Cam­bridge was robbed of most of its in­ter­est by a calami­tous “restora­tion” car­ried out un­der the su­per­in­ten­dence and part­ly at the charge of the Cam­den So­ci­ety. On this oc­ca­sion a stone al­tar, con­sist­ing of a flat slab rest­ing up­on three oth­er up­right slabs, was pre­sent­ed to the parish, and was set up in the church at the east wall of the chan­cel. This was brought to the no­tice of the Court of Arch­es in 1845, and Sir H. Jen­ner Fust (Faulkn­er v. Lich­field and Stearn) or­dered it to be re­moved, on the ground that a stone struc­ture so weighty that it could not be car­ried about, and seem­ing to be a mass of sol­id ma­son­ry, was not a com­mu­nion-​ta­ble in the sense rec­og­nized by the Church of Eng­land.

BIB­LI­OG­RA­PHY. — For al­tars in the an­cient East see M. Jas­trow, Re­li­gion of As­syr­ia anid Baby­lo­nia; Per­rot and Chip­iez, Art in Chaldea (i. 143, 255); Sir i. Gar­diner Wilkin­son, A Sec­ond Se­ries of the Mon­ners and Cus­toms of the An­cient Egyp­tians, ii. 387; Ben­zinger’s and Nowack’s works on He­brais­che Ar­chaolo­gie. For clas­si­cal al­tars, much in­for­ma­tion can be ob­tained from the notes in J. G. Fraz­er’s Pau­sa­ni­ae. See al­so Schomann, Griechis­che Al­terthumer, vol. ii.; the vol­ume on “Gottes­di­en­stliche Altcrthumer” in Her­mann’s Lehrbuch der griechis­chen An­tiq­ui­tat­en. On do­mes­tic al­tars and wor­ship see Pe­tersen, Haus­gottes­di­enst der Griechen (Cas­sel, 1851). On plu­ral ded­ica­tions con­sult Mau­rer, De aribus graeco­rum pluribus deis in com­mune posi­tis (Darm­stadt, 1885). For Chris­tian al­tars, ref­er­ence is best made to the ar­ti­cles on the sub­ject in the dic­tio­nar­ies of Chris­tian and litur­gi­cal an­tiq­ui­ties of Migne, Mar­tigny, Smith and Cheetham, and Pu­gin, where prac­ti­cal­ly all the avail­able in­for­ma­tion is col­lect­ed. See al­so Ciamp­inus, Vet­era Mon­umen­ta (Rome, 1747), where nu­mer­ous il­lus­tra­tions of al­tars are to be found; Mar­tune, De an­tiquis Ec­cle­si­ae ritibus, iii. vi. (Rouen, 1700); Voigt, Thys­las­te­ri­olo­gia sive de al­taribus veterum Chris­tiano­rum (Ham­burg, 1709); and the litur­gi­cal works of Bona. Many ar­ti­cles on var­ious sec­tions of the sub­ject have ap­peared in the jour­nals of ar­chae­oloe­ical so­ci­eties; we may men­tion Nes­bitt on the church­es of Rome ear­li­er than 1150 (Ar­chae­olo­gia, xl. p. 210), Didron, “L’Au­tel chre­tien” (An­nales arche­ologiques, iv. p. 238), and a pa­per by Tex­ier on enam­elled al­tars in the same vol­ume. (R. A. S. M.)

1 In the East­ern Church four small pieces of cloth marked with the names of the Evan­ge­lists are placed on the four cor­ners of the al­tar, and cov­ered with three cloths, the up­per­most (the cor­po­ral) be­ing of small­er size.

2 Ex­cept in one place where the term used is “God’s Board.”

ALT­DORF, the cap­ital of the Swiss can­ton of Uri. It is built at a height of 1516 ft. above sea-​lev­el, a lit­tle above the right bank of the Reuss, not far above the point where this riv­er is joined on the right by the Schachen tor­rent. In 1900 the pop­ula­tion was 3117, all Ro­man­ists and Ger­man-​speak­ing. Alt­dorf is 34 m. from Lucerne by the St Got­thard rail­way and 22 m. from Goesch­enen. Its port on the Lake of Lucerne, Fluelon, is 2 m. dis­tant. There is a state­ly parish church, while above the lit­tle town is the old­est Ca­puchin con­vent in Switzer­land (1581). Alt­dorf is best known as the place where, ac­cord­ing to the leg­end, William Tell shot the ap­ple from his son’s head. This act by tra­di­tion hap­pened on the mar­ket-​place, where in 1895, at the foot of an old tow­er (with rude fres­coes com­mem­orat­ing the feat), there was set up a fine bronze stat­ue (by Richard Kissling of Zurich) of Tell and his son. In 1899 a the­atre was opened close to the town for the sole pur­pose of per­form­ing Schiller’s play of Wil­helm Tell. The same year a new car­riage-​road was opened from Alt­dorf through the Schachen val­ley and over the Klausen Pass (6404 ft.) to the vil­lage of Linththal (30 m.) and so to Glarus. One and a half mile from Alt­dorf by the Klausen road is the vil­lage of Bur­glen, where by tra­di­tion Tell was born; while he is al­so said to have lost his life, while sav­ing that of a child, in the Schachen tor­rent that flows past the vil­lage. On the left bank of the Reuss, im­me­di­ate­ly op­po­site Alt­dorf, is At­ting­hausen, where the ru­ined cas­tle (which be­longed to one of the re­al founders of the Swiss Con­fed­er­ation) now hous­es the can­ton­al mu­se­um of an­tiq­ui­ties. (W. A. B. C.)

ALT­DOR­FER, AL­BRECHT (N 1480-1538), Ger­man painter and en­graver, was born at Re­gens­burg (Ratis­bon), where in 1505 he was en­rolled a burgher, and de­scribed as “twen­ty-​five years old.” Soon af­ter­wards he is known to have been pros­per­ous, and as city ar­chi­tect he erect­ed for­ti­fi­ca­tions and a pub­lic slaugh­ter-​house. Alt­dor­fer has been called the “Gior­gione of the North.,’ His paint­ings are re­mark­able for minute and care­ful fin­ish, and for close study of na­ture. The most im­por­tant of them are to be found in the Pinakothek at Mu­nich. A rep­re­sen­ta­tion of the bat­tle of Ar­bela (1529), in­clud­ed in that col­lec­tion, is usu­al­ly con­sid­ered his chief work. His en­grav­ings on wood and cop­per are very nu­mer­ous, and rank next to those of Al­brecht Dur­er. The most im­por­tant col­lec­tion is at the Be­din mu­se­um. Al­brecht’s broth­er, Er­hard Alt­dor­fer, was al­so a painter and en­graver, and a pupil of Lu­cas Cranach.

AL­TEN, SIR CHARLES [Karl] (1764-1840), Hanove­ri­an and British sol­dier, son of Baron Al­ten, a mem­ber of an old Hanove­ri­an fam­ily, en­tered the ser­vice of the elec­tor as a page at the age of twelve. In 1781 he re­ceived a com­mis­sion in the Hanove­ri­an guards, and as a cap­tain took part in the cam­paigns of 1793- 1795 in the Low Coun­tries, dis­tin­guish­ing him­self par­tic­ular­ly on the Lys in com­mand of light in­fantry. In 1803 the Hanove­ri­an army was dis­band­ed, and Al­ten took ser­vice with the King’s Ger­man Le­gion in British pay. In com­mand of the light in­fantry of this fa­mous corps he took part with Lord Cath­cart in the Hanove­ri­an ex­pe­di­tion of 1805 and in the siege of Copen­hagen in 1807, and was with Moore in Swe­den and Spain, as well as in the dis­as­trous Walcheren ex­pe­di­tion. He was soon em­ployed once more in the Penin­su­la, and at Al­buera com­mand­ed a brigade. In April 1813 Welling­ton placed him at the head of the fa­mous “Light Di­vi­sion” (43rd, 52nd, 95th, and Ca­cadores), in which post he worthi­ly con­tin­ued the records of Moore and Robert Crau­furd at Niv­elle, Nive, Or­thez and

Toulouse. His of­fi­cers pre­sent­ed him with a sword of hon­our as a to­ken of their es­teem. In 1815 Al­ten com­mand­ed Welling­ton’s 3rd di­vi­sion and was severe­ly wound­ed at Wa­ter­loo. His con­duct won for him the rank of Count von Al­ten. When the King’s Ger­man Le­gion ceased to ex­ist, Al­ten was giv­en the com­mand of the Hanove­ri­ans in France, and in 1818 he re­turned to Hanover, where he be­came sub­se­quent­ly min­is­ter of war and for­eign af­fairs, and rose to be field-​mar­shal, be­ing re­tained on the British Army list at the same time as Ma­jor-​Gen­er­al Sir Charles Al­ten, G. C. B. He died in 1840. A memo­ri­al to Al­ten has been erect­ed at Hanover.

See Glentle­man’s Mag­azine, 1840; N. L. Beamish, Hist. of the King’s Ger­man Le­gion, 2 vols. (1832-1837).

AL­TE­NA, a town of Ger­many, in the Prus­sian province of West­phalia, on the riv­er Lenne, 38 m. S.S.E. from Dort­mund. Pop. (1900) 12,769. It con­sists of a sin­gle street, wind­ing up a deep val­ley for about 3 m. There are three church­es, a mu­se­um, high grade and pop­ular schools. Its hard­ware in­dus­tries are im­por­tant, and em­brace iron rolling, the man­ufac­ture of fine wire, nee­dles, springs and sil­ver or­na­ments. On the neigh­bour­ing Schloss­berg is the an­ces­tral cas­tle of the counts of La Marok, an­ces­tors, on the fe­male side, of the Prus­sian roy­al house.

AL­TENBURG, a town of Ger­many, cap­ital of the duchy of Saxe-​Al­tenburg, sit­uat­ed near the riv­er Pleisse, 23 m. S. of Leipzig, and at the junc­tion of the Sax­on state rail­ways Leipzig- Hof and Al­tenburg-​Zeitz. Pop. (1905) 38,811. The town from its hilly po­si­tion is ir­reg­ular­ly built, but many of its streets are wide, and con­tain a num­ber of large and beau­ti­ful build­ings. Its an­cient cas­tle is pic­turesque­ly sit­uat­ed on a lofty por­phyry rock, and is mem­orable as the place from which, in 1455, Kunz von Kau­fun­gen car­ried off the young princes Al­bert and Ernest, the founders of the present roy­al and ducal fam­ilies of Sax­ony. Its beau­ti­ful pic­ture gallery, con­tain­ing por­traits of sev­er­al of the fa­mous princes of the house of Wet­tin, was al­most to­tal­ly de­stroyed by fire in Jan­uary 1905. Al­tenburg is the seat of the high­er courts of the Sax­on duchies, and pos­sess­es a cathe­dral and sev­er­al church­es, schools, a li­brary, a gallery of pic­tures and a school of art, an in­fir­mary and var­ious learned so­ci­eties. There is al­so a mu­se­um, with nat­ural his­to­ry, ar­chae­olog­ical, and art col­lec­tions, and among oth­er build­ings may be men­tioned St Bartholomew’s church (1089), the town hall (1562-1564), a lu­natic asy­lum, teach­ers’ sem­inary and an agri­cul­tur­al acade­my. There is con­sid­er­able traf­fic in grain and cat­tle brought from the sur­round­ing dis­tricts; and twice a year there are large horse fairs. Cigars, woollen goods, gloves, hats and porce­lain are among the chief man­ufac­tures. There are lig­nite mines in the vicin­ity.

AL­TENSTEIN, a cas­tle up­on a rocky moun­tain in Saxe- Meinin­gen, on the south-​west­ern slope of the Thuringer­wald, not far from Eise­nach. It is the sum­mer res­idence of the dukes of Meinin­gen, and is sur­round­ed by a no­ble park, which con­tains, among oth­er ob­jects of in­ter­est, a re­mark­able un­der­ground cav­ern, 500 ft. long, through which flows a large and rapid stream. Boni­face, the apos­tle of the Ger­mans, lived and preached at Al­tenstein in 724; and near by is the place where, in 1521, Luther was seized, by the or­der of the elec­tor Fred­er­ick the Wise, to be car­ried off to the Wart­burg. An old beech called “Luther’s tree,” which tra­di­tion con­nect­ed with the re­former, was blown down in 1841, and a small mon­ument now stands in its place.

AL­TER­NA­TION (from Lat. aiternare, to do by turns), strict­ly, the pro­cess of “al­ter­nat­ing”’ i.e. of two things fol­low­ing one an­oth­er reg­ular­ly by turns, as night al­ter­nates with day. A some­what dif­fer­ent sense is at­tached to some us­ages of the deriva­tives. Thus, in Amer­ican po­lit­ical rep­re­sen­ta­tive bod­ies and in the case of com­pa­ny di­rec­tors, a sub­sti­tute is some­times called an “al­ter­nate.” An “al­ter­na­tive” IS that which is of­fered as a choice of two things, the ac­cep­tance of the one im­ply­ing the re­jec­tion of the oth­er. It is in­cor­rect to speak of more than two al­ter­na­tives, though Mr Glad­stone wrote in 1857 of a fourth (Oxf. Es­says, 26). When there is on­ly one course open there is said to be no al­ter­na­tive.

AL­THAEA, in clas­si­cal leg­end, daugh­ter of Thestius, king of Ae­to­lia, wife of Oeneus, king of Ca­ly­don, and moth­er of Me­lea­ger (q.v..)

AL­TING, JO­HANN HEIN­RICH (1583–1644), Ger­man di­vine, was born at Em­den, where his fa­ther, Men­so Al­ting ( 1541-1612), was min­is­ter. Jo­hann stud­ied with great suc­cess at the uni­ver­si­ties of Gronin­gen and Her­born. In 1608 he was ap­point­ed tu­tor of Fred­er­ick, af­ter­wards elec­tor-​pala­tine, at Hei­del­berg, and in 1612 ac­com­pa­nied him to Eng­land. Re­turn­ing in 1613 to Hei­del­berg, af­ter the mar­riage of the elec­tor with Princess Eliz­abeth of Eng­land, he was ap­point­ed pro­fes­sor of dog­mat­ics, and in 1616 di­rec­tor of the the­olog­ical de­part­ment in the Col­legium Sapi­en­ti­ae. In 1618, along with Abra­ham Scul­te­tus, he rep­re­sent­ed the uni­ver­si­ty in the syn­od of Dort. When Count Tilly took the city of Hei­del­berg (1622) and hand­ed it over to plun­der, Al­ting found great dif­fi­cul­ty in es­cap­ing the fury of the sol­diers. He first re­tired to Schorn­dorf; but, of­fend­ed by the “se­mi-​Pela­gian­ism” of the Luther­ans with whom he was brought in con­tact, he re­moved to Hol­land, where the un­for­tu­nate elec­tor and “Win­ter King” Fred­er­ick, in ex­ile af­ter his brief reign in Bo­hemia, made him tu­tor to his el­dest son. In 1627 Al­ting was ap­point­ed to the chair of the­ol­ogy at Gronin­gen, where he con­tin­ued to lec­ture, with in­creas­ing rep­uta­tion, un­til his death in 1644. Though an or­tho­dox Calvin­ist, Al­ting laid lit­tle stress on the stern­er side of his creed and, when at Dort he op­posed the Re­mon­strants, he did so main­ly on the ground that they were “in­no­va­tors.” Among his works are: –No­tae in Deca­dem Prob­lema­tum Ja­co­bi Behm (Hei­del­berg, 1618); Scrip­ta Phe­olog­ica Mei­del­ber­gen­sia (Amst., 1662); Ex­ege­sis Au­gus­tanae Con­fes­sio­nis (Amst., 1647).

AL­TINUM (mod. Al­ti­no), an an­cient town of Vene­tia, 12 m. S.E. of Tarvi­si­um (Tre­vi­so), on the edge of the la­goons. It was prob­ably on­ly a small fish­ing vil­lage un­til it be­came the point of junc­tion of the Via Pos­tu­mia and the Via Popil­lia (see AQUILEIA). At the end of the re­pub­lic it was a mu­nicip­ium. Au­gus­tus and his suc­ces­sors brought it in­to fur­ther im­por­tance as a point on the route be­tween Italy and the north-​east­ern por­tions of the em­pire. Af­ter the foun­da­tion of the naval sta­tion at Raven­na, it be­came the prac­tice to take ship from there to Al­tinum, in­stead of fol­low­ing the Via Popil­lia round the coast, and thence to con­tin­ue the jour­ney by land. A new road, the Via Clau­dia Au­gus­ta, was con­struct­ed by the em­per­or Claudius from Al­tinum to the Danube, a dis­tance of 350 m., ap­par­ent­ly by way of the Lake of Con­stance. The place thus be­came of con­sid­er­able strate­gic and com­mer­cial im­por­tance, and the com­par­ative­ly mild cli­mate (con­sid­er­ing its norther­ly sit­ua­tion) led to the erec­tion of vil­las which Mar­tial (Epi­gr. iv. 25) com­pares with those of Ba­iae. It was de­stroyed by At­ti­la in A.D. 452, and its in­hab­itants took refuge in the is­lands of the la­goons, form­ing set­tle­ments from which Venice even­tu­al­ly sprang.

AL­TI­TUDE (Lat. al­ti­tu­do, from al­tus, high), height or em­inence, and par­tic­ular­ly the height above the ground or above sea-​lev­el. In ge­om­etry, the al­ti­tude of a tri­an­gle is the length of the per­pen­dic­ular from the ver­tex to the base. In as­tron­omy, the al­ti­tude of a heav­en­ly body is the ap­par­ent an­gu­lar el­eva­tion of the body above the plane of the hori­zon (see AS­TRON­OMY: Spher­ical). Ap­par­ent al­ti­tude is the val­ue which is di­rect­ly ob­served; true al­ti­tude is de­duced by cor­rect­ing for as­tro­nom­ical re­frac­tion and dip of the hori­zon; geo­cen­tric al­ti­tude by cor­rect­ing for par­al­lax.

ALT­MUHL, a riv­er of Ger­many, in the king­dom of Bavaria. It is an im­por­tant left bank trib­utary of the Danube, ris­ing in the Fran­co­ni­an plateau (Frankische Ter­rasse), and af­ter a tor­tu­ous course of 116 m., at times flow­ing through mead­ows and again in weird ro­man­tic gorges, joins the Danube at Kel­heim. From its mouth it is nav­iga­ble up to Di­et­furt (18 m.), whence the Lud­wigscanal (100 m. long) pro­ceeds to Bam­berg on the Reg­nitz, thus es­tab­lish­ing com­mu­ni­ca­tion be­tween the Danube and the Rhine.

AL­TO (Ital. for “high’,), a mu­si­cal term ap­plied to the high­est adult male voice or counter-​tenor, and to the low­er boy’s or wom­an’s (con­tral­to) Voice.

AL­TON, a mar­ket-​town in the Fare­ham par­lia­men­tary di­vi­sion of Hamp­shire, Eng­land, 46 1/2 m. S.W. of Lon­don by the Lon­don & South-​West­ern rail­way. Pop. of ur­ban dis­trict (1901) 5479. It has a pleas­ant un­du­lat­ing site near the head­wa­ters of the riv­er Wey. Of the church of St Lawrence part, in­clud­ing the tow­er, is Nor­man; the build­ing was the scene of a fierce con­flict be­tween the roy­al­ist and par­lia­men­tary troops in 1643. There is a mu­se­um of nat­ural his­to­ry; the col­lec­tion is rem­inis­cent of the fa­mous nat­ural­ist Gilbert White, of Sel­borne in this vicin­ity. Large mar­kets and fairs are held for corn, hops, cat­tle and sheep; and the town con­tains some high­ly re­put­ed ale brew­eries, be­sides pa­per mills and iron foundries.

AL­TON, a city of Madi­son coun­ty, Illi­nois, U.S.A., in the W. part of the state, on the Mis­sis­sip­pi riv­er, about 10 m. above the mouth of the Mis­souri, and about 25 m. N. of St Louis, Mis­souri. Pop. (1890) 10,294; (1900) 14,210, of whom 1638 were for­eign-​born; (1910) 17,528. Al­ton is served by the Chica­go & Al­ton, the Chica­go, Peo­ria & St Louis, the Cleve­land, Cincin­nati, Chica­go & St Louis, and the Illi­nois Ter­mi­nal rail­ways. The riv­er is here spanned by a bridge. The res­iden­tial por­tion of the city lies on the riv­er bluffs, some of which rise to a height of 250 ft. above the wa­ter lev­el, and the busi­ness streets are on the bot­tom lands of the riv­er. Al­ton has a pub­lic li­brary and a pub­lic park. Up­per Al­ton (pop. 2918 in 1910), about 1 1/2 m. N.E. of Al­ton, is the seat of the West­ern Mil­itary Acade­my (found­ed in 1879 as Wyman In­sti­tute; char­tered in 1892), and of Shurtl­eff Col­lege (Bap­tist, found­ed in 1827 at Rock Spring, re­moved to Up­per Al­ton in 1831, and char­tered in 1833), which has a col­lege of lib­er­al arts, a di­vin­ity school, an acade­my and a school of mu­sic; and the vil­lage of God­frey, 5 1/2 m. N. of Al­ton, is the seat of the Mon­ti­cel­lo Ladies’ Sem­inary, found­ed by Ben­jamin God­frey, opened in 1838, and char­tered in 1841. Among the man­ufac­tures of Al­ton are iron and glass ware, min­ers’ tools, shov­els, coal-​mine cars, flour, and agri­cul­tur­al im­ple­ments; and there are a large oil re­fin­ery and a large lead smelter. The val­ue of the city’s fac­to­ry prod­ucts in­creased from $4,250,389 in 1900 to $8,696,814 in 1905, or 104.6%.

The first set­tle­ment on the site of Al­ton was made in 1807, when a trad­ing post was es­tab­lished by the French. The town was laid out in 1817, was first in­cor­po­rat­ed in 1821, and in 1827 was made the seat of a state pen­iten­tiary, which was lat­er re­moved to Joli­et, the last pris­on­ers be­ing trans­ferred in 1860. Al­ton was first char­tered as a city in 1837. In 1836 the Rev. Eli­jah P. Love­joy (1802-1837), a na­tive of Al­bion, Maine, re­moved the Ob­serv­er, a re­li­gious (Pres­by­te­ri­an) pe­ri­od­ical of which he was the ed­itor, from St Louis to Al­ton. He had at­tract­ed con­sid­er­able at­ten­tion in St Louis by his crit­icisms of slav­ery, but though he be­lieved in eman­ci­pa­tion, he was not a rad­ical abo­li­tion­ist. Af­ter com­ing to Al­ton his an­ti-​slav­ery views soon be­came more rad­ical, and in a few months he was an avowed abo­li­tion­ist. His views were shared by his broth­er, Owen Love­joy (1811-1864), a Con­gre­ga­tion­al min­is­ter, who al­so at that time lived in Al­ton, and who from 1857 un­til his death was an able an­ti-​slav­ery mem­ber of Congress. Most of the peo­ple of south­ern Illi­nois were in sym­pa­thy with slav­ery, and con­se­quent­ly the Love­joys be­came very un­pop­ular. The press of the Ob­serv­er was three time de­stroyed, and on the 7th of Novem­ber 1837 E. P. Loveioy was killed while at­tempt­ing to de­fend against a mob a fourth press which he had re­cent­ly ob­tained and which was stored in a ware­house in Al­ton. His death caused in­tense ex­cite­ment through­out the coun­try, and he was ev­ery­where re­gard­ed by abo­li­tion­ists as a mar­tyr to their cause. In 1897 a mon­ument, a gran­ite col­umn sur­mount­ed by a bronze stat­ue of Vic­to­ry, was erect­ed in his hon­our by the cit­izens of Al­ton and by the state.

See Hen­ry Tan­ner, The Mar­tyr­dom of Love­joy (Chica­go, 1881), and “The Al­ton Tragedy” in S. J. May’s Some Rec­ol­lec­tions of Our An­ti-​Slav­ery Con­flict (Boston, 1869).

AL­TONA, a town of Ger­many, in the Prus­sian province of Schleswig-​Hol­stein, on the right bank of the Elbe im­me­di­ate­ly west of Ham­burg. Though ad­min­is­tra­tive­ly dis­tinct, the two cities so close­ly ad­join as vir­tu­al­ly to form one whole. Ly­ing high­er than Ham­burg, Al­tona en­joys a pur­er and health­ier at­mo­sphere. It has spa­cious squares and streets, among the lat­ter the Pal­maille, a state­ly av­enue end­ing on a ter­race about 100 ft. above the Elbe, whence a fine view is ob­tained of the riv­er and the low­lands be­yond. Of the six Evan­gel­ical church­es, the Haup­tkirche (parish church), with a lofty steeple, is note­wor­thy. The main thor­ough­fares are em­bel­lished by sev­er­al strik­ing mon­uments, no­tably the memo­ri­als of the wars of 1864 and 1870, bronze stat­ues of the em­per­or William I. and Bis­mar­ck and the col­umn of Vic­to­ry (Sieges­saule). The mu­se­um (1901) is an im­pos­ing build­ing in the Ger­man Re­nais­sance style and con­tains, in ad­di­tion to a valu­able li­brary, ethno­graph­ical and nat­ural his­to­ry col­lec­tions. Its site is that for­mer­ly oc­cu­pied by the ter­mi­nus of the Schleswig-​Hol­stein rail­ways, but a hand­some cen­tral sta­tion ly­ing some­what far­ther to the N., con­nect­ed with Ham­burg by an el­evat­ed rail­way, now ac­com­mo­dates all the traf­fic and pro­vides through com­mu­ni­ca­tion with the main Prus­sian rail­way sys­tems. There are al­so fine mu­nic­ipal and ju­di­cial build­ings, a the­atre (un­der the same man­age­ment as the Stadtthe­ater in Ham­burg), a gym­na­si­um, tech­ni­cal schools, a school of nav­iga­tion and a hos­pi­tal. In re­spect of its lo­cal in­dus­tries Al­tona has man­ufac­tures of to­bac­co and cigars, of ma­chin­ery, wool­lens, cot­tons and chem­icals. There are al­so ex­ten­sive brew­eries, tan­ner­ies and soap and oil works. Al­tona car­ries on an ex­ten­sive mar­itime trade with Great Britain, France and Amer­ica, but it has by no means suc­ceed­ed in de­priv­ing Ham­burg of its com­mer­cial su­pe­ri­or­ity — in­deed, so de­pen­dent is it up­on its ri­val that most of its busi­ness is trans­act­ed on the Ham­burg ex­change, while the mag­nif­icent ware­hous­es on the Al­tona riv­er bank are to a large ex­tent oc­cu­pied by the goods of Ham­burg mer­chants. Since 1888, when Al­tona joined the im­pe­ri­al Zol­lvere­in, ap­prox­imate­ly half a mil­lion ster­ling has been spent up­on har­bour im­prove­ment works. The ex­ports and im­ports re­sem­ble those of Ham­burg. In the ten years 1871-1880, the port was en­tered on an av­er­age an­nu­al­ly by 737 ves­sels of 67,735 tons, in 1881-1890 by 608 ves­sels of 154,713 tons, and in 1891-1898 by 839 ves­sels of 253,384 tons.

In 1890 the pop­ulous sub­urbs of Ot­tensen to the W., where the po­et Got­tlieb Klop­stock lies buried, Bahren­feld, Oth­marschen and Ovel­gonne were in­cor­po­rat­ed. With­out these sub­urbs the growth of the town may be seen from the fol­low­ing fig­ures: — (1864, when it ceased to he Dan­ish) 53,039; (1880) 91,049; (1885) 104,717; (1890) to­geth­er with the four sub­urbs, 143,249; (1895) 148,944; (1900) 161,508; (1905) 168,301. Al­tona is the head­quar­ters of the IX. Ger­man army corps.

The name Al­tona is said to be de­rived from al­lzu-​nah (“all too near”), the Ham­burg­ers’ des­ig­na­tion for an inn which in the mid­dle of the 16th cen­tu­ry lay too close to their ter­ri­to­ry. For a long time this was the on­ly house in the lo­cal­ity. When in 1640 Al­tona passed to Den­mark it was a small fish­ing vil­lage. Its rise to its present po­si­tion is main­ly due to the fos­ter­ing care of the Dan­ish kings who con­ferred cer­tain cus­toms priv­ileges and ex­emp­tions up­on it with a view to mak­ing it a formidable ri­val to Ham­burg. In 1713 it was burnt by the Swedes, but rapid­ly re­cov­ered from this dis­as­ter, and de­spite the tri­als of the Napoleon­ic wars, grad­ual­ly in­creased in pros­per­ity. In 1853, ow­ing to the with­draw­al by Den­mark of its cus­toms priv­ileges, its trade waned. In 1864 Al­tona was oc­cu­pied in the name of the Ger­man Con­fed­er­ation, passed to Prus­sia af­ter the war of 1866, and 1888 to­geth­er with Ham­burg joined the Zol­lvere­in, while re­tain­ing cer­tain free trade rights over the Frei­hafenge­bi­et which it shares with Ham­burg and Wands­bek.

See Wich­mann, Geschichte Al­tonas (2 vols., Alt., 1896); Ehren­berg & Stahl, Al­tonas to­pographis­che En­twick­elung (Alt., 1894).

AL­TOONA, a city of Blair coun­ty, Penn­syl­va­nia, U.S.A., about 117 m. E. by N. of Pitts­burg. Pop. (1890) 30,337; (1900) 38,973, of whom 3301 were for­eign-​born, 1518 be­ing Ger­man; (1010) 52,127. It lies in the up­per end of Lo­gan Val­ley at the base or the Al­leghany moun­tains, about 1180 ft. above sea-​lev­el, and Com­mands views of some of the most pic­turesque moun­tain scenery in the state. A short dis­tance to the W. is the fa­mous Horse­shoe Bend of the Penn­syl­va­nia

rail­way. Al­toona is served by the Penn­syl­va­nia rail­way, and is one of the lead­ing rail­way cities in the Unit­ed States. Its freight yard is 7 m. long, and has 221 m. of tracks. Large num­bers of east­bound coal trains from the moun­tains and west­bound “emp­ties” re­turn­ing to the mines stop here; and the cars of these trains are clas­si­fied here and new trains made up. Lo­co­mo­tives and cars are sent to Al­toona to be re­paired from all over the Penn­syl­va­nia rail­way sys­tem E. of Pitts­burg, and cars and lo­co­mo­tives are built here; and in the south Al­toona foundries car wheels and gen­er­al cast­ings for lo­co­mo­tives and cars are made. The sev­er­al de­part­ments of rail­way work are used to give train­ing in a sort of rail­way uni­ver­si­ty. Grad­uates of tech­ni­cal schools are re­ceived as spe­cial ap­pren­tices and are di­rect­ed in a course of four years through the erect­ing shops, vice shop, black­smith shop, boil­er shop, round­house, test de­part­ment, ma­chine shop, air-​brake shop, iron foundry, car shop, work of fir­ing on the road, of­fice work in the mo­tive pow­er ac­count­ing de­part­ment, and draw­ing room; the most com­pe­tent may be ad­mit­ted through the grades of in­spec­tor, in the of­fice of the mas­ter me­chan­ic or of the road fore­man of en­gines, as­sis­tant mas­ter me­chan­ic, as­sis­tant en­gi­neer of mo­tive pow­er, mas­ter me­chan­ic and su­per­in­ten­dent of mo­tive pow­er. The Penn­syl­va­nia rail­way, co-​op­er­at­ing with the pub­lic school au­thor­ities, es­tab­lished at Al­toona, in 1907, a rail­way high school, the first in­sti­tu­tion of the kind in the coun­try. It has a well-​equipped draw­ing room, car­pen­ter shop, forg­ing room, foundry, sci­ence lab­ora­to­ries and ma­chin­ery de­part­ment, in which ex­pert in­struc­tion is giv­en. In 1905 the city’s fac­to­ry prod­ucts were val­ued at $14,349,963, and in this year the rail­way shops gave em­ploy­ment to 83.7% of all wage-​earn­ers em­ployed in man­ufac­tur­ing es­tab­lish­ments. The man­ufac­ture of silk is the on­ly oth­er im­por­tant in­dus­try in the city. The site of the city (for­mer­ly farm­ing land) was pur­chased in 1849 by the Penn­syl­va­nia Rail­road Com­pa­ny and was laid out as a town. It was in­cor­po­rat­ed as a bor­ough in 1854 and was char­tered as a city in 1868.

AL­TO-​RE­LIE­VO (Ital. for “high re­lief”), the term ap­plied to sculp­ture that projects from the plane to which it is at­tached to the ex­tent of more than one-​half the out­line of the prin­ci­pal fig­ures, which may be near­ly or in parts en­tire­ly de­tached from the back­ground. It is thus dis­tin­guished from bas­so-​re­lie­vo (q.v.), in which there is a greater or less ap­prox­ima­tion in ef­fect to the pic­to­ri­al method, the fig­ures be­ing made to ap­pear as pro­ject­ing more than half their out­line with­out ac­tu­al­ly do­ing so. At the same time it is not on­ly the ac­tu­al de­gree of re­lief which is im­plied by these two terms, but a re­sul­tant dif­fer­ence al­so of de­sign and treat­ment ne­ces­si­tat­ed by the con­tin­gent dif­fer­ences of light and shad­ow. (See RE­LIEF and SCULP­TURE.)

AL­TOT­TING, a town of Ger­many, in the king­dom of Bavaria, On the Mor­ren, not far from its junc­tion with the Inn, and on the Mulil­dorf-​Burghausen rail­way. Pop. (1900) 4344. It has long been a place of pil­grim­age to which Ro­man Catholics, es­pe­cial­ly from Aus­tria, Bavaria and Swabia re­sort in large num­bers, on ac­count of a cel­ebrat­ed im­age of the Vir­gin Mary in the Holy Chapel, which al­so con­tains the hearts of some Bavar­ian princes in sil­ver cas­kets. In the church of St Pe­ter and St Paul is the tomb of Tilly.

AL­TRANSTADT, a vil­lage of Ger­many, in Prus­sian Sax­ony near Merse­burg (q.v.), with (1900) 813 in­hab­itants. Al­transtadt is fa­mous in his­to­ry for two treaties con­clud­ed here: (1) the peace which Au­gus­tus II., king of Poland and elec­tor of Sax­ony, was forced to rat­ify, on the 24th of Septem­ber 1706, with Charles XII. of Swe­den, where­by the for­mer re­nounced the throne of Poland in favour of Stanis­laus Leszczyn­ski — a treaty which Au­gus­tus de­clared null and void af­ter Charles XII.’s de­feat at Polta­va (8th of Ju­ly 1709); (2) the treaty of the 31st of Au­gust 1707, by which the em­per­or Joseph I. guar­an­teed to Charles XII. re­li­gious tol­er­ance and lib­er­ty of con­science for the Sile­sian protes­tants.

AL­TRIN­CHAM, or AL­TRI­NO­HAM (and so pro­nounced), a mar­ket-​town, in the Al­trin­cham pa­di­amen­tary di­vi­sion of Cheshire Eng­land, 8 m. S.W. by S. of Manch­ester, on the Lon­don & North-​West­ern, Manch­ester, South Junc­tion & Al­trin­cham and Cheshire Lines rail­ways. Pop. of ur­ban dis­trict (1901) 16,831. Many res­idences in the lo­cal­ity are oc­cu­pied by those whose busi­ness lies in Manch­ester, who are at­tract­ed by the healthy cli­mate and the vicin­ity of Bow­don Downs and Dun­ham Massey Woods. Mar­ket gar­den­ing is car­ried on, large quan­ti­ties of fruit and flow­ers be­ing grown for sale in Manch­ester. Cab­inet-​mak­ing is al­so prac­tised; and there are sawmills, iron foundries, and man­ufac­tures of cot­ton, yarn and worsted.

Al­trin­cham (Aldring­ham) was orig­inal­ly in­clud­ed in the barony of Dun­ham Massey, one of the eight ba­ronies found­ed by Hugh, earl of Chester, af­ter the Con­quest. An un­dat­ed char­ter from Hamo de Massey, lord of the barony, in the reign of Ed­ward I., con­sti­tut­ed Al­trin­cham a free bor­ough, with a gild mer­chant, the cus­toms of Mac­cles­field, the right to elect reeves and bailiffs for the com­mon coun­cil and oth­er priv­ileges. In 1290 the same Hamo ob­tained a grant of a Tues­day mar­ket and a three days’ fair at the feast of the As­sump­tion of the Vir­gin; but in 1319, by a char­ter from Ed­ward II., the date of the fair was changed to the feast of St James the Apos­tle. A may­or of Al­trin­cham is men­tioned by name in 1452, but the of­fice prob­ably ex­ist­ed long be­fore this date; it has now for cen­turies been a pure­ly nom­inal ap­point­ment, the chief du­ty con­sist­ing in the open­ing of the an­nu­al fairs. The trade in worsted and woollen yarns, which for­mer­ly fur­nished em­ploy­ment to a large sec­tion of the pop­ula­tion, has now com­plete­ly de­clined, part­ly ow­ing to the in­tro­duc­tion of Irish worsted.

See Vic­to­ria Coun­ty His­to­ry, Cheshire; Al­fred In­gham, His­to­ry of Al­trin­cham and Bow­don (Al­trin­cham, 1879).

AL­TRU­ISM (Fr. autrui, from Lat. al­ter, the oth­er of two), a philo­soph­ical term used in ethics for that the­ory of con­duct which re­gards the good of oth­ers as the end of moral ac­tion. It was in­vent­ed by Au­guste Comte and adopt­ed by the En­glish pos­itivists as a con­ve­nient an­tithe­sis to ego­ism. Ac­cord­ing to Comte the on­ly prac­ti­cal method of so­cial re­gen­er­ation is grad­ual­ly to in­cul­cate the true so­cial feel­ing which sub­or­di­nates it­self to the wel­fare of oth­ers. The ap­pli­ca­tion to so­ci­olog­ical prob­lems of the phys­ical the­ory of or­gan­ic evo­lu­tion fur­ther de­vel­oped the al­tru­is­tic the­ory. Ac­cord­ing to Her­bert Spencer, the life of the in­di­vid­ual in the per­fect so­ci­ety is iden­ti­cal with that of the state: in oth­er words, the first ob­ject of him who would live well must be to take his part in pro­mot­ing the well-​be­ing of his fel­lows in­di­vid­ual­ly and col­lec­tive­ly. Pure ego­ism and pure al­tru­ism are alike im­prac­ti­ca­ble. For on the one hand un­less the ego­ist’s hap­pi­ness is com­pat­ible to some ex­tent with that of his fel­lows, their op­po­si­tion will al­most in­evitably vi­ti­ate his per­fect en­joy­ment; on the oth­er hand, the al­tru­ist whose pri­ma­ry ob­ject is the good of oth­ers, must de­rive his own high­est hap­pi­ness — i.e. must re­al­ize him­self most com­plete­ly — in the ful­fil­ment of this ob­ject. In fact, the al­tru­is­tic idea, in it­self and apart from a fur­ther def­ini­tion of the good, is rather a method than an end.

The self-​love the­ory of Hobbes, with its sub­tle per­ver­sions of the mo­tives of or­di­nary hu­man­ity, led to a re­ac­tion which cul­mi­nat­ed in the util­itar­ian­ism of Ben­tham and the two Mills; but their the­ory, though su­pe­ri­or to the ex­trav­agant ego­ism of Hobbes, had this main de­fect, ac­cord­ing to Her­bert Spencer, that it con­ceived the world as an ag­gre­gate of units, and was so far in­di­vid­ual­is­tic. Sir Leslie Stephen in his Sci­ence of Ethics in­sist­ed that the unit is the so­cial or­gan­ism, and there­fore that the aim of moral­ists is not the “great­est hap­pi­ness of the great­est num­ber,” but rather the “health of the or­gan­ism.” The so­cial­is­tic ten­den­cies of sub­se­quent thinkers have em­pha­sized the eth­ical im­por­tance of al­tru­is­tic ac­tion, but it must be re­mem­bered al­ways that it is ul­ti­mate­ly on­ly a form of ac­tion, that it may be com­mend­ed in all types of eth­ical the­ory, and that it is a prac­ti­cal guide on­ly when it is ap­plied in ac­cor­dance with a def­inite the­ory of “the good.” Fi­nal­ly, he who de­votes him­self on prin­ci­ple to fur­ther­ing the good of oth­ers as his high­est moral obli­ga­tion is from the high­est point of view re­al­iz­ing, not sac­ri­fic­ing, him­self.

See works of Comte, Spencer, Stephen, and text-​books of ethics (cf. bib­li­og­ra­phy at end of ar­ti­cle ETHICS).

ALT­WASS­ER, a town of Ger­many, in the Prus­sian province of Sile­sia, 43 m. by rail S.W. from Bres­lau, and 3 m. N. from Walden­burg. It has fac­to­ries for glass, porce­lain, ma­chin­ery, cot­ton-​spin­ning, iron-​foundries and coal-​mines. Pop. (1900) 12,144.

AL­TYN-​TAGH, or ASTYN-​TAOH, one of the chief con­stituent ranges of the Kuen-​lun (q.v.) in Cen­tral Asia, sep­arat­ing Ti­bet from east Turkestan and the Desert of Go­bi.

ALUM, in chem­istry, a term giv­en to the crys­tal­lized dou­ble sul­phates of the typ­ical for­mu­la M2SO4.M2111.(SO4)324H2O, Where M is the sign of an al­ka­li met­al (potas­si­um, sodi­um, ru­bid­ium, cae­sium), sil­ver or am­mo­ni­um, and M111 de­notes one of the triva­lent met­als, alu­mini­um, chromi­um or fer­ric iron. These salts are em­ployed in dye­ing and var­ious oth­er in­dus­tri­al pro­cess­es. They are sol­uble in wa­ter, have an as­trin­gent, acid, and sweet­ish taste, re­act acid to lit­mus, and crys­tal­lize in reg­ular oc­ta­he­dra. When heat­ed they liq­ue­fy; and if the heat­ing be con­tin­ued, the wa­ter of crys­tal­liza­tion is driv­en off, the salt froths and swells, and at last an amor­phous pow­der re­mains.

Potash alum is the com­mon alum of com­merce, al­though both so­da alum and am­mo­ni­um alum are man­ufac­tured. The pres­ence of sul­phuric acid in potash alum was known to the al­chemists. J. H. Pott and A. S. Marggraf demon­strat­ed that alu­mi­na was an­oth­er con­stituent. Pott in his Litho­geog­nosia showed that the pre­cip­itate ob­tained when an al­ka­li is poured in­to a so­lu­tion of alum is quite dif­fer­ent from lime and chalk, with which it had been con­found­ed by G. E. Stahl. Marggraf showed that alu­mi­na is one of the con­stituents of alum, but that this earth pos­sess­es pe­cu­liar prop­er­ties, and is one of the in­gre­di­ents in com­mon clay (Ex­pe­ri­ences faites sur la terre de l’alun, Marggraf’s Opusc. ii. 111) . He al­so showed that crys­tals of alum can­not be ob­tained by dis­solv­ing alu­mi­na in sul­phuric acid and evap­orat­ing the so­lu­tions, but when a so­lu­tion of potash or am­mo­nia is dropped in­to this liq­uid, it im­me­di­ate­ly de­posits per­fect crys­tals of alum (Sur la re­gen­er­ation de l’alun, Marggraf’s Opusc. ii. 86).

T. O. Bergman al­so ob­served that the ad­di­tion of potash or am­mo­nia made the so­lu­tion of alu­mi­na in sul­phuric acid crys­tal­lize, but that the same ef­fect was not pro­duced by the ad­di­tion of so­da or of lime (De con­fec­tione alu­mi­nus, Bergman’s Opusc. i. 225), and that potas­si­um sul­phate is fre­quent­ly found in alum.

Af­ter M. H. Klaproth had dis­cov­ered the pres­ence of potas­si­um in leucite and lep­ido­lite, it oc­curred to L. N. Vauquelin that it was prob­ably an in­gre­di­ent like­wise in many oth­er min­er­als. Know­ing that alum can­not be ob­tained in crys­tals with­out the ad­di­tion of potash, he be­gan to sus­pect that this al­ka­li con­sti­tut­ed an es­sen­tial in­gre­di­ent in the salt, and in 1797 he pub­lished a dis­ser­ta­tion demon­strat­ing that alum is a dou­ble salt, com­posed of sul­phuric acid, alu­mi­na and potash (An­nales de chimie, xxii. 258). Soon af­ter, J. A. Chap­tal pub­lished the anal­ysis of four dif­fer­ent kinds of alum, name­ly, Ro­man alum, Lev­ant alum, British alum and alum man­ufac­tured by him­self. This anal­ysis led to the same re­sult as that of Vauquelin (Ann. de chim xxii. 280).

The word alu­men, which we trans­late alum, oc­curs in Pliny’s Nat­ural His­to­ry. In the 15th chap­ter of his 35th book he gives a de­tailed de­scrip­tion of it. By com­par­ing this with the ac­count of stupte­ria giv­en by Dioscorides in the 123rd chap­ter of his 5th book, it is ob­vi­ous that the two are iden­ti­cal. Pliny in­forms us that alu­men was found nat­ural­ly in the earth. He calls it sal­sug­oter­rae. Dif­fer­ent sub­stances were dis­tin­guished by the name of ”alu­men”; but they were all char­ac­ter­ized by a cer­tain de­gree of as­trin­gen­cy, and were all em­ployed in dye­ing and medicine, the light-​coloured alu­men be­ing use­ful in bril­liant dyes, the dark-​coloured on­ly in dye­ing black or very dark colours. One species was a liq­uid, which was apt to be adul­ter­at­ed; but when pure it had the prop­er­ty of black­en­ing when added to pomegranate juice. This prop­er­ty seems to char­ac­ter­ize a so­lu­tion of iron sul­phate in wa­ter; a so­lu­tion of or­di­nary (potash) alum would pos­sess no such prop­er­ty. Pliny says that there is an­oth­er kind of alum which the Greeks call schis­tos. It forms in white threads up­on the sur­face of cer­tain stones. From the name schis­tos, and the mode of for­ma­tion, there can be lit­tle doubt that this species was the salt which forms spon­ta­neous­ly on cer­tain slaty min­er­als, as alum slate and bi­tu­mi­nous shale, and which con­sists chiefly of sul­phates of iron and alu­mini­um. Pos­si­bly in cer­tain places the iron sul­phate may have been near­ly want­ing, and then the salt would be white, and would an­swer, as Pliny says it did, for dye­ing bright colours. Sev­er­al oth­er species of alu­men are de­scribed by Pliny, but we are un­able to make out to what min­er­als he al­ludes.

The alu­men of the an­cients, then, was not the same with the alum of the mod­erns. It was most com­mon­ly an iron sul­phate, some­times prob­ably an alu­mini­um sul­phate, and usu­al­ly a mix­ture of the two. But the an­cients were un­ac­quaint­ed with our alum. They were ac­quaint­ed with a crys­tal­lized iron sul­phate, and dis­tin­guished it by the names of misy, so­ry, chal­can­thum (Pliny xxxiv. 12). As alum and green vit­ri­ol were ap­plied to a va­ri­ety of sub­stances in com­mon, and as both are dis­tin­guished by a sweet­ish and as­trin­gent taste, writ­ers, even af­ter the dis­cov­ery of alum, do not seem to have dis­crim­inat­ed the two salts ac­cu­rate­ly from each oth­er. In the writ­ings of the al­chemists we find the words misy, so­ry, chal­can­thum ap­plied to alum as well as to iron sul­phate; and the name atra­men­tum su­to­ri­um, which ought to be­long, one would sup­pose, ex­clu­sive­ly to green vit­ri­ol, ap­plied in­dif­fer­ent­ly to both. Var­ious min­er­als are em­ployed in the man­ufac­ture of alum, the most im­por­tant be­ing alu­nite (q.v.) or alum-​stone, alum schist, baux­ite and cry­olite.

In or­der to ob­tain alum from alu­nite, it is cal­cined and then ex­posed to the ac­tion of air for a con­sid­er­able time. Dur­ing this ex­po­sure it is kept con­tin­ual­ly moist­ened with wa­ter, so that it ul­ti­mate­ly falls to a very fine pow­der. This pow­der is then lix­ivi­at­ed with hot wa­ter, the liquor de­cant­ed, and the alum al­lowed to crys­tal­lize. The alum schists em­ployed in the man­ufac­ture of alum are mix­tures of iron pyrites, alu­mini­um sil­icate and var­ious bi­tu­mi­nous sub­stances, and are found in up­per Bavaria, Bo­hemia, Bel­gium and Scot­land. These are ei­ther roast­ed or ex­posed to the weath­er­ing ac­tion of the air. In the roast­ing pro­cess, sul­phuric acid is formed and acts on the clay to form alu­mini­um sul­phate, a sim­ilar con­di­tion of af­fairs be­ing pro­duced dur­ing weath­er­ing. The mass is now sys­tem­at­ical­ly ex­tract­ed with wa­ter, and a so­lu­tion of alu­mini­um sul­phate of spe­cif­ic grav­ity 1.16 is pre­pared. This so­lu­tion is al­lowed to stand for some time (in or­der that any cal­ci­um sul­phate and ba­sic fer­ric sul­phate may sep­arate), and is then evap­orat­ed un­til fer­rous sul­phate crys­tal­lizes on cool­ing; it is then drawn off and evap­orat­ed un­til it at­tains a spe­cif­ic grav­ity of 1.40. It is now al­lowed to stand for some time, de­cant­ed from any sed­iment, and fi­nal­ly mixed with the cal­cu­lat­ed quan­ti­ty of potas­si­um sul­phate (or if am­mo­ni­um alum is re­quired, with am­mo­ni­um sul­phate), well ag­itat­ed, and the alum is thrown down as a fine­ly-​di­vid­ed pre­cip­itate of alum meal. If much iron should be present in the shale then it is prefer­able to use potas­si­um chlo­ride in place of potas­si­um sul­phate.

In the prepa­ra­tion of alum from clays or from baux­ite, the ma­te­ri­al is gen­tly cal­cined, then mixed with sul­phuric acid and heat­ed grad­ual­ly to boil­ing; it is al­lowed to stand for some time, the clear so­lu­tion drawn off and mixed with acid potas­si­um sul­phate and al­lowed to crys­tal­lize. When cry­olite is used for the prepa­ra­tion of alum, it is mixed with cal­ci­um car­bon­ate and heat­ed. By this means, sodi­um alu­mi­nate is formed; it is then ex­tract­ed with wa­ter and pre­cip­itat­ed ei­ther by sodi­um bi­car­bon­ate or by pass­ing a cur­rent of car­bon diox­ide through the so­lu­tion. The pre­cip­itate is then dis­solved in sul­phuric acid, the req­ui­site amount of potas­si­um sul­phate added and the so­lu­tion al­lowed to crys­tal­lize.

Potash alum, K2SO4.Al2(SO4)3.24H2O, crys­tal­lizes in reg­ular

oc­ta­he­dra and is very sol­uble in wa­ter. The so­lu­tion re­dens lit­mus and is an as­trin­gent. When heat­ed to near­ly a red heat it gives a porous fri­able mass which is known as “burnt alum.” It fus­es at 92 deg. C. in its own wa­ter of crys­tal­liza­tion. “Neu­tral alum” is ob­tained by the ad­di­tion of as much sodi­um car­bon­ate to a so­lu­tion of alum as will be­gin to cause the sep­ara­tion of alu­mi­na; it is much used in mor­dant­ing. Alum finds ap­pli­ca­tion as a mor­dant, in the prepa­ra­tion of lakes for siz­ing hand-​made pa­per and in the clar­ify­ing of tur­bid liq­uids.

Sodi­um alum, Na2SO4.Al2(SO4)3.24H2O, oc­curs in na­ture as the min­er­al men­dozite. It is very sol­uble in wa­ter, and is ex­treme­ly dif­fi­cult to pu­ri­fy. In the prepa­ra­tion of this salt, it is prefer­able to mix the com­po­nent so­lu­tions in the cold, and to evap­orate them at a tem­per­ature not ex­ceed­ing 60 deg. C. 100 parts of wa­ter dis­solve 110 parts of sodi­um alum at 0 deg. C. (W. A. Tilden, Jour. Chem. Soc., 1884, 45, p. 409), and 51 parts at 16 deg. C. (E. Auge, Comptes ren­dus, 1890, 110, p. 1139).

Chrome alum, K2SO4.Cr2(SO 4/0)3.24H2O, ap­pears chiefly as a by-​prod­uct in the man­ufac­ture of alizarin, and as a prod­uct of the re­ac­tion in bichro­mate bat­ter­ies.

The sol­ubil­ity of the var­ious alums in wa­ter varies great­ly, sodi­um alum be­ing read­ily sol­uble in wa­ter, whilst cae­sium and ru­bid­ium alums are on­ly spar­ing­ly sol­uble. The var­ious sol­ubil­ities are shown in the fol­low­ing ta­ble: –

Am­mo­ni­um Alum. Cae­sium Alum. Potash Alum. Ru­bid­ium Alum. t deg. C. 100 parts t deg. C. 100 parts t deg. C. 100 parts t deg. C. 100 parts wa­ter wa­ter wa­ter wa­ter dis­solve dis­solve dis­solve dis­solve 0 2.62 0 0.19 0 3.9 0 0.71 10 4.5 10 0.29 10 9.52 10 1.09 50 15.9 50 1.235 50 44.11 50 4.98 80 35.2 80 5.29 80 134.47 80 21.60 100 70.83 100 357.48 Pog­giale C. Set­ter­berg Pog­giale C. Set­ter­berg Ann. Chim. phys. Ann. 1882, [3] 8, p. 467 211, p. 104

ALU­MINI­UM (sym­bol Al; atom­ic weight 27.0), a metal­lic chem­ical el­ement. Al­though nev­er met with in the free state, alu­mini­um is very wide­ly dis­tribut­ed in com­bi­na­tion, prin­ci­pal­ly as sil­icates. The word is de­rived from the Lat. alu­men (see ALUM), and is prob­ably akin to the Gr. als (the root of salt, halo­gen, &c.). In 1722 F. Hoff­mann an­nounced the base of alum to be an in­di­vid­ual sub­stance; L. B. Guy­ton de Morveau sug­gest­ed that this base should be called alu­mine, af­ter Sel alu­mineux, the French name for alum; and about 1820 the word was changed in­to alu­mi­na. In 1760 the French chemist, T. Baron de Henou­ville, un­suc­cess­ful­ly at­tempt­ed “to re­duce the base of alum” to a met­al, and short­ly af­ter­wards var­ious oth­er in­ves­ti­ga­tors es­sayed the prob­lem in vain. In 1808 Sir Humphry Davy, fresh from the elec­trolyt­ic iso­la­tion of potas­si­um and sodi­um, at­tempt­ed to de­com­pose alu­mi­na by heat­ing it with potash in a plat­inum cru­cible and sub­mit­ting the mix­ture to a cur­rent of elec­tric­ity; in 1809, with a more pow­er­ful bat­tery, he raised iron wire to a red heat in con­tact with alu­mi­na, and ob­tained dis­tinct ev­idence of the pro­duc­tion of an iron-​alu­mini­um al­loy. Nam­ing the new met­al in an­tic­ipa­tion of its ac­tu­al birth, he called it alu­mi­um; but for the sake of anal­ogy he was soon per­suad­ed to change the word to alu­minum, in which form, al­ter­nate­ly with alu­mini­um, it oc­curs in chem­ical lit­er­ature for some thir­ty years.

Prepa­ra­tion.

In the year 1824, en­deav­our­ing to pre­pare it­by­chem­icalmeans, H. C. Oer­st­ed heat­ed its chlo­ride with potas­si­um amal­gam, and failed in his ob­ject sim­ply by rea­son of the mer­cury, so that when F. Wohler re­peat­ed the ex­per­iment at Got­tin­gen in 1827, em­ploy­ing potas­si­um alone as the re­duc­ing agent, he ob­tained it in the metal­lic state for the first time. Con­tam­inat­ed as it was with potas­si­um and with plat­inum from the cru­cible, the met­al formed a grey pow­der and was far from pure; but in 1845 he im­proved his pro­cess and suc­ceed­ed in pro­duc­ing metal­lic glob­ules where­with he ex­am­ined its chief prop­er­ties, and pre­pared sev­er­al com­pounds hith­er­to un­known. Ear­ly in 1854, H. St Claire Dev­ille, ac­ci­den­tal­ly and in ig­no­rance of Wohler’s lat­er re­sults, im­itat­ed the 1845 ex­per­iment. At once ob­serv­ing the re­duc­tion of the chlo­ride, he re­al­ized the im­por­tance of his dis­cov­ery and im­me­di­ate­ly be­gan to study the com­mer­cial pro­duc­tion of the met­al. His at­ten­tion was at first di­vid­ed be­tween two pro­cess­es — the chem­ical method of re­duc­ing the chlo­ride with potas­si­um, and an elec­trolyt­ic method of de­com­pos­ing it with a car­bon an­ode and a plat­inum cath­ode, which was si­mul­ta­ne­ous­ly imag­ined by him­self and R. Bun­sen. Both schemes ap­peared prac­ti­cal­ly im­pos­si­ble; potas­si­um cost about L. 17 per lb, gave a very small yield and was dan­ger­ous to ma­nip­ulate, while on the oth­er hand, the on­ly source of elec­tric cur­rent then avail­able was the pri­ma­ry bat­tery, and zinc as a store of in­dus­tri­al en­er­gy was ut­ter­ly out of the ques­tion. Dev­ille ac­cord­ing­ly re­turned to pure chem­istry and in­vent­ed a prac­ti­ca­ble method of prepar­ing sodi­um which, hav­ing a low­er atom­ic weight than potas­si­um, re­duced a larg­er pro­por­tion. He next de­vised a plan for man­ufac­tur­ing pure alu­mi­na from the nat­ural ores, and fi­nal­ly elab­orat­ed a pro­cess and plant which held the field for al­most thir­ty years. On­ly the dis­cov­ery of dy­namo-​elec­tric ma­chines and their ap­pli­ca­tion to met­al­lur­gi­cal pro­cess­es ren­dered it pos­si­ble for E. H. and A. H. Cowles to re­move the in­dus­try from the hands of chemists, till the time when P. T. L. Her­oult and C. M. Hall, by de­vis­ing the elec­trolyt­ic method now in use, in­au­gu­rat­ed the present era of in­dus­tri­al elec­trol­ysis.

Ores.

The chief nat­ural com­pounds of alu­mini­um are four in num­ber: ox­ide, hy­drox­ide (hy­drat­ed ox­ide), sil­icate and flu­oride. Corun­dum, the on­ly im­por­tant na­tive ox­ide (Al2O3), oc­curs in large de­posits in south­ern In­dia and the Unit­ed States. Al­though it con­tains a high­er per­cent­age of met­al (52.9%) than any oth­er nat­ural com­pound, it is not at present em­ployed as an ore, not on­ly be­cause it is so hard as to be crushed with dif­fi­cul­ty, but al­so be­cause its very hard­ness makes it valu­able as an abra­sive. Cry­olite (AlF3.5NaF) is a dou­ble flu­oride of alu­mini­um and sodi­um, which is scarce­ly known ex­cept on the west coast of Green­land. For­mer­ly it was used for the prepa­ra­tion of the met­al, but the in­ac­ces­si­bil­ity of its source, and the fact that it is not suf­fi­cient­ly pure to be em­ployed with­out some pre­lim­inary treat­ment, caused it to be aban­doned in favour of oth­er salts. When re­quired in the Her­oult-​Hall pro­cess as a sol­vent, it is some­times made ar­ti­fi­cial­ly. Alu­mini­um sil­icate is the chem­ical body of which all clays are nom­inal­ly com­posed. Haolin or Chi­na clay is es­sen­tial­ly a pure dis­il­icate (Al2O3.2SiO2.2H2O), oc­cur­ring in large beds al­most through­out the world, and con­tain­ing in its an­hy­drous state 24.4% of the met­al, which, how­ev­er, in com­mon clays is more or less re­placed by cal­ci­um, mag­ne­sium, and the al­ka­lis, the pro­por­tion of sil­ica some­times reach­ing 70%. Kaolin thus seems to be the best ore, and it would un­doubt­ed­ly be used were it not for the fa­tal ob­jec­tion that no sat­is­fac­to­ry pro­cess has yet been dis­cov­ered for prepar­ing pure alu­mi­na from any min­er­al sil­icate. If, ac­cord­ing to the present method of win­ning the met­al, a bath con­tain­ing sil­ica as well as alu­mi­na is sub­mit­ted to elec­trol­ysis, both ox­ides are dis­so­ci­at­ed, and as sil­icon is a very un­de­sir­able im­pu­ri­ty, an alu­mi­na con­tam­inat­ed with sil­ica is not suit­ed for re­duc­tion. Baux­ite is a hy­drat­ed ox­ide of alu­mini­um of the ide­al com­po­si­tion, Al2O3.2H2O. It is a some­what wide­ly dis­tribut­ed min­er­al, be­ing met with­in Styr­ia, Aus­tria, Hesse, French Guiana, In­dia and Italy; but the most im­por­tant beds are in the south of France, the north of Ire­land, and in Al­aba­ma, Geor­gia and Arkansas in North Amer­ica. The chief Irish de­posits are in the neigh­bour­hood of Glen­rav­el, Co. Antrim, and have the ad­van­tage of be­ing near the coast, so that the alu­mi­na can be trans­port­ed by wa­ter-​car­riage. Af­ter be­ing dried at 100 deg. C., Antrim baux­ite con­tains from 33 to 60% of alu­mi­na, from 2 to 30% of fer­ric ox­ide, and from 7 to 24% of sil­ica, the bal­ance be­ing ti­tan­ic acid and wa­ter of com­bi­na­tion. The Amer­ican baux­ites con­tain from 38 to 67% of alu­mi­na, from 1 to 23% of fer­ric ox­ide, and from 1 to 32% of sil­ica. The French baux­ites are of fair­ly con­stant com­po­si­tion, con­tain­ing usu­al­ly from 58 to 70% of alu­mi­na, 3 to 15% of for­eign mat­ter, and 27% made

up of sil­ica, iron ox­ide and wa­ter in pro­por­tions that vary with the colour and the sit­ua­tion of the beds.

Be­fore the ap­pli­ca­tion of elec­tric­ity, on­ly two com­pounds were found suit­able for re­duc­tion to the metal­lic state. Alu­mi­na it­self is so re­frac­to­ry that it can­not be melt­ed save by the oxy­hy­dro­gen blow­pipe or the elec­tric arc, and ex­cept in the molten state it is not sus­cep­ti­ble of de­com­po­si­tion by any chem­ical reagent. Dev­ille first se­lect­ed the chlo­ride as his raw ma­te­ri­al, but ob­serv­ing it to be volatile and ex­treme­ly del­iques­cent, he soon sub­sti­tut­ed in its place a dou­ble chlo­ride of alu­mini­um and sodi­um. Ear­ly in 1855 John Per­cy sug­gest­ed that cry­olite should be more con­ve­nient, as it was a nat­ural min­er­al and might not re­quire pu­rifi­ca­tion, and at the end of March in that year, Fara­day ex­hib­it­ed be­fore the Roy­al In­sti­tu­tion sam­ples of the met­al re­duced from its flu­oride by Dick and Smith. H. Rose al­so car­ried out ex­per­iments on the de­com­po­si­tion of cry­olite, and ex­pressed an opin­ion that it was the best of all com­pounds for re­duc­tion; but, find­ing the yield of met­al to be low, re­ceiv­ing a re­port of the dif­fi­cul­ties ex­pe­ri­enced in min­ing the ore, and fear­ing to crip­ple his new in­dus­try by bas­ing it up­on the em­ploy­ment of a min­er­al of such un­cer­tain sup­ply, Dev­ille de­cid­ed to keep to his chlo­rides. With the ad­vent of the dy­namo, the po­si­tion of af­fairs was whol­ly changed. The first suc­cess­ful idea of us­ing elec­tric­ity de­pend­ed on the enor­mous heat­ing pow­ers of the arc. The in­fusibil­ity of alu­mi­na was no longer pro­hibitive, for the molten ox­ide is eas­ily re­duced by car­bon. Nev­er­the­less, it was found im­prac­ti­ca­ble to smelt alu­mi­na elec­tri­cal­ly ex­cept in pres­ence of cop­per, so that the Cowles fur­nace yield­ed, not the pure met­al, but an al­loy. So long as the met­al was prin­ci­pal­ly re­gard­ed as a nec­es­sary in­gre­di­ent of alu­mini­um-​bronze, the Cowles pro­cess was pop­ular, but when the ad­van­tages of alu­mini­um it­self be­came more ap­par­ent, there arose a fresh de­mand for some chief method of ob­tain­ing it un­al­loyed. It was soon dis­cov­ered that the fac­ul­ty of in­duc­ing dis­so­ci­ation pos­sessed by the cur­rent might now be uti­lized with some hope of pe­cu­niary suc­cess, but as elec­trolyt­ic cur­rents are of low­er volt­age than those re­quired in elec­tric fur­naces, molten alu­mi­na again be­came im­pos­si­ble. Many met­als, of which cop­per, sil­ver and nick­el are types, can be read­ily won or pu­ri­fied by the elec­trol­ysis of aque­ous so­lu­tions, and the­oret­ical­ly it may be fea­si­ble to treat alu­mini­um in an iden­ti­cal man­ner. In prac­tice, how­ev­er, it can­not be thrown down elec­trolyt­ical­ly with a dis­sim­ilar an­ode so as to win the met­al, and cer­tain dif­fi­cul­ties are still met with in the anal­ogous op­er­ation of plat­ing by means of a sim­ilar an­ode. Of the sim­ple com­pounds, on­ly the flu­oride is amenable to elec­trol­ysis in the fused state, since the chlo­ride be­gins to volatilize be­low its melt­ing-​point, and the lat­ter is on­ly 5 deg. be­low its boil­ing-​point. Cry­olite is not a safe body to elec­trol­yse, be­cause the min­imum volt­age need­ed to break up the alu­mini­um flu­oride is 4.0, where­as the sodi­um flu­oride re­quires on­ly 4.7 volts; if, there­fore, the cur­rent ris­es in ten­sion, the al­ka­li is re­duced, and the fi­nal prod­uct con­sists of an al­loy with sodi­um. The cor­re­spond­ing dou­ble chlo­ride is a far bet­ter ma­te­ri­al; first, be­cause it melts at about 180 deg. C., and does not volatilize be­low a red heat, and sec­ond, be­cause the volt­age of alu­mini­um chlo­ride is 2.3 and that of sodi­um chlo­ride 4.3, so that there is a much wider mar­gin of safe­ty to cov­er ir­reg­ular­ities in the elec­tric pres­sure. It has been found, how­ev­er, that molten cry­olite and the anal­ogous dou­ble flu­oride rep­re­sent­ed by the for­mu­la Al2F6.2NaF are very ef­fi­cient sol­vents of alu­mi­na, and that these so­lu­tions can be eas­ily elec­trol­ysed at about 800 deg. C. by means of a cur­rent that com­plete­ly de­com­pos­es the ox­ide but leaves the haloid salts un­af­fect­ed. Molten cry­olite dis­solves rough­ly 30% of its weight of pure alu­mi­na, so that when ready for treat­ment the so­lu­tion con­tains about the same pro­por­tion of what may be termed “avail­able” alu­mini­um as does the fused dou­ble chlo­ride of alu­mini­um and sodi­um. The ad­van­tages lie with the ox­ide be­cause of its eas­ier prepa­ra­tion. Alu­mi­na dis­solves read­ily enough in aque­ous hy­drochlo­ric acid to yield a so­lu­tion of the chlo­ride, but nei­ther this so­lu­tion, nor that con­tain­ing sodi­um chlo­ride, can be evap­orat­ed to dry­ness with­out de­com­po­si­tion. To ob­tain the an­hy­drous sin­gle or dou­ble chlo­ride, alu­mi­na must be ig­nit­ed with car­bon in a cur­rent of chlo­rine, and to ex­clude iron from the fin­ished met­al, ei­ther the alu­mi­na must be pure or the chlo­ride be sub­mit­ted to pu­rifi­ca­tion. This prepa­ra­tion of a chlo­rine com­pound suit­ed for elec­trol­ysis be­comes more cost­ly and more trou­ble­some than that of the ox­ide, and in ad­di­tion four times as much raw ma­te­ri­al must be han­dled.

At dif­fer­ent times propo­si­tions have been made to win the met­al from its sul­phide. This com­pound pos­sess­es a heat of for­ma­tion so much low­er that elec­tri­cal­ly it needs but a volt­age of 0.9 to de­com­pose it, and it is eas­ily sol­uble in the fused sul­phides of the al­ka­li met­als. It can al­so be re­duced met­al­lur­gi­cal­ly by the ac­tion of molten iron. Var­ious con­sid­er­ations, how­ev­er, tend to show that there can­not be so much ad­van­tage in em­ploy­ing it as would ap­pear at first sight. As it is eas­ier to re­duce than any oth­er com­pound, so it is more dif­fi­cult to pro­duce. There­fore while less en­er­gy is ab­sorbed in its fi­nal re­duc­tion, more is need­ed in its ini­tial prepa­ra­tion, and it is ques­tion­able whether the econ­omy pos­si­ble in the sec­ond stage would not be neu­tral­ized by the greater cost of the first stage in the whole op­er­ation of win­ning the met­al from baux­ite with the sul­phide as the in­ter­me­di­ary.

Chem­ical re­duc­tions.

The Dev­ille pro­cess as grad­ual­ly elab­orat­ed be­tween 1855 and 1859 ex­hib­it­ed three dis­tinct phas­es: — Pro­duc­tion of metal­lic sodi­um, for­ma­tion of the pure dou­ble chlo­ride of sodi­um and alu­mini­um, and prepa­ra­tion of the met­al by the in­ter­ac­tion of the two for­mer sub­stances. To pro­duce the al­ka­li met­al, a cal­cined mix­ture of sodi­um car­bon­ate, coal and chalk was strong­ly ig­nit­ed in flat re­torts made of boil­er-​plate; the sodi­um dis­tilled over in­to con­densers and was pre­served un­der heavy petroleum. In or­der to pre­pare pure alu­mi­na, baux­ite and sodi­um car­bon­ate were heat­ed in a fur­nace un­til the re­ac­tion was com­plete; the prod­uct was then ex­tract­ed with wa­ter to dis­solve the sodi­um alu­mi­nate, the so­lu­tion treat­ed with car­bon diox­ide, and the pre­cip­itate re­moved and dried. This pu­ri­fied ox­ide, mixed with sodi­um chlo­ride and coal tar, was car­bonized at a red heat, and ig­nit­ed in a cur­rent of dry chlo­rine as long as vapours of the dou­ble chlo­ride were giv­en off, these be­ing con­densed in suit­able cham­bers. For the pro­duc­tion of the fi­nal alu­mini­um, 100 parts of the chlo­ride and 45 parts of cry­olite to serve as a flux were pow­dered to­geth­er and mixed with 35 parts of sodi­um cut in­to small pieces. The whole was thrown in sev­er­al por­tions on to the hearth of a fur­nace pre­vi­ous­ly heat­ed to low red­ness and was stirred at in­ter­vals for three hours. At length when the fur­nace was tapped a white slag was drawn off from the top, and the liq­uid met­al be­neath was re­ceived in­to a la­dle and poured in­to cast-​iron moulds. The pro­cess was worked out by Dev­ille in his lab­ora­to­ry at the Ecole Nor­male in Paris. Ear­ly in 1855 he con­duct­ed large-​scale ex­per­iments at Jav­el in a fac­to­ry lent him for the pur­pose, where he pro­duced suf­fi­cient to show at the French Ex­hi­bi­tion of 1855. In the spring of 1856 a com­plete plant was erect­ed at La Glaciere, a sub­urb of Paris, but be­com­ing a nui­sance to the neigh­bours, it was re­moved to Nan­terre in the fol­low­ing year. Lat­er it was again trans­ferred to Salin­dres, where the man­ufac­ture was con­tin­ued by Messrs. Pechiney till the ad­vent of the present elec­trolyt­ic pro­cess ren­dered it no longer prof­itable.

When Dev­ille quit­ted the Jav­el works, two broth­ers C. and A. Tissier, for­mer­ly his as­sis­tants, who had de­vised an im­proved sodi­um fur­nace and had ac­quired a thor­ough knowl­edge of their lead­er’s ex­per­iments, al­so left, and erect­ed a fac­to­ry at Am­fre­ville, near Rouen, to work the cry­olite pro­cess. It con­sist­ed sim­ply in re­duc­ing cry­olite with metal­lic sodi­um ex­act­ly as in Dev­ille’s chlo­ride method, and it was claimed to pos­sess var­ious myth­ical ad­van­tages over its ri­val. Two grave dis­ad­van­tages were soon ob­vi­ous — the lim­it­ed sup­ply of ore, and, what was even more se­ri­ous, the large pro­por­tion of sil­icon in the re­duced met­al. The Am­fre­ville works ex­ist­ed some eight or ten years, but achieved no per­ma­nent pros­per­ity. In 1858 or 1859 a small fac­to­ry, the first in Eng­land, was built by F. W. Ger­hard at Bat­tersea, who al­so em­ployed cry­olite, made his own sodi­um, and was able to sell the prod­uct at 3s. 9d. per oz. This en­ter­prise

on­ly last­ed about four years. Be­tween 1860 and 1874 Messrs Bell Broth­ers man­ufac­tured the met­al at Wash­ing­ton, near New­cas­tle, un­der Dev­ille’s su­per­vi­sion, pro­duc­ing near­ly 2 cwt. per year. They took part in the In­ter­na­tion­al Ex­hi­bi­tion of 1862, quot­ing a price of 40s. per lb troy.

In 1881 J. Web­ster patent­ed an im­proved pro­cess for mak­ing alu­mi­na, and the fol­low­ing year he or­ga­nized the Alu­mini­um Crown Met­al Co. of Hol­ly­wood to ex­ploit it in con­junc­tion with Dev­ille’s method of re­duc­tion. Potash-​alum and pitch were cal­cined to­geth­er, and the mass was treat­ed with hy­drochlo­ric acid; char­coal and wa­ter to form a paste were next added, and the whole was dried and ig­nit­ed in a cur­rent of air and steam. The residue, con­sist­ing of alu­mi­na and potas­si­um sul­phate, was leached with wa­ter to sep­arate the in­sol­uble mat­ter which was dried as usu­al. All the by-​prod­ucts, potas­si­um sul­phate, sul­phur and alu­mi­nate of iron, were ca­pa­ble of re­cov­ery, and were claimed to re­duce the cost of the ox­ide ma­te­ri­al­ly. From this alu­mi­na the dou­ble chlo­ride was pre­pared in es­sen­tial­ly the same man­ner as prac­tised at Salin­dres, but sundry economies ac­crued in the pro­cess, ow­ing to the larg­er scale of work­ing and to the adop­tion of W. Wel­don’s method of re­gen­er­at­ing the spent chlo­rine liquors. In 1886 H. Y. Cast­ner’s sodi­um patents ap­peared, and The Alu­mini­um Co. of Old­bury was pro­mot­ed to com­bine the ad­van­tages of Web­ster’s alu­mi­na and Cast­ner’s sodi­um. Cast­ner had long been in­ter­est­ed in alu­mini­um, and was de­sirous of low­er­ing its price. See­ing that sodi­um was the on­ly pos­si­ble re­duc­ing agent, he set him­self to cheap­en its cost, and de­lib­er­ate­ly re­ject­ing sodi­um car­bon­ate for the more ex­pen­sive sodi­um hy­drox­ide (caus­tic so­da), and re­plac­ing car­bon by a mix­ture of iron and car­bon — the so-​called car­bide of iron — he in­vent­ed the high­ly sci­en­tif­ic method of win­ning the al­ka­li met­al which has re­mained in ex­is­tence al­most to the present day. In 1872 sodi­um pre­pared by Dev­ille’s pro­cess cost about 4s. per lb, the greater part of the ex­pense be­ing due to the con­stant fail­ure of the re­torts; in 1887 Cast­ner’s sodi­um cost less than 1s. per lb, for his cast-​iron pots sur­vived 125 dis­til­la­tions.

In the same year L. Grabau patent­ed a method of re­duc­ing the sim­ple flu­oride of alu­mini­um with sodi­um, and his pro­cess was op­er­at­ed at Trotha in Ger­many. It was dis­tin­guished by the un­usu­al pu­ri­ty of the met­al ob­tained, some of his sam­ples con­tain­ing 99.5 to 99.8%. In 1888 the Al­liance Alu­mini­um Co., or­ga­nized to work cer­tain patents for win­ning the met­al from cry­olite by means of sodi­um, erect­ed plant in Lon­don, Heb­burn and Wallsend, and by 1889 were sell­ing the met­al at 11s. to 15s. per lb. The Alu­mini­um Com­pa­ny’s price in 1888 was 20s. per lb and the out­put about 250 lb per day. In 1889 the price was 16s., but by 1891 the elec­tri­cians com­menced to of­fer met­al at 4s. per lb, and alu­mini­um re­duced with sodi­um be­came a thing of the past.

Elec­tric re­duc­tion.

About 1879 dy­namos be­gan to be in­tro­duced in­to met­al­lur­gi­cal prac­tice, and from that date on­wards nu­mer­ous schemes for uti­liz­ing this clean­er source of en­er­gy were brought be­fore the pub­lic. The first elec­tri­cal method wor­thy of no­tice is that patent­ed by E. H. and A. H. Cowles in 1885, which was worked both at Lock­port, New York, U.S.A., and at Mil­ton, Stafford­shire. The fur­nace con­sist­ed of a flat, rect­an­gu­lar, fire­brick box, packed with a lay­er of fine­ly-​pow­dered char­coal 2 in. thick. Through stuff­ing-​box­es at the ends passed the two elec­trodes, made af­ter the fash­ion of arc-​light car­bons, and ca­pa­ble of be­ing ap­proached to­geth­er ac­cord­ing to the re­quire­ments of the op­er­ation. The cen­tral space of the fur­nace was filled with a mix­ture of corun­dum, coarse­ly-​pow­dered char­coal and cop­per; and an iron lid lined with fire­brick was lut­ed in its place to ex­clude air. The charge was re­duced by means of a 50-volt cur­rent from a 300-kilo­watt dy­namo, which was passed through the fur­nace for 1 1/2 hours till de­com­po­si­tion was com­plete. About 100 lb of bronze, con­tain­ing from 15 to 20 lb of alu­mini­um, were ob­tained from each run, the yield of the al­loy be­ing re­port­ed at about 1 lb per 18 e.h.p.-hours. The com­po­si­tion of the al­loys thus pro­duced could not be pre­de­ter­mined with ex­ac­ti­tude; each batch was there­fore anal­ysed, a num­ber of them were bulked to­geth­er or mixed with cop­per in the nec­es­sary pro­por­tion, and melt­ed in cru­cibles to give mer­chantable bronzes con­tain­ing be­tween 1 1/4 and 10% of alu­mini­um. Al­though the cop­per took no part in the re­ac­tion, its em­ploy­ment was found in­dis­pens­able, as oth­er­wise the alu­mini­um part­ly volatilized, and part­ly com­bined with the car­bon to form a car­bide. It was al­so nec­es­sary to give the fine char­coal a thin coat­ing of cal­ci­um ox­ide by soak­ing it in lime-​wa­ter, for the tem­per­ature was so high that un­less it was thus pro­tect­ed it was grad­ual­ly con­vert­ed in­to graphite, los­ing its in­su­lat­ing pow­er and dif­fus­ing the cur­rent through the lin­ing and walls of the fur­nace. That this pro­cess did not de­pend up­on elec­trol­ysis, but was sim­ply an in­stance of elec­tri­cal smelt­ing or the de­com­po­si­tion of an ox­ide by means of car­bon at the tem­per­ature of the elec­tric arc, is shown by the fact that the Cowles fur­nace would work with an al­ter­nat­ing cur­rent.

In 1883 R. Cratzel patent­ed a use­less elec­trolyt­ic pro­cess with fused cry­olite or the dou­ble chlo­ride as the raw ma­te­ri­al, and in 1886 Dr E. Klein­er pro­pound­ed a cry­olite method which was worked for a time by the Alu­mini­um Syn­di­cate at Tyldes­ley near Manch­ester, but was aban­doned in 1890. In 1887 A. Minet took out patents for elec­trolysing a mix­ture of sodi­um chlo­ride with alu­mini­um flu­oride, or with nat­ural or ar­ti­fi­cial cry­olite. The op­er­ation was con­tin­uous, the met­al be­ing reg­ular­ly run off from the bot­tom of the bath, while fresh alu­mi­na and flouride were added as re­quired. The pro­cess ex­hib­it­ed sev­er­al dis­ad­van­tages, the elec­trolyte had to be kept con­stant in com­po­si­tion lest ei­ther flu­orine vapours should be evolved or sodi­um thrown down, and the raw ma­te­ri­als had ac­cord­ing­ly to be pre­pared in a pure state. Af­ter pro­longed ex­per­iments in a fac­to­ry owned by Messrs Bernard Fr­eres at St Michel in Savoy, Minet’s pro­cess was giv­en up, and at the close of the 19th cen­tu­ry the Her­oult-​Hall method was alone be­ing em­ployed in the man­ufac­ture of alu­mini­um through­out the world.

The orig­inal Dev­ille pro­cess for ob­tain­ing pure alu­mi­na from baux­ite was great­ly sim­pli­fied in 1889 by K. T. Bay­er, whose im­proved pro­cess is ex­ploit­ed at Larne in Ire­land and at Gar­danne in France. New works on the same pro­cess have re­cent­ly been erect­ed near Mar­seilles. Crude baux­ite is ground, light­ly cal­cined to de­stroy or­gan­ic mat­ter, and ag­itat­ed un­der a pres­sure of 70 or 80 lb per sq. in. with a so­lu­tion of sodi­um hy­drox­ide hav­ing the spe­cif­ic grav­ity 1.45. Af­ter two or three hours the liq­uid is di­lut­ed till its den­si­ty falls to 1.23, when it is passed through fil­ter-​press­es to re­move the in­sol­uble fer­ric ox­ide and sil­ica. The so­lu­tion of sodi­um alu­mi­nate, con­tain­ing alu­mini­um ox­ide and sodi­um ox­ide in the molec­ular pro­por­tion of 6 to 1, is next ag­itat­ed for thir­ty-​six hours with a small quan­ti­ty of hy­drat­ed alu­mi­na pre­vi­ous­ly ob­tained, which caus­es the liquor to de­com­pose, and some 70% of the alu­mini­um hy­drox­ide to be thrown down. The fil­trate, now con­tain­ing rough­ly two molecules of alu­mi­na to one of so­da, is con­cen­trat­ed to the orig­inal grav­ity of 1.45, and em­ployed in­stead of fresh caus­tic for the at­tack of more baux­ite; the pre­cip­itate is then col­lect­ed, washed till free from so­da, dried and ig­nit­ed at about 1000 deg. C. to con­vert it in­to a crys­talline ox­ide which is less hy­gro­scop­ic than the for­mer amor­phous va­ri­ety.

The pro­cess of man­ufac­ture which now re­mains to be de­scribed was patent­ed dur­ing 1886 and 1887 in the name of C. M. Hall in Amer­ica, in that of P. T. L. Her­oult in Eng­land and France. It would be idle to dis­cuss to whom the cred­it of first imag­in­ing the method right­ful­ly be­longs, for prob­ably this is on­ly one of the many oc­ca­sions when new ideas have been born in sev­er­al brains at the same time. By 1888 Hall was at work on a com­mer­cial scale at Pitts­burg, re­duc­ing Ger­man alu­mi­na; in 1891 the plant was re­moved to New Kens­ing­ton for econ­omy in fu­el, and was grad­ual­ly en­larged to 1500 h.p.; in 1894 a fac­to­ry driv­en by wa­ter was erect­ed at Ni­agara Falls, and sub­se­quent­ly works were es­tab­lished at Shawene­gan in Cana­da and at Masse­na in the Unit­ed States. In 1890 al­so the Hall pro­cess op­er­at­ed by steam pow­er was in­stalled at Patri­croft, Lan­cashire, where the plant had a ca­pac­ity of 300 lb per day, but by 1894 the tur­bines of the Swiss and French works ru­ined the en­ter­prise. About 1897 the Bernard fac­to­ry at St Michel passed in­to the hands of

Messrs Pechiney, the ma­chin­ery soon be­ing in­creased, and there, un­der the con­trol of a firm that has been con­cerned in the in­dus­try al­most from its in­cep­tion, alu­mini­um is be­ing man­ufac­tured by the Hall pro­cess on a large scale. In Ju­ly 1888 the So­ci­ete Met­al­lurgique Su­isse erect­ed plant driv­en by a 500 h.p. tur­bine to car­ry out Her­oult’s al­loy pro­cess, and at the end of that year the All­ge­meine Elek­tric­itats Gesellschaft unit­ed with the Swiss firm in or­ga­niz­ing the Alu­mini­um In­dus­trie Ac­tion Gesellschaft of Neuhasen, which has fac­to­ries in Switzedand, Ger­many and Aus­tria. The So­ci­ete Elec­tromet­al­lurgique Fran­caise, start­ed un­der the di­rec­tion of Her­oult in 1888 for the pro­duc­tion of alu­mini­um in France, be­gan op­er­ations on a small scale at Fro­ges in Is­ere; but soon af­ter large works were erect­ed in Savoy at La Praz, near Modane, and in 1905 an­oth­er large fac­to­ry was start­ed in Savoy at St Michel. In 1895 the British Alu­mini­um Com­pa­ny was found­ed to mine baux­ite and man­ufac­ture alu­mi­na in Ire­land, to pre­pare the nec­es­sary elec­trodes at Greenock, to re­duce the alu­mini­um by the aid of wa­ter-​pow­er at the Falls of Foy­ers, and to re­fine and work up the met­al in­to mar­ketable shapes at the old Mil­ton fac­to­ry of the Cowles Syn­di­cate, re­mod­elled to suit mod­ern re­quire­ments. In 1905 this com­pa­ny be­gan works for the uti­liza­tion of an­oth­er wa­ter-​pow­er at Loch Lev­en.

In 1907 a new com­pa­ny, The Alu­mini­um Cor­po­ra­tion, was start­ed in Eng­land to car­ry out the pro­duc­tion of the met­al by the Her­oult pro­cess, and new fac­to­ries were con­struct­ed near Con­way in North Wales and at Wallsend-​on-​Tyne, quite close to where, twen­ty years be­fore, the Al­liance Alu­mini­um Co. had their works.

The Her­oult cell con­sists of a square iron or steel box lined with car­bon rammed and baked in­to a sol­id mass; at the bot­tom is a cast-​iron plate con­nect­ed with the neg­ative pole of the dy­namo, but the ac­tu­al work­ing cath­ode is un­doubt­ed­ly the lay­er of al­ready re­duced and molten met­al that lies in the bath. The an­ode is formed of a bun­dle of car­bon rods sus­pend­ed from over­head so as to be ca­pa­ble of ver­ti­cal ad­just­ment. The cell is filled up with cry­olite, and the cur­rent is turned on till this is melt­ed; then the pure pow­dered alu­mi­na is fed in con­tin­uous­ly as long as the op­er­ation pro­ceeds. The cur­rent is sup­plied at a ten­sion of 3 to 5 volts per cell, pass­ing through 10 or 12 in se­ries; and it per­forms two dis­tinct func­tions: — (1) it over­comes the chem­ical affin­ity of the alu­mini­um ox­ide, (2) it over­comes the re­sis­tance of the elec­trolyte, heat­ing the liq­uid at the same time. As a part of the volt­age is con­sumed in the lat­ter du­ty, on­ly the residue can be con­vert­ed in­to chem­ical work, and as the the­oret­ical volt­age of the alu­mini­um flu­oride in the cry­olite is 4.0, pro­vid­ed the bath is kept prop­er­ly sup­plied with alu­mi­na, the flu­orides are not at­tacked. It fol­lows, there­fore, ex­cept for me­chan­ical loss­es, that one charge of cry­olite lasts in­def­inite­ly, that the sodi­um and oth­er im­pu­ri­ties in it are not li­able to con­tam­inate the prod­uct, and that on­ly the alu­mi­na it­self need be care­ful­ly pu­ri­fied. The op­er­ation is es­sen­tial­ly a dis­so­ci­ation of alu­mi­na in­to alu­mini­um, which col­lects at the cath­ode, and in­to oxy­gen, which com­bines with the an­odes to form car­bon monox­ide, the lat­ter es­cap­ing and be­ing burnt to car­bon diox­ide out­side. The­oret­ical­ly 36 parts by weight of car­bon are ox­idized in the pro­duc­tion of 54 parts of alu­mini­um; prac­ti­cal­ly the an­odes waste at the same rate at which met­al is de­posit­ed. The cur­rent den­si­ty is about 700 am­peres per sq. ft. of cath­ode sur­face, and the num­ber of rods in the an­ode is such that each de­liv­ers 6 or 7 am­peres per sq. in. of cross-​sec­tion­al area. The work­ing tem­per­ature lies be­tween 750 deg. and 850 deg. C., and the ac­tu­al yield is 1 lb of met­al per 12 e.h.p. hours. The bath is heat­ed in­ter­nal­ly with the cur­rent rather than by means of ex­ter­nal fu­el, be­cause this ar­range­ment per­mits the ves­sel it­self to be kept com­par­ative­ly cool; if it were fired from with­out, it would be hot­ter than the elec­trolyte, and no ma­te­ri­al suit­able for the con­struc­tion of the cell is com­pe­tent to with­stand the at­tack of nascent alu­mini­um at high tem­per­atures. Alu­mini­um is so light that it is a mat­ter re­quir­ing some in­ge­nu­ity to se­lect a con­ve­nient sol­vent through which it shall sink quick­ly, for if it does not sink, it short-​cir­cuits the elec­trolyte. The molten met­al has a spe­cif­ic grav­ity of 2.54, that of molten cry­olite sat­urat­ed with alu­mi­na is 2.35, and that of the flu­oride Al2F6.2NaF sat­urat­ed with alu­mi­na 1.97. The lat­ter there­fore ap­pears the bet­ter ma­te­ri­al, and was orig­inal­ly pre­ferred by Hall; cry­olite, how­ev­er, dis­solves more alu­mi­na, and has been fi­nal­ly adoot­ed by both in­ven­tors.

Prop­er­ties.

Alu­mini­um is a white met­al with a char­ac­ter­is­tic tint which most near­ly re­sem­bles that of tin; when im­pure, or af­ter pro­longed ex­po­sure to air it has a slight vi­olet shade. Its atom­ic weight is 27 (26.77, H=I, ac­cord­ing to J. Thom­son). It is triva­lent. The spe­cif­ic grav­ity of cast met­al is 2.583, and of rolled 2.688 at 4 deg. C. It melts at 626 deg. C. (freez­ing point 654.5 deg. , Hey­cock and Neville). It is the third most mal­leable and sixth most duc­tile met­al, yield­ing sheets 0.000025 in. in thick­ness, and wires 0.004 in. in di­am­eter. When quite pure it is some­what hard­er than tin, and its hard­ness is con­sid­er­ably in­creased by rolling. It is not mag­net­ic. It stands near the pos­itive end of the list of el­ements ar­ranged in elec­tro­mo­tive se­ries, be­ing ex­ceed­ed on­ly by the al­ka­lis and met­als of the al­ka­line earths; it there­fore com­bines ea­ger­ly, un­der suit­able con­di­tions, with oxy­gen and chlo­rine. Its co­ef­fi­cient of lin­ear ex­pan­sion by heat is 0.0000222 (Richards) or 0.0000231 (Roberts Austen) per 1 deg. C. Its mean spe­cif­ic heat be­tween 0 deg. and 100 deg. is 0.227, and its la­tent heat of fu­sion 100 calo­ries (Richards). On­ly sil­ver, cop­per and gold sur­pass it as con­duc­tors of heat, its val­ue be­ing 31.33 (Ag= 100, Roberts-​Austen). Its elec­tri­cal con­duc­tiv­ity, de­ter­mined on 99.6% met­al, is 60.5% that of coop­er for equal vol­umes, or dou­ble that of cop­per for equal weights, and when chem­ical­ly pure it ex­hibits a some­what high­er rel­ative ef­fi­cien­cy. The av­er­age strength of 98% met­al is ap­prox­imate­ly shown by the fol­low­ing ta­ble:–

Elas­tic lim­it, Ul­ti­mate strength, Re­duc­tion tons per sq. in. tons per sq. in. of Area % Cast . . . 3 7 15 Sheet . . . 5 1/2 11 35 Bars . . . 6 1/2 12 40 Wire . . . 7-13 13-29 60

Weight for weight, there­fore, alu­mini­um is on­ly ex­ceed­ed in ten­sile strength by the best cast steel, and its own al­loy, alu­mini­um bronze. An ab­so­lute­ly clean sur­face be­comes tar­nished in damp air, an al­most in­vis­ible coat­ing of ox­ide be­ing pro­duced, just as hap­pens with zinc; but this film is very per­ma­nent and pre­vents fur­ther at­tack. Ex­po­sure to air and rain al­so caus­es slight cor­ro­sion, but to noth­ing like the same ex­tent as oc­curs with iron, cop­per or brass. Com­mer­cial elec­trolyt­ic alu­mini­um of the best qual­ity con­tains as the av­er­age of a large num­ber of tests, 0.48% of sil­icon and 0.46% of iron, the residue be­ing es­sen­tial­ly alu­mini­um it­self. The met­al in mass is not af­fect­ed by hot or cold wa­ter, the foil is very slow­ly ox­idized, while the amal­gam de­com­pos­es rapid­ly. Sul­phuret­ted hy­dro­gen hav­ing no ac­tion up­on it, ar­ti­cles made of it are not black­ened in fog­gy weath­er or in rooms where crude coal gas is burnt. To in­or­gan­ic acids, ex­cept hy­drochlo­ric, it is high­ly re­sis­tant, rank­ing well with tin in this re­spect; but al­ka­lis dis­solve it quick­ly. Or­gan­ic acids such as vine­gar, com­mon salt, the nat­ural in­gre­di­ents of food, and the var­ious ex­tra­ne­ous sub­stances used as food preser­va­tives, alone or mixed to­geth­er, dis­solve traces of it if boiled for any length of time in a chem­ical­ly clean ves­sel; but when alu­mini­um uten­sils are sub­mit­ted to the or­di­nary rou­tine of the kitchen, be­ing used to heat or cook milk, cof­fee, veg­eta­bles, meat and even fruit, and are al­so cleaned fre­quent­ly in the usu­al fash­ion, no ap­pre­cia­ble quan­ti­ty of met­al pass­es in­to the food. More­over, did it do so, the ac­tion up­on the hu­man sys­tem would be in­finite­ly less harm­ful than sim­ilar dos­es of cop­per or of lead.

The high­ly elec­tro-​pos­itive char­ac­ter of alu­mini­um is most im­por­tant. At el­evat­ed tem­per­atures the met­al de­com­pos­es near­ly all oth­er metal­lic ox­ides, where­fore it is most ser­vice­able as a met­al­lur­gi­cal reagent. In the cast­ing of iron, steel and brass, the ad­di­tion of a tri­fling pro­por­tion (0.005%) re­moves ox­ide and ren­ders the molten met­al more flu­id, caus­ing the

fin­ished prod­ucts to be more ho­mo­ge­neous, free from blow-​holes and sol­id all through. On the oth­er hand, its elec­tro-​pos­itive na­ture ne­ces­si­tates some care in its uti­liza­tion. If it be ex­posed to damp, to sea-​wa­ter or to cor­ro­sive in­flu­ences of any kind in con­tact with an­oth­er met­al, or if it be mixed with an­oth­er met­al so as to form an al­loy which is not a true chem­ical com­pound, the oth­er met­al be­ing high­ly neg­ative to it, pow­er­ful gal­van­ic ac­tion will be set up and the struc­ture will quick­ly de­te­ri­orate. This ex­plains the fail­ure of boats built of com­mer­cial­ly pure alu­mini­um which have been put to­geth­er with iron or cop­per riv­ets, and the de­cay of oth­er boats built of a light al­loy, in which the al­loy­ing met­al (cop­per) has been in­ju­di­cious­ly cho­sen. It al­so ex­plains why alu­mini­um is so dif­fi­cult to join with low-​tem­per­ature sol­ders, for these most­ly con­tain a large pro­por­tion of lead. This dis­ad­van­tage, how­ev­er, is of­ten over­es­ti­mat­ed since in most cas­es oth­er means of unit­ing two pieces are avail­able.

Al­loys.

The met­al pro­duces an enor­mous num­ber of use­ful al­loys, some of which, con­tain­ing on­ly 1 or 2% of oth­er met­als, com­bine the light­ness of alu­mini­um it­self with far greater hard­ness and strength. Some with 90 to 99% of oth­er met­als ex­hib­it the gen­er­al prop­er­ties of those met­als con­spic­uous­ly im­proved. Among the heavy al­loys, the alu­mini­um bronzes (Cu, 90-97.5%; Al, 10-2.5%) oc­cu­py the most im­por­tant po­si­tion, show­ing mean ten­sile strengths in­creas­ing from 20 to 41 tons per sq. in. as the per­cent­age of alu­mini­um ris­es, and all strong­ly re­sist­ing cor­ro­sion in air or sea-​wa­ter. The light cop­per al­loys, in which the pro­por­tions just giv­en are prac­ti­cal­ly re­versed, are of con­sid­er­ably less util­ity, for al­though they are fair­ly strong, they lack pow­er to re­sist gal­van­ic ac­tion. This sub­ject is far from be­ing ex­haust­ed, and it is not im­prob­able that the al­loy-​pro­duc­ing ca­pac­ity of alu­mini­um may even­tu­al­ly prove its most valu­able char­ac­ter­is­tic. In the mean­time, ternary light al­loys ap­pear the most sat­is­fac­to­ry, and tung­sten and cop­per, or tung­sten and nick­el, seem to be the best sub­stances to add.

Us­es.

The us­es of alu­mini­um are too nu­mer­ous to men­tion. Prob­ably the widest field is still in the pu­rifi­ca­tion of iron and steel. To the gen­er­al pub­lic it ap­peals most strong­ly as a ma­te­ri­al for con­struct­ing cook­ing uten­sils. It is not brit­tle like porce­lain and cast iron, not poi­sonous like lead-​glazed earth­en­ware and untinned cop­per, needs no enam­el to chip off, does not rust and wear out like cheap tin-​plate, and weighs but a frac­tion of oth­er sub­stances. It is large­ly re­plac­ing brass and cop­per in all de­part­ments of in­dus­try — es­pe­cial­ly where dead weight has to be moved about, and light­ness is syn­ony­mous with econ­omy — for in­stance, in bed-​plates for tor­pe­do-​boat en­gines, in­ter­nal fit­tings for ships in­stead of wood, com­plete boats for portage, mo­tor-​car parts and boil­ing-​pans for con­fec­tionery and in chem­ical works. The British Ad­mi­ral­ty em­ploy it to save weight in the Navy, and the war-​of­fices of the Eu­ro­pean pow­ers equip their sol­diers with it wher­ev­er pos­si­ble, As a sub­sti­tute for Solen­hofen stone it is used in a mod­ified form of lithog­ra­phy, which can be per­formed on ro­tary print­ing ma­chines at a high speed. With the in­creas­ing price of cop­per, it is com­ing in­to vogue as an elec­tri­cal con­duc­tor for un­cov­ered mains; it is found that an alu­mini­um wire 0.126 in. in di­am­eter will car­ry as much cur­rent as a cop­per wire 0.100 in. in di­am­eter, while the for­mer weighs about 79 lb and the lat­ter 162 lb per mile. As­sum­ing the ma­te­ri­als to be of equal ten­sile strength per unit of area — hard-​drawn cop­per is stronger, but has a low­er con­duc­tiv­ity — the adop­tion of alu­mini­um thus leads to a re­duc­tion of 52% in the weight, a gain of 60% in the strength, and an in­crease of 26% in the di­am­eter of the con­duc­tor. Bare alu­mini­um strip has re­cent­ly been tried for wind­ing-​coils in elec­tri­cal ma­chines, the ox­ide of the met­al act­ing as in­su­la­tors be­tween the lay­ers. When the price of alu­mini­um is less than dou­ble the price of cop­per alu­mini­um is cheap­er than cop­per per unit of elec­tric cur­rent con­veyed; but when in­su­la­tion is nec­es­sary, the small­er size of the cop­per wire ren­ders it more eco­nom­ical. Alu­mini­um con­duc­tors have been em­ployed on heavy work in many places, and for teleg­ra­phy and tele­pho­ny they are in fre­quent de­mand and give per­fect sat­is­fac­tion. Dif­fi­cul­ties were at first en­coun­tered in mak­ing the nec­es­sary joints, but these have been over­come by prac­tice and ex­pe­ri­ence.

Two points con­nect­ed with this met­al are of suf­fi­cient mo­ment to de­mand a few words by way of con­clu­sion. Its ex­traor­di­nary light­ness forms its chief claim to gen­er­al adop­tion, yet is apt to cause mis­takes when its price is men­tioned. It is the weight of a mass of met­al which gov­erns its fi­nan­cial val­ue; its in­dus­tri­al val­ue, in the vast ma­jor­ity of cas­es, de­pends on the vol­ume of that mass. Pro­vid­ed it be rigid, the bed-​plate of an en­gine is no bet­ter for weigh­ing 30 cwt. than for weigh­ing 10 cwt. A saucepan is re­quired to have a cer­tain di­am­eter and a cer­tain depth in or­der that it may hold a cer­tain bulk of liq­uid: its weight is mere­ly an en­cum­brance. Cop­per be­ing 3 1/3 times as heavy as alu­mini­um, when­ev­er the lat­ter costs less than 3 1/2 times as much as cop­per it is ac­tu­al­ly cheap­er. It must be re­mem­bered, too, that elec­trolyt­ic alu­mini­um on­ly be­came known dur­ing the last decade of the 19th cen­tu­ry. Sam­ples dat­ing from the old sodi­um days are still in ex­is­tence, and when they ex­hib­it un­pleas­ant prop­er­ties the de­fect is of­ten as­cribed to the met­al in­stead of to the pro­cess by which it was won. Much has yet to be learnt about the prac­ti­cal qual­ities of the elec­trolyt­ic prod­uct, and al­though ev­ery day’s ex­pe­ri­ence serves to place the met­al in a firmer in­dus­tri­al po­si­tion, a fi­nal ver­dict can on­ly be passed af­ter the lapse of time. The in­di­vid­ual and col­lec­tive in­flu­ence of the sev­er­al im­pu­ri­ties which oc­cur in the prod­uct of the Her­oult cell is still to seek, and the im­por­tance of this in­quiry will be seen when we con­sid­er that if cast iron, wrought iron and steel, the three to­tal­ly dis­tinct met­als in­clud­ed in the gener­ic name of “iron” — which are on­ly dis­tin­guished one from an­oth­er chem­ical­ly by minute dif­fer­ences in the pro­por­tion of cer­tain non-​metal­lic in­gre­di­ents — had on­ly been in use for a com­par­ative­ly few years, at­tempts might oc­ca­sion­al­ly be made to forge cast iron, or to em­ploy wrought iron in the man­ufac­ture of edge-​tools. (E. J. R.)

Com­pounds of Alu­mini­um. Alu­mini­um ox­ide or alu­mi­na, Al2O3, oc­curs in na­ture as the min­er­al corun­dum (q.v.), no­table for its hard­ness and abra­sive pow­er (see EMERY), and in well-​crys­tal­lized forms it con­sti­tutes, when coloured by var­ious metal­lic ox­ides, the gem-​stones, sap­phire, ori­en­tal topaz, ori­en­tal amethyst and ori­en­tal emer­ald. Alu­mi­na is ob­tained as a white amor­phous pow­der by heat­ing alu­mini­um hy­drox­ide. This pow­der, pro­vid­ed that it has not been too strong­ly ig­nit­ed, is sol­uble in strong acids; by ig­ni­tion it be­comes denser and near­ly as hard as corun­dum; it fus­es in the oxy­hy­dro­gen flame or elec­tric arc, and on cool­ing it as­sumes a crys­talline form close­ly re­sem­bling the min­er­al species. Crys­tal­lized alu­mi­na is al­so ob­tained by heat­ing the flu­oride with boron tri­ox­ide; by fus­ing alu­mini­um phos­phate with sodi­um sul­phate; by heat­ing alu­mi­na to a dull red­ness in hy­drochlo­ric acid gas un­der pres­sure; and by heat­ing alu­mi­na with lead ox­ide to a bright red heat. These re­ac­tions are of spe­cial in­ter­est, for they cul­mi­nate in the pro­duc­tion of ar­ti­fi­cial ru­by and sap­phire (see GEMS, AR­TI­FI­CIAL).

Alu­mini­um Hy­drates. — Sev­er­al hy­drat­ed forms of alu­mini­um ox­ide are known. Of these hy­drargillite or gibb­site, Al(OH)3, di­as­pore, AlO(OH), and baux­ite, Al2O(OH)4, oc­cur in the min­er­al king­dom. Alu­mini­um hy­drate, Al(OH)3, is ob­tained as a gelati­nous white pre­cip­itate, sol­uble in potas­si­um or sodi­um hy­drate, but in­sol­uble in am­mo­ni­um chlo­ride, by adding am­mo­nia to a cold so­lu­tion of an alu­mini­um salt; from boil­ing so­lu­tions the pre­cip­itate is opaque. By dry­ing at or­di­nary tem­per­atures, the hy­drate Al(OH)3.H2O is ob­tained; at 300 deg. this yields AlO(OH), which on ig­ni­tion gives alu­mi­na, Al2O3. Pre­cip­itat­ed alu­mini­um hy­drate finds con­sid­er­able ap­pli­ca­tion in dye­ing. Sol­uble mod­ifi­ca­tions were ob­tained by Wait­er Crum (Journ. Chem. Soc., 1854, vi. 216), and Thomas Gra­ham (Phil. Trans., 1861, p. 163); the first named de­com­pos­ing alu­mini­um ac­etate from lead ac­etate and alu­mini­um sul­phate) with boil­ing wa­ter, the lat­ter dialysing a so­lu­tion of the ba­sic chlo­ride (ob­tained by dis­solv­ing the hy­drox­ide in a so­lu­tion of the nor­mal chlo­ride).

Both these sol­uble hy­drates are read­ily co­ag­ulat­ed by traces of a salt, acid or al­ka­li; Crum’s hy­drate does not com­bine with dye-​stuffs, nei­ther is it sol­uble in ex­cess of acid, while Gra­ham’s com­pound read­ily forms lakes, and read­ily dis­solves when co­ag­ulat­ed in acids.

In ad­di­tion to be­hav­ing as a ba­sic ox­ide, alu­mini­um ox­ide (or hy­drate) be­haves as an acid ox­ide to­wards the strong bases with the for­ma­tion of alu­mi­nates. Potas­si­um alu­mi­nate, K2Al2O4, is ob­tained in so­lu­tion by dis­solv­ing alu­mini­um hy­drate in caus­tic potash; it is al­so ob­tained, as crys­tals con­tain­ing three molecules of wa­ter, by fus­ing alu­mi­na with potash, ex­haust­ing with wa­ter, and crys­tal­liz­ing the so­lu­tion in vac­uo. Sodi­um alu­mi­nate is ob­tained in the man­ufac­ture of alu­mi­na; it is used as a mor­dant in dye­ing, and has oth­er com­mer­cial ap­pli­ca­tions. Oth­er alu­mi­nates (in par­tic­ular, of iron and mag­ne­sium), are of fre­quent oc­cur­rence in the min­er­al king­dom, e.g. spinel, gah­nite, &c.

Salts of Alu­mini­um. — Alu­mini­um forms one se­ries of salts, de­rived from the tri­ox­ide, Al2O3. These ex­hib­it, in cer­tain cas­es, marked crys­tal­lo­graph­ical and oth­er analo­gies with the cor­re­spond­ing salts of chromi­um and fer­ric iron.

Alu­mini­um flu­oride, AlF3, ob­tained by dis­solv­ing the met­al in hy­droflu­oric acid, and sub­lim­ing the residue in a cur­rent of hy­dro­gen, forms trans­par­ent, very ob­tuse rhom­bo­he­dra, which are in­sol­uble in wa­ter. It forms a se­ries of dou­ble flu­orides, the most im­por­tant of which is cry­olite (q.v.); this min­er­al has been ap­plied to the com­mer­cial prepa­ra­tion of the met­al (see above). Alu­mini­um chlo­ride, Al­Cl3, was first pre­pared by Oer­st­ed, who heat­ed a mix­ture of car­bon and alu­mi­na in a cur­rent of chlo­rine, a method sub­se­quent­ly im­proved by Wohler, Bun­sen, Dev­ille and oth­ers. A pur­er prod­uct is ob­tained by heat­ing alu­mini­um turn­ings in a cur­rent of dry chlo­rine, when the chlo­ride dis­tils over. So ob­tained, it is a white crys­talline sol­id, which slow­ly sub­limes just be­low its melt­ing point (194 deg. ). Its vapour den­si­ty at tem­per­atures above 750 deg. cor­re­sponds to the for­mu­la Al­Cl3; be­low this point the molecules are as­so­ci­at­ed. It is very hy­gro­scop­ic, ab­sorb­ing wa­ter with the evo­lu­tion of hy­drochlo­ric acid. It com­bines with am­mo­nia to form Al­Cl3.3NH3; and forms dou­ble com­pounds with phos­pho­rus pen­tachlo­ride, phos­pho­rus oxy­chlo­ride, se­le­ni­um and tel­luri­um chlo­rides, as well as with many metal­lic chlo­rides; sodi­um alu­mini­um chlo­ride, Al­Cl3.Na­Cl, is used in the pro­duc­tion of the met­al. As a syn­thet­ical agent in or­gan­ic chem­istry, alu­mini­um chlo­ride has ren­dered pos­si­ble more re­ac­tions than any oth­er sub­stance; here we can on­ly men­tion the clas­sic syn­the­ses of ben­zene ho­mo­logues. Alu­mini­um bro­mide, Al­Br3, is pre­pared in the same man­ner as the chlo­ride. It forms colour­less crys­tals, melt­ing at 90 deg. , and boil­ing at 265 deg. -270 deg. . Alu­mini­um io­dide, AlI3, re­sults from the in­ter­ac­tion of io­dine and alu­mini­um. It forms colour­less crys­tals, melt­ing at 185 deg. , and boil­ing at 360 deg. . Alu­mini­um sul­phide, Al2S3, re­sults from the di­rect union of the met­al with sul­phur, or when car­bon disul­phide vapour is passed over strong­ly heat­ed alu­mi­na. It forms a yel­low fusible mass, which is de­com­posed by wa­ter in­to alu­mi­na and sul­phuret­ted hy­dro­gen. Alu­mini­um sul­phate Al(SO4)3, oc­curs in the min­er­al king­dom as ker­amo­halite, Al2(SO4)3.18H2O, found near vol­ca­noes and in alum-​shale; alu­mi­nite or web­sterite is a ba­sic salt, Al3(SO4)(OH)4.7H2O. Alu­mini­um sul­phate, known com­mer­cial­ly as “con­cen­trat­ed alum” or “sul­phate of alu­mi­na,” is man­ufac­tured from kaolin or chi­na clay, which, af­ter roast­ing (in or­der to ox­idize any iron present), is heat­ed with sul­phuric acid, the clear so­lu­tion run off, and evap­orat­ed. “Alum cake” is an im­pure prod­uct. Alu­mini­um sul­phate crys­tal­lizes as Al2(SO4)3.18H2O in tablets be­long­ing to the mon­oclin­ic sys­tem. It has a sweet as­trin­gent taste, very sol­uble in wa­ter, but scarce­ly sol­uble in al­co­hol. On heat­ing, the crys­tals lose wa­ter, swell up, and give the an­hy­drous sul­phate, which, on fur­ther heat­ing, gives alu­mi­na. It forms dou­ble salts with the sul­phates of the met­als of the al­ka­lis, known as the alums (see ALUM.)

Alu­mini­um ni­tride (AlN) is ob­tained as small yel­low crys­tals when alu­mini­um is strong­ly heat­ed in ni­tro­gen. The ni­trate, Al(NO3)3, is ob­tained as del­iques­cent crys­tals (with 8H2O) by evap­orat­ing a so­lu­tion of the hy­drox­ide in ni­tric acid. Alu­mini­um phos­phates may be pre­pared by Pre­cip­itat­ing a sol­uble alu­mini­um salt with sodi­um phos­phate. Wavel­lite Al8(PO4)3(OH)15.9H2O, is a nat­ural­ly oc­cur­ring ba­sic phos­phate, while the gem-​stone turquoise (q.v.) is Al.(PO4).(OH)2.H2O, coloured by traces of cop­per. Alu­mini­um sil­icates are wide­ly dif­fused in the min­er­al king­dom, be­ing present in the com­mon­est rock-​form­ing min­er­als (felspars, &c.), and in the gem-​stones, topaz, beryl, gar­net, &c. It al­so con­sti­tutes with sodi­um sil­icate the min­er­al lapis-​lazuli and the pig­ment ul­tra­ma­rine (q.v..) Form­ing the ba­sis of all clays, alu­mini­um sil­icates play a promi­nent part in the man­ufac­ture of pot­tery and porce­lain.

BIB­LI­OG­RA­PHY. — The met­al­lur­gy and us­es of alu­mini­um are treat­ed in de­tail in P. Moisson­nier, L’Alu­mini­um (Paris, 1903); in J. W. Richards, Alu­mini­um (1896); and in A. Min­er, Pro­duc­tion of Alu­mini­um, Eng. trans. by L. Wal­do (1905); ref­er­ence may al­so be made to trea­tis­es on gen­er­al met­al­lur­gy, e.g. C. Schn­abel, Hand­book of Met­alur­gy, vol. ii. (1907). For the chem­istry see Roscoe and Schlor­lem­mer, Trea­tise on In­or­gan­ic Chem­istry, vol. ii. (1908); H. Moissan, Traite de chimie min­erale; Abegg, Hand­buch der anor­genis­chen Chemie; and O. Dammer, Hand­buch der anor­gan­is­chen Chemie. Alu­mini­um al­loys have been stud­ied in de­tail by Guil­let.

ALU­NITE, or ALUM­STONE, a min­er­al first ob­served in the 15th cen­tu­ry at Tol­fa, near Rome, where it is mined for the man­ufac­ture of alum. Ex­ten­sive de­posits are al­so worked in Tus­cany and Hun­gary, and at Bul­lade­lah in New South Wales. By re­peat­ed­ly roast­ing and lix­ivi­at­ing the min­er­al, alum is ob­tained in so­lu­tion, and this is crys­tal­lized out by evap­ora­tion. Alu­nite oc­curs as seams in tra­chyt­ic and al­lied vol­canic rocks, hav­ing been formed by the ac­tion of sul­phure­ous vapours on these rocks. The white, fine­ly gran­ular mass­es some­what re­sem­ble lime­stone in ap­pear­ance, and the more com­pact kinds from Hun­gary are so hard and tough that they are used for mill­stones. Dis­tinct crys­tals of alu­nite are rarely met with in cav­ities in the mas­sive ma­te­ri­al; these are rhom­bo­he­dra with in­ter­fa­cial an­gles of 90 deg. 50′, so that they re­sem­ble cubes in. ap­pear­ance. Minute glis­ten­ing crys­tals have al­so been found loose in cav­ities in al­tered rhy­olite. The hard­ness is 4 and the spe­cif­ic grav­ity 2.6. The min­er­al is a hy­drat­ed ba­sic alu­mini­um and potas­si­um sul­phate, KAl3(SO4)2(OH)6. It is in­sol­uble in wa­ter, but sol­uble in sul­phuric acid. First called alu­minilite by J. C. De­lametherie in 1797, this name was con­tract­ed by F. S. Beu­dant in 1824 to alu­nite. (L. J. S.)

ALUR (Lur, Luri, Lurem), a Ne­gro peo­ple of the Nile val­ley, liv­ing on the north-​west coast of Al­bert Nyan­za. They are akin to the Acholi (q.v.), speak­ing prac­ti­cal­ly the same lan­guage.

ALURE (O. Fr., from aller, to walk), an ar­chi­tec­tural term for an al­ley, pas­sage, the wa­ter-​way or flat gut­ter be­hind a para­pet, the gal­leries of a cleresto­ry, some­times even the aisle it­self of a church. The term is some­times writ­ten val­ure or val­or­ing.

AL­VA, or AL­BA, FER­NAN­DO AL­VAREX DE TOLE­DO, DUKE OF, (1508-1583), Span­ish sol­dier, de­scend­ed from one of the most il­lus­tri­ous fam­ilies in Spain, was born in 1508. His grand­fa­ther, Fer­di­nand of Tole­do, ed­ucat­ed him in mil­itary sci­ence and pol­itics; and he was en­gaged with dis­tinc­tion at the bat­tle of Pavia while still a youth. Se­lect­ed for a mil­itary com­mand by Charles V., he took part in the siege of Tu­nis (1535), and suc­cess­ful­ly de­fend­ed Per­pig­nan against the dauphin of France. He was present at the bat­tle of Muhlberg (1547), and the vic­to­ry gained there over John of Sax­ony was due main­ly to his ex­er­tions. He took part in the sub­se­quent siege of Wit­ten­berg, and presid­ed at the court-​mar­tial which tried the elec­tor and con­demned him to death. In 1552 Al­va was in­trust­ed with the com­mand of the army in­tend­ed to in­vade France, and was en­gaged for sev­er­al months in an un­suc­cess­ful siege of Metz. In con­se­quence of the suc­cess of the French arms in Pied­mont, he was made com­man­der-​in-​chief of all the em­per­or’s forces in Italy, and at the same time in­vest­ed with un­lim­it­ed pow­er. Suc­cess did not, how­ev­er, at­tend his first at­tempts, and af­ter sev­er­al un­for­tu­nate at­tacks he was obliged to re­tire in­to win­ter quar­ters. Af­ter the

ab­di­ca­tion of Charles he was con­tin­ued in the com­mand by Philip II., who, how­ev­er, re­strained him from ex­treme mea­sures. Al­va had sub­dued the whole Cam­pagna and was at the gates of Rome, when he was com­pelled by Philip’s or­ders to ne­go­ti­ate a peace. One of its terms was that the duke of Al­va should in per­son ask for­give­ness of the haughty pon­tiff whom he had con­quered. Proud as the duke was by na­ture, and ac­cus­tomed to treat with per­sons of the high­est dig­ni­ty, he con­fessed his voice failed him at the in­ter­view and his pres­ence of mind for­sook him. Not long af­ter this (1559) he was sent at the head of a splen­did em­bassy to Paris to es­pouse, in the name of his mas­ter, Eliz­abeth, daugh­ter of Hen­ry, king of France. In 1567, Philip, who was a big­ot­ed Catholic, sent Al­va in­to the Nether­lands at the head of an army of 10,000 men, with un­lim­it­ed pow­ers for the ex­tir­pa­tion of heretics. When he ar­rived he soon showed how much he mer­it­ed the con­fi­dence which his mas­ter re­posed in him, and in­stant­ly erect­ed a tri­bunal which soon be­came known to its vic­tims as the “Court of Blood,” to try all per­sons who had been en­gaged in the late com­mo­tions which the civ­il and re­li­gious tyran­ny of Philip had ex­cit­ed. He im­pris­oned the counts Egmont and Horn, the two pop­ular lead­ers of the Protes­tants, brought them to an un­just tri­al and con­demned them to death. In a short time he to­tal­ly an­ni­hi­lat­ed ev­ery priv­ilege of the peo­ple, and with un­re­lent­ing cru­el­ty put mul­ti­tudes of them to death. The ex­ecu­tion­er was em­ployed in re­mov­ing all those friends of free­dom whom the sword had spared. In most of the con­sid­er­able towns Al­va built citadels. In the city of Antwerp he erect­ed a stat­ue of him­self, which was a mon­ument no less of his van­ity than of his tyran­ny: he was fig­ured tram­pling on the necks of two small­er stat­ues, rep­re­sent­ing the two es­tates of the Low Coun­tries. His at­tempt to raise mon­ey by im­pos­ing the Span­ish al­ca­bala, a tax of 5% on all sales, aroused the op­po­si­tion of the Catholic Nether­lands them­selves. The ex­iles from the Low Coun­tries, en­cour­aged by the gen­er­al re­sis­tance to his gov­ern­ment, fit­ted out a fleet of pri­va­teers, and af­ter strength­en­ing them­selves by suc­cess­ful depre­da­tions, ven­tured up­on the bold ex­ploit of seiz­ing the town of Brielle. Thus Al­va by his cru­el­ty be­came the un­wit­ting in­stru­ment of the fu­ture in­de­pen­dence of the sev­en Dutch provinces. The fleet of the ex­iles, hav­ing met the Span­ish fleet, to­tal­ly de­feat­ed it, and re­duced North Hol­land and Mons. Many cities has­tened to throw off the yoke; while the states-​gen­er­al, as­sem­bling at Dor­drecht, open­ly de­clared against Al­va’s gov­ern­ment, and mar­shalled un­der the ban­ners of the prince of Or­ange. Al­va’s prepa­ra­tions to op­pose the gath­er­ing storm were made with his usu­al vigour, and he suc­ceed­ed in re­cov­er­ing Mons, Mech­lin and Zut­phen, un­der the con­duct of his son Fred­er­ick. With the ex­cep­tion of Zealand and Hol­land, he re­gained all the provinces; and at last his son stormed Naar­den, and mas­sacring its in­hab­itants, pro­ceed­ed to in­vest the city of Haar­lem, which, af­ter stand­ing an ob­sti­nate siege, was tak­en and pil­laged. Their next at­tack was up­on Alk­maar; but the spir­it of des­per­ate re­sis­tance was raised to such a height in the breasts of the Hol­lan­ders that the Span­ish vet­er­ans were re­pulsed with great loss and Fred­er­ick con­strained re­luc­tant­ly to re­tire. Al­va’s fee­ble state of health and con­tin­ued dis­as­ters in­duced him to so­lic­it his re­call from the gov­ern­ment of the Low Coun­tries; a mea­sure which, in all prob­abil­ity, was not dis­pleas­ing to Philip, who was now re­solved to make tri­al of a milder ad­min­is­tra­tion. In De­cem­ber 1573 the much-​op­pressed coun­try was re­lieved from the pres­ence of the duke of Al­va, who, re­turn­ing home ac­com­pa­nied by his son, made the in­fa­mous boast that dur­ing the course of six years, be­sides the mul­ti­tudes de­stroyed in bat­tle and mas­sa­cred af­ter vic­to­ry, he had con­signed 18,000 per­sons to the ex­ecu­tion­er.

On his re­turn he was treat­ed for some time with great dis­tinc­tion by Philip. A tardy and im­per­fect jus­tice, how­ev­er, over­took him, when he was ban­ished from court and con­fined in the cas­tle of Uze­da for com­plic­ity in cer­tain dis­grace­ful con­duct of his son. Here he had re­mained two years, when the suc­cess of Don An­to­nio in as­sum­ing the crown of Por­tu­gal de­ter­mined Philip to turn his eyes to­wards Al­va as the per­son in whose fi­deli­ty and abil­ities he could most con­fide. A sec­re­tary was in­stant­ly despatched to Al­va to as­cer­tain whether his health was suf­fi­cient­ly vig­or­ous to en­able him to un­der­take the com­mand of an army. The aged chief re­turned an an­swer full of loy­al zeal, and was im­me­di­ate­ly ap­point­ed to the supreme com­mand in Por­tu­gal. It is a strik­ing fact, how­ev­er, that the lib­er­ation and el­eva­tion of Al­va were not fol­lowed by for­give­ness. In 1581 Al­va en­tered Por­tu­gal, de­feat­ed An­to­nio, drove him from the king­dom, and soon re­duced the whole un­der the sub­jec­tion of Philip. En­ter­ing Lis­bon he seized an im­mense trea­sure, and suf­fered his sol­diers, with their ac­cus­tomed vi­olence and ra­pac­ity, to sack the sub­urbs and vicin­ity. It is re­port­ed that Al­va, be­ing re­quest­ed to give an ac­count of the mon­ey ex­pend­ed on that oc­ca­sion, stern­ly replied, “If the king asks me for an ac­count, I will make him a state­ment of king­doms pre­served or con­quered, of sig­nal vic­to­ries, of suc­cess­ful sieges and of six­ty years’ ser­vice.” Philip deemed it prop­er to make no fur­ther in­quiries. Al­va, how­ev­er, did not en­joy the hon­ours and re­wards of his last ex­pe­di­tion, for he died in Jan­uary 1583 at the age of 74.

AU­THOR­ITIES. — See the Life, by Rus­tant (Madrid, 1751). His cor­re­spon­dence dur­ing his Flem­ish gov­ern­ment has been pub­lished by M. Gachard (Brus­sels, 1850). See al­so Colec­cion de doc­umen­tos ined­itos para la his­to­ri­al de Es­pana, vols. iv., vii., vi­ii., xiv., xaxii. and xxxv. (Madrid); and Mot­ley’s Rise of the Dutch Re­pub­lic (1856).

AL­VA, a po­lice burgh of Clack­man­nan­shire, Scot­land, 3 1/2 m. N. of Al­loa, ter­mi­nus of a branch line of the North British rail­way. Pop. (1891) 5225; (1901) 4624. It is sit­uat­ed at the foot of three front peaks of the Ochils — West Hill (1682 ft.), Mid­dle Hill (1436 ft.) and Wood Hill (1723 ft.). There are spin­ning-​mills, and man­ufac­tures of tweeds, tar­tans and oth­er woollen goods. Sil­ver, lead and oth­er met­als have been found in the hills, but not in pay­ing quan­ti­ties. The glen to the east of the town, in which are aban­doned work­ings, is called the Sil­ver Glen. Al­va House is the seat of the John­stones, a fam­ily which has been in­ti­mate­ly con­nect­ed with the dis­trict since the lat­ter half of the 18th cen­tu­ry.

AL­VARA­DO, PE­DRO DE (1495-1541), one of the Span­ish lead­ers in the dis­cov­ery and con­quest of Amer­ica, was born at Bada­joz about 1495. He held a com­mand in the ex­pe­di­tion sent from Cu­ba against Yu­catan in the spring of 1518, and re­turned in a few months, bear­ing re­ports of the wealth and splen­dour of Mon­tezu­ma’s em­pire. In Febru­ary 1519 he ac­com­pa­nied Her­nan­do Cortes in the ex­pe­di­tion for the con­quest of Mex­ico, be­ing ap­point­ed to the com­mand of one of the eleven ves­sels of the fleet. He act­ed as Cortes’s prin­ci­pal of­fi­cer, and on the first oc­cu­pa­tion of the city of Mex­ico was left there in charge. When the Spaniards had tem­porar­ily to re­tire be­fore the Mex­ican up­ris­ing, Al­vara­do led the rear-​guard (1st of Ju­ly 1520), and the Salto de Al­vara­do — a long leap with the use of his spear, by which he saved his life — be­came fa­mous. He was en­gaged (1523-24) in the con­quest of Guatemala, of which he was sub­se­quent­ly ap­point­ed gov­er­nor by Charles V. In 1534 he at­tempt­ed to bring the province of Quito un­der his pow­er, but had to con­tent him­self with the ex­ac­tion of a pe­cu­niary in­dem­ni­ty for the ex­pens­es of the ex­pe­di­tion. Dur­ing a vis­it to Spain, three years lat­er, he had the gov­er­nor­ship of Hon­duras con­ferred up­on him in ad­di­tion to that of Guatemala. He died in Guatemala in 1541.

AL­VAREZ, FRAN­CIS­CO (c. 1465-1541?), Por­tuguese mis­sion­ary and ex­plor­er, was born at Coim­bra. He was a chap­lain- priest and al­moner to Dom Manuel, king of Por­tu­gal, and was sent in 1515 as sec­re­tary to Duarte Gal­vao and Ro­dri­go da Li­ma on an em­bassy to the ne­gus of Abyssinia (Leb­na Den­gel Daw­it (David) II.). The ex­pe­di­tion hav­ing been de­layed by the way, it was not un­til 152O that he reached Abyssinia, where he re­mained six years, re­turn­ing to Lis­bon in 1526-1527. In 1533 he was sent to Rome on an em­bassy to Pope Clement VII. The pre­cise date of his death, like that of his birth, is un­known, but it must have been lat­er than 1540, in which year he pub­lished at Lis­bon un­der the king’s pa­tron­age an ac­count of his trav­els in one vol­ume fo­lio, en­ti­tled Yer­dadera In­for­ma­cam das ter­ras do Preste Joam. This cu­ri­ous work was trans­lat­ed in­to Ital­ian (G. B. Ra­mu­sio, Nav­aga­tioni, vol. i., Venice, 1550); in­to

Span­ish (His­to­ria de las Cosas de Etiopia, by Fray Thomas de Padil­la, Antwerp, 1557); in­to French (His­to­ri­ale De­scrip­tion de l’Ethiopie, Christ. Plantin, Antwerp, 1558); in­to Ger­man (Wahrhaftiger Bericht von … Ethiopi­en, Eisieben, 1566); in­to En­glish (Sam. Pur­chas, Pil­grimes, part ii., Lon­don, 1625). The in­for­ma­tion it con­tains must, how­ev­er, be re­ceived with cau­tion, as the au­thor is prone to ex­ag­ger­ate, and does not con­fine him­self to what came with­in his own ob­ser­va­tion.

AL­VAREZ, DON JOSE (1768-1827), Span­ish sculp­tor, was born at Priego, in the province of Cor­do­va, in 1768. His full name was Jose Al­varez de Pereira y Cubero. Bred to his fa­ther’s trade of a stone-​ma­son, he de­vot­ed all his spare time to draw­ing and mod­elling. His ed­uca­tion in art was due part­ly to the teach­ing of the French sculp­tor Verdigu­ier at Cor­do­va, and part­ly to lessons at Madrid, where he at­tend­ed the lec­tures of the acade­my of San Fer­nan­do. In 1799 he ob­tained from Charles IV. a pen­sion of 12,000 re­als to en­able him to vis­it Paris and Rome. In the for­mer city he ex­ecut­ed in 1804 a stat­ue of Ganymede, which placed him at once in the front rank of the sculp­tors of his time, and which is now in the sculp­ture gallery of the Pra­do. Short­ly af­ter­wards his pen­sion was more than dou­bled, and he left Paris for Rome, where he re­mained till with­in a year of his death. He had mar­ried in Paris Eliz­abeth Bougel, by whom he had a son in 1805. This son, known as Don Jose Al­varez y Bougel, al­so dis­tin­guished him­self as a sculp­tor and a painter, but he died at Bur­gos be­fore he had reached the age of twen­ty-​five, a lit­tle more than two years af­ter his fa­ther’s death in Madrid in 1827. One of the most suc­cess­ful works of the el­der Al­varez was a group rep­re­sent­ing An­tilochus and Mem­non, which was com­mis­sioned in mar­ble (1818) by Fer­di­nand VII., and se­cured for the artist the ap­point­ment of court-​sculp­tor. It is now in the mu­se­um of Madrid. He al­so mod­elled a few por­trait busts (Fer­di­nand VII., Rossi­ni, the duchess of Al­ba), which are re­mark­able for their vigour and fi­deli­ty.

AL­VAREZ, DON MANUEL (1727–1797), Span­ish sculp­tor, was born at Sala­man­ca. He fol­lowed clas­si­cal mod­els so close­ly that he was styled by his coun­try­men El Griego, “The Greek.” His works, which are very nu­mer­ous, are chiefly to be found at Madrid.

AL­VARY, MAX (1858-1898), Ger­man singer, was born at Dus­sel­dorf. Gift­ed with a fine tenor voice and hand­some pres­ence he speed­ily made a rep­uta­tion in Ger­many in the lead­ing roles in Wag­ne­ri­an opera, and from 1885 on­wards ap­peared al­so in Amer­ica and Eng­land. He was at his best in 1892, when his per­for­mances as Tris­tan and Siegfried at Covent Gar­den aroused great en­thu­si­asm.

ALVEARY (from the Lat. alvear­ium), a bee­hive; used, like api­ar­ium in the same sense, fig­ura­tive­ly for a col­lec­tion of hard-​work­ing peo­ple, or a schol­ar­ly work (e.g. dic­tio­nary) in­volv­ing bee-​like in­dus­try. By anal­ogy the term is used for the hol­low of the ear, where the wax col­lects.

AL­VENSLEBEN, CON­STANTIN VON (1809-1892), Prus­sian gen­er­al, was born on the 26th of Au­gust 1809 at Eichen­bar­leben in Prus­sian Sax­ony, and en­tered the Prus­sian guards from the cadet corps in 1827. He be­came first lieu­tenant in 1842, cap­tain in 1849, and ma­jor on the Great Gen­er­al Staff in 1853, whence af­ter sev­en years he went to the Min­istry of War. He was soon af­ter­wards pro­mot­ed colonel, and com­mand­ed a reg­iment of Guard in­fantry up to 1864, when he be­came a ma­jor-​gen­er­al. In this rank he com­mand­ed a brigade of guards in the war of 1866. At the ac­tion of Soor (Burk­ers­dorf) on the 28th of June he dis­tin­guished him­self very great­ly, and at Konig­gratz, where he led the ad­vanced guard of the Guard corps, his en­er­gy and ini­tia­tive were still more con­spic­uous. Soon af­ter­wards he suc­ceed­ed to the com­mand of his di­vi­sion, Gen­er­al Hiller v. Gar­trin­gen hav­ing fall­en in the bat­tle; he was pro­mot­ed lieu­tenant-​gen­er­al, and re­tained this com­mand af­ter the con­clu­sion of peace, re­ceiv­ing in ad­di­tion the or­der pour le merite for his ser­vices. In 1870, on the out­break of war with France, von Al­vensleben suc­ceed­ed Prince Fred­er­ick Charles in com­mand of the III army corps which formed part of the II Ger­man Army com­mand­ed by the prince. Un­der their new gen­er­al, the Bran­den­burg reg­iments form­ing the III corps proved them­selves col­lec­tive­ly the best in the whole Ger­man army, with the pos­si­ble ex­cep­tion of the Prus­sian guards, and, if Prince Fred­er­ick Charles is en­ti­tled to the chief cred­it in train­ing the III corps, Al­vensleben had con­tribut­ed in al­most equal de­gree to the ef­fi­cien­cy of the Guard in­fantry, while his ac­tu­al lead­er­ship of the III corps in the bat­tles of 1870 and 1871 showed him afresh as a fight­ing gen­er­al of the very first rank. The bat­tle of Spicheren, on the 6th of Au­gust, was ini­ti­at­ed and prac­ti­cal­ly di­rect­ed through­out by him, and in the con­fu­sion which fol­lowed this vic­to­ry, for which the su­pe­ri­or com­man­ders were not pre­pared, Al­vensleben showed his en­er­gy and de­ter­mi­na­tion by re­sum­ing the ad­vance on his own re­spon­si­bil­ity. This led to the great bat­tles of the 14th, 16th and 18th of Au­gust around Metz, and again the III corps was des­tined, un­der its res­olute lead­er, to win the chief cred­it. Cross­ing the Moselle the in­stant that he re­ceived per­mis­sion from his army com­man­der to do so, Al­vensleben struck the flank of Bazaine’s whole army (Au­gust 16th) in move­ment west­ward from Metz. The III corps at­tacked at once, and for many hours bore the whole brunt of the bat­tle at Vionville. By the most res­olute lead­ing, and at the cost of very heavy loss­es, Al­vensleben held the whole French army at bay while oth­er corps of the I and II Ger­man Armies grad­ual­ly closed up. In the bat­tle of Grav­elotte, on the 18th, the corps took lit­tle part. Its work was done, and it re­mained with the II Army be­fore Metz un­til the sur­ren­der of Bazaine’s army. Prince Fred­er­ick Charles then moved south-​west to co-​op­er­ate with the grand-​duke of Meck­len­burg on the Loire. At the bat­tle of Beaune-​la-​Rolande, the corps, with its com­rades of Vionville, the X corps un­der Gen­er­al v. Voigts-​Rhetz, won new lau­rels, and it par­tic­ipat­ed in the ad­vance on Le Mans and the bat­tle at that place on the 12th of Jan­uary 1871. At the close of the war Al­vensleben re­ceived the oak-​leaves of the or­der pour le merite, the first class of the Iron Cross and a grant of 100,000 thalers. He be­came full gen­er­al of in­fantry in 1873 and re­tired im­me­di­ate­ly af­ter­wards. In 1889 the em­per­or William II. or­dered that the 52nd in­fantry reg­iment (one of the dis­tin­guished reg­iments of Vionville) should there­after bear Al­vensleben’s name, and in 1892, on the an­niver­sary of the bat­tle of Le Mans, the old gen­er­al re­ceived the or­der of the Black Ea­gle. He died on the 28th of March 1892 at Berlin.

His broth­er, GUS­TAV VON AL­VENSLEBEN (1803-1881), Prus­sian gen­er­al of in­fantry, was born at Eichen­bar­leben on the 30th of Septem­ber 1803, en­tered the Guard in­fantry in 1821, and took part as a gen­er­al staff of­fi­cer in the sup­pres­sion of the Baden in­sur­rec­tion of 1849. He be­came a ma­jor-​gen­er­al in 1858, aide-​de-​camp to the king in 1861, and lieu­tenant-​gen­er­al in 1863, and in the cam­paign of 1866 per­formed valu­able mil­itary and po­lit­ical ser­vices. He was pro­mot­ed gen­er­al of in­fantry in 1868. In the war of 1870 he com­mand­ed the IV army corps, which took a con­spic­uous part in the ac­tion of Beau­mont and af­ter­wards served in the siege of Paris. He re­ceived the Iron Cross, the or­der pour le merite, and a mon­ey grant, as a re­ward for his ser­vices, and re­tired in 1872. He died at Gern­rode in the Harz on the 30th of June 1881.

An­oth­er broth­er, AL­BRECHT, COUNT von AL­VENSLEBEN (1794- 1858), was a dis­tin­guished Prus­sian states­man.

ALVE­OLATE (from Lat. alve­olus), hon­ey­combed, a word used tech­ni­cal­ly in bi­ol­ogy, &c., to mean pit­ted like a hon­ey­comb.

ALVER­STONE, RICHARD EV­ER­ARD WEB­STER, IST BARON (1842- ), lord chief jus­tice of Eng­land, was born on the 22nd of De­cem­ber 1842, be­ing the sec­ond son of Thomas Web­ster, Q.C. He was ed­ucat­ed at King’s Col­lege and Char­ter­house schools, and Trin­ity Col­lege, Cam­bridge; was called to the bar in 1868, and be­came Q.C. on­ly ten years af­ter­wards. His prac­tice was chiefly in com­mer­cial, rail­way and patent cas­es un­til (June 1885) he was ap­point­ed at­tor­ney-​gen­er­al in the Con­ser­va­tive Gov­ern­ment in the ex­cep­tion­al cir­cum­stances of nev­er hav­ing been so­lic­itor-​gen­er­al, and not at the time oc­cu­py­ing a seat in par­lia­ment. He was elect­ed for Launce­ston in the fol­low­ing month, and in Novem­ber ex­changed this seat

for the Isle of Wight, which he con­tin­ued to rep­re­sent un­til his el­eva­tion to the House of Lords. Ex­cept un­der the brief Glad­stone ad­min­is­tra­tion of 1886, and the Glad­stone-​Rose­bery cab­inet of 1892-1895, Sir Richard Web­ster was at­tor­ney-​gen­er­al from 1885 to 1900. In 1890 he was lead­ing coun­sel for The Times in the Par­nell in­quiry; in 1893 he rep­re­sent­ed Great Britain in the Bering Sea ar­bi­tra­tion; in 1898 he dis­charged the same func­tion in the mat­ter of the bound­ary be­tween British Guiana and Venezuela; and in 1903 was one of the mem­bers of the Alas­ka Bound­ary Com­mis­sion. He was well known as an ath­lete in his ear­li­er years, hav­ing rep­re­sent­ed his uni­ver­si­ty as a run­ner, and his in­ter­est in crick­et and foot-​rac­ing was kept up in lat­er life. In the House of Com­mons, and out­side it, he was through­out his po­lit­ical ca­reer promi­nent­ly as­so­ci­at­ed with church work; and his speech­es were dis­tin­guished for grav­ity and earnest­ness. In 1900 he suc­ceed­ed Sir Nathaniel Lind­ley as Mas­ter of the Rolls, be­ing raised to the peer­age as Baron Alver­stone, and in Oc­to­ber of the same year he was el­evat­ed to the of­fice of lord chief jus­tice up­on the death of Lord Rus­sell of Kil­lowen.

AL­WAR, or UL­WAR, a na­tive state of In­dia in the Ra­jputana agen­cy. It is bound­ed on the E. by the state of Bharat­pur and the British dis­trict of Gur­gaon, on the N. by Gur­gaon dis­trict and the state of Pa­tiala, on the W. by the states of Nab­ha and Jaipur, and on the S. by the state of Jaipur. Its con­fig­ura­tion is ir­reg­ular, the great­est length from north to south be­ing about 80 m., and breadth from east to west about 60 m., with a to­tal area of 3141 sq. m. The east­ern por­tion of the state is open and high­ly cul­ti­vat­ed; the west­ern is di­ver­si­fied by hills and peaks, which form a con­tin­ua­tion of the Ar­aval­li range, from 12 to 20 m. in breadth. These hills run in rocky and pre­cip­itous par­al­lel ridges, in some places up­wards of 2200 ft. in height. The Sab­hi riv­er flows through the north-​west­ern part of the state, the on­ly oth­er stream of im­por­tance be­ing the Ru­par­el, which ris­es in the Al­war hills, and flows through the state in­to the Bharat­pur ter­ri­to­ry. The pop­ula­tion in 1901 was 828,487, show­ing an in­crease of 8% dur­ing the decade. When com­pared with a heavy de­crease else­where through­out Ra­jputana, this in­crease may be at­tribut­ed to the suc­cess­ful ad­min­is­tra­tion of famine re­lief, un­der British of­fi­cials. The rev­enue is L. 185,000. The ma­hara­ja Jai Singh, who suc­ceed­ed in 1892 at the age of ten, was ed­ucat­ed at the Mayo col­lege, where he ex­celled both in sports and in knowl­edge of En­glish. He came of age in 1903, when he was in­vest­ed by the viceroy with full rul­ing pow­ers. Al­war was the first na­tive state to ac­cept a cur­ren­cy struck at the Cal­cut­ta mint, of the same weight and as­say as the im­pe­ri­al ru­pee, with the head of the British sovereign on the ob­verse. Im­pe­ri­al ser­vice troops are main­tained, con­sist­ing of both cav­al­ry and in­fantry, with trans­port. The state is tra­versed by the Del­hi branch of the Ra­jputana rail­way. A set­tle­ment of the land rev­enue has been car­ried out by an En­glish civil­ian.

The state was found­ed by Prat­ap Singh (1740-1791), a Ra­jput of an­cient lin­eage, and in­creased by his adopt­ed son Bakhtawar Singh. The lat­ter joined the British against the Mahrat­tas, and in 1803, af­ter the bat­tle of Laswari (Nov. 1), signed a treaty of of­fen­sive and de­fen­sive al­liance with the British gov­ern­ment. In 1811, ow­ing to his armed in­ter­ven­tion in Jaipur, a fresh en­gage­ment was made, pro­hibit­ing him from po­lit­ical in­ter­course with oth­er states with­out British con­sent. In 1857 the ra­ja Bin­ni Singh sent a force of Mus­sul­mans and Ra­jputs to re­lieve the British gar­ri­son in Agra; the Mus­sul­mans, how­ev­er, de­sert­ed, and the rest were de­feat­ed by the mu­ti­neers.

The CITY OF AL­WAR has a rail­way sta­tion on the Ra­jputana line, 98 m. from Del­hi; pop. (1901) 56,771, show­ing a steady in­crease. It stands in a val­ley over­hung by a fortress 1000 ft. above. It is sur­round­ed by a ram­part and moat, with five gates, and con­tains fine palaces, tem­ples and tombs. The wa­ter-​sup­ply is brought from a lake 9 m. dis­tant. It has a high school, af­fil­iat­ed to the Al­la­habad uni­ver­si­ty; and a school for the sons of no­bles, found­ed to com­mem­orate the Di­amond Ju­bilee of Queen Vic­to­ria. The La­dy Duf­ferin hos­pi­tal is un­der the charge of an En­glish la­dy doc­tor, with two fe­male as­sis­tants.

ALY­AT­TES, king of Ly­dia (609-560 B.C.), the re­al founder of the Ly­di­an em­pire, was the son of Sady­at­tes, of the house of the Mermnadae. For sev­er­al years he con­tin­ued the war against Mile­tus be­gun by his fa­ther, but was obliged to turn his at­ten­tion to the Medes and Baby­lo­ni­ans. On the 28th of May 585, dur­ing a bat­tle on the Halys be­tween him and Cyaxares, king of Me­dia, an eclipse of the sun took place; hos­til­ities were sus­pend­ed, peace con­clud­ed, and the Halys fixed as the bound­ary be­tween the two king­doms. Aly­at­tes drove the Cim­merii (see SCYTI­HA) from Asia, sub­dued the Car­ians, and took sev­er­al Io­ni­an cities (Smyr­na, Colophon). He was suc­ceed­ed by his son Croe­sus. His tomb still ex­ists on the plateau be­tween lake Gy­gaea and the riv­er Her­mus to the north of Sardis — a large mound of earth with a sub­struc­ture of huge stones. It was ex­ca­vat­ed by Spiegelthal in 1854, who found that it cov­ered a large vault of fine­ly-​cut mar­ble blocks ap­proached by a flat-​roofed pas­sage of the same stone from the south. The sar­coph­agus and its con­tents had been re­moved by ear­ly plun­der­ers of the tomb, all that was left be­ing some bro­ken al­abaster vas­es, pot­tery and char­coal. On the sum­mit of the mound were large phal­li of stone.

See A. von Olfers, “Uber die ly­dis­chen Konigs­graber bei Sardes,” Abh. Berl. Ak., 1858.

ALYP­IUS, a Greek writ­er on mu­sic whose works, with those of six oth­ers, were col­lect­ed and pub­lished with a com­men­tary and ex­plana­to­ry notes (An­ti­quae Mu­si­cae Auc­tores Septem, Am­stel., 1652), by Mark Mei­bomius (1630-1711). He is said to have writ­ten be­fore Eu­clid and Ptole­my; and Cas­siodor­us ar­ranges his In­tro­duc­tion to Mu­sic be­tween those of Nico­machus and Gau­den­tius. The work con­sists sole­ly of a list of sym­bols of the var­ious scales and modes, and is prob­ably on­ly a frag­ment.

ALYP­IUS OF AN­TI­OCH, a ge­og­ra­pher of the 4th cen­tu­ry, who was sent by the em­per­or Ju­lian in­to Britain as first pre­fect, and was af­ter­wards com­mis­sioned to re­build the tem­ple of Jerusalem. Among the let­ters of Ju­lian are two (29 and 30) ad­dressed to Alyp­ins; one invit­ing him to Rome, the oth­er thank­ing him for a ge­ograph­ical trea­tise, which no longer ex­ists.

See al­so Am­mi­anus Mar­celli­nus xxi­ii. 1, sec. 2.

ALYTES, the mid­wife toad, first dis­cov­ered by P. De­mours in 1741, on the bor­der of a small pond in the Jardin des Plantes, in the very act of par­tu­ri­tion which has ren­dered it fa­mous, and de­scribed as Pe­tit cra­paud male ac­coucheur de sa femelle. Alytes ob­stet­ri­cans is of spe­cial in­ter­est as the first known ex­am­ple of pa­ter­nal so­lic­itude in Ba­tra­chi­ans, and al­though many no less won­der­ful cas­es of nurs­ing in­stinct have since been re­vealed to us, it re­mains the on­ly one among Eu­ro­pean forms.

Alytes ob­stet­ri­cans is a small toad-​like Ba­tra­chi­an, two inch­es in length, of dull grey­ish col­oration, plump form with warty skin and large eyes with ver­ti­cal pupils. Al­though toad-​like it is not re­al­ly re­lat­ed to the toads prop­er, but be­longs to the fam­ily Discoglos­si­dae, char­ac­ter­ized by a cir­cu­lar, ad­her­ent tongue, teeth in the up­per jaw and on the palate, short but dis­tinct ribs on the an­te­ri­or ver­te­brae, and con­vex-​con­cave ver­te­brae. It in­hab­its France, Bel­gium, Switzer­land, West­ern Ger­many (east­wards to the Weser), Spain and Por­tu­gal. A sec­ond species, A. cis­ter­nasii, oc­curs in Spain and Por­tu­gal.

Alytes is noc­tur­nal and slow in its move­ments. It is thor­ough­ly ter­res­tri­al, se­lect­ing for its re­treat in the day­time holes made by small mam­mals, or in­ter­stices be­tween stones. To­wards evening it re­veals its pres­ence by a clear whistling note, which has of­ten been com­pared to the sound of a lit­tle bell, or to a chime when pro­duced by nu­mer­ous in­di­vid­uals. The breed­ing sea­son lasts through­out spring and sum­mer, and the fe­male is able to spawn two, three or even four times in the year. Pair­ing and ovipo­si­tion take place on land; the male seizes the fe­male round the waist. The eggs are large and yel­low, and pro­duced in two rosary-​like strings, as if strung to­geth­er by elas­tic fil­aments con­tin­uous with the gelati­nous cap­sules. Af­ter im­preg­na­tion, the male twists them round his legs and re­turns to his usu­al re­treat, go­ing about at night in or­der to feed him­self and to keep up the mois­ture of the eggs, even re­sort­ing to a short im­mer­sion in the wa­ter dur­ing ex­cep­tion­ahy dry nights. The de­vel­op­ment of the em­bryo with­in the egg takes about three weeks. When the time for

eclo­sion has come, the male en­ters the wa­ter with his bur­den; the lar­vae, in the full tad­pole con­di­tion, mea­sur­ing 14 to 17 mil­lime­tres, bite their way through their tough en­ve­lope, which is not aban­doned by the fa­ther un­til all the young are lib­er­at­ed, and com­plete in the or­di­nary way their meta­mor­pho­sis. The tad­poles grow to a large size con­sid­er­ing that of the adult, the body equalling in size a spar­row’s or even a small pi­geon’s egg, and they of­ten re­main more than a year in that con­di­tion.

See A. de l’Isle, “Mem­oire sur les moeurs et l’ac­couche­ment de l’Alytes ob­stet­ri­cans,” Ann. Sci. Nat. (6) iii. 1876; G. A. Boulenger. Tail­less Ba­tra­chi­ans of Eu­rope (Ray So­ci­ety, 1897). (G. A. B.)

ALZEY, a town of Ger­many, in the grand duchy of Hesse- Darm­stadt, 18 m. S. of Mainz by rail. Pop. (1900) 6893. There are a Ro­man Catholic and two Protes­tant church­es, sev­er­al high-​grade schools and a teach­ers’ sem­inary. Alzey has in­dus­tries of dye­ing and weav­ing, brew­eries, and does a con­sid­er­able trade in wine. It is im­mor­tal­ized in the Ni­belun­gen­lied in the per­son of “Volk­er von Alzeie,” the war­rior who in the last part of the epic plays a part sec­ond on­ly to that of Ha­gen, and who “was called the min­strel (spilman) be­cause he could fid­dle.” It be­came an im­pe­ri­al city in 1277. In 1620 it was sacked by the Spaniards and in 1689 burnt by the French. An­nexed to France dur­ing the Napoleon­ic wars, it passed in 1815 to the grand-​duchy of Hesse-​Darm­stadt.

AL­ZOG, JO­HANN BAP­TIST (1808-1878), Ger­man the­olo­gian, was born at Ohlau, in Sile­sia, on the 29th of June 1808. He stud­ied at Bres­lau and Bonn and was or­dained priest at Cologne in 1834. In the fol­low­ing year he ac­cept­ed the chairs of ex­ege­sis and church his­to­ry at the sem­inary of Posen. He re­moved in 1844 to Hildesheim, where he had been ap­point­ed rec­tor of the sem­inary. He be­came pro­fes­sor of church his­to­ry at the uni­ver­si­ty of Freiburg in the Breis­gau in 1853 and held that post till his death on the 1st of March 1878. To­geth­er with Dollinger, Al­zog was in­stru­men­tal in con­vok­ing the fa­mous Mu­nich as­sem­bly of Catholic schol­ars in 1863. He al­so took part, with Bish­ops Hefele and Hase­berg, in the prepara­to­ry work of the Vat­ican Coun­cil and vot­ed in favour of the doc­trine of pa­pal in­fal­li­bil­ity but against the op­por­tune­ness of its pro­mul­ga­tion. Al­zog’s fame rests main­ly on his Hand­buch den Caniver­sal-​Kirchengeschichte (Mainz, 1841, of­ten reprint­ed un­der var­ious ti­tles; Eng. trans. by Pabisch and Byrne, A Man­ual of Church His­to­ry, 4 vols. Cincin­nati, 1874). Based up­on the foun­da­tions laid by Mohler, this man­ual was gen­er­al­ly ac­cept­ed as the best ex­po­si­tion of Catholic views, in op­po­si­tion to the Protes­tant man­ual by C. A. Hase, and was trans­lat­ed in­to sev­er­al lan­guages. Be­sides a host of mi­nor writ­ings on ec­cle­si­as­ti­cal sub­jects, and an ac­tive col­lab­ora­tion in the great Kirchen- lex­icon of Wet­zer and Welte, Al­zog was al­so the au­thor of Grun­driss der Pa­tro­log­ic (Freiburg, 1866, 4th ed. 1888), a schol­ar­ly work, though now su­per­seded by that of O. Bar­den­hew­er.

A full list of Al­zog’s writ­ings is giv­en in H. Hurter’s Nomen­cla­tor tit­er­ar­ius re­cen­tioris the­olo­giae catholi­cae, vol. iii. For an ac­count of his life see the fu­ner­al ora­tion by F. X. Kraus, en­ti­tled: Gedacht­nis­srede auf Jo­hannes Al­zog (Freiburg, 1879).

AMADIS DE GAULA. This fa­mous ro­mance of chival­ry sur­vives on­ly in a Castil­ian text, but it is claimed by Por­tu­gal as well as by Spain. The date of its com­po­si­tion, the name of its au­thor, and the lan­guage in which it was orig­inal­ly writ­ten are not yet set­tled. It is not even cer­tain when the ro­mance was first print­ed, for though the old­est known edi­tion (a unique copy of which is in the British Mu­se­um) ap­peared at Saragos­sa in 1508, it is high­ly prob­able that Amadis was in print be­fore this date: an edi­tion is re­port­ed to have been is­sued at Seville in 1496. As it ex­ists in Span­ish, Amadis de Gaula con­sists of four books, the last of which is gen­er­al­ly be­lieved to be by the regi­dor of Med­ina del Cam­po, Gar­ci Ro­driguez de Mon­tal­vo (whose name is giv­en as Gar­ci Or­donez de Mon­tal­vo in all edi­tions of Amadis lat­er than that of 1508, and as Gar­ci Gutier­rez de Mon­tal­vo in some edi­tions of the Ser­gas de Es­plan­di­an). Mon­tal­vo al­leges that the first three books were ar­ranged and cor­rect­ed by him from “the an­cient orig­inals,” and a ref­er­ence in the pro­logue to the siege of Grana­da points to the con­clu­sion that the Span­ish re­cast was made short­ly af­ter 1492; it is pos­si­ble, how­ev­er, that the pro­logue alone was writ­ten af­ter 1492, and that the text it­self is old­er. The num­ber of these “an­cient orig­inals” is not stat­ed, nor is there any men­tion of the lan­guage in which they were com­posed; Mon­tal­vo’s si­lence on the lat­ter point might be tak­en to im­ply that they were in Castil­ian, but any such in­fer­ence would be haz­ardous. Three hooks of Areadis de Gaula are men­tioned by Pero Fer­rus who was liv­ing in 1379, and there is ev­idence that the ro­mance was cur­rent in Castile more than a quar­ter of a cen­tu­ry ear­li­er; but again there is no in­for­ma­tion as to the lan­guage in which they were writ­ten. Gomes Eannes de Azu­rara, in his Chron­ica de Conde D. Pe­dro de Menezes (c. 1450), states that Amadis de Gaula was writ­ten by Vas­co de Lobeira in the time of king Fer­di­nand of Por­tu­gal who died in 1383: as Vas­co de Lobeira was knight­ed in 1385, it would fol­low that he wrote the elab­orate ro­mance in his ear­li­est youth. This con­clu­sion is un­ten­able, and the sug­ges­tion that the au­thor was Pe­dro de Loboira (who flour­ished in the 15th cen­tu­ry) in­volves a glar­ing anachro­nism. A fur­ther step was tak­en by the his­to­ri­an Joao de Bar­ros, who main­tained in an un­pub­lished work dat­ing be­tween 1540 and 1550 that Vas­co de Lobeira wrote Amadis de Gaula in Por­tuguese, and that his text was trans­lat­ed in­to Castil­ian; this is un­sup­port­ed as­ser­tion. To­wards the end of the 16th cen­tu­ry Miguel Leite Fer­reira, son of the Por­tuguese po­et, An­to­nio Fer­reira, de­clared that the orig­inal manuscript of Amadis de Gaula was then in the Aveiro archives, and an Amadis de Gaula in Por­tuguese, which is al­leged to have ex­ist­ed in the conde de Vimeiro’s li­brary as late as 1586, had van­ished be­fore 1726. In the ab­sence of cor­rob­ora­tion, these du­bi­ous de­tails must be re­ceived with ex­treme re­serve. A stronger ar­gu­ment in favour of the Por­tuguese case is drawn from the ex­ist­ing Span­ish text. In book I, chap­ters 40 and 42, it is record­ed that the In­fante Alphon­so of Por­tu­gal sug­gest­ed a rad­ical change in the nar­ra­tive of Briolan­ja’s re­la­tions with Amadis. This prince has been iden­ti­fied as the In­fante Alphon­so who died in 1312, or as Alphon­so IV. who as­cend­ed the Por­tuguese throne in 1325. Were ei­ther of these iden­ti­fi­ca­tions es­tab­lished, the date of com­po­si­tion might be re­ferred with cer­tain­ty to the be­gin­ning of the 14th cen­tu­ry or the end of the 13th. But both iden­ti­fi­ca­tions are con­jec­tural. Nev­er­the­less the pas­sage in the Span­ish text un­de­ni­ably lends some sup­port to the Por­tuguese claim, and re­cent crit­ics have in­clined to the be­lief that Areadis de Gaula was writ­ten by Joao de Lobeira, a Gali­cian knight who fre­quent­ed the Por­tuguese court be­tween 1258 and 1285, and to whom are as­cri­hed two frag­ments of a po­em in the Coloc­ci-​Bran­cu­ti Can­zoniere (Nos. 240 and 240b) which reap­pears with some unim­por­tant vari­ants in Amadis de Gaula (book II, chap­ter 11). The co­in­ci­dence may be held to ac­count in some mea­sure for the tra­di­tion­al as­so­ci­ation of a Lobeira with the au­thor­ship of Amadis de Gaula; but, though cu­ri­ous, it war­rants no def­inite con­clu­sion be­ing drawn from it. Against the Por­tuguese claim it is ar­gued that the Vil­lan­ci­co cor­re­spond­ing to Joao de Lobeiro’s po­em is an in­ter­po­la­tion in the Span­ish text, that Por­tuguese prose was in a rudi­men­ta­ry stage of de­vel­op­ment at the pe­ri­od when — ex hy­poth­esi — the ro­mance was com­posed, and that the book was very pop­ular in Spain al­most a cen­tu­ry be­fore it is even men­tioned in Por­tu­gal. Last­ly, there is the in­con­tro­vert­ible fact that Amidis de Gaula ex­ists in Castil­ian, while it re­mains to be proved that it ev­er ex­ist­ed in Por­tuguese. As to its sub­stance, it is be­yond dis­pute that much of the text de­rives from the French ro­mances of the Round Ta­ble; but the ev­idence does not en­able us to say (1) whether it was pieced to­geth­er from var­ious French ro­mances; (2) whether it was more or less lit­er­al­ly trans­lat­ed from a lost French orig­inal; or (3) whether the first Penin­su­lar adapter or trans­la­tor was a Castil­ian or a Por­tuguese. On these points judg­ment must be sus­pend­ed. There can, how­ev­er, be no hes­ita­tion in ac­cept­ing Cer­vantes’ ver­dict on Amadis de Gaula as the “best of all the books of this kind that have ev­er been writ­ten.” It is the prose epic of feu­dal­ism, and its ro­man­tic spir­it, its high ide­als, its fan­tas­tic gal­lantry, its in­ge­nious ad­ven­tures, its mech­anism of sym­bol­ic won­ders, and its flow­ing style have en­tranced read­ers of such var­ious types as Fran­cis I. and Charles V., Ar­ios­to and Mon­taigne.

BIB­LI­OG­RA­PHY. — Car­oli­na Michaelis de Vas­con­cel­los and Got­tfried Baist in the Grun­driss der ro­man­is­chen Philolo­gie (Strass­burg, 1897 ), ii. Band, 2. Abteilu­na, pp. 216-226 and 440-442: Lud­wig Braun­fels, Kri­tis­ch­er Ver­such uber den Ro­man An­nadie von Glal­lien (Leipzig, 1876); Theophi­lo Bra­ga, His­to­ria das nov­elas por­tuguezas de cav­al­le­ria (Por­to, 1873), Cur­so de lit­ter­atu­ra e arte por­tugueza (Lis­boa, 1881), and Questoes de lit­ter­atu­ra e arte por­tugueza (Lis­boa, 1885); Marceli­no Menen­dez y Pelayo, Ori­genes de la nov­ela (Madrid, 1905); Eu­gene Baret, De l,Amadis de Glaule et de son in­flu­ence sur les moeurs et la lit­ter­ature au XVIe et au XVI­Ie siecle (Paris, 1873). (J. F. K.)

AMADOU, a soft tough sub­stance used as tin­der, de­rived from Poly­porus fo­men­tar­ius, a fun­gus be­long­ing to the group Ba­sid­iomycetes and some­what re­sem­bling a mush­room in man­ner of growth. It grows up­on old trees, es­pe­cial­ly the oak, ash, fir and cher­ry. The fun­gus is cut in­to slices and then steeped in a so­lu­tion of ni­tre. Amadou is pre­pared on the con­ti­nent of Eu­rope, chiefly in Ger­many, but the fun­gus is a na­tive of Britain. Poly­porus ig­niar­ius and oth­er species are al­so used, but yield an in­fe­ri­or prod­uct.

AMAKUSA, an is­land be­long­ing to Japan, 26 1/2 m. long and 13 1/2 in ex­treme width, sit­uat­ed about 32 deg. 20′ N., and 130 deg. E. long., on the west of the province of Hi­go (is­land of Kiushiu), from which it is sep­arat­ed by the Yat­sushi­ro-​kai. It has no high moun­tains, but its sur­face be­ing very hilly — four of the peaks rise to a height over 1500 ft. — the na­tives re­sort to the ter­race sys­tem of cul­ti­va­tion with re­mark­able suc­cess. A num­ber of the heads of the Chris­tians ex­ecut­ed in con­nex­ion with the Shimabara re­bel­lion in the first half of the 17th cen­tu­ry were buried in this is­land. Amakusa pro­duces a lit­tle coal and fine kaolin, which was large­ly used in for­mer times by the pot­ters of Hi­ra­do and Sat­suma.

AMAL, the name of the no­blest fam­ily among the Os­tro­goths, and that from which near­ly all their kings were cho­sen.

AMALAR­IC (d. 531), king of the Visig­oths, son of Alar­ic II., was a child when his fa­ther fell in bat­tle against Clo­vis, king of the Franks (507). He was car­ried for safe­ty in­to Spain, which coun­try and Provence were thence­forth ruled by his ma­ter­nal grand­fa­ther, Theodor­ic the Os­tro­goth, act­ing through his vice- ger­ent, an Os­tro­goth­ic no­ble­man named Theud­is. In 522 the young Amalar­ic was pro­claimed king, and four years lat­er, on Theodor­ic’s death, he as­sumed full roy­al pow­er in Spain and a part of Langue­doc, re­lin­quish­ing Provence to his cousin Athalar­ic. He mar­ried Clotil­da, daugh­ter of Clo­vis; but his dis­putes with her, he be­ing an Ar­ian and she a Catholic, brought on him the penal­ty of a Frank­ish in­va­sion, in which he lost his life in 531.

AMALA­SUN­THA or AMALA­SUEN­THA, queen of the Os­tro­goths (d. 535), daugh­ter of Theodor­ic, king of the Os­tro­goths, was mar­ried in 515 to Eu­thar­ic, an Os­tro­goth of the old Are­al line, who had pre­vi­ous­ly been liv­ing in Spain. Her hus­band died, ap­par­ent­ly in the ear­ly years of her mar­riage, leav­ing her with two chil­dren, Athalar­icand Mata­suen­tha. On the death of her fa­ther in 526, she suc­ceed­ed him, act­ing as re­gent for her son, but be­ing her­self deeply im­bued with the old Ro­man cul­ture, she gave to that son’s ed­uca­tion a more re­fined and lit­er­ary turn than suit­ed the ideas of her Goth­ic sub­jects. Con­scious of her un­pop­ular­ity she ban­ished, and af­ter­wards put to death, three Goth­ic no­bles whom she sus­pect­ed of in­trigu­ing against her rule, and at the same time opened ne­go­ti­ations with the em­per­or Jus­tini­an with the view of re­mov­ing her­self and the Goth­ic trea­sure to Con­stantino­ple. Her son’s death in 534 made but lit­tle change in the pos­ture of af­fairs. Amala­sun­tha, now queen, with a view of strength­en­ing her po­si­tion, made her cousin Theo­da­had part­ner of her throne (not, as some­times stat­ed, her hus­band, for his wife was still liv­ing). The choice was un­for­tu­nate. Theo­da­had, notwith­stand­ing a var­nish of lit­er­ary cul­ture, was a cow­ard and a scoundrel. He fos­tered the dis­af­fec­tion of the Goths, and ei­ther by his or­ders or with his per­mis­sion, Amala­sun­tha was im­pris­oned on an is­land in the Tus­can lake of Bolse­na, where in the spring of 535 she was mur­dered in her bath.

The let­ters of Cas­siodor­us, chief min­is­ter and lit­er­ary ad­vis­er of Amala­sun­tha, and the his­to­ries of Pro­copius and Jor­danea, give us our chief in­for­ma­tion as to the char­ac­ter of Amalauen­tha.

AMALEKITES, an an­cient tribe, or col­lec­tion of tribes, in the south and south-​east of Pales­tine, of­ten men­tioned in the Old Tes­ta­ment as foes of the Is­raelites. They were re­gard­ed as a branch of the Edomites (Gen. xxxvi. 12, see EDOM), and ap­pear to have num­bered among their di­vi­sions the Ken­ites. When the Is­raelites were jour­ney­ing from Egypt to the land of Canaan, the Amalekites are said to have tak­en ad­van­tage of their weak con­di­tion to har­ry the strag­glers in the rear, and as a judg­ment for their hos­til­ity it was or­dained that their mem­ory should be blot­ted out from un­der heav­en (Deut. xxv. 17-19). An al­lu­sion to this ap­pears in the ac­count of Is­rael’s de­feat on the oc­ca­sion of the at­tempt to force a pas­sage from Kadesh through Hormah, ev­ident­ly in­to Pales­tine (Num. xiv. 43-45, cp. Deut. i. 44-46). The state­ments are ob­scure, and else­where Hormah is the scene of a vic­to­ry over the Canaan­ites by Is­rael (Num. xxi. 1-3), or by the tribes Ju­dah and Sime­on (Judg. i. 17). The ques­tion is fur­ther com­pli­cat­ed by the ac­count of Joshua’s over­throw of Amalek ap­par­ent­ly in the Sinaitic penin­su­la. The event was com­mem­orat­ed by the erec­tion of the al­tar “Yah­wehnis­si” (“Yah­weh my ban­ner” or “memo­ri­al”), and ren­dered even more mem­orable by the ut­ter­ance, “Yah­weh hath sworn: Yah­weh will have war with Amalek from gen­er­ation to gen­er­ation” (Ex. xvii. 8-16, on its present po­si­tion, see EX­ODUS [BOOK]). The same sen­ti­ment re­curs in Yah­weh’s com­mand to Saul to de­stroy Amalek ut­ter­ly for its hos­til­ity to Is­rael (1 Sam. xv.), and in David’s re­tal­ia­to­ry ex­pe­di­tion when he dis­tribut­ed among his friends the spoil of the “en­emies of Yah­weh” (xxx. 26). Saul him­self, ac­cord­ing to one tra­di­tion, was slain by an Amalekite (2 Sam. i., con­trast 1 Sam. xxxi.). A sim­ilar spir­it ap­pears among the prophe­cies as­cribed to Bal­aam: “Amalek, first (or chief) of na­tions, his lat­ter end [will be] de­struc­tion” (Num. xxiv. 20).

The dis­trict of Amalek lay to the south of Ju­dah (cp. I Chron. iv. 42 seq.), prob­ably be­tween Kadesh and Hormah (cp. Gen. xiv. 7; 1 Sam. xv. 7, xxvii. 8), and the in­ter­change of the eth­nic with “Canaan­ites” and “Amor­ites” sug­gests that the Amalekites are mere­ly one of Is­rael’s tra­di­tion­al en­emies of the old­er pe­ri­od. Hence we find them tak­ing part with Am­monites and Mid­ian­ites (Judg. iii. 13, vi. 3), and their king Agag, slain by Samuel as a sac­ri­fi­cial of­fer­ing (1 Sam. xv. 9), was a by­word for old-​time might and pow­er (Num. xxiv. 7). Even in one of the Psalms (lxxxi­ii. 7) Amalek is men­tioned among the en­emies of Is­rael — just as Greek writ­ers of the 6th cen­tu­ry of this era ap­plied the old term Scythi­ans to the Goths (Nold­eke), — and the tra­di­tion­al hos­til­ity be­tween Saul and Amalek is re­flect­ed still lat­er in the book of Es­ther where Haman the Agagite is pit­ted against Morde­cai the Ben­jamite.

Twice Amalek seems to be men­tioned as oc­cu­py­ing cen­tral Pales­tine (Judg. v. 14, xii. 15), but the pas­sages are tex­tu­al­ly un­cer­tain. The name is cel­ebrat­ed in Ara­bi­an tra­di­tion, but the state­ments re­gard­ing them are con­fused and con­flict­ing, and for his­tor­ical pur­pos­es are prac­ti­cal­ly worth­less, as has been proved by Th. Nold­eke (Ule­ber die Amalekiter, Got­tin­gen, 1864). On the bib­li­cal da­ta, see al­so E. Mey­er, Die Is­raeliten (In­dex, s.v..) (S. A. C.) AMAL­FI, a town and archiepis­co­pal see of Cam­pa­nia, Italy, in the province of Saler­no, from the town of which name it is dis­tant 12 m. W.S.W. by road, on the N. coast of the Gulf of Saler­no. Pop. (1901) 6681. It lies at the mouth of a deep ravine, in a shel­tered sit­ua­tion, at the foot of Monte Cer­re­to (4314 ft.), in the cen­tre of splen­did coast scenery, and is in con­se­quence much vis­it­ed by for­eign­ers. The cathe­dral of S. An­drea is a struc­ture in the Lom­bard-​Nor­man style, of the 11th cen­tu­ry; the fa­cade in black and white stone was well re­stored in 1891; the bronze doors were ex­ecut­ed at Con­stantino­ple be­fore 1066. The cam­panile dates from 1276. The in­te­ri­or is al­so fine, and con­tains an­cient columns and sar­copha­gi. The con­spic­uous Ca­puchin monastery on the W. with fine clois­ters (part­ly de­stroyed by a land­slip in 1899) is now used as an ho­tel. Amal­fi is first men­tioned in the 6th cen­tu­ry, and soon ac­quired im­por­tance as a naval pow­er; in the 9th cen­tu­ry it shared with Venice and Gae­ta the Ital­ian trade with the East, and in 848 its fleet went to the as­sis­tance of Pope Leo IV. against the Sara­cens.

It was then an in­de­pen­dent re­pub­lic with a pop­ula­tion of some 70,000, but in 1131 it was re­duced by King Roger of Sici­ly. In 1135 and 1137 it was tak­en by the Pisans, and rapid­ly de­clined in im­por­tance, though its mar­itime code, known as the Tav­ole Amal­fi­tane, was rec­og­nized in the Mediter­ranean un­til 1570. In 1343 a large part of the town was de­stroyed by an in­un­da­tion, and its har­bour is now of lit­tle im­por­tance. Its in­dus­tries too, have large­ly dis­ap­peared, and the pa­per man­ufac­ture has lost ground since 1861.

AMAL­GAM, the name ap­plied to al­loys which con­tain mer­cury. It is said by An­dreas Libav­ius to be a cor­rup­tion of malag­ma; in the al­chemists the form al­ga­mala is al­so found. Many amal­gams are formed by the di­rect con­tact of a met­al with mer­cury, some­times with ab­sorp­tion, some­times with evo­lu­tion, of heat. Oth­er meth­ods are to place the met­al and mer­cury to­geth­er in di­lute acid, to add mer­cury to the so­lu­tion of a metal­lic salt, to place a met­al in a so­lu­tion of mer­curic ni­trate, or to elec­trol­yse a metal­lic salt us­ing mer­cury as the neg­ative elec­trode. Some amal­gams are liq­uids, es­pe­cial­ly when con­tain­ing a large pro­por­tion of mer­cury; oth­ers as­sume a crys­talline form. In some cas­es def­inite com­pounds have been iso­lat­ed from amal­gams which may be re­gard­ed as mix­tures of one or more of such com­pounds with mer­cury in ex­cess. In gen­er­al these com­pounds are de­com­pos­able by heat, but some of them, such as those of gold, sil­ver, cop­per and the al­ka­li met­als, even when heat­ed above the boil­ing point of mer­cury re­tain mer­cury and leave residues of def­inite com­po­si­tion. Tin amal­gam is used for “sil­ver­ing” mir­rors, gold and sil­ver amal­gam in gild­ing and sil­ver­ing, cad­mi­um and cop­per amal­gam in den­tistry, and an amal­gam of zinc and tin for the rub­bers of elec­tri­cal ma­chines; the zinc plates of elec­tric bat­ter­ies are amal­ga­mat­ed in or­der to re­duce po­lar­iza­tion.

AMAL­RIC, the name of two kings of Jerusalem. AMAL­RIC I., king from 1162 to 1174, was the son of Fulk of Jerusalem, and the broth­er of Bald­win III. He was twice mar­ried: by his first wife, Agnes of Edessa, he had is­sue a son and a daugh­ter, Bald­win IV. and Sibyl­la, while his sec­ond wife, Maria Com­ne­na, bore him a daugh­ter Is­abel­la, who ul­ti­mate­ly car­ried the crown of Jerusalem to her fourth hus­band, Amal­ric of Lusig­nan (Amal­ric II.). The reign of Amal­ric I. was oc­cu­pied by the Egyp­tian prob­lem. It be­came a ques­tion be­tween Amal­ric and Nured­din, which of the two should con­trol the dis­cor­dant viziers, who vied with one an­oth­er for the con­trol of the deca­dent caliphs of Egypt. The ac­qui­si­tion of Egypt had been an ob­ject of the Franks since the days of Bald­win I. (and in­deed of God­frey him­self, who had promised to cede Jerusalem to the pa­tri­arch Dagob­ert as soon as he should him­self ac­quire Cairo). The cap­ture of As­cakm by Bald­win III. in 1153 made this ob­ject more fea­si­ble; and we find the Hos­pi­tallers prepar­ing sketch-​maps of the routes best suit­ed for an in­va­sion of Egypt, in the style of a mod­ern war of­fice. On the oth­er hand, it was nat­ural for Nured­din to at­tempt to se­cure Egypt, both be­cause it was the ter­mi­nus of the trad­ing route which ran from Dam­as­cus and be­cause the ac­qui­si­tion of Egypt would en­able him to sur­round the Latin king­dom. For some five years a con­test was waged be­tween Amal­ric and Shir­guh (Shirkuh), the lieu­tenant of Nured­din, for the pos­ses­sion of Egypt. Thrice (1164, 1167, 1168) Amal­ric pen­etrat­ed in­to Egypt: but the con­test end­ed in the es­tab­lish­ment of Sal­adin, the nephew of Shir­guh, as vizier — a po­si­tion which, on the death of the pup­pet caliph in 1171, was turned in­to that of sovereign. The ex­tinc­tion of the Latin king­dom might now seem im­mi­nent; and en­voys were sent to the West with anx­ious ap­peals for as­sis­tance in 1169, 1171 and 1173. But though in 1170 Sal­adin at­tacked the king­dom, and cap­tured Aila on the Red Sea, the dan­ger was not so great as it seemed. Nured­din was jeal­ous of his over-​mighty sub­ject, and his jeal­ousy bound Sal­adin’s hands. This was the po­si­tion of af­fairs when Amal­ric died, in 1174; but, as Nured­din died in the same year, the po­si­tion was soon al­tered and Sal­adin be­gan the fi­nal at­tack on the king­dom. Amal­ric I., the sec­ond of the na­tive kings of Jerusalem, had the qual­ities of his broth­er Bald­win III. (q.v.) He was some­thing of a schol­ar, and it was he who set William of Tyre to work. He was per­haps still more of a lawyer: his de­light was in knot­ty points of the law, and he knew the As­sis­es bet­ter than any of his sub­jects. The Church had some doubts of him, and he laid his hands on the Church. William of Tyre was once as­ton­ished to find him ques­tion­ing, on a bed of sick­ness, the res­ur­rec­tion of the body; and his tax­ation of cler­ical goods gave um­brage to the cler­gy gen­er­al­ly. But he main­tained the state of his king­dom with the re­sources which he owed to the Church; and he is the last in the fine list of the ear­ly kings of Jerusalem.

William of Tyre is our orig­inal au­thor­ity: see xix. 2-3 for his sketch of Amal­ric. Rohricht nar­rates the reign of Amal­ric I., Geschichte des Kon­igre­ichs Jerusalem, c. xvii.-xvi­ii.

Amal­ric II., king from 1197 to 1205, was the broth­er of Guy of Lusig­nan. He had been con­sta­ble of Jerusalem, but in 1194, on the death of his broth­er, he be­came king of Cyprus, as Amal­ric I. He mar­ried Is­abel­la, the daugh­ter of Amal­ric I. by his sec­ond mar­riage, and be­came king of Jerusalem in right of his wife in 1197. In 1198 he was able to pro­cure a five years’ truce with the Ma­hommedans, ow­ing to the strug­gle be­tween Sal­adin’s broth­ers and his sons for the in­her­itance of his ter­ri­to­ries. The truce was dis­turbed by raids on both sides, but in 1204 it was re­newed for six years. Amal­ric died in 1205, just af­ter his son and just be­fore his wife. The king­dom of Cyprus passed to Hugh, his son by an ear­li­er mar­riage, while that of Jerusalem passed to Maria, the daugh­ter of Is­abel­la by her pre­vi­ous mar­riage with Con­rad of Mont­fer­rat. (E. B. R.)

AMAL­RIC (Fr. AMAU­RY) OF BE­NA (d.c. 1204-1207), French the­olo­gian, was born in the lat­ter part of the 12th cen­tu­ry at Be­na, a vil­lage in the dio­cese of Chartres. He taught phi­los­ophy and the­ol­ogy at the uni­ver­si­ty of Paris and en­joyed a great rep­uta­tion as a sub­tle di­alec­ti­cian; his lec­tures de­vel­op­ing the phi­los­ophy of Aris­to­tle at­tract­ed a large cir­cle of hear­ers. In 1204 his doc­trines were con­demned by the uni­ver­si­ty, and, on a per­son­al ap­peal to Pope In­no­cent III., the sen­tence was rat­ified, Amal­ric be­ing or­dered to re­turn to Paris and re­cant his er­rors. His death was caused, it is said, by grief at the hu­mil­ia­tion to which he had been sub­ject­ed. In 1209 ten of his fol­low­ers were burnt be­fore the gates of Paris, and Amal­ric’s own body was ex­humed and burnt and the ash­es giv­en to the winds. The doc­trines of his fol­low­ers, known as the Amalri­cians, were for­mal­ly con­demned by the fourth Lat­er­an Coun­cil in 1215. Amal­ric ap­pears to have de­rived his philo­soph­ical sys­tem from Eri­ge­na (q.v.), whose prin­ci­ples he de­vel­oped in a one-​sid­ed and strong­ly pan­the­is­tic form. Three propo­si­tions on­ly can with cer­tain­ty be at­tribut­ed to him: (1) that God is all; (2) that ev­ery Chris­tian is bound to be­lieve that he is a mem­ber of the body of Christ, and that this be­lief is nec­es­sary for sal­va­tion: (3) that he who re­mains in love of God can com­mit no sin. These three propo­si­tions were fur­ther de­vel­oped by his fol­low­ers, who main­tained that God re­vealed Him­self in a three­fold rev­ela­tion, the first in Abra­ham, mark­ing the epoch of the Fa­ther; the sec­ond in Christ, who be­gan the epoch of the Son; and the third in Amal­ric and his dis­ci­ples, who in­au­gu­rat­ed the era of the Holy Ghost. Un­der the pre­text that a true be­liev­er could com­mit no sin, the Amalri­cians in­dulged in ev­ery ex­cess, and the sect does not ap­pear to have long sur­vived the death of its founder.

See W. Preger, Gleschichte der deutschen Mys­tik im Mit­te­lal­ter (Leipzig, 1874, i. 167-173); Hau­reau, Hist. de la phil. scol. (Paris, 1872); C. Schmidt, Hist. de l’Eglise d’Oc­ci­dent iten­dant le moyen age (Paris, 1885); Hefele, Con­ciliengesch. (2nd ed., Ereiburg, 1886).

AMAL­TEO, the name of an Ital­ian fam­ily be­long­ing to Oder­zo, Tre­vi­so, sev­er­al mem­bers of which were dis­tin­guished in lit­er­ature. The best known are three broth­ers, Geron­imo (1507-1574), Gi­ambat­tista (1525-1573) and Cor­ne­lio (1530-1603), whose Latin po­ems were pub­lished in one col­lec­tion un­der the ti­tle Tri­um Fral­rum Amalthe­orum Carmi­na (Venice, 1627; Amst., 1689). The el­dest broth­er, Geron­imo, was a cel­ebrat­ed physi­cian; the sec­ond, Gi­ambat­tista, ac­com­pa­nied a Vene­tian em­bassy to Eng­land in 1554, and was sec­re­tary to Pius IV. at the coun­cil of Trent; the third, Cor­ne­lio, was a physi­cian and sec­re­tary to the re­pub­lic of Ra­gusa.

AMAL­TEO, POM­PONIO (1505-1584), Ital­ian painter of the Vene­tian school, was born at San Vi­to in Friuli. He was a pupil and son-​in-​law of Por­de­none, whose style he close­ly im­itat­ed. His works con­sist chiefly of fres­coes and al­tar-​pieces and many of them (e.g. in the church of San­ta Maria de’ Bat­tisti, at San Vi­to) have suf­fered great­ly from the rav­ages of time.

AMALTHEIA, in Greek mythol­ogy, the fos­ter-​moth­er of Zeus. She is some­times rep­re­sent­ed as the goat which suck­led the in­fant-​god in a cave in Crete, some­times as a nymph of un­cer­tain parent­age (daugh­ter of Oceanus, Haemo­nius, Olen, Melis­seus), who brought him up on the milk of a goat. This goat hav­ing bro­ken off one of its horns, Amaltheia filled it with flow­ers and fruits and pre­sent­ed it to Zeus, who placed it to­geth­er with the goat amongst the stars. Ac­cord­ing to an­oth­er sto­ry, Zeus him­self broke off the horn and gave it to Amaltheia, promis­ing that it would sup­ply what­ev­er she de­sired in abun­dance. Amaltheia gave it to Acholous (her re­put­ed broth­er), who ex­changed it for his own horn which had been bro­ken off in his con­test with Her­acles for the pos­ses­sion of Deianeira. Ac­cord­ing to an­cient mythol­ogy, the own­ers of the horn were many and var­ious. Speak­ing gen­er­al­ly, it was re­gard­ed as the sym­bol of in­ex­haustible rich­es and plen­ty, and be­came the at­tribute of var­ious di­vini­ties (Hades, Gaea, Deme­ter, Cy­bele, Her­mes), and of rivers (the Nile) as fer­til­iz­ers of the land. The term “horn of Amaltheia” is ap­plied to a fer­tile dis­trict, and an es­tate be­long­ing to Ti­tus Pom­po­nius At­ti­cus was called Amaltheum. Cre­tan coins rep­re­sent the in­fant Zeus be­ing suck­led by the goat; oth­er Greek coins ex­hib­it him sus­pend­ed from its teats or car­ried in the arms of a nymph (Ovid, Fasti, v. 115; Metam. ix. 87).

AMANA, a town­ship in Iowa coun­ty, Iowa, U.S.A., 19 m. S.W. (by rail) of Cedar Rapids. Pop. (1900) 1748; (1910) 1729. It is served by the Chica­go, Mil­wau­kee & St Paul, and the Chica­go, Rock Is­land & Pa­cif­ic rail­ways. The town­ship is the home of a Ger­man re­li­gious com­mu­nis­tic so­ci­ety, the Amana So­ci­ety, for­mer­ly the True In­spi­ra­tion So­ci­ety (so called from its be­lief in the present in­spi­ra­tion of the tru­ly god­ly and per­fect­ly pi­ous), whose mem­bers live in var­ious vil­lages near the Iowa riv­er. These vil­lages are named Amana, West Amana, South Amana, East Amana, Mid­dle Amana, High Amana and Home­stead. The hous­es are of brick or un­paint­ed wood. The so­ci­ety has in all 26,000 acres of land, of which about 10,000 acres are cov­ered with forests. The prin­ci­pal oc­cu­pa­tion of the mem­bers is farm­ing, al­though they al­so have woollen mills (their wool­lens be­ing of su­pe­ri­or qual­ity), a cot­ton print fac­to­ry, flour mills, saw mills and dye shops. Each fam­ily has its own dwelling-​place and a small gar­den; each mem­ber of a fam­ily has an an­nu­al al­lowance of cred­it at the com­mon store and a room in the dwelling-​house; and each group of fam­ilies has a large gar­den, a com­mon kitchen and a com­mon din­ing hall where men and wom­en eat at sep­arate ta­bles. Be­tween the ages of five and four­teen ed­uca­tion is com­pul­so­ry for the en­tire year. In the schools na­ture study and man­ual train­ing are promi­nent; Ger­man is used through­out and En­glish is taught in up­per class­es on­ly. No man is per­mit­ted to mar­ry un­til twen­ty-​four years of age, and no wom­an un­til twen­ty. The so­ci­ety’s views and prac­tices are near­ly re­lat­ed to the teach­ings of Schwenk­feld and Boehme. Bap­tism is not prac­tised; the Lord’s Sup­per is cel­ebrat­ed on­ly once in two years; foot-​wash­ing is held as a sacra­ment. At an an­nu­al spir­itu­al ex­am­ina­tion of the mem­bers, there are mu­tu­al crit­icisms and pub­lic con­fes­sions of sin. The In­spi­ra­tionists are op­posed to war and to tak­ing of oaths. The So­ci­ety be­came at­tached to the Sep­aratist lead­er, Eber­hard Lud­wig Gru­ber (d. 1728) in Wet­ter­au in 1714; in 1842-1844 about 600 mem­bers, led by Chris­tian Metz, the “di­vine in­stru­ment” of the So­ci­ety, em­igrat­ed from Ger­many to the Unit­ed States and set­tled in a colony called Ebenez­er, in Erie coun­ty, near Buf­fa­lo, N.Y.; in 1855 the colony be­gan to re­move to its present home, which it named from the moun­tain men­tioned in the Song of Solomon, iv. 8, the He­brew word mean­ing “re­main true” (or, more prob­ably, “fixed”), and in 1859 it was in­cor­po­rat­ed un­der the, name of the Amana So­ci­ety. Metz died in 1864 and was suc­ceed­ed by Bar­bara Land­mann, since whose death in 1884 the com­mu­ni­ty has lacked an in­spired lead­er. Amana was the strongest in num­bers of the few sec­tar­ian com­mu­ni­ties in Amer­ica which out­lived the 19th cen­tu­ry. A few new mem­bers have joined the com­mu­ni­ty from Switzer­land and Ger­many in re­cent years. In 1905 the com­mu­ni­ty won a suit brought against it for its dis­so­lu­tion on the ground that, hav­ing been in­cor­po­rat­ed sole­ly as a benev­olent and re­li­gious body, it was il­le­gal­ly car­ry­ing on a gen­er­al busi­ness.

See W. R. Perkins and B. L. Wick, His­to­ry of the Amana So­ci­ety or Com­mu­ni­ty of True In­spi­ra­tion, His­tor­ical Mono­graph, No. 1, in State Uni­ver­si­ty of Iowa pub­li­ca­tions (Iowa City, 1891); R. T. Ely, “Amana: A Study of Re­li­gious Com­mu­nism,” in Harp­er’s Mag­azine for Oc­to­ber 1902; and Bertha M. H. Sham­baugh, Amana, the Com­mu­ni­ty of True In­spi­ra­tion (Iowa City, 1908).

AMANI­TA. The aman­itas in­clude some of the most showy rep­re­sen­ta­tives of the Agaricineae or mush­room or­der of fun­gi (q.v.). In the first stages of growth, they are com­plete­ly en­veloped by an out­er cov­er­ing called the veil. As the plant de­vel­ops the veil is rup­tured; the low­er por­tion forms a sheath or vol­va round the base of the stem, while the up­per por­tion per­sists as white patch­es or scales or warts on the sur­face of the cap. The stem usu­al­ly bears an up­per ring of tis­sue, the

Amani­ta mus­caria. A, the young plant. g, the gills. B, the ma­ture plant. a, the an­nu­lus, or rem­nant of C, lon­gi­tu­di­nal sec­tion of ma­ture velum par­tiale. plant. v, re­mains of vol­va or velum p, the pileus. uni­ver­sale. s, the stalk.

re­mains of an in­ner veil, that stretched from the stem to the edge of the cap and broke away from the cap as the lat­ter ex­pand­ed. The pres­ence of the vol­va, and the clear white gills and spores, dis­tin­guish this genus from all oth­er agar­ics. They are beau­ti­ful ob­jects in the au­tumn woods; Amani­ta mus­caria, the fly fun­gus, for­mer­ly known as Agar­icus mus­car­ius, be­ing es­pe­cial­ly re­mark­able by its bright red cap cov­ered with white warts. Oth­ers are pure white or of vary­ing shades of yel­low or green. There are six­teen British species of Amani­ta; they grow on the ground in or near woods. Sev­er­al of the species are very poi­sonous.

AMANU­EN­SIS (a Latin word, de­rived from the phrase servus a manu, slave of the hand, a sec­re­tary), one who writes, from dic­ta­tion or oth­er­wise, on be­half of an­oth­er.

AMA­PALA, the on­ly port on the Pa­cif­ic coast of Hon­duras, on the north­ern shore of Ti­gre is­land, in the Bay of Fon­se­ca (q.v.); in 13 deg. 3, N., and 87 deg. 94 W. Pop. (1905) about 4000. Ama­pala was found­ed in 1838, and its port was opened and de­clared free in 1868. The road­stead is per­fect­ly shel­tered and so deep that the largest ves­sels can lie with­in a few yards of the shore. It is the nat­ural out­let for the com­merce of some of the rich­est parts of Hon­duras, Nicaragua and Sal­vador; and dur­ing the 19th cen­tu­ry it ex­port­ed large quan­ti­ties of gold, sil­ver and oth­er ores, al­though its progress was re­tard­ed by the de­lay in con­struct­ing a transcon­ti­nen­tal rail­way from Puer­to Cortes. Its de­pots on the main­land, both about 30 m. dis­tant,

are La Brea, for the line to Puer­to Cortes, and San Loren­zo, for Tegu­ci­gal­pa. Sil­ver is still ex­port­ed, in ad­di­tion to hides, tim­ber, cof­fee and in­di­go, and there are valu­able fish­eries.

AMA­RANTH, or AMA­RANG (from the Gr. ama­ran­tos, un­with­er­ing), a name chiefly used in po­et­ry, and ap­plied to cer­tain plants which, from not soon fad­ing, typ­ified im­mor­tal­ity. Thus Mil­ton (Par­adise Lost, iii. 353) –

“Im­mor­tal ama­rant, a flow­er which once In par­adise, fast by the tree of life, Be­gan to bloom; but soon for man’s of­fence To heav­en re­moved, where first it grew, there grows, And flow­ers aloft, shad­ing the fount of life, And where the riv­er of bliss through midst of heav­en Rolls o’er elysian flow­ers her am­ber stream: With these that nev­er fade the spir­its elect Bind their re­splen­dent locks.” It should be not­ed that the prop­er spelling of the word is ama­rant; the more com­mon spelling seems to have come from a hazy no­tion that the fi­nal syl­la­ble is the Greek word an­thos, “flow­er,” which en­ters in­to a vast num­ber of botan­ical names.

The plant genus Ama­ran­tus (nat­ural or­der Ama­ran­taceae) con­tains sev­er­al well-​known gar­den plants, such as love-​lies- bleed­ing (A. cau­da­tus), a na­tive of In­dia, a vig­or­ous hardy an­nu­al, with dark pur­plish flow­ers crowd­ed in hand­some droop­ing spikes. An­oth­er species A. hypochon­dri­acus, is prince’s feath­er, an­oth­er In­di­an an­nu­al, with deeply-​veined lance-​shaped leaves, pur­ple on the un­der face, and deep crim­son flow­ers dense­ly packed on erect spikes. “Globe ama­ranth” be­longs to an al­lied genus, Gom­phre­na, and is al­so a na­tive of In­dia. It is an an­nu­al about 18 in. high, with soli­tary round heads of flow­ers; the heads are vi­olet from the colour of the bracts which sur­round the small flow­ers.

In an­cient Greece the ama­ranth (al­so called chru­san­the­mon and elichru­sos) was sa­cred to Eph­esian Artemis. It was sup­posed to have spe­cial heal­ing prop­er­ties, and as a sym­bol of im­mor­tal­ity was used to dec­orate im­ages of the gods and tombs. In leg­end, Amaryn­thus (a form of Ama­ran­tus) was a hunter of Artemis and king of Eu­boea; in a vil­lage of Amaryn­thus, of which he was the epony­mous hero, there was a fa­mous tem­ple of Artemis Amaryn­thia or Amarysia (Stra­bo x. 448; Pau­san. i. 31, p. 5).

See Lenz, Botanik der alt. Gre­ich. und Rom. (1859); J. Murr, Die Pflanzen­welt in der griech. Mythol. (1890).

AMA­RA­PU­RA (“the city of the gods”), for­mer­ly the cap­ital of the Burmese king­dom, now a sub­urb of Man­dalay, Bur­ma, with a pop­ula­tion in 1901 of 9103. The town was found­ed in 1783 to form a new cap­ital about 6 m. to the north-​east of Ava. It in­creased rapid­ly in size and pop­ula­tion, and in 1810 was es­ti­mat­ed to con­tain 170,000 in­hab­itants; but in that year the town was de­stroyed by fire, and this dis­as­ter, to­geth­er with the re­moval of the na­tive court to Ava in 1823, caused a de­cline in the pros­per­ity of the place. In 1827 its pop­ula­tion was es­ti­mat­ed at on­ly 30,000. It suf­fered se­vere calami­ty from an earth­quake, which in 1839 de­stroyed the greater part of the city. It was fi­nal­ly aban­doned in 1860, when king Min­don oc­cu­pied Man­dalay, 5 or 6 m. far­ther north. Ama­ra­pu­ra was laid out on much the same plan as Ava. The ru­ins of the city wall, now over­grown with jun­gle, show it to have been a square with a side of about three-​quar­ters of a mile in length. At each cor­ner stood a sol­id brick pago­da about 100 ft. high. The most re­mark­able ed­ifice was a cel­ebrat­ed tem­ple, adorned with 250 lofty pil­lars of gilt wood, and con­tain­ing a colos­sal bronze stat­ue of Bud­dha. The re­mains of the for­mer palace of the Burmese monar­chs still sur­vive in the cen­tre of the town. Dur­ing the time of its pros­per­ity Ama­ra­pu­ra was de­fend­ed by a ram­part and a large square citadel, with a broad moat, the walls be­ing 7000 ft. long and 20 ft. high, with a bas­tion at each cor­ner. The Bur­mans know it now as My­ohaung, “the old city.” It has a sta­tion on the Ran­goon-​Man­dalay rail­way, and is the junc­tion for the line to Maymyo and the Kun­long fer­ry and for the Sagaing-​My­itky­ina rail­way. The group of vil­lages called Ama­ra­pu­ra by Eu­ro­peans is known to the Bur­mans as Taung-​myo, “the south­ern city,” as dis­tin­guished from Man­dalay, the Myauk-​myo, or “north­ern city,” 3 m. dis­tant.

AMA­RAR, a tribe of African “Arabs” in­hab­it­ing the moun­tain­ous coun­try on the west side of the Red Sea from Suakin north­wards to­wards Kos­seir. Be­tween them and the Nile are the Abab­da and Bisharin tribes and to their south dwell the Haden­doa. The coun­try of the Ama­rar is called the Et­bai. Their head­quar­ters are in the Ariab dis­trict. The tribe is di­vid­ed in­to four great famines: (1) Weled Gwilei, (2) Weled Aliab, (3) Woled Kurbab Wa­gadab, and (4) the Ama­rar prop­er of the Ariab dis­trict. They claim to be of Ko­reish blood and to be the de­scen­dants of an in­vad­ing Arab army. Pos­si­bly some small bands of Ko­reish Arabs may have made an in­road and con­vert­ed some of the Ama­rar to Is­lam. Fur­ther than this there is lit­tle to sub­stan­ti­ate their claim.

See An­glo-​Egyp­tian Su­dan, edit­ed by Count Gle­ichen (Lon­don, 1905): Sir F. R. Wingate, Mahdism and the Egyp­tian Su­dan (Lon­don, 1891); A. H. Keane, Eth­nol­ogy of Egyp­tian Su­dan (Lon­don, 1884).

AMA­RA SIN­HA (c. A.D. 375), San­skrit gram­mar­ian and po­et, of whose per­son­al his­to­ry hard­ly any­thing is known. He is said to have been “one of the nine gems that adorned the throne of Vikra­ma­ditya,” and ac­cord­ing to the ev­idence of Hsuan Tsang, this is the Chan­dragup­ta Vikra­ma­ditya that flour­ished about A.D. 375. Ama­ra seems to have been a Bud­dhist; and an ear­ly tra­di­tion as­serts that his works, with one ex­cep­tion, were de­stroyed dur­ing the per­se­cu­tion car­ried on by the or­tho­dox Brah­mins in the 5th cen­tu­ry. The ex­cep­tion is the cel­ebrat­ed Ama­ra-​Xosha (Trea­sury of Ama­ra), a vo­cab­ulary of San­skrit roots, in three books, and hence some­times called Trikan­da or the “Tri­par­tite.” It con­tains 10,000 words, and is ar­ranged, like oth­er works of its class, in me­tre, to aid the mem­ory. The first chap­ter of the Kosha was print­ed at Rome in Tamil char­ac­ter in 1798. An edi­tion of the en­tire work, with En­glish notes and an in­dex by H. T. Cole­brooke, ap­peared at Ser­am­pore in 1808. The San­skrit text was print­ed at Cal­cut­ta in 1831. A French trans­la­tion by A. L. A. Loise­leur-​Des­longchamps as pub­lished at Paris in 1839.

AMARI, MICHELE (1806-1889), Ital­ian ori­en­tal­ist and pa­tri­ot, was born at Paler­mo. From his ear­li­est youth he im­bibed lib­er­al prin­ci­ples from his rel­atives, es­pe­cial­ly from his grand­fa­ther, and al­though at the age of four­teen he was ap­point­ed clerk in the Bour­bon civ­il ser­vice, he joined the Car­bonari like many oth­er young Si­cil­ians and ac­tive­ly sym­pa­thized with the rev­olu­tion of 1820. The move­ment, which was sep­aratist in its ten­den­cies, was quick­ly sup­pressed, but the con­spir­acies con­tin­ued, and Amari’s fa­ther, im­pli­cat­ed in that of 1822, was ar­rest­ed and con­demned to death to­geth­er with many oth­ers; but his sen­tence was com­mut­ed to im­pris­on­ment, and in 1834 he was lib­er­at­ed. Michele Amari still held his clerk­ship, but he re­gard­ed the Neapoli­tan gov­ern­ment with in­creas­ing ha­tred, and he led a life of ac­tive phys­ical ex­er­cise to train him­self for the day of rev­olu­tion. He de­vot­ed much of his time to the study of En­glish and of his­to­ry; his first lit­er­ary es­say was a trans­la­tion of Sir Wal­ter Scott’s Marmion (1832), and in 1839 he pub­lished a work on the Si­cil­ian Ves­pers, en­ti­tled Hn Pe­ri­odo delle sto­rie Si­cil­iane del XI­II. se­co­lo, filled with po­lit­ical al­lu­sions re­flect­ing un­favourably on the gov­ern­ment. The book had an im­me­di­ate suc­cess and went through many edi­tions, but it brought the au­thor un­der the sus­pi­cion of the au­thor­ities, and in 1842 he es­caped from a boat just as he was about to be ar­rest­ed. He set­tled in Paris, where he came in con­tact with a num­ber of lit­er­ary men, such as Michelet and Thier­ry, as well as with the Ital­ian ex­iles. Hav­ing no pri­vate means he had to earn a pre­car­ious liveli­hood by lit­er­ature. He was much struck with cer­tain French trans­la­tions of Ara­bic works on Sici­ly,which awoke in him a de­sire to read the au­thors in the orig­inal. With the as­sis­tance of Prof. Rein­aud and Baron de Slane he soon ac­quired great pro­fi­cien­cy in Ara­bic, and his trans­la­tions and edi­tions of ori­en­tal texts, as well as his his­tor­ical es­says, made him a rep­uta­tion. In 1844 he be­gan his great work La Sto­ria dei Musul­mani in Si­cil­ia, but the rev­olu­tion of 1848 plunged him in­to pol­itics once more. His pam­phlet, Quelques Ob­ser­va­tions sur le droit pub­lic de la Sicile, ad­vo­cat­ing the re­vival of the 1812 con­sti­tu­tion for the is­land, met with great suc­cess, and on ar­riv­ing at Paler­mo,

whence the Bour­bon gov­ern­ment had been ex­pelled, he was cho­sen mem­ber of the war com­mit­tee and ap­point­ed pro­fes­sor of pub­lic law at the uni­ver­si­ty. At the gen­er­al elec­tions Amari was re­turned for Paler­mo and be­came min­is­ter of fi­nance in the Sta­bile cab­inet. On its fall he was sent to Paris and Lon­don to try to ob­tain help for the strug­gling is­land; hav­ing failed in his mis­sion he re­turned to Sici­ly in 1849, hop­ing to fight. But the Neapoli­tan troops had re-​oc­cu­pied the is­land, the Lib­er­als were in dis­agree­ment among them­selves, and Amari with sev­er­al oth­er no­ta­bles with dif­fi­cul­ty es­caped to Mal­ta. Char­ac­ter­is­tic of his schol­ar­ly na­ture is the fact that he de­layed his flight to take the im­press of an im­por­tant Ara­bic in­scrip­tion. He re­turned to Paris, sad and de­ject­ed at the col­lapse of the move­ment, and de­vot­ed him­self once more to his Ara­bic stud­ies. He pub­lished a work on the chronol­ogy of the Ko­ran, for which he re­ceived a prize from the Academie des In­scrip­tions, edit­ed the Sol­wan el Mo­ta by Ibn Zafer (a cu­ri­ous col­lec­tion of philo­soph­ical thoughts) and Ibn Haukal’s De­scrip­tion og Paler­mo, and in 1854 the first vol­ume of his his­to­ry of the Ma­hommedans in Sici­ly ap­peared. He re­ceived a mea­gre stipend for cat­alogu­ing the Ara­bic MSS. in the Bib­lio­theque Na­tionale, and he con­tribut­ed many ar­ti­cles to the re­views. Al­though a firm friend of Mazz­ini, he dis­cour­aged the lat­ter’s pre­ma­ture con­spir­acies. In 1859, af­ter the ex­pul­sion of the cen­tral Ital­ian despots, Amari was ap­point­ed pro­fes­sor of Ara­bic at Pisa and af­ter­wards at Flo­rence. But when Garibal­di and his thou­sand had con­quered Sici­ly, Amari re­turned to his na­tive is­land, and was giv­en an ap­point­ment in the gov­ern­ment. Al­though in­tense­ly Si­cil­ian in sen­ti­ment, he be­came one of the staunch­est ad­vo­cates of the union of Sici­ly with Italy, and was sub­se­quent­ly made sen­ator of the king­dom at Cavour’s in­stance. He was min­is­ter of ed­uca­tion in the Fari­ni and Minghet­ti cab­inets, but on the fall of the lat­ter in 1864, he re­sumed his pro­fes­sor­ship at Flo­rence and spent the rest of his life in study. His cir­cle of ac­quain­tances, both in Italy and abroad, was very large, and his sound schol­ar­ship was ap­pre­ci­at­ed in all coun­tries. He died in 1889, load­ed with hon­ours. The last vol­ume of his Sto­ria dei Musul­mani ap­peared in 1873, and in ad­di­tion to the above-​men­tioned works he pub­lished many oth­ers on ori­en­tal and his­tor­ical sub­jects. His work on the Si­cil­ian Ves­pers was re-​writ­ten as La Guer­ra dei Vespro (9th ed., Mi­lan, 1886). He was the pi­oneer of Ara­bic stud­ies in mod­ern Italy, and he still re­mains the stan­dard au­thor­ity on the Mus­sul­man dom­ina­tion in Sici­ly, though his judg­ment on re­li­gious ques­tions is some­times warped by a vi­olent­ly an­ti-​cler­ical bias.

See A. D’An­cona, Carteg­gio di Michele Amari coll’ el­ogio di lui (Turin, 1896); and Oreste Tom­masi­ni’s es­say in his Scrit­ti di sto­ri­al e crit­ica (Rome, 189I). (L. V.n)

AMARYL­LIS (the name of a girl in clas­si­cal pas­toral po­et­ry), in botany, a genus of the nat­ural or­der Amaryl­li­daceae, con­tain­ing the bel­ladon­na lily (Amaryl­lis Bel­ladon­na), a na­tive of South Africa, which was in­tro­duced in­to cul­ti­va­tion at the be­gin­ning of the 18th cen­tu­ry. This is a half-​hardy bul­bous plant, pro­duc­ing in the spring a num­ber of strap-​shaped, dull green leaves, 1-1 1/2 ft. long, ar­ranged in two rows, and in au­tumn a sol­id stem, bear­ing at the top a clus­ter of 6-12 fun­nel-​shaped flow­ers, of a rose colour and very fra­grant. Sev­er­al forms are known in cul­ti­va­tion. Most of the so-​called Amaryl­lis of gar­dens be­long to the al­lied genus Hip­peas­trum (q.v.).

AMA­SIA (anc. Ama­sia), the chief town of a san­jak in the Sivas vi­layet of Asia Mi­nor and an im­por­tant trade cen­tre on the Sam­sun-​Sivas road, beau­ti­ful­ly sit­uat­ed on the Yeshil Ir­mak (Iris). Pop. 30,000; Moslems about 20,000, of whom a large pro­por­tion are Kizil­bash (Shia); Chris­tians (most­ly Ar­me­ni­ans), 10,000. It was one of the chief towns of the king­dom of Tre­bi­zond and of the Seljuks, one of whose sul­tans, Kaikobad I., en­riched it with fine build­ings and re­stored the cas­tle, which was thus en­abled to stand a sev­en months’ siege by Timur. It was al­so much favoured by the ear­ly Os­man­li sul­tans, one of whom, Sclim I., was born there. Bayezid II. built a fine mosque. The place was mod­ern­ized about a gen­er­ation ago by Zia Pasha, the po­et, when gov­er­nor, and is now an un­usu­al­ly well built Turk­ish town with good bazaar and khans and a fine clock-​tow­er. The Amer­icans and the Je­suits have mis­sion­ary schools for the Ar­me­ni­an pop­ula­tion. Ama­sia has ex­ten­sive or­chards and fruit gar­dens still, as in Ibn Batu­ta’s time, ir­ri­gat­ed by wa­ter wheels turned by the cur­rent of the riv­er; and there are steam flour­mills. Wheat, flour and silk are ex­port­ed.

An­cient Ama­sia has left lit­tle trace of it­self ex­cept on the cas­tle rock, on the left of the riv­er, where the acrop­olis walls and a num­ber of splen­did rock-​cut tombs, de­scribed by Stra­bo as those of the kings of Pon­tus, can be seen. The cliff is cut away all round these im­mense sepul­chres so that they stand free. The finest, known from its pol­ished sur­faces as the “Mir­ror Tomb,” is about 2 m. from the mod­ern city. Ama­sia rose in­to his­tor­ical im­por­tance af­ter the time of Alexan­der as the cra­dle of the pow­er of Pon­tus; but the last king to reign there was the fa­ther of Mithra­dates Eu­pa­tor “The Great.” The lat­ter, how­ev­er, made it the base of his op­er­ations against the Ro­mans in 89, 72 and 67 B.C. Pom­pey made it a free city in 65, af­ter Mithra­dates’ fall. It was the birth­place of Stra­bo. (D. G. H.)

AMA­SIS, or AMO­SIS (the Greek forms of the Egyp­tian name Ah­mase, Ah­mosi, “the moon is born,” of­ten writ­ten Aahmes or Ahmes in mod­ern works), the name of two kings of an­cient Egypt.

AMA­SIS I., the founder of the XVI­IIth dy­nasty, is fa­mous for his suc­cess­ful wars against the Hyk­sos princes who still ruled in the north-​east of the Delta (see EGYPT: His­to­ry, sect. 1.)

AMA­SIS II. was the last great ruler of Egypt be­fore the Per­sian con­quest, 570-526 B.C. Most of our in­for­ma­tion about him is de­rived from Herodotus (ii. 161 et seq.) and can on­ly be im­per­fect­ly con­trolled by mon­umen­tal ev­idence. Ac­cord­ing to the Greek his­to­ri­an he was of mean ori­gin. A re­volt of the na­tive sol­diers gave him his op­por­tu­ni­ty. These troops, re­turn­ing home from a dis­as­trous ex­pe­di­tion to Cyrene, sus­pect­ed that they had been be­trayed in or­der that Apries, the reign­ing king, might rule more ab­so­lute­ly by means of his mer­ce­nar­ies, and their friends in Egypt ful­ly sym­pa­thized with them. Ama­sis, sent to meet them and quell the re­volt, was pro­claimed king by the rebels, and Apries, who had now to re­ly en­tire­ly on his mer­ce­nar­ies, was de­feat­ed and tak­en pris­on­er in the en­su­ing con­flict at Mo­mem­phis; the usurp­er treat­ed the cap­tive prince with great leni­ty, but was even­tu­al­ly per­suad­ed to give him up to the peo­ple, by whom he was stran­gled and buried in his an­ces­tral tomb at Sais. An in­scrip­tion con­firms the fact of the strug­gle be­tween the na­tive and the for­eign sol­diery, and proves that Apries was killed and hon­ourably buried in the 3rd year of Ama­sis. Al­though Ama­sis thus ap­pears first as cham­pi­on of the dis­par­aged na­tive, he had the good sense to cul­ti­vate the friend­ship of the Greek world, and brought Egypt in­to clos­er touch with it than ev­er be­fore. Herodotus re­lates that un­der his pru­dent ad­min­is­tra­tion Egypt reached the high­est pitch of pros­per­ity; he adorned the tem­ples of Low­er Egypt es­pe­cial­ly with splen­did mono­lith­ic shrines and oth­er mon­uments (his ac­tiv­ity here is proved by re­mains still ex­ist­ing). To the Greeks Ama­sis as­signed the com­mer­cial colony of Nau­cratis on the Canopic branch of the Nile, and when the tem­ple of Del­phi was burnt he con­tribut­ed 1000 tal­ents to the re­build­ing. He al­so mar­ried a Greek princess named Ladice, the daugh­ter of Bat­tus, king of Cyrene, and he made al­liances with Poly­crates of Samos and Croe­sus of Ly­dia. His king­dom con­sist­ed prob­ably of Egypt on­ly, as far as the First Cataract, but to this he added Cyprus, and his in­flu­ence was great in Cyrene. At the be­gin­ning of his long reign, be­fore the death of Apries, he ap­pears to have sus­tained an at­tack by Neb­uchadrez­zar (568 B.C.). Cyrus left Egypt un­mo­lest­ed; but the last years of Ama­sis were dis­turbed by the threat­ened in­va­sion of Cam­by­ses and by the rup­ture of the al­liance with Poly­crates of Samos. The blow fell up­on his son Psam­metichus III., whom the Per­sian de­prived of his king­dom af­ter a reign of on­ly six months.

See NAU­CRATIS: al­so W. M. Flinders Petrie, His­to­ry, vol. iii.; Breast­ed, His­to­ry and His­tor­ical Doc­uments, vol. iv. p. 509; Maspero, Les Em­pires. (F. LL. G.)

AM­ATEUR (Lat. am­ator, lover), a per­son who takes part in any art, craft, game or sport for the sake of the plea­sure af­ford­ed

by the oc­cu­pa­tion it­self and not for pe­cu­niary gain. Be­ing thus a per­son for whom the pur­suit in ques­tion is a recre­ation and not a busi­ness, and who there­fore pre­sum­ably de­votes to it a por­tion on­ly of his leisure and not his work­ing hours, the av­er­age am­ateur pos­sess­es less skill than the av­er­age pro­fes­sion­al, whose liveli­hood and rep­uta­tion de­pend on his pro­fi­cien­cy, and who there­fore con­cen­trates all his en­er­gies on the task of at­tain­ing the great­est pos­si­ble mas­tery in his cho­sen ca­reer. In the arts, such as mu­sic, paint­ing and the dra­ma, the best am­ateurs are out­dis­tanced as ex­ecu­tants not mere­ly by the best pro­fes­sion­als but by pro­fes­sion­als far be­low the high­est rank; and al­though the in­fe­ri­or­ity of the am­ateur is not per­haps so pro­nounced or so uni­ver­sal in the case of games and out­door sports, the records of such pas­times as horse-​rac­ing, box­ing, row­ing, bil­liards, ten­nis and golf prove that here al­so the same con­trast is gen­er­al­ly to be found. Hence it has come about that the term “am­ateur,” and more es­pe­cial­ly the ad­jec­ti­val deriva­tive “am­ateur­ish,” has ac­quired a sec­ondary mean­ing, usu­al­ly em­ployed some­what con­temp­tu­ous­ly, sig­ni­fy­ing in­ef­fi­cien­cy, un­skil­ful­ness, su­per­fi­cial knowl­edge or train­ing.

The im­mense in­crease in pop­ular­ity of ath­let­ic con­tests and games of all kinds in mod­ern times, and es­pe­cial­ly the keen com­pe­ti­tion for “records” and cham­pi­onships, of­ten of an in­ter­na­tion­al char­ac­ter, have made it a mat­ter of im­por­tance to ar­rive at a clear and for­mal def­ini­tion of the am­ateur as dis­tin­guished from the pro­fes­sion­al. The sim­ple, straight­for­ward def­ini­tion of the am­ateur giv­en above has been proved to be eas­ily evad­ed. Many lead­ing crick­eters, for ex­am­ple, pre­serve their am­ateur sta­tus who, al­though they are not paid wages for each match they play like their pro­fes­sion­al col­leagues, are pro­vid­ed with an an­nu­al in­come by their coun­ty or club un­der the guise of salary for per­form­ing the du­ties of “sec­re­tary” or some oth­er of­fice, leav­ing them free to play the game six days a week. Sim­ilar­ly, “gen­tle­men rid­ers” are of­ten pre­sent­ed with a cash pay­ment de­scribed as a bet, or un­der some oth­er pre­text. Nor is the di­vid­ing-​line be­tween “out-​of-​pock­et ex­pens­es” al­lowed to the am­ateur and the re­mu­ner­ation payable to the pro­fes­sion­al al­ways strict­ly drawn. The var­ious as­so­ci­ations con­trol­ling the dif­fer­ent branch­es of sport have there­fore de­vised work­ing reg­ula­tions to be ob­served so far as their ju­ris­dic­tion ex­tends. Thus the Am­ateur Ath­let­ic As­so­ci­ation of Great Britain de­fines an am­ateur as “one who has nev­er com­pet­ed for a mon­ey prize or staked bet, or with or against a pro­fes­sion­al for any prize, or who has nev­er taught, pur­sued or as­sist­ed in the prac­tice of ath­let­ic ex­er­cis­es as a means of ob­tain­ing a liveli­hood.” The rules of the Am­ateur Row­ing As­so­ci­ation are stricter, deny­ing am­ateur sta­tus to any­one who has ev­er steered or rowed in a race with a pro­fes­sion­al for any prize, or who is or has been by trade or em­ploy­ment for wages a me­chan­ic, ar­ti­san or labour­er, or en­gaged in any me­nial du­ty, be­sides in­sist­ing up­on the usu­al re­stric­tions in re­gard to tak­ing mon­ey and com­pet­ing with pro­fes­sion­als. In as­so­ci­ation foot­ball the rules are much more lax, for al­though am­ateurs are clear­ly dis­tin­guished from pro­fes­sion­als, an am­ateur may even be­come a reg­ular mem­ber, though un­salaried, of a pro­fes­sion­al team with­out los­ing his am­ateur sta­tus. The Rug­by game was, up to 1895, en­tire­ly con­trolled by the Rug­by Foot­ball Union, which, by the strict­ness of its laws, ef­fec­tu­al­ly pre­vent­ed the growth of pro­fes­sion­al­ism, but there had been much dis­sat­is­fac­tion in the provinces with the Union’s de­ci­sion against re­im­burs­ing day- work­ing play­ers for “bro­ken time,” i.e. for that part of their wages which they lost by play­ing on work­ing days, and this re­sult­ed in the for­ma­tion (1895) of the North­ern Union, which per­mits re­mu­ner­ation for “bro­ken time,” but al­lows no per­son who works for his liv­ing to play foot­ball un­less reg­ular­ly em­ployed at his par­tic­ular trade.

In Amer­ica the am­ateur ques­tion is less com­pli­cat­ed than in Great Britain; but the in­tense­ly busi­ness-​like char­ac­ter of Amer­ican ideas of sport has en­cour­aged the mod­ern spir­it of pro­fes­sion­al­ism. All im­por­tant sports in Amer­ica, ex­cept base­ball, foot­ball, crick­et, golf and row­ing, are, how­ev­er, un­der the con­trol of the Am­ateur Ath­let­ic Union of the Unit­ed States, the rules of which, so far as they re­late to pro­fes­sion­al­ism, are as fol­lows. No per­son shall be el­igi­ble to com­pete in any ath­let­ic meet­ing, game or en­ter­tain­ment, giv­en or sanc­tioned by this Union, who has (1) re­ceived or com­pet­ed for com­pen­sa­tion or re­ward in any form for the dis­play, ex­er­cise or ex­am­ple of his skill or knowl­edge of any ath­let­ic ex­er­cise, or for ren­der­ing per­son­al ser­vice of any kind to any ath­let­ic or­ga­ni­za­tion, or for be­com­ing or con­tin­uing a mem­ber of any ath­let­ic or­ga­ni­za­tion; or (2) has en­tered any com­pe­ti­tion un­der a name oth­er than his own, or from a club of which he was not at that time a mem­ber in good stand­ing; or (3) has know­ing­ly en­tered any com­pe­ti­tion open to any pro­fes­sion­al or pro­fes­sion­als, or has know­ing­ly com­pet­ed with any pro­fes­sion­al for any prize or to­ken; or (4) has is­sued or al­lowed to be is­sued in his be­half any chal­lenge to com­pete against any pro­fes­sion­al or for mon­ey; or (5) has pawned, bartered or sold any prize won in ath­let­ic com­pe­ti­tion. It will be seen that by rule 3 the Amer­ican Union en­acts a stan­dard for all ath­letes not much dif­fer­ent from that of the British Am­ateur Row­ing As­so­ci­ation. The rules for the sports not with­in the Union’s ju­ris­dic­tion are prac­ti­cal­ly the same, ex­cept that in base­ball, crick­et and golf am­ateurs may com­pete with pro­fes­sion­als, though not for cash prizes. In the case of open golf com­pe­ti­tions pro­fes­sion­al prize-​win­ners re­ceive cash, while am­ateurs are giv­en plate to the val­ue of their prizes as in Great Britain. There are prac­ti­cal­ly no pro­fes­sion­al foot­ball play­ers in Amer­ica.

On both sides of the At­lantic the ques­tion of the em­ploy­ment of pro­fes­sion­al coach­es has oc­ca­sioned much dis­cus­sion. In Amer­ica it has been ac­cept­ed as le­gal. In Eng­land the same is al­most uni­ver­sal­ly true, but there are cer­tain ex­cep­tions, such as the de­ci­sion of the Hen­ley Re­gat­ta Com­mit­tee, that no crew en­ter­ing may be coached by a pro­fes­sion­al with­in two months of the race-​day. Whether such a reg­ula­tion be wise or the re­verse is a ques­tion that de­pends up­on the spir­it in which games are re­gard­ed. No­body wants to dis­par­age pro­fi­cien­cy; but if a game is con­duct­ed on busi­ness meth­ods, the “game” el­ement tends to be min­imized, and if its ob­ject is pe­cu­niary it ceas­es to be “sport” in the old sense, and the old idea of the “am­ateur” who in­dulges in it for love of the mere en­joy­ment tends to dis­ap­pear.

AM­ATH­US, an an­cient city of Cyprus, on the S. coast, about 24 m. W. of Lar­na­ka and 6 m. E. of Li­mas­sol, among sandy hills and sand-​dunes, which per­haps ex­plain its name in Greek (am­ath­os, sand). The ear­li­est re­mains hith­er­to found on the site are tombs of the ear­ly Iron Age pe­ri­od of Grae­co-​Phoeni­cian in­flu­ences (1000-600 B.C.). Am­ath­us is iden­ti­fied by some (E. Ober­hum­mer, Die In­sel Cypern, i., 1902, pp. 13-14; but see CITIUM) with Kar­ti­hadasti (Phoeni­cian “New-​Town”) in the Cypri­ote trib­ute-​list of Esarhad­don of As­syr­ia (668 B.C.). It cer­tain­ly main­tained strong Phoeni­cian sym­pa­thies, for it was its re­fusal to join the phil-​Hel­lene league of One­si­las of Salamis which pro­voked the re­volt of Cyprus from Per­sia in 500-494 B.C. (Herod. v. 105), when Am­ath­us was be­sieged un­suc­cess­ful­ly and avenged it­self by the cap­ture and ex­ecu­tion of One­si­las. The phil-​Hel­lene Evago­ras of Salamis was sim­ilar­ly op­posed by Am­ath­us about 385-380 B.C. in con­junc­tion with Citium and Soli (Diod. Sic. xiv. 98); and even af­ter Alexan­der the city re­sist­ed an­nex­ation, and was bound over to give hostages to Se­leu­cus (Diod. Sic. xix. 62). Its po­lit­ical im­por­tance now end­ed, but its tem­ple of Ado­nis and Aphrodite (Venus Am­ath­usia) re­mained fa­mous in Ro­man time.

The wealth of Am­ath­us was de­rived part­ly from its corn (Stra­bo 340, quot­ing Hip­pon­ax, fi. 540 B.C.), part­ly from its cop­per mines (Ovid, Met. x. 220, 531), of which traces can be seen in­land (G. Mar­iti, i. 187; L. Ross, In­sel­reise, iv. 195; W. H. En­gel, Kypros, i. 111 ff.). Ovid al­so men­tions its sheep (Met. x. 227); the ep­ithet Am­ath­usia in Ro­man po­et­ry of­ten means lit­tle more than “Cypri­ote,” at­test­ing how­ev­er the fame of the city.

Am­ath­us still flour­ished and pro­duced a dis­tin­guished pa­tri­arch of Alexan­dria (Jo­hannes Eleemon), as late as 606-616, and a ru­ined Byzan­tine church marks the site; but it was al­ready

al­most de­sert­ed when Richard Coeur de Li­on won Cyprus by a vic­to­ry there over Isaac Com­nenus in 1191. The rich necrop­olis, al­ready part­ly plun­dered then, has yield­ed valu­able works of art to New York (L. P. di Ces­no­la, Cyprus, 1878 pas­sim) and to the British Mu­se­um (Ex­ca­va­tions in Cyprus, 1894 (1899) pas­sim); but the city has van­ished, ex­cept frag­ments of wall and of a great stone cis­tern on the acrop­olis. A sim­ilar ves­sel was trans­port­ed to the Lou­vre in 1867. Two small sanc­tu­ar­ies, with ter­ra-​cot­ta vo­tive of­fer­ings of Grae­co-​Phoeni­cian age, lie not far off, but the great shrine of Ado­nis and Aphrodite has not been iden­ti­fied (M. Ohne­falsch-​Richter, Kypros, i. ch.1). (J. L. M.)

AM­ATI, the name of a fam­ily of Ital­ian vi­olin-​mak­ers, who flour­ished at Cre­mona from about 1550 to 1692. Ac­cord­ing to Fetis, An­drea and Ni­co­lo Am­ati, two broth­ers, were the first Ital­ians who made vi­olins. They were suc­ceed­ed by An­to­nio and Geron­imo, sons of Ni­co­lo. An­oth­er Ni­co­lo, son of Geron­imo, was born on the 3rd of Septem­ber 1596 and died on the 12th of Au­gust 1684. He was the most em­inent of the fam­ily. He im­proved the mod­el adopt­ed by the rest of the Am­atis and pro­duced in­stru­ments ca­pa­ble of yield­ing greater pow­er of tone. His pat­tern was usu­al­ly small, but he al­so made the so-​called “Grand Am­atis.” Of his pupils the most fa­mous were An­drea Enam­ieri and An­to­nio Stradi­vari.

AM­ATI­TLAN, or SAN JUAN DE AM­ATI­TLAN, the cap­ital of a de­part­ment bear­ing the same name in Guatemala, on Lake Am­ati­tlan, 15 m. S.W. of Guatemala city by the transcon­ti­nen­tal rail­way from Puer­to Bar­rios to San Jose. Pop. (1905) about 10,000. The town con­sists al­most en­tire­ly of one-​storeyed adobe huts in­hab­it­ed by mu­lat­toes and In­di­ans, whose chief in­dus­try is the pro­duc­tion of cochineal. In 1840 on­ly a small In­di­an vil­lage marked its site, and its sub­se­quent growth was due to the sug­ar plan­ta­tions es­tab­lished by a Je­suit set­tle­ment. The wells of the town are strong­ly im­preg­nat­ed with salt and alum, and in the vicin­ity there are sev­er­al hot springs. Lake Am­ati­tlan, 9 m. long and 3 m. broad, lies on the north­ern side of the great Guatemalan Cordillera. Above it ris­es the four- cratered vol­cano of Pacaya (8390 ft.), which was in erup­tion in 1870. The out­let of the lake is a swift riv­er 65 m. long, which cuts a way through the Cordillera, and en­ters the Pa­cif­ic at Istapa, af­ter form­ing at San Pe­dro a fine wa­ter­fall more than 200 ft. high.

AMAU­RO­SIS (Gr. for “blind­ing,”), a term for “de­pri­va­tion of sight,” lim­it­ed chiefly to those forms of de­fect or loss of vi­sion which are caused by dis­eases not di­rect­ly in­volv­ing the eye.

AMA­ZON, the great riv­er of South Amer­ica. Be­fore the con­quest of South Amer­ica, the Rio de las Ama­zonas had no gen­er­al name; for, ac­cord­ing to a com­mon cus­tom, each sav­age tribe gave a name on­ly to the sec­tion of the riv­er which it oc­cu­pied — such as Paranaguazu, Guy­er­ma, Sclimoes and oth­ers. In the year 1500, Vi­cente Yanez Pin­zon, in com­mand of a Span­ish ex­pe­di­tion, dis­cov­ered and as­cend­ed the Ama­zon to a point about 50 m. from the sea. He called it the Rio San­ta Maria de la Mar Dulce, which soon be­came ab­bre­vi­at­ed to Mar Dulce, and for some years, af­ter 1502, it was known as the Rio Grande. The prin­ci­pal com­pan­ions of Pin­zon, in giv­ing ev­idence in 1513, men­tion it as El Ryo Ha­ra­non. There is much con­tro­ver­sy about the ori­gin of the word Mara­non. Pe­ter Mar­tyr in a let­ter to Lope Hur­ta­do de Men­doza in 1513 is the first to state that it is of na­tive ori­gin. Ten years af­ter the death of Pin­zon, his friend Oviedo calls it the Mara­non. Many writ­ers be­lieve that this was its In­di­an name. We are dis­posed to agree with the Brazil­ian his­to­ri­an Con­stan­cio that Mara­non is de­rived from the Span­ish word marana, a tan­gle, a snarl, which well rep­re­sents the be­wil­der­ing dif­fi­cul­ties which the ear­li­er ex­plor­ers met in nav­igat­ing not on­ly the en­trance to the Ama­zon, but the whole is­land-​bor­dered, riv­er-​cut and in­dent­ed coast of the now Brazil­ian province of Maran­hao.

The first de­scent of the mighty artery from the An­des to the sea was made by Orel­lana in 1541, and the name Ama­zonas aris­es from the bat­tle which he had with a tribe of Tapuya sav­ages where the wom­en of the tribe fought along­side the men, as was the cus­tom among all of the Tapuyas. Orel­lana, no doubt, de­rived the name Ama­zonas from the an­cient Ama­zons (q.v.) of Asia and Africa de­scribed by Herodotu­sand Diodor­us.

The first as­cent of the riv­er was made in 1638 by Pe­dro Tex­iera, a Por­tuguese, who re­versed the route of Orel­lana and reached Quito by way of the Rio Napo. He re­turned in 1639 with the Je­suit fa­thers Acu­na and Artie­da, del­egat­ed by the viceroy of Pe­ru to ac­com­pa­ny him.

The riv­er Ama­zon has a drainage area of 2,722,000 sq. m., if the To­cantins be in­clud­ed in its basin. It drains four-​tenths of South Amer­ica, and it gath­ers its wa­ters from 5 deg. N. to 20 deg. S. lat­itude. Its most re­mote sources are found on the in­ter-​An­dean plateau, but a short dis­tance from the Pa­cif­ic Ocean; and, af­ter a course of about 4000 m. through the in­te­ri­or of Pe­ru and across Brazil, it en­ters the At­lantic Ocean on the equa­tor. It is gen­er­al­ly ac­cept­ed by ge­og­ra­phers that the Mara­non, or Up­per Ama­zon, ris­es in the lit­tle lake, Lau­ric­ocha, in 10 deg. 30′ S. lat­itude, and 100 m. N.N.E. of Li­ma. They ap­pear to have fol­lowed the ac­count giv­en by Padre Fritz which has since been found in­cor­rect. Ac­cord­ing to An­to­nio Rai­mon­di, it is the Rio de Nupe branch of the small stream which is­sues from the lake that has the longer course and the greater vol­ume of wa­ter. The Nupe ris­es in the Cordillera de Huay­huath and is the true source of the Mara­non. There is a dif­fer­ence among ge­og­ra­phers as to where the Mara­non ends and the Ama­zon be­gins, or whether both names ap­ply to the same riv­er. The Pon­go de Manseriche, at the base of the An­des and the head of use­ful nav­iga­tion, seems to be the nat­ural ter­mi­nus of the Mara­non; and an ex­am­ina­tion of the hy­dro­graph­ic con­di­tions of the great val­ley makes the con­ve­nience and ac­cu­ra­cy of this ap­par­ent. Rai­mon­di ter­mi­nates the Mara­non at the mouth of the Ucay­ali, Reclus the same, both fol­low­ing the mis­sion­ary fa­thers of the colo­nial pe­ri­od. C. M. de la Con­damine us­es “Ama­zon” and “Mara­non” in­dis­crim­inate­ly and con­sid­ers them one and the same. Smyth and Lowe give the mouth of the Javary as the east­ern lim­it, as does d’Or­bigny. Wolf, ap­par­ent­ly un­cer­tain, car­ries the “Mara­non or Ama­zon” to the Pe­ru­vian fron­tier of Brazil at Tabatin­ga. Oth­er trav­ellers and ex­plor­ers con­tribute to the con­fu­sion. This prob­ably aris­es from the ri­val­ry of the Spaniards and Por­tuguese. The for­mer ac­cept­ed the name Mara­non in Pe­ru, and as the mis­sion­ar­ies pen­etrat­ed the val­ley they ex­tend­ed the name un­til they reached the mouth of the Ucay­ali; while, as the Por­tuguese as­cend­ed the Ama­zon, they car­ried this name to the ex­tent of their ex­plo­rations. Be­gin­ning with the low­er riv­er we pro­pose to no­tice, first, the great af­flu­ents which go to swell the vol­ume of the main stream.

Trib­utaries.

The TO­CANTINS is not re­al­ly a branch of the Ama­zon, al­though usu­al­ly so con­sid­ered. It is the cen­tral flu­vial artery of Brazil, run­ning from south to north for a dis­tance of about 1500 m. It ris­es in the moun­tain­ous dis­trict known as the Pyre­neos; but its more am­bi­tious west­ern af­flu­ent, the Araguay, has its ex­treme south­ern head­wa­ters on the slopes of the Ser­ra Cayapo, and flows a dis­tance of 1080 m. be­fore its junc­tion with the par­ent stream, which it ap­pears al­most to equal in vol­ume. Be­sides its main trib­utary, the Rio das Mortes, it has twen­ty small­er branch­es, of­fer­ing many miles of ca­noe nav­iga­tion. In find­ing its way to the low­lands, it breaks fre­quent­ly in­to falls and rapids, or winds vi­olent­ly through rocky gorges, un­til, at a point about 100 m. above its junc­tion with the To­cantins, it saws its way across a rocky dyke for 12 m. in roar­ing cataracts. The trib­utaries of the To­cantins, called the Maran­hao and Parana-​tin­ga, col­lect an im­mense vol­ume of wa­ter from the high­lands which sur­round them, es­pe­cial­ly on the south and south-​east. Be­tween the lat­ter and the con­flu­ence with the Araguay, the To­cantins is oc­ca­sion­al­ly ob­struct­ed by rocky bar­ri­ers which cross it al­most at a right an­gle. Through these, the riv­er carves its chan­nel, bro­ken in­to cataracts and rapids, or ca­choeiras, as they are called through­out Brazil. Its low­est one, the Itabo­ca cataract, is about 130 m. above its es­tu­ar­ine port of Cameta, for which dis­tance the riv­er is nav­iga­ble; but above that it is use­less as a com­mer­cial av­enue, ex­cept for la­bo­ri­ous and very cost­ly trans­porta­tion.

The flat, broad val­leys, com­posed of sand and clay, of both the To­cantins and its Araguay branch are over­looked by steep bluffs. They are the mar­gins of the great sand­stone plateaus, from 1000 to 2000 ft. el­eva­tion above sea-​lev­el, through which the rivers have erod­ed their deep beds. Around the es­tu­ary of the To­cantins the great plateau has dis­ap­peared, to give place to a part of the for­est-​cov­ered, half sub­merged al­lu­vial plain, which ex­tends far to the north-​east and west. The Para riv­er, gen­er­al­ly called one of the mouths of the Ama­zon, is on­ly the low­er reach of the To­cantins. If any por­tion of the wa­ters of the Ama­zon runs round the south­ern side of the large is­land of Mara­jo in­to the riv­er Para, it is on­ly through tor­tu­ous, nat­ural canals, which are in no sense out­flow chan­nels of the Ama­zon.

The XIN­GU, the next large riv­er west of the To­cantins, is a true trib­utary of the Ama­zon. It was but lit­tle known un­til it was ex­plored in 1884-1887 by Karl von den Steinen from Cuya­ba. Trav­el­ling east, 240 m., he found the riv­er Tami­ta­toa­ba, 180 ft. wide, flow­ing from a lake 25 m. in di­am­eter. He de­scend­ed this tor­ren­tial stream to the riv­er Romero, 1300 ft. wide, en­ter­ing from the west, which re­ceives the riv­er Col­isu. These three streams form the Xin­gu, or Parana-​xin­gu, which, from 73 m. low­er down, bounds along a suc­ces­sion of rapids for 400 m. A lit­tle above the head of nav­iga­tion, 105 m. from its mouth, the riv­er makes a bend to the east to find its way across a rocky bar­ri­er. Here is the great cataract of Ita­ma­ra­ca, which rush­es down an inchned plane for 3 m. and then gives a fi­nal leap, called the fall of Ita­ma­ra­ca. Near its mouth, the Xin­gu ex­pands in­to an im­mense lake, and its wa­ters then min­gle with those of the Ama­zon through a labyrinth of eanos (nat­ural canals), wind­ing in count­less di­rec­tions through a wood­ed archipela­go.

The TAPA­HOS, run­ning through a hu­mid, hot and un­healthy val­ley, pours in­to the Ama­zon 500 m. above Para and is about 1200 m. long. It ris­es on the lofty Brazil­ian plateau near Dia­manti­no in 14 deg. 25′ S. lat. Near this place a num­ber of streams unite to form the riv­er Ari­nos, which at lat­itude 10 deg. 25′ joins the Ju­ru­ena to form the Al­to Tapa­jos, so called as low down as the Rio Ma­noel, en­ter­ing from the east. Thence to Santarem the stream is known as the Tapa­jos. The low­er Ari­nos, the Al­to Tapa­jos and the Tapa­jos to the last rapid, the Maran­hao Grande, is a con­tin­uous se­ries of formidable cataracts and rapids; but from the Maran­hao Grande to its mouth, about 188 m., the riv­er can be nav­igat­ed by largeves­sels. For its last 100 mi. it is from 4 to 9 m. wide and much of it very deep. The val­ley of the Tapa­jos is bor­dered on both sides by bluffs. They are from 300 to 400 ft. high along the low­er riv­er; but, a few miles above Santarem, they re­tire from the east­ern side and on­ly ap­proach the Ama­zon flood-​plain some miles be­low Santarem.

The MADEIRA has its junc­tion with the Ama­zon 870 mi. by riv­er above Para, and al­most ri­vals it in the vol­ume of its wa­ters. It ris­es more than 50 ft. dur­ing the rainy sea­son, and the largest ocean steam­ers may as­cend it to the Fall of San An­to­nio, 663 m. above its mouth; but in the dry months, from June to Novem­ber, it is on­ly nav­iga­ble for the same dis­tance for craft draw­ing from 5 to 6 ft. of wa­ter. Ac­cord­ing to the treaty of San Ilde­fon­so, the Madeira be­gins at the con­flu­ence of the Gua­pore with the Mamore. Both of these streams have their head­wa­ters al­most in con­tact with those of the riv­er Paraguay. The idea of a con­nect­ing canal is based on ig­no­rance of lo­cal con­di­tions. San An­to­nio is the first of a formidable se­ries of cataracts and rapids, nine­teen in num­ber, which, for a riv­er dis­tance of 263 m., ob­struct the up­per course of the Madeira un­til the last rapid called Gua­jara Mer­im (or Small Peb­ble), is reached, a lit­tle be­low the union of the Gua­pore with the Mamore. The junc­tion of the great riv­er Beni with the Madeira is at the Madeira Fall, a vast and grand dis­play ofreefs, whirlpools and boil­ing tor­rents. Be­tween Gua­jara-​Mer­im and this fall, in­clu­sive, the Madeira re­ceives the drainage of the north­east­ern slopes of the An­des, from San­ta Cruz de la Sier­ra to Cuz­co, the whole of the south-​west­ern slope of Brazil­ian Mat­to (irosso and the north­ern one of the Chiq­ui­tos sier­ras, an area about

equal to that of France and Spain. The wa­ters find their way to the falls of the Madeira by many great rivers, the prin­ci­pal of which, if we enu­mer­ate them from east to west, are the Gua­pore or Itenez, the Bau­res and Blan­co, the Itona­ma or San Miguel, the Mamore, Beni, and Mayu­ta­ta or Madre de Dios, all of which are re­in­forced by nu­mer­ous sec­ondary but pow­er­ful af­flu­ents. The Gua­pore presents many dif­fi­cul­ties to con­tin­uous nav­iga­tion; the Bau­res and Itona­ma of­fer hun­dreds of miles of nav­iga­ble wa­ters through beau­ti­ful plains; the Mamore has been sound­ed by the writ­er in the dri­est month of the year for a dis­tance of 500 m. above Gua­jara-​Mer­im, who found nev­er less than from 10 to 30 ft. of wa­ter, with a cur­rent of from 1 to 3 m. an hour. Its Rio Grande branch, ex­plored un­der the writ­er’s in­struc­tions, was found nav­iga­ble for craft draw­ing 3 ft. of wa­ter to with­in 30 m. of San­ta Cruz de la Sier­ra — a lev­el sandy plain in­ter­ven­ing. The Grande is a riv­er of enor­mous length, ris­ing in a great val­ley of the An­des be­tween the im­por­tant cities of Su­cre and Cochabam­ba, and hav­ing its up­per wa­ters in close touch with those of the Pil­co­mayo branch of the riv­er Paraguay. It makes a long curve through the moun­tains, and, af­ter a course of about 800 m., joins the Mamore near 15 deg. S. lat. The Cha­pare, Se­cure and Chi­more, trib­utaries of the Mamore, are nav­iga­ble for launch­es up to the base of the moun­tains, to with­in 130 m. of Cochabam­ba. The Beni has a 12-ft. fall 18 m. above its mouth called “La Es­per­an­za”; be­yond this, it is nav­iga­ble for 217 m. to the port of Reyes for launch­es in the dry sea­son and larg­er craft in the wet one. The ex­treme source of the Beni is the lit­tle riv­er La Paz, which ris­es in the in­ter-​An­dean re­gion, a few miles south-​east of Lake Tit­ica­ca, and flows as a rivulet through the Bo­li­vian city of La Paz. From this point to Reyes the riv­er is a tor­rent. The prin­ci­pal af­flu­ent of the Beni, and one which ex­ceeds it in vol­ume, en­ters it 120 m. above its mouth, and is known to the In­di­ans along its banks as the Mayu­ta­ta, but the Pe­ru­vians

call it the Madre de Dios. Its ram­ifi­ca­tions drain the slopes of the An­des be­tween 12 deg. and 15 deg. of lat­itude. It is nav­iga­ble in the wet sea­son to with­in 180 m. of Cuz­co. Its up­per wa­ters are sep­arat­ed by on­ly a short tran­sitable ca­noe portage of 7 m. in a straight line from those of the Ucay­ali. The portage on the east­ern side ter­mi­nates at the Cash­pa­jah riv­er 22 m. above its junc­tion with the Manu. For the first 13 m. it is nav­iga­ble all the year for craft draw­ing 18 in. of wa­ter, but the re­main­ing 9 m. present many ob­sta­cles to nav­iga­tion. At the Manu junc­tion the el­eva­tion above sea-​lev­el is 1070 ft., the riv­er width 300 ft., depth 8 ft., cur­rent 1 1/4 m. per hour. The gen­er­al di­rec­tion of the Manu is south-​east for 158 m. as far as the Pil­co­pa­ta riv­er, where un­der the name of Madre de Dios it con­tin­ues with a flow of 22,000 cu­bic me­tres per minute. Here its el­eva­tion is 718 ft. above the sea and its width 500 ft. Dur­ing the above course of 158 m. the Manu re­ceives 135 large and small af­flu­ents. Al­though the in­cli­na­tion of its bed is not great, the ob­sta­cles to free nav­iga­tion are abun­dant, and con­sist of enor­mous trees and mass­es of tree-​trunks which have filled the riv­er dur­ing the pe­ri­od of freshets.

From the time it re­ceives the Manu, the Madre de Dios car­ries its im­mense vol­ume of wa­ters 485 m. to the Beni over the ex­treme­ly easy slope of a vast and fer­tile plain. Its banks are low, its bot­tom peb­bly. A greater part of its course is filled with large and small is­lands some 63 in num­ber. Its av­er­age width is about 1500 ft. Be­low the mouth of the Tam­bopa­ta, the flow is es­ti­mat­ed at 191,250 cu­bic me­tres per minute. The av­er­age cur­rent is 2 1/2 m. per hour. There are two im­por­tant rapids and one cataract on the low­er 300 m. of the riv­er.

The Mayu­ta­ta re­ceives three prin­ci­pal trib­utaries from the south — the Tam­bopa­ta, In­am­bari and Pil­co­pa­ta.

The Pe­ru­vian gov­ern­ment has sought to open a trade route be­tween the Rio Ucay­ali and the rich rub­ber dis­tricts of the Mayu­ta­ta. All of the up­per branch­es of the riv­er Madeira find their way to the falls across the open, al­most lev­el Mo­jos and Beni plains, 35,000 sq. m. of which are year­ly flood­ed to an av­er­age depth of about 3 ft. for a pe­ri­od of from three to four months. They ri­val if they do not ex­ceed in fer­til­ity the val­ley of the Nile, and are the health­iest and most invit­ing agri­cul­tur­al and graz­ing re­gion of the basin of the Ama­zon.

The PU­RUS, a very slug­gish riv­er, en­ters the Ama­zon west of the Madeira, which it par­al­lels as far south as the falls of the lat­ter stream. It runs through a con­tin­uous for­est at the bot­tom of the great de­pres­sion ly­ing be­tween the Madeira riv­er, which skirts the edge of the Brazil­ian sand­stone plateau, and the Ucay­ali which hugs the base of the An­des. One of its marked fea­tures is the five par­al­lel furos1 which from the north-​west at al­most reg­ular in­ter­vals the Ama­zon sends to the Pu­rus; the most south-​west­er­ly one be­ing about 150 m. above the mouth of the lat­ter riv­er. They cut a great area of very low-​ly­ing coun­try in­to five is­lands. Far­ther down the Pur­fis to the right three small­er furos al­so con­nect it with the Ama­zon. Chand­less found its el­eva­tion above sea-​lev­el to be on­ly 107 ft. 590 m. from its mouth. It is one of the most crooked streams in the world, and its length in a straight line is less than half that by its curves. It is prac­ti­cal­ly on­ly a drainage ditch for the half-​sub­merged, lake-​flood­ed dis­trict it tra­vers­es. Its width is very uni­form for 1000 m. up, and for 800 m. its depth is nev­er less than 45 ft. It is nav­iga­ble by steam­ers for 1648 m. as far as the lit­tle stream, the Cu­ruma­ha, but on­ly by light-​draft craft. Chand­less as­cend­ed it 1866 m. At 1792 m. it forks in­to two small streams. Oc­ca­sion­al­ly a cliff touch­es the riv­er, but in gen­er­al the lands are sub­ject to year­ly in­un­da­tions through­out its course, the riv­er ris­ing at times above 50 ft., the nu­mer­ous lakes to the right and left serv­ing as reser­voirs. Its main trib­utary, the Aquiry or Acre, en­ters from the right about 1104 m. from the Ama­zon. Its sources are near those of the Mayu­ta­ta. It is nav­iga­ble for a pe­ri­od of about five months of the year, when the Pu­rus val­ley is in­un­dat­ed; and, for the re­main­ing sev­en months, on­ly ca­noes can as­cend it suf­fi­cient­ly high to com­mu­ni­cate over­land with the set­tle­ments in the great in­dia-​rub­ber dis­tricts of the Mayu­ta­ta and low­er Beni; thus these re­gions are forced to seek a ca­noe out­let for their rich prod­ucts by the very dan­ger­ous, cost­ly and la­bo­ri­ous route of the falls of the Madeira.

The JU­RUA is the next great south­ern af­flu­ent of the Ama­zon west of the Pu­rus, shar­ing with this the bot­tom of the im­mense in­land Ama­zon de­pres­sion, and hav­ing all the char­ac­ter­is­tics of the Pu­rus as re­gards cur­va­ture, slug­gish­ness and gen­er­al fea­tures of the low, half-​flood­ed for­est coun­try it tra­vers­es. It ris­es among the Ucay­ali high­lands, and is nav­iga­ble and un­ob­struct­ed for a dis­tance of 1133 m. above its junc­tion with the Ama­zon.

The Javary, the bound­ary line be­tween Brazil and Pe­ru, is an­oth­er Ama­zon trib­utary of im­por­tance. It is sup­posed to be nav­iga­ble by ca­noe for 900 m. above its mouth to its sources among the Ucay­ali high­lands, but on­ly 260 have been found suit­able for steam nav­iga­tion. The Brazil­ian Bound­ary Com­mis­sion as­cend­ed it in 1866 to the junc­tion of the Shi­no with its Jaquirana branch. The coun­try it tra­vers­es in its ex­treme­ly sin­uous course is very lev­el, sim­ilar in char­ac­ter to that of the Ju­rua, and is a fos­tered wilder­ness oc­cu­pied by a few sav­age hordes.

The UCAY­ALI, which ris­es on­ly about 70 m. north of Lake Tit­ica­ca, is the most in­ter­est­ing branch of the Ama­zon next to the Madeira. The Ucay­ali was first called the San Miguel, then the Ucay­ali, Uca­yare, Poro, Apu-​Poro, Co­ca­ma and Rio de Cuz­co. Pe­ru has fit­ted out many cost­ly and ably-​con­duct­ed ex­pe­di­tions to ex­plore it. One of them (1867) claimed to have reached with­in 240 m. of Li­ma, and the lit­tle steam­er “Napo” forced its way up the vi­olent cur­rents for 77 m. above the junc­tion with the Pa­chitea riv­er as far as the riv­er Tam­bo, 770 m. from the con­flu­ence of the Ucay­ali with the Ama­zon. The “Napo” then suc­ceed­ed in as­cend­ing the Urubam­ba branch of the Ucay­ali 35 m. above its union with the Tam­bo, to a point 200 m. north of Cuz­co. The re­main­der of the Urubam­ba, as shown by Bosquet in 1806 and Castel­nau in 1846, is in­ter­rupt­ed by cas­cades, reefs and num­ber­less oth­er ob­sta­cles to nav­iga­tion. Senor Tor­res, who ex­plored the Al­to Ucay­ali for the Pe­ru­vian gov­ern­ment, gives it a length of 186 m., count­ing from the mouth of the Pa­chitea to the junc­tion of the Tam­bo and Urubam­ba. Its width varies from 1300 to 4000 ft., due to the great num­ber of is­lands. The cur­rent runs from 3 to 4 m. an hour, and a chan­nel from 60 to 150 ft. wide can al­ways be found with a min­imum depth of 5 ft. There are five bad pass­es, due to the ac­cu­mu­la­tion of trees and rafts of tim­ber. Some­times enor­mous rocks have fall­en from the moun­tains and spread over the riv­er-​bed caus­ing huge whirlpools. “No greater dif­fi­cul­ties present them­selves to nav­iga­tion by 10-knot steam­ers draw­ing 4 ft. of wa­ter.”

The TAM­BO, which ris­es in the Vil­can­ota knot of moun­tains south of Cuz­co, is a tor­ren­tial stream val­ue­less for com­mer­cial pur­pos­es. The banks of the Ucay­ali for 500 m. up are low, and in the rainy sea­son ex­ten­sive­ly in­un­dat­ed.

The HUAL­LA­GA (al­so known as the Gual­la­ga and Rio de los Motilones), which joins the Ama­zon to the west of the Ucay­ali, ris­es high among the moun­tains, in about 10 deg. 40′ S. lat., on the north­ern slopes of the cel­ebrat­ed Cer­ro de Pas­co. For near­ly its en­tire length it is an im­petu­ous tor­rent run­ning through a suc­ces­sion of gorges. It has forty-​two rapids, its last ob­struc­tion be­ing the Pon­go de Aguirre, so called from the traitor Aguirre who passed there. To this point, 140 m. from the Ama­zon, the Hual­la­ga can be as­cend­ed by large riv­er steam­ers. Be­tween the Hual­la­ga and the Ucay­ali lies the fa­mous “Pam­pa del Sacra­men­to,” a lev­el re­gion of stone­less al­lu­vial lands cov­ered with thick, dark forests, first en­tered by the mis­sion­ar­ies in 1726. It is about 300 m. long, from north to south, and varies in width from 40 to 100 m. Many streams, nav­iga­ble for ca­noes, pen­etrate this re­gion from the Ucay­ali and the Hual­la­ga. It is still oc­cu­pied by sav­age tribes.

The riv­er MARA­NON ris­es about 100 m. to the north-​east of Li­ma. It flows through a deeply-​erod­ed An­dean val­ley in a north-​west di­rec­tion, along the east­ern base of the Cordillera of the An­des, as far as 5 deg. 36′ S. lat.; then it makes a great bend to the north-​east, and with ir­re­sistible pow­er cuts through the in­land An­des, un­til at the Pon­go de Manseriche2 it vic­to­ri­ous­ly breaks away from the moun­tains to flow on­wards through the plains un­der the name of the Ama­zon. Barred by reefs, and full of rapids and im­petu­ous cur­rents, it can­not be­come a com­mer­cial av­enue. At the point where it makes its great bend the riv­er Chinchipe pours in­to it from south­ern Ecuador. Just be­low this the moun­tains close in on ei­ther side of the Mara­pon, form­ing nar­rows or pon­gos for a length of 35 m., where, be­sides nu­mer­ous whirlpools, there are no less than thir­ty-​five formidable rapids, the se­ries con­clud­ing with three cataracts just be­fore reach­ing the riv­er Imasa or Chunchun­ga, near the mouth of which La Con­damine em­barked in the 18th cen­tu­ry to de­scend the Ama­zon. Here the gen­er­al lev­el of the coun­try be­gins to de­crease in el­eva­tion, with on­ly a few moun­tain spurs, which from time to time push as far as the riv­er and form pon­gos of mi­nor im­por­tance and less dan­ger­ous to de­scend. Fi­nal­ly, af­ter pass­ing the nar­rows of Guara­cayo, the cer­ros grad­ual­ly dis­ap­pear, and for a dis­tance of about 20 m. the riv­er is full of is­lands, and there is noth­ing vis­ible from its low banks but an im­mense for­est-​cov­ered plain. But the last bar­ri­er has yet to be passed, the Pon­go de Manseriche, 3 m. long, just be­low the mouth of the Rio San­ti­ago, and be­tween it and the old aban­doned mis­sion­ary sta­tion of Bor­ja, in 38 deg. 30′ S. lat. and 77 deg. 30′ 40” W. long. Ac­cord­ing to Cap­tain Car­ba­jal, who de­scend­ed it in the lit­tle steam­er “Napo,’ in 1868, it is a vast rent in the An­des about 2000 ft. deep, nar­row­ing in places to a width of on­ly 100 ft., the precipices “seem­ing to close in at the top.” Through this dark canon the Mara­non leaps along, at times, at the rate of 12 m. an hour3. The Pon­go de Manseriche was first dis­cov­ered by the Ade­lan­ta­do Joan de Sali­nas. He fit­ted out an ex­pe­di­tion at Loxa in Ecuador, de­scend­ed the Rio San­ti­ago to the Mara­non, passed through the per­ilous Pon­go in 1557 and in­vad­ed the coun­try of the May­nas In­di­ans. Lat­er, the mis­sion­ar­ies of Cuen­ca and Quito es­tab­lished many mis­sions in the Pais de los May­nas, and made ex­ten­sive use of the Pon­go de Manseriche as an av­enue of com­mu­ni­ca­tion with their sev­er­al con­vents on the An­dean plateau. Ac­cord­ing to their ac­counts, the huge rent in the An­des, the Pon­go, is about five or six m. long, and in places not more than 80 ft. wide, and is a fright­ful se­ries of tor­rents and whirlpools in­ter­spersed with rocks. There is an an­cient tra­di­tion of the sav­ages of the vicin­ity that one of their gods de­scend­ing the Mara­non and an­oth­er as­cend­ing the Ama­zon to com­mu­ni­cate with him, they opened the pass called the Pon­go de Manseriche. From the north­ern slope of its basin the Ama­zon re­ceives many trib­utaries, but their com­bined vol­ume of wa­ter is not near­ly so great as that con­tribut­ed to the par­ent stream by its af­flu­ents from the south. That part of Brazil ly­ing be­tween the Ama­zon and French, Dutch and British Guiana, and bound­ed on the west by the Rio Ne­gro, is known as Brazil­ian Guiana. It is the south­ern wa­ter­shed of a tor­tu­ous, low chain of moun­tains run­ning, rough­ly, east and west. Their north­ern slope, which is oc­cu­pied by the three Guianas first named, is sat­urat­ed and riv­er-​torn; but their south­ern one, Brazil­ian Guiana, is in gen­er­al thirsty and se­mi-​bar­ren, and the dri­est re­gion of the Ama­zon val­ley. It is an area which has been left al­most in the undis­turbed pos­ses­sion of no­madic In­di­an tribes, whose scanty num­bers find it dif­fi­cult to solve the food prob­lem. From the di­vor­tium aquarum be­tween French Guiana and Brazil, known as the Tu­muc-​hu­mac range of high­lands, two mi­nor streams, the Yary and the Parou, reach the Ama­zon across the in­ter­ven­ing bro­ken and bar­ren table­land. They are full of rapids and reefs.

The TROM­BE­TAS is the first riv­er of im­por­tance we meet on the north­ern side as we as­cend the Ama­zon. Its con­flu­ence with this is just above the town of Obidos. It has its sources in the Guiana high­lands, but its long course is fre­quent­ly in­ter­rupt­ed by vi­olent cur­rents, rocky bar­ri­ers, and rapids. The in­fe­ri­or zone of the riv­er, as far up as the first fall, the Porteira, has but lit­tle bro­ken wa­ter and is low and swampy; but above the long se­ries of cataracts and rapids the char­ac­ter and as­pect of the val­ley com­plete­ly change, and the cli­mate is much bet­ter. The riv­er is nav­iga­ble for 135 m. above its mouth.

The NE­GRO, the great north­ern trib­utary of the Ama­zon, has its sources along the wa­ter­shed be­tween the Orinoco and the Ama­zon basins, and al­so con­nects with the Orinoco by way of the Casiquiare canal. Its main af­flu­ent is the Uau­pes, which dis­putes with the head­wa­ters of the Guaviari branch of the Orinoco the drainage of the east­ern slope of the “Ori­en­tal’, An­des of Colom­bia. The Ne­gro is nav­iga­ble for 450 m. above its mouth for 4 ft. of wa­ter in the dry sea­son, but it has many sand­banks and mi­nor dif­fi­cul­ties. In the wet sea­son, it over­flows the coun­try far and wide, some­times to a breadth of 20 m., for long dis­tances, and for 400 m. up, as far as San­ta Is­abel­la, is a suc­ces­sion of la­goons, full of long is­lands and in­tri­cate chan­nels, and the slope of the coun­try is so gen­tle that the riv­er has al­most no cur­rent. But just be­fore reach­ing the Uau­pes there is a long se­ries of reefs, over which it vi­olent­ly flows in cataracts, rapids and whirlpools. The Uau­pes is full of sim­ilar ob­sta­cles, some fifty rapids bar­ring its nav­iga­tion, al­though a long stretch of its up­per course is said to be free from them, and to flow gen­tly through a forest­ed coun­try. De­spite the im­ped­iments, ca­noes as­cend this stream to the An­des.

The Bran­co is the prin­ci­pal af­flu­ent of the Ne­gro from the north; it is en­riched by many streams from the sier­ras which sep­arate Venezuela and British Guiana from Brazil. Its two up­per main trib­utaries are the Urariquira and the Taku­tu. The lat­ter al­most links its sources with those of the Es­se­qui­bo. The Bran­co flows near­ly south, and finds its way in­to the Ne­gro through sev­er­al chan­nels and a chain of la­goons sim­ilar to those of the lat­ter riv­er. It is 350 m. long, up to its Urariquira con­flu­ence. It has nu­mer­ous is­lands, and, 235 m. above its mouth, it is bro­ken by a bad se­ries of rapids.

CASIQUIARE CANAL. In 1744 the Je­suit Fa­ther Ro­man, while as­cend­ing the Orinoco riv­er, met some Por­tuguese slave-​traders from the set­tle­ments on the Rio Ne­gro. He ac­com­pa­nied them on their re­turn, by way of the Casiquiare canal, and af­ter­wards re­traced his route to the Orinoco. La Con­damine, sev­en months lat­er, was able to give to the French Acade­my an ac­count of Fa­ther Ro­man’s ex­traor­di­nary voy­age, and thus con­firm the ex­is­tence of this won­der­ful wa­ter­way first re­port­ed by Fa­ther Acu­na in 1639. But lit­tle cre­dence was giv­en to Fa­ther Ro­man’s state­ment un­til it was ver­ified, in 1756, by the Span­ish Bound­ary-​line Com­mis­sion of Ytur­ria­ga y Solano. The ac­tu­al el­eva­tion of the canal above sea-​lev­el is not known, but is of pri­ma­ry im­por­tance to the study of the hy­drog­ra­phy of South Amer­ica. Trav­ellers in gen­er­al give it at from 400 to 900 ft., but, af­ter much study of the ques­tion of al­ti­tudes through­out South Amer­ica, the writ­er be­lieves that it does not ex­ceed 300 ft. The canal con­nects the up­per Orinoco, 9 m. be­low the mis­sion of Es­mer­al­das, with the Rio Ne­gro af­flu­ent of the Ama­zon near the town of San Car­los. The gen­er­al course is south-​west, and its length, in­clud­ing wind­ings, is about 200 m. Its width, at its bi­fur­ca­tion with the Orinoco, is ap­prox­imate­ly 300 ft., with a cur­rent to­wards the Ne­gro of three-​quar­ters of a mile an hour; but as it gains in vol­ume from the very nu­mer­ous trib­utary streams, large and small, which it re­ceives en route, its ve­loc­ity in­creas­es, and in the wet sea­son reach­es 5 and even 8 m. an hour in cer­tain stretch­es. It broad­ens con­sid­er­ably as it ap­proach­es its mouth, where it is about 1750 ft. in width. It will thus be seen that the vol­ume of wa­ter it cap­tures from the Orinoco is small in com­par­ison to what it ac­cu­mu­lates in its course. In flood-​time it is said to have a sec­ond con­nex­ion with the Rio Ne­gro by a branch which it throws off to the west­ward called the Itinivi­ni, which leaves it at a point about 50 m. above its mouth. In the dry sea­son it has shal­lows, and is ob­struct­ed by sand­banks, a few rapids and gran­ite rocks. Its shores are dense­ly wood­ed, and the soil more fer­tile than that along the Rio Ne­gro. The gen­er­al slope of the plains through which the canal runs is south-​west, but those of the Rio Ne­gro slope south-​east. The whole line of the Casiquiare is in­fest­ed with myr­iads of tor­ment­ing in­sects. A few mis­er­able groups of In­di­ans and half-​breeds have their small vil­lages along its south­ern por­tion. It is thus seen that this mar­vel­lous freak of na­ture is not, as is gen­er­al­ly sup­posed, a slug­gish canal on a flat table­land, but a great, rapid riv­er which, if its up­per wa­ters had not found con­tact with the Orinoco, per­haps by cut­ting back, would be­long en­tire­ly to the Ne­gro branch of the Ama­zon. To the west of the Casiquiare there is a much short­er and more facile con­nex­ion be­tween the Orinoco and Ama­zon basins, called the isth­mus of Pimichin, which is reached by as­cend­ing the Terni branch of the Atabapo af­flu­ent of the Orinoco. Al­though the Terni is some­what ob­struct­ed, it is be­lieved that it could eas­ily be made nav­iga­ble for small craft. The isth­mus is 10 m. across, with un­du­lat­ing ground, nowhere over 50 ft. high, with swamps and marsh­es. It is much used for the tran­sit of large ca­noes, which are hauled across it from the Terni riv­er, and which reach the Ne­gro by the lit­tle stream called the Pimichin.

The YA­PU­RA. West of the Ne­gro the Ama­zon re­ceives three more im­pos­ing streams from the north-​west — the Ya­pu­ra, the Ica or Pu­tu­mayo, and the Napo. The first was for­mer­ly known as the Hya­po­ra, but its Brazil­ian part is now called the Ya­pu­ra, and its Colom­bian por­tion the Ca­que­ta. Barao de Mara­jo gives it 600 m. of nav­iga­ble stretch­es. Jules Crevaux, who de­scend­ed it, de­scribes it as full of ob­sta­cles to nav­iga­tion, the cur­rent very strong and the stream fre­quent­ly in­ter­rupt­ed by rapids and cataracts. It ris­es in the Colom­bian An­des, near­ly in touch with the sources of the Mag­dale­na, and aug­ments its vol­ume from many branch­es as it cours­es through Colom­bia. It was long sup­posed to have eight mouths; but Ribeiro de Sam­paio, in his voy­age of 1774, de­ter­mined that there was but one re­al mouth, and that the sup­posed oth­ers are all furos or canos4 In 1864-1868 the Brazil­ian gov­ern­ment made a some­what care­ful ex­am­ina­tion of the Brazil­ian part of the riv­er, as far up as the rapid of Cu­paty. Sev­er­al very easy and al­most com­plete wa­ter-​routes ex­ist be­tween the Ya­pu­ra and Ne­gro across the low, flat in­ter­ven­ing coun­try. Barao de Mara­jo says there are six of them, and one which con­nects the up­per Ya­pu­ra with the Uau­pes branch of the Ne­gro; thus the In­di­an tribes of the re­spec­tive val­leys have facile con­tact with each oth­er.

The ICA or PU­TU­MAYO, west of and par­al­lel to the Ya­pu­ra, was found more agree­able to nav­igate by Crevaux. He as­cend­ed it in a steam­er draw­ing 6 ft. of wa­ter, and run­ning day and night. He reached Cuem­by, 800 m. above its mouth, with­out find­ing a sin­gle rapid. Cuem­by is on­ly 200 m. from the Pa­cif­ic Ocean, in a straight line, pass­ing through the town of Pas­to in south­ern Colom­bia. There was not a stone to be seen up to the base of the An­des; the riv­er banks were of argilla­ceous earth and the bot­tom of fine sand.

The NAPO ris­es on the flanks of the vol­ca­noes of An­ti­sana, Sin­cholagua and Co­topaxi. Be­fore it reach­es the plains it re­ceives a great num­ber of small streams from im­pen­etra­ble, sat­urat­ed and much bro­ken moun­tain­ous dis­tricts, where the dense and var­ied veg­eta­tion seems to fight for ev­ery square foot of ground. From the north it is joined by the riv­er Co­ca, hav­ing its sources in the gorges of Cayambe on the equa­tor, and al­so a pow­er­ful riv­er, the Aguari­co, hav­ing its head­wa­ters be­tween Cayambe and the Colom­bian fron­tier. From the west it re­ceives a sec­ondary trib­utary, the Cu­raray, from the An­dean slopes, be­tween Co­topaxi and the vol­cano of Tun­guragua. From its Co­ca branch to the mouth of the Cu­raray the Napo is full of snags and shelv­ing sand­banks, and throws out nu­mer­ous canos among jun­gle-​tan­gled is­lands, which in the wet sea­son are flood­ed, giv­ing the riv­er an im­mense width. From the Co­ca to the Ama­zon it runs through a forest­ed plain where not a hill is vis­ible from the riv­er — its uni­form­ly lev­el banks be­ing on­ly in­ter­rupt­ed by swamps and la­goons. From the Ama­zon the Napo is nav­iga­ble for riv­er craft up to its Cu­raray branch, a dis­tance of about 216 m., and per­haps a few miles far­ther; thence, by painful ca­noe nav­iga­tion, its up­per wa­ters may be as­cend­ed as far as San­ta Rosa, the usu­al point of em­barka­tion for any ven­ture­some trav­eller who de­scends from the Quito table­land. The Co­ca riv­er may be pen­etrat­ed as far up as its mid­dle course, where it is jammed be­tween two moun­tain walls, in a deep canyon, along which it dash­es over high falls and nu­mer­ous reefs. This is the stream made fa­mous by the ex­pe­di­tion of Gon­za­lo Pizarro.

The NANAY is the next Ama­zon trib­utary of im­por­tance west of the Napo. It be­longs en­tire­ly to the low­lands, and is very crooked, has a slow cur­rent and di­vides much in­to canos and strings of la­goons which flood the flat, low ar­eas of coun­try on ei­ther side. It is sim­ply the drainage ditch of dis­tricts which are ex­ten­sive­ly over­flowed in the rainy sea­son. Cap­tain Butt as­cend­ed it 195 m., to near its source.

The TI­GRE is the next west of the Nanay, and is nav­iga­ble for 125 m. from its con­flu­ence with the Ama­zon. Like the Nanay, it be­longs whol­ly to the plains. Its mouth is 42 m. west of the junc­tion of the Ucay­ali with the Ama­zon. Con­tin­uing west from the Ti­gre we have the Pari­nari, Cham­bi­ra, and Nu­cu­ray, all short low­land streams, re­sem­bling the Nanay in char­ac­ter.

The PAS­TAZA (the an­cient riv­er Sumatara) is the next large riv­er we meet. It ris­es on the Ecuado­ri­an table­land, where a branch from the val­ley of Ri­obam­ba unites with one from the Lat­acun­ga basin and breaks through the in­land range of the An­des; and joined, af­ter­wards, by sev­er­al im­por­tant trib­utaries, finds its way south-​east among the gorges; thence it turns south­ward in­to the plains, and en­ters the Ama­zon at a point about 60 m. west of the mouth of the Hual­la­ga. So far as known, it is a stream of no val­ue ex­cept for ca­noe nav­iga­tion. Its rise and fall are rapid and un­cer­tain, and it is shal­low and full of sand­banks and snags. It is a ter­ri­ble riv­er when in flood.

The MO­RONA flows par­al­lel to the Pas­taza and im­me­di­ate­ly to the west of it, and is the last stream of any im­por­tance on the north­ern side of the Ama­zon be­fore reach­ing the Pon­go de Manseriche. It is formed from a mul­ti­tude of wa­ter-​cours­es which de­scend the slopes of the Ecuado­ri­an An­des south of the gi­gan­tic vol­cano of San­gay; but it soon reach­es the plain, which com­mences where it re­ceives its Cusuli­ma branch. The MO­RONA is nav­iga­ble for small craft for about 300 m. above its mouth, but it is ex­treme­ly tor­tu­ous. Ca­noes may as­cend many of its branch­es, es­pe­cial­ly the Cusuh­ma and the Mi­azal, the lat­ter al­most to the base of San­gay. The Mo­rona has been the scene of many rude ex­plo­rations, with the hope of find­ing it ser­vice­able as a com­mer­cial route be­tween the in­ter-​An­dean table­land of Ecuador and the Ama­zon riv­er. A riv­er called the Paute dash­es through the east­ern An­des from the val­ley of Cuen­ca; and a sec­ond, the Zamo­ra, has bro­ken through the same range from the basin of Lo­ja. Swollen by their many af­flu­ents, they reach the low­lands and unite their wa­ters to form the San­ti­ago, which flows in­to the Mara­non at the head of the Pon­go de Manseriche. There is but lit­tle known of a trust­wor­thy char­ac­ter re­gard­ing this riv­er, but Wolf says that it is prob­ably nav­iga­ble up to the junc­tion of the Paute with the Zamo­ra.

The Main Riv­er.

Phys­ical char­ac­ter­is­tics.

The AMA­ZON MAIN RIV­ER is nav­iga­ble for ocean steam­ers as far as Iq­ui­tos, 2300 m. from the sea, and 486 m. high­er up for ves­sels draw­ing 14 ft. of wa­ter, as far as Achual Point. Be­yond that, ac­cord­ing to Tuck­er, con­firmed by Werthe­man, it is un­safe; but small steam­ers fre­quent­ly as­cend to the Pon­go de Manseriche, just above Achual Point The av­er­age cur­rent of the Ama­zon is about 3 m. an hour; but, es­pe­cial­ly in flood, it dash­es through some of its con­tract­ed chan­nels at the rate of 5 m. The U.S. steam­er “Wilm­ing­ton” as­cend­ed it to Iq­ui­tos in 1899. Com­man­der Todd re­ports that the av­er­age depth of the riv­er in the height of the rainy sea­son is 120 ft. It com­mences to rise in Novem­ber, and in­creas­es in vol­ume un­til June, and then falls un­til the end of Oc­to­ber. The rise of the Ne­gro branch is not syn­chronous; for the steady rains do not com­mence in its val­ley un­til Febru­ary or March. By June it is full, and then it be­gins to fall with the Ama­zon. Ac­cord­ing to Bates, the Madeira “ris­es and sinks” two months ear­li­er than the Ama­zon. The Ama­zon at times broad­ens to 4 and 6 m. Oc­ca­sion­al­ly, for long dis­tances, it di­vides in­to two main streams with in­land, lat­er­al chan­nels, all con­nect­ed by a com­pli­cat­ed sys­tem of nat­ural canals, cut­ting the low, flat igapo lands, which are nev­er more than 15 ft. above low riv­er, in­to al­most num­ber­less is­lands.5 At the nar­rows of Obidos, 400 m. from the sea, it is com­pressed in­to a sin­gle bed a mile wide and over 200 ft. deep, through which the wa­ter rush­es at the rate of 4 to 5 m. an hour. In the rainy sea­son it in­un­dates the coun­try through­out its course to the ex­tent of sev­er­al hun­dred thou­sand square miles, cov­er­ing the flood-​plain, called vargem. The flood-​lev­els are in places from 40 to 50 ft. high above low riv­er. Tak­ing four rough­ly equidis­tant places, the rise at Iq­ui­tos is 20 ft., at Teffe 45, near Obidos 35, and at Para 12 ft.

The first high land met in as­cend­ing the riv­er is on the north bank, op­po­site the mouth of the Xin­gu, and ex­tends for about 150 m. up, as far as Monte Ale­gre. It is a se­ries of steep, ta­ble-​topped hills, cut down to a kind of ter­race which lies be­tween them and the riv­er. Monte Ale­gre reach­es an al­ti­tude of sev­er­al hun­dred feet. On the south side, above the Xin­gu, a line of low bluffs ex­tends, in a se­ries of gen­tle curves with hard­ly any breaks near­ly to Santarem, but a con­sid­er­able dis­tance in­land, bor­der­ing the flood-​plain, which is many miles wide. Then they bend to the south-​west, and, abut­ting up­on the low­er Tapa­jos, merge in­to the bluffs which form the ter­race mar­gin of that riv­er val­ley. The next high land on the north side is Obidos, a bluff, 56 ft. above the riv­er, backed by low hills. From Ser­pa, near­ly op­po­site the riv­er Madeira, to near the mouth of the Rio Ne­gro, the banks are low, un­til ap­proach­ing Man­aos, they are rolling hills; but from the Ne­gro, for 600 m. as far up as the vil­lage of Ca­naria, at the great bend of the Ama­zon, on­ly very low land is found, re­sem­bling that at the mouth of the riv­er. Vast ar­eas of it are sub­merged athigh wa­ter, above which on­ly the up­per part of the trees of the som­bre forests ap­pear. At Ca­naria, the high land com­mences and con­tin­ues as far as Tabatin­ga, and thence up stream.

On the south side, from the Tapa­jos to the riv­er Madeira, the banks are usu­al­ly low, al­though two or three hills break the gen­er­al monotony. From the lat­ter riv­er, how­ev­er, to the Ucay­ali, a dis­tance of near­ly 1500 m., the forest­ed banks are just out of wa­ter, and are in­un­dat­ed long be­fore the riv­er at­tains its max­imum flood-​line. Thence to the Hual­la­ga the el­eva­tion of the land is some­what greater; but not un­til this riv­er is passed, and the Pon­go de Manseriche ap­proached, does the swelling ground of the An­dean foot-​hills raise the coun­try above flood-​lev­el.

The Ama­zon is not a con­tin­uous in­cline, but prob­ably con­sists of long, lev­el stretch­es con­nect­ed by short in­clined planes of ex­treme­ly lit­tle fall, suf­fi­cient, how­ev­er, ow­ing to its great depth, to give the gi­gan­tic vol­ume of wa­ter a con­tin­uous im­pulse to­wards the ocean. The low­er Ama­zon presents ev­ery ev­idence of hav­ing once been an ocean gulf, the up­per wa­ters of which washed the cliffs near Obidos. On­ly about 10% of the wa­ter dis­charged by the mighty stream en­ters it be­low Obidos, very lit­tle of which is from the north­ern slope of the val­ley. The drainage area of the Ama­zon basin above Obidos is about 1,945,000 sq. m., and, be­low, on­ly about 423,000 sq. m., or say 20%, ex­clu­sive of the 554,000 sq. m. of the To­cantins basin.

The width of the mouth of the monarch riv­er is usu­al­ly mea­sured from Cabo do Norte to Pun­to Pati­jo­ca, a dis­tance of 207 statute m.; but this in­cludes the ocean out­let, 40 m. wide, of the Para riv­er, which should be de­duct­ed, as this stream is on­ly the low­er reach of the To­cantins. It al­so in­cludes the ocean frontage of Mara­jo, an is­land about the size of the king­dom of Den­mark ly­ing in the mouth of the Ama­zon.

Fol­low­ing the coast, a lit­tle to the north of Cabo do Norte, and for 100 m. along its Guiana mar­gin up the Ama­zon, is a belt of half-​sub­merged is­lands and shal­low sand­banks. Here the tidal phe­nomenon called the bore, or Poro­ro­ca, oc­curs, where the sound­ings are not over 4 fath­oms. It com­mences with a roar, con­stant­ly in­creas­ing, and ad­vances at the rate of from 10 to 15 m. an hour, with a break­ing wall of wa­ter from 5 to 12 ft. high. Un­der such con­di­tions of war­fare be­tween the ocean and the riv­er, it is not sur­pris­ing that the for­mer is rapid­ly eat­ing away the coast and that the vast vol­ume of silt car­ried by the Ama­zon finds it im­pos­si­ble to build up a delta.

The Ama­zon is not so much a riv­er as it is a gi­gan­tic reser­voir, ex­tend­ing from the sea to the base of the An­des, and, in the wet sea­son, vary­ing in width from 5 to 400 m. Spe­cial at­ten­tion has al­ready been called to the four­teen great streams which dis­charge in­to this reser­voir, but it re­ceives a mul­ti­tude of sec­ondary rivers, which in any oth­er part of the wodd would al­so be termed great.

Pop­ula­tion, trace, &c.

For 350 years af­ter the dis­cov­ery of the Ama­zon, by Pin­zon, the Por­tuguese por­tion of its basin re­mained al­most an undis­turbed wilder­ness, oc­cu­pied by In­di­an tribes whom the food quest had split in­to count­less frag­ments. It is doubt­ful if its in­dige­nous in­hab­itants ev­er ex­ceed­ed one to ev­ery 5 sq. m. of ter­ri­to­ry, this be­ing the max­imum it could sup­port un­der the ex­ist­ing con­di­tions of the pe­ri­od in ques­tion, and tak­ing in­to ac­count In­di­an meth­ods of life. A few set­tle­ments on the banks of the main riv­er and some of its trib­utaries, ei­ther for trade with the In­di­ans or for evan­ge­liz­ing pur­pos­es, had been found­ed by the Por­tuguese pi­oneers of Eu­ro­pean civ­iliza­tion. The to­tal pop­ula­tion of the Brazil­ian por­tion of the Ama­zon basin in 1850 was per­haps 300,000, of whom about two-​thirds were white and slaves, the lat­ter num­ber­ing about 25,000. The prin­ci­pal com­mer­cial city, Para, had from 10,000 to 12,000 in­hab­itants, in­clud­ing slaves. The town of Man­aos, at the mouth of the Rio Ne­gro, had from 1000 to 1500 pop­ula­tion; but all the re­main­ing vil­lages, as far up as Tabatin­ga, on the Brazil­ian fron­tier of Pe­ru, were wretched lit­tle groups of hous­es which ap­peared to have timid­ly ef­fect­ed a lodg­ment on the riv­er bank, as if they feared to chal­lenge the mys­ter­ies of the som­bre and gi­gan­tic forests be­hind them. The val­ue of the ex­port and im­port trade of the whole val­ley in 1850 was but

On the 6th of Septem­ber 1850 the em­per­or, Dom Pe­dro II., sanc­tioned a law au­tho­riz­ing steam nav­iga­tion on the Ama­zon, and con­fid­ed to an il­lus­tri­ous Brazil­ian, Barao Maua (Irineu Evangilista de Sousa), the task of car­ry­ing it in­to ef­fect. He or­ga­nized the “Com­pa­nia de Nav­iga­cao e Com­mer­cio do Ama­zonas” at Rio de Janeiro in 1852; and in the fol­low­ing year it com­menced op­er­ations with three small steam­ers, the “Monarch,” the “Mara­jo” and “Rio Ne­gro.” At first the nav­iga­tion was prin­ci­pal­ly con­fined to the main riv­er; and even in 1857 a mod­ifi­ca­tion of the gov­ern­ment con­tract on­ly obliged the com­pa­ny to a month­ly ser­vice be­tween Para and Man­aos, with steam­ers of 200 tons car­go ca­pac­ity, a sec­ond line to make six round voy­ages a year be­tween Man­aos and Tabatin­ga, and a third, two trips a month be­tween Para and Cameta. The gov­ern­ment paid the com­pa­ny a sub­ven­tion of L. 3935 month­ly. Thus the first im­pulse of mod­ern progress was giv­en to the dor­mant val­ley. The suc­cess of the ven­ture called at­ten­tion to the un­oc­cu­pied field; a sec­ond com­pa­ny soon opened com­merce on the Madeira, Pu­rus and Ne­gro; a third es­tab­lished a line be­tween Para and Man­aos; and a fourth found it prof­itable to nav­igate some of the small­er streams; while, in the in­ter­val, the Ama­zonas Com­pa­ny had large­ly in­creased its fine fleet. Mean­while pri­vate in­di­vid­uals were build­ing and run­ning small steam craft of their own, not on­ly up­on the main riv­er but up­on many of its af­flu­ents. The gov­ern­ment of Brazil, con­stant­ly pressed by the mar­itime pow­ers and by the coun­tries en­cir­cling the up­per Ama­zon basin, de­creed, on the 31st of Ju­ly 1867, the open­ing of the Ama­zon to all flags; but lim­it­ed this to cer­tain de­fined points — Tabatin­ga, on the Ama­zon; Cameta, on the To­cantins; Santarem, on the Tapa­jos; Bor­ba, on the Madeira; Man­aos, on the Rio Ne­gro; the de­cree to take ef­fect on the 7th of Septem­ber of the same year. Para, Man­aos and Iq­ui­tos are now thriv­ing com­mer­cial cen­tres. The first di­rect for­eign trade with Man­aos was com­menced about 1874.

The lo­cal trade of the riv­er is car­ried on by the En­glish suc­ces­sors to the Ama­zonas Com­pa­ny — the Ama­zon Steam Nav­iga­tion Com­pa­ny. In ad­di­tion to its ex­cel­lent fleet there are nu­mer­ous small riv­er steam­ers, be­long­ing to com­pa­nies and firms en­gaged in the rub­ber trade, nav­igat­ing the Ne­gro, Madeira, Pur­fis and many oth­er streams. The prin­ci­pal ex­ports of the val­ley are in­dia-​rub­ber, ca­cao, Brazil nuts and a few oth­er prod­ucts of very mi­nor im­por­tance. The finest qual­ity of in­dia-​rub­ber comes from the Acre and Beni dis­tricts of Bo­livia, es­pe­cial­ly from the val­ley of the Acre (or Aquiry) branch of the riv­er Pu­rus. Of the rub­ber pro­duc­tion of the Ama­zon basin, the state of Para gives about 35%. The ca­cao tree is not cul­ti­vat­ed, but grows wild in great abun­dance. There is but one rail­way in the whole val­ley; it is a short line from Para to­wards the coast. The cities of Para and Man­aos have ex­cel­lent tramways, many fine pub­lic build­ings and pri­vate res­idences, gar­dens and pub­lic squares, all of which give ev­idence of artis­tic taste and great pros­per­ity.

The num­ber of in­hab­itants in the Brazil­ian Ama­zon basin (the states of Ama­zonas and Para) is pure­ly a mat­ter of rough es­ti­mate. There may be 500,000 or 600,000, or more; for the im­mi­gra­tion dur­ing re­cent years from the oth­er parts of Brazil has been large, due to the rub­ber ex­cite­ment. The in­flux from the state of Ceara alone, from 1892 to 1899 in­clu­sive, reached 98,348.

As Com­man­der Todd, in his re­port to the Unit­ed States gov­ern­ment, says: “The cry­ing need of the Ama­zon val­ley is food for the peo­ple…. At the small towns along the riv­er it is near­ly im­pos­si­ble to ob­tain beef, veg­eta­bles, or fruit of any sort, and the in­hab­itants de­pend large­ly up­on riv­er fish, man­dioc, and canned goods for their sub­sis­tence.” Al­though more than four cen­turies have passed since the dis­cov­ery of the Ama­zon riv­er, there are prob­ably not 25 sq. m. of its basin un­der cul­ti­va­tion, ex­clud­ing the lim­it­ed and rude­ly cul­ti­vat­ed ar­eas among the moun­tains at its ex­treme head­wa­ters, which are in­ac­ces­si­ble to com­merce. The ex­ten­sive ex­ports of the mighty val­ley are al­most en­tire­ly de­rived from the prod­ucts of the for­est. (G. E. C.)

1 A furo is a nat­ural canal — some­times mere­ly a de­vi­ation from the main chan­nel, which it ul­ti­mate­ly re­joins, some­times a con­nex­ion across low flat coun­try be­tween two en­tire­ly sep­arate streams.

2 Pon­go is a cor­rup­tion of the Quichua pun­cu and the Ay­mara pon­co, mean­ing a door. The Pon­go de Manseriche was first named Mara­non, then San­ti­ago, and lat­er Manser­ic, af­ter­wards Mansariche and Manseriche, ow­ing to the great num­bers of par­ra­keets found on the rocks there.

3 One of the most dar­ing deeds of ex­oloration ev­er known in South Amer­ica was done by the en­gi­neer A. Werthe­man. He fit­ted out three rafts, in Au­gust 1870, and de­scend­ed this whole se­ries of rapids and cas­cades from the Rio Chinchipe to Bor­ja.

4 A cano, like furo, is a kind of nat­ural canal; it forms a lat­er­al dis­charge for sur­plus wa­ter from a riv­er.

5 Igapo is thus the name giv­en to the re­cent al­lu­vial tracts along the mar­gins of rivers, sub­merged by mod­er­ate floods, where­as vargem is the term used for land be­tween the lev­els of mod­er­ate and high floods, while for land above this the peo­ple use the term ter­ra fir­ma.

AMA­ZONAS, the ex­treme north-​west­ern and largest state of Brazil, bound­ed N. by Colom­bia and Venezuela, E. by the state of Para, S. by the state of Mat­to Grosso and Bo­livia, and W. by Pe­ru and Colom­bia. It em­braces an area of 742,123 sq. m., whol­ly with­in the Ama­zon basin. A small part bor­der­ing the Venezue­lan sier­ras is el­evat­ed and moun­tain­ous, but the greater part forms an im­mense al­lu­vial plain, dense­ly wood­ed, tra­versed by in­nu­mer­able rivers, and sub­ject­ed to ex­ten­sive an­nu­al in­un­da­tions. The cli­mate is trop­ical and gen­er­al­ly un­favourable to white set­tle­ment, the ex­cep­tions be­ing the el­evat­ed lo­cal­ities on the Ama­zon ex­posed to the strong winds blow­ing up that riv­er. The state is very sparse­ly pop­ulat­ed; two-​thirds of the in­hab­itants are In­di­ans, form­ing small tribes, and sub­ject on­ly in small part to gov­ern­ment con­trol. The prin­ci­pal prod­ucts are rub­ber, ca­cao and nuts; cat­tle are raised on the el­evat­ed plains of the north, while cur­ing fish and col­lect­ing tur­tle eggs for their oil give oc­cu­pa­tion to many peo­ple on the rivers. Cof­fee, to­bac­co, rice and var­ious fruits of su­pe­ri­or qual­ity are pro­duced with ease, but agri­cul­ture is ne­glect­ed and pro­duc­tion is lim­it­ed to do­mes­tic needs. The cap­ital, Man­aos, is the on­ly city and port of gen­er­al com­mer­cial im­por­tance in the state; oth­er promi­nent towns are Ser­pa and Teffe on the Ama­zon, Bor­ba and Cra­to on the Madeira, and Bar­cel­los on the Rio Ne­gro. Up to 1755 all the Por­tuguese ter­ri­to­ry on the Ama­zon formed part of the cap­ita­nia of Para. The up­per dis­tricts were then or­ga­nized in­to a sep­arate cap­ita­nia, called S. Jose do Rio Ne­gro, to fa­cil­itate ad­min­is­tra­tion. When Brazil be­came in­de­pen­dent in 1822, Rio Ne­gro was over­looked in the re­or­ga­ni­za­tion in­to provinces and re­vert­ed, notwith­stand­ing the protests and an at­tempt­ed rev­olu­tion (1832) of the peo­ple, to a state of de­pen­dence up­on Para. In 1850 au­ton­omy was vot­ed by the gen­er­al as­sem­bly at Rio de Janeiro, and on the 1st of Jan­uary 1852 the province of Ama­zonas was for­mal­ly in­stalled. In 1389 it be­came a fed­er­al state in the Brazil­ian re­pub­lic.

AMA­ZONAS, a north­ern de­part­ment of Pe­ru, cov­er­ing a moun­tain­ous dis­trict be­tween the de­part­ments of Lore­to and Ca­ja­mar­ca, with Ecuador on the N. The Mara­non riv­er forms the greater part of its W. bound­ary-​line. Area, 13,943 sq. m.; pop. (1896) 70,676. The rain­fall is abun­dant, and the soil of the heav­ily wood­ed val­leys and low­er moun­tain slopes is ex­cep­tion­al­ly fer­tile and pro­duc­tive. Its set­tle­ment and de­vel­op­ment is se­ri­ous­ly im­ped­ed by the lack of trans­porta­tion fa­cil­ities. The cap­ital, Chachapoyas, is a small town (pop. about 6000) sit­uat­ed on a trib­utary of the Mara­non, 7600 ft. above sea-​lev­el. It is the seat of a bish­opric, cre­at­ed in 1802, which cov­ers the de­part­ments of Ama­zonas and Lore­to, and one province of Lib­er­tad. It has an im­pos­ing cathe­dral and a uni­ver­si­ty. The cli­mate is equable and de­light­ful, the mean tem­per­ature for the year be­ing 62 deg. F.

AMA­ZONAS, a ter­ri­to­ry be­long­ing to Venezuela, and oc­cu­py­ing the ex­treme south­ern part of that re­pub­lic, ad­join­ing the Brazil­ian state of Ama­zonas. It lies part­ly with­in the drainage basin of the Orinoco and part­ly with­in that of the Rio Ne­gro, an af­flu­ent of the Ama­zon. The ter­ri­to­ry is cov­ered with dense forests and is filled with in­tri­cate wa­ter­cours­es, one of which, the Casiquiare, forms an open com­mu­ni­ca­tion be­tween the Orinoco and the Rio Ne­gro and is nav­iga­ble for large ca­noes. The cap­ital of the ter­ri­to­ry is Maroa, sit­uat­ed on the Guainia riv­er, an af­flu­ent of the Rio Ne­gro.

AMA­ZONS, an an­cient leg­endary na­tion of fe­male war­riors. They were said to have lived in Pon­tus near the shore of the

Eu­xine sea, where they formed an in­de­pen­dent king­dom un­der the gov­ern­ment of a queen, the cap­ital be­ing Themis­cyra on the banks of the riv­er Ther­mod­on (Herodotus iv. 110-117). From this cen­tre they made nu­mer­ous war­like ex­cur­sions — to Scythia, Thrace, the coasts of Asia Mi­nor and the is­lands of the Aegean, even pen­etrat­ing to Ara­bia, Syr­ia and Egypt. They were sup­posed to have found­ed many towns, amongst them Smyr­na, Eph­esus, Sinope, Pa­phos. Ac­cord­ing to an­oth­er ac­count, they orig­inal­ly came to the Ther­mod­on from the Palus Maeo­tis (Sea of Azov). No men were per­mit­ted to re­side in their coun­try; but once a year, in or­der to pre­vent their race from dy­ing out, they vis­it­ed the Gar­gare­ans, a neigh­bour­ing tribe. The male chil­dren who were the re­sult of these vis­its were ei­ther put to death or sent back to their fa­thers; the fe­male were kept and brought up by their moth­ers, and trained in agri­cul­tur­al pur­suits, hunt­ing, and the art of war (Stra­bo xi. p. 503). It is said that their right breast was cut off or burnt out, in or­der that they might be able to use the bow more freely; hence the an­cient deriva­tion of ‘Amax­ones from mafos, “with­out breast.” But there is no in­di­ca­tion of this prac­tice in works of art, in which the Ama­zons are al­ways rep­re­sent­ed with both breasts, al­though the right is fre­quent­ly cov­ered. Oth­er sug­gest­ed deriva­tions are: a (in­ten­sive) and mafos, breast, “full-​breast­ed”; a (pri­va­tive) and mas­so, touch, “not touch­ing men”; maza, a Cir­cas­sian word said to sig­ni­fy “moon,” has sug­gest­ed their con­nex­ion with the wor­ship of a moon- god­dess, per­haps the Asi­at­ic rep­re­sen­ta­tive of Artemis.

The Ama­zons ap­pear in con­nex­ion with sev­er­al Greek leg­ends. They in­vad­ed Ly­cia, but were de­feat­ed by Bellerophon, who was sent out against them by Io­bates, the king of that coun­try, in the hope that he might meet his death at their hands (Il­iad, vi. 186). They at­tacked the Phry­gians, who were as­sist­ed by Pri­am, then a young man (Il­iad, iii. 189), al­though in his lat­er years, to­wards the end of the Tro­jan war, his old op­po­nents took his side against the Greeks un­der their queen Penthe­sileia, who was slain by Achilles (Quint. Smyr. i.; Justin ii. 4; Vir­gil, Aen. i. 490). One of the tasks im­posed up­on Her­acles by Eu­rys­theus was to ob­tain pos­ses­sion of the gir­dle of the Ama­zo­ni­an queen Hip­poly­te (Apol­lodor­us ii. 5). He was ac­com­pa­nied by his friend The­seus, who car­ried off the princess An­tiope, sis­ter of Hip­poly­te, an in­ci­dent which led to a re­tal­ia­to­ry in­va­sion of At­ti­ca, in which An­tiope per­ished fight­ing by the side of The­seus. The Ama­zons are al­so said to have un­der­tak­en an ex­pe­di­tion against the is­land of Leuke, at the mouth of the Danube, where the ash­es of Achilles had been de­posit­ed by Thetis. The ghost of the dead hero ap­peared and so ter­ri­fied the hors­es, that they threw and tram­pled up­on the in­vaders, who were forced to re­tire. They are heard of in the time of Alexan­der the Great, when their queen Thalestris vis­it­ed him and be­came a moth­er by him, and Pom­pey is said to have found them in the army of Mithra­dates.

The ori­gin of the sto­ry of the Ama­zons has been the sub­ject of much dis­cus­sion. While some re­gard them as a pure­ly myth­ical peo­ple, oth­ers as­sume an his­tor­ical foun­da­tion for them. The deities wor­shipped by them were Ares (who is con­sis­tent­ly as­signed to them as a god of war, and as a god of Thra­cian and gen­er­al­ly north­ern ori­gin) and Artemis, not the usu­al Greek god­dess of that name, but an Asi­at­ic de­ity in some re­spects her equiv­alent. It is con­jec­tured that the Ama­zons were orig­inal­ly the tem­ple-​ser­vants and priestess­es (hi­ero­du­lae) of this god­dess; and that the re­moval of the breast cor­re­spond­ed with the self-​mu­ti­la­tion of the gal­li, or priests, of Rhea Cy­bele. An­oth­er the­ory is that, as the knowl­edge of ge­og­ra­phy ex­tend­ed, trav­ellers brought back re­ports of tribes ruled en­tire­ly by wom­en, who car­ried out the du­ties which else­where were re­gard­ed as pe­cu­liar to man, in whom alone the rights of no­bil­ity and in­her­itance were vest­ed, and who had the supreme con­trol of af­fairs. Hence arose the be­lief in the Ama­zons as a na­tion of fe­male war­riors, or­ga­nized and gov­erned en­tire­ly by wom­en. Ac­cord­ing to J. Vur­theim (De Ajacis orig­ine, 1907), the Ama­zons were of Greek ori­gin: “all the Ama­zons were Di­anas, as Di­ana her­self was an Ama­zon.” It has been sug­gest­ed that the fact of the con­quest of the Ama­zons be­ing as­signed to the two fa­mous heroes of Greek mythol­ogy, Her­acles and The­seus — who in the tasks as­signed to them were gen­er­al­ly op­posed to mon­sters and be­ings im­pos­si­ble in them­selves, but pos­si­ble as il­lus­tra­tions of per­ma­nent dan­ger and dam­age, — shows that they were myth­ical il­lus­tra­tions of the dan­gers which be­set the Greeks on the coasts of Asia Mi­nor; rather per­haps, it may be in­tend­ed to rep­re­sent the con­flict be­tween the Greek cul­ture of the colonies on the Eu­xine and the bar­barism of the na­tive in­hab­itants.

In works of art, com­bats be­tween Ama­zons and Greeks are placed on the same lev­el as and of­ten as­so­ci­at­ed with com­bats of Greeks and cen­taurs. The be­lief in their ex­is­tence, how­ev­er, hav­ing been once ac­cept­ed and in­tro­duced in­to the na­tion­al po­et­ry and art, it be­came nec­es­sary to sur­round them as far as pos­si­ble with the ap­pear­ance of not un­nat­ural be­ings. Their oc­cu­pa­tion was hunt­ing and war; their arms the bow, spear, axe, a half shield, near­ly in the shape of a cres­cent, called pelta, and in ear­ly art a hel­met, the mod­el be­fore the Greek mind hav­ing ap­par­ent­ly been the god­dess Athena. In lat­er art they ap­proach the mod­el of Artemis, wear­ing a thin dress, girt high for speed; while on the lat­er paint­ed vas­es their dress is of­ten pe­cu­liar­ly Per­sian — that is, close-​fit­ting trousers and a high cap called the ki­daris. They were usu­al­ly on horse­back but some­times on foot. The bat­tle be­tween The­seus and the Ama­zons is a favourite sub­ject on the friezes of tem­ples (e.g. the re­liefs from the frieze of the tem­ple of Apol­lo at Bas­sae, now in the British Mu­se­um), vas­es and sar­coph­agus re­liefs; at Athens it was rep­re­sent­ed on the shield of the stat­ue of Athena Parthenos, on wall-​paint­ings in the The­se­um and in the Poik­ile Stoa. Many of the sculp­tors of an­tiq­ui­ty, in­clud­ing Phei­dias, Poly­cli­tus, Cre­si­las and Phrad­mon, ex­ecut­ed stat­ues of Ama­zons; and there are many ex­ist­ing re­pro­duc­tions of these.

The his­to­ry of Bo­hemia af­fords a par­al­lel to the Greek Ama­zons. Dur­ing the 8th cen­tu­ry a large band of wom­en, un­der a cer­tain Vlas­ta, car­ried on war against the duke of Bo­hemia, and en­slaved or put to death all men who fell in­to their hands. In the 16th cen­tu­ry the Span­ish ex­plor­er Orel­lana as­sert­ed that he had come in­to con­flict with fight­ing wom­en in South Amer­ica on the riv­er Mara­non, which was named af­ter them the Ama­zon (q.v.) or riv­er of the Ama­zons, al­though oth­ers de­rive its name from the In­di­an amas­sona (boat-​de­stroy­er), ap­plied to the tidal phe­nomenon known as the “bore.” The ex­is­tence of “Ama­zons” (in the sense of fight­ing wom­en) in the army of Da­homey in mod­ern times is an un­doubt­ed fact, but they are said to have died out dur­ing the French pro­tec­torate. For no­table cas­es of wom­en who have be­come sol­diers, ref­er­ence may be made to Mary Anne Tal­bot and Han­nah Snell.

See A. D. Mordt­mann, Die Ama­zo­nen (1862); W. Strick­er, Die A. in Sage und Geschichte (1868); A. Klug­mann, Die A. in der at­tis­chen Lit­er­atur und Kun­st (1875); H. L. Krause, Die Ama­zo­nen­sage (1893); F. G. Bergmann, Les Ama­zones dans l’his­toire et dans la fa­ble (1853); P. La­cour, Les Ama­zones (1901); ar­ti­cles in Pauly- Wis­sowa’s Realen­cy­clopadie and Rosch­er’s Lexikon der Mytholo­gie; Grote, Hist. of Greece, pt. i. ch. 11. In ar­ti­cle GREEK ART, fig. 40 rep­re­sents three types of Ama­zons, and fig. 70 (pl. iv.) a bat­tle be­tween Ama­zons and Greeks.

AMA­ZON-​STONE, or AMA­ZONITE, a green va­ri­ety of mi­cro­cline- felspar. The name is tak­en from that of the riv­er Ama­zon, whence cer­tain green stones were form­edy ob­tained, but it is doubt­ful whether green felspar oc­curs in the Ama­zon dis­trict. The mod­ern ama­zon-​stone is a min­er­al of re­strict­ed oc­cur­rence. For­mer­ly it was ob­tained al­most ex­clu­sive­ly from the neigh­bour­hood of Miyask, in the Il­men moun­tains, 50 m. S.W. of Chehabin­sk, Rus­sia, where it oc­curs in granitic rocks. Of late years, mag­nif­icent crys­tals have been ob­tained from Pike’s Peak, Col­orado, where it is found as­so­ci­at­ed with smoky quartz, or­tho­clase and al­bite in a coarse gran­ite or peg­matite. Some oth­er lo­cal­ities in the Unit­ed States yield ama­zon-​stone, and it is al­so found in peg­matite in Mada­gas­car. On ac­count of its live­ly green colour, it is cut and pol­ished to a lim­it­ed ex­tent as an or­na­men­tal stone. The colour has been at­tribut­ed to the pres­ence of cop­per, but as it is dis­charged by heat it is like­ly

to be due to some pig­ment of or­gan­ic ori­gin, and an or­gan­ic salt of iron has been sug­gest­ed. (See MI­CRO­CLINE.)

AM­BAR­VALIA, an an­nu­al fes­ti­val of the an­cient Ro­mans, oc­cur­ring in May, usu­al­ly on the 29th, the ob­ject of which was to se­cure the grow­ing crops against harm of all kinds. The priests were the Ar­val Broth­ers (q.v.), who con­duct­ed the vic­tims — ox, sheep and pig (suove­tau­ril­ia) — in pro­ces­sion with prayer to Ceres round the bound­aries of the ager Ro­manus. As the ex­tent of Ro­man land in­creased, this could no longer be done, and in the Ac­ta of the Fratres, which date from Au­gus­tus, we do not find this pro­ces­sion men­tioned (Hen­zen, Ac­ta Fratrum Ar­val­ium, 1874); but there is a good de­scrip­tion of this or a sim­ilar rite in Vir­gil, Georg. i. 338 ff., and in Cato’s work de Re Rus­ti­ca (141) we have full de­tails and the text of the prayers used by the Latin farmer in thus “lus­trat­ing” his own land. In this last case the god in­voked is Mars. The Chris­tian fes­ti­val which seems to have tak­en the place of these cer­emonies is the Ro­ga­tion or Gang week of the Ro­man Church. The per­am­bu­la­tion or beat­inc of bounds is prob­ably a sur­vival of the same type of rite.

See W. W. Fowler, Ro­man Fes­ti­vals (1899), p. 124 ff. (W. W. F.*) AM­BAS­SADOR (al­so EM­BAS­SADOR, the form some­times still used in Amer­ica; from the Fr. am­bas­sadeur, with which com­pare Ital. am­bas­ci­atore and Span. em­ba­jador, all vari­ants of the Med. Lat. am­bas­ci­ator, am­bassi­ator, am­basator, &c., de­rived from Med. Lat. am­bas­cia­re or am­bac­tiare, “to go on a mis­sion, to do or say any­thing in an­oth­er’s name,” from Lat. am­bac­tus,1 a vas­sal or ser­vant; see Du Cange, Glos­sar­ium, s.v. am­bas­cia­re), a pub­lic min­is­ter of the first rank, ac­cred­it­ed and sent by the head of a sovereign state as his per­son­al rep­re­sen­ta­tive to ne­go­ti­ate with a for­eign gov­ern­ment, and to watch over the in­ter­ests of his own na­tion abroad. The pow­er thus con­ferred is de­fined in the cre­den­tials or let­ters of cre­dence of which the am­bas­sador is the bear­er, and in the in­struc­tions un­der the sign-​man­ual de­liv­ered to him. The cre­den­tials con­sist of a sealed let­ter ad­dressed by the sovereign whom the am­bas­sador rep­re­sents to the sovereign to whom he is ac­cred­it­ed, and they em­body a gen­er­al as­sur­ance that the sovereign by whom the am­bas­sador is sent will con­firm what­ev­er is done by the am­bas­sador in his name. In Great Britain let­ters of cre­dence are un­der the roy­al sign-​man­ual, and are not coun­ter­signed by a min­is­ter. Am­bas­sadors are dis­tin­guished as or­di­nary and ex­traor­di­nary, which im­plied orig­inal­ly the dif­fer­ence be­tween a per­ma­nent mis­sion and one ap­point­ed to con­duct a par­tic­ular ne­go­ti­ation. The style of am­bas­sador ex­traor­di­nary is, how­ev­er, now of­ten giv­en to a min­is­ter ac­cred­it­ed to a court for an in­def­inite time and im­plies a some­what more dig­ni­fied rank.

By the pro­to­col of the 19th of March 1815, af­ter­wards em­bod­ied in the treaty of Vi­en­na (1815) and con­firmed by an in­stru­ment signed by the five great pow­ers at Aix-​la-​Chapelle on the 21st of Novem­ber 1818, it was fi­nal­ly de­ter­mined that “am­bas­sadors and pa­pal legates and nun­cios alone have a rep­re­sen­ta­tive char­ac­ter,” i.e. in the most ex­alt­ed and pe­cu­liar sense, as rep­re­sent­ing the per­son of the sovereign, or the head of a re­pub­lic, as well as the state to which they be­long. It fol­lows that on­ly states en­joy­ing “roy­al hon­ours,” i.e. em­pires, king­doms, grand duchies, the great re­publics (e.g. France, Switzer­land, the Unit­ed States of Amer­ica) and the Holy See, have the right to send or to re­ceive am­bas­sadors. By cus­tom it has more­over been es­tab­lished that, as a gen­er­al rule, on­ly the greater “roy­al states” are rep­re­sent­ed by am­bas­sadors, and then on­ly when these are ac­cred­it­ed to states es­teemed, for one rea­son or an­oth­er. to be of equal rank. Thus the pro­mo­tion of the Japanese lega­tions in Eu­rope and the Unit­ed States to the rank of em­bassies, and the cor­re­spond­ing change in the rep­re­sen­ta­tion of the var­ious pow­ers at Tokio, marked in 1905 the def­inite recog­ni­tion of Japan as a great pow­er. To this rule the Unit­ed States of Amer­ica long re­mained an ex­cep­tion, and was con­tent, in ac­cor­dance with the tra­di­tion of re­pub­li­can sim­plic­ity, to be rep­re­sent­ed abroad on­ly by min­is­ters of the sec­ond rank. The sub­or­di­nate po­si­tion giv­en to the rep­re­sen­ta­tives of so great a pow­er, how­ev­er, in­evitably led to many in­con­ve­niences, and in 1893 an act of Congress em­pow­ered the pres­ident to ac­cred­it am­bas­sadors to the great pow­ers.

The dis­tinc­tion be­tween an am­bas­sador and min­is­ters of the sec­ond rank is one rather of rank and dig­ni­ty than of pow­er or func­tions. His spe­cial im­mu­ni­ties he shares with oth­er diplo­mat­ic rep­re­sen­ta­tives of all class­es. The pe­cu­liar priv­ilege which he claims of free ac­cess to the sovereign has, in com­mon prac­tice, been re­duced to the right of be­ing re­ceived on pre­sent­ing his cre­den­tials in pub­lic or pri­vate au­di­ence by the sovereign in per­son, it be­ing ob­vi­ous­ly against pub­lic pol­icy that a for­eign rep­re­sen­ta­tive should ne­go­ti­ate with the ruler oth­er­wise than through his re­spon­si­ble min­is­ters. In Great Britain the sovereign, when grant­ing an au­di­ence to a for­eign am­bas­sador, is al­ways at­tend­ed by one or more min­is­ters, and the same is usu­al in oth­er states.

An am­bas­sador, how­ev­er, un­less spe­cial­ly armed with ple­nary au­thor­ity, can­not de­cide any ques­tions be­yond his in­struc­tions with­out ref­er­ence to his gov­ern­ment. Thus Lord Lon­don­der­ry (Lord Stew­art), who rep­re­sent­ed Great Britain at the con­fer­ences of Trop­pau in 1820 and Laibach in 1821, had not the same stand­ing as the plenipo­ten­tiaries of the oth­er pow­ers present, and ef­forts were even made to ex­clude him from some of the more im­por­tant dis­cus­sions in con­se­quence, not on the ground of in­fe­ri­or rank but of de­fec­tive pow­ers.

So­cial­ly, the po­si­tion of an am­bas­sador is one of great dig­ni­ty. The pomp and mag­nif­icence which in ear­li­er days char­ac­ter­ized his pro­gress­es and his “en­tries” are in­deed no longer ob­served. He is re­ceived, how­ev­er, by the sovereign to whom he is ac­cred­it­ed with elab­orate state, of which ev­ery de­tail is minute­ly reg­ulat­ed, and ranks, as rep­re­sent­ing his own sovereign, next to the princes of the blood in the court where he re­sides. The con­tro­ver­sies that once raged as to the or­der of prece­dence of the var­ious am­bas­sadors ac­cred­it­ed to any one court were set­tled by the treaties al­ready men­tioned, it be­ing de­cid­ed that they should rank in or­der of se­nior­ity ac­cord­ing to the date of the pre­sen­ta­tion of their cre­den­tials. In Ro­man Catholic coun­tries, how­ev­er — as in France be­fore the ab­ro­ga­tion of the con­cor­dat, — the po­si­tion of doyen (dean) of the diplo­mat­ic body is giv­en by cour­tesy to the nun­cio of the pope.

The spe­cial im­mu­ni­ties and priv­ileges en­joyed by am­bas­sadors are dealt with in the ar­ti­cles EX­TER­RI­TO­RI­AL­ITY and DIPLO­MA­CY. See al­so the lat­ter for the his­to­ry of the sub­ject.

The most au­thor­ita­tive mod­ern hand-​book on the sub­ject is Charles de Martens, Manuel diplo­matlque (Paris, 1822; new ed., 1868). See al­so Hen­ry Wheaton, Hist. of the Law of Na­tions (New York, 1845); L. Op­pen­heim, In­ter­na­tion­al Law (Lon­don, 1905); and the list of books at­tached to the ar­ti­cle DIPLO­MA­CY. (W. A. P.)

1 Am­bac­tus is ex­plained by Fes­tus (Paulus Di­aconus ex Fes­to, ed. C. O. Muller) as a Gal­lic word used by En­nius and mean­ing servus. Cae­sar (De Bel­lo Gal­li­co, vi. 15) says of the Gal­lic eq­ui­tes, “atque eo­rum ut quisque est genere copi­isque am­plis­simus, plu­ri­mos cir­cum se am­bac­tos clien­tesque habent.” Ac­cept­ing the Celtic ori­gin of the word, it has been con­nect­ed with the Welsh amaeth, a tiller of the ground. A Teu­ton­ic ori­gin has been sug­gest­ed in the Old High Ger. am­baht, a re­tain­er, which ap­pears in a Scan­di­na­vian word am­bo­ht, bond­wom­an or maid, in the Or­mu­lum (c. 1200).

AM­RA­TO, or ASIEN­TO DE AM­BATO, an in­land town of Ecuador, cap­ital of the province of Tun­guragua, 80 m. S. of Quito by the high­way, and near the north­ern foot of Chimb­ora­zo. Pop. (est.) 10,000. The town stands in a bowl-​like de­pres­sion, 8606 ft. above sea-​lev­el, sur­round­ed by steep, sandy, bar­ren moun­tains, and has an equable cli­mate, which has been likened to a per­pet­ual au­tumn. The im­me­di­ate en­vi­rons are very fer­tile and pro­duce a great va­ri­ety of fruits, in­clud­ing many of the tem­per­ate zone, but the sur­round­ing coun­try is arid and ster­ile, pro­duc­ing scanty crops of bar­ley, In­di­an corn and pease. The cochineal in­sect is found on the cac­tus which grows in abun­dance in the vicin­ity, and the town is known through­out Ecuador for its man­ufac­ture of boots and shoes, and for a cordage made from cabuya, the fi­bre of the agave plant. Am­bato was de­stroyed by an erup­tion of Co­topaxi in 1698, and has been bad­ly dam­aged two or three times by earth­quakes.

AM­BATO is al­so the name of a range of moun­tains in north­ern Ar­genti­na, be­ing a spur of the Sier­ra de Acon­qui­ja cross­ing the province of Cata­mar­ca from north to south.

AM­BER, a ru­ined city of In­dia, the an­cient cap­ital of Jaipur state in the Ra­jputana agen­cy. The name of Am­ber is first men­tioned by Ptole­my. It was found­ed by the Mi­nas and was still flour­ish­ing in A.D. 967. In 1037 it was tak­en by the Ra­jputs, who held it till it was de­sert­ed. In 1728 it was sup­plant­ed by the mod­ern city of Jaipur, from which it is 5 m. dis­tant. The pic­turesque sit­ua­tion of Am­ber at the mouth of a rocky moun­tain gorge, in which nes­tles a love­ly lake, has at­tract­ed the ad­mi­ra­tion of all trav­ellers, in­clud­ing Jacque­mont and Heber. It is now on­ly re­mark­able for its ar­chi­tec­ture. The old palace be­gun by Man Sing in 1600 ranks sec­ond on­ly to Gwalior. The chief build­ing is the Di­wan-​i-​Khas built by Mirza Ra­ja. “No soon­er,” (it is re­lat­ed) “had Mirza com­plet­ed the Di­wan-​i-​Khas than it came to the ears of the em­per­or Je­hangir that his vas­sal had sur­passed him in mag­nif­icence, and that this last great work quite eclipsed all the mar­vels of the im­pe­ri­al city; the columns of red sand­stone hav­ing been par­tic­ular­ly no­ticed as sculp­tured with exquisite taste and elab­orate de­tail. In a fit of jeal­ousy the em­per­or com­mand­ed that this mas­ter­piece should be thrown down, and sent com­mis­sion­ers to Am­ber charged with the ex­ecu­tion of this or­der; where­upon Mirza, in or­der to save the struc­ture, had the columns plas­tered over with stuc­co, so that the mes­sen­gers from Agra should have to ac­knowl­edge to the em­per­or that the mag­nif­icence, which had been so much talked of, was af­ter all pure in­ven­tion. Since then his ap­athet­ic suc­ces­sors have ne­glect­ed to bring to light this splen­did work; and it is on­ly by knock­ing off some of the plas­ter that one can get a glimpse of the sculp­tures, which are per­fect as on the day they were carved.”

AM­BER, a fos­sil resin much used for the man­ufac­ture of or­na­men­tal ob­jects. The name comes from the Arab. an­bar, prob­ably through the Span­ish, but this word re­ferred orig­inal­ly to am­ber­gris, which is an an­imal sub­stance quite dis­tinct from yel­low am­ber. True am­ber has some­times been called karabe, a word of ori­en­tal deriva­tion sig­ni­fy­ing “that which at­tracts straw,” in al­lu­sion to the pow­er which am­ber pos­sess­es of ac­quir­ing an elec­tric charge by fric­tion. This prop­er­ty, first record­ed by Thales of Mile­tus, sug­gest­ed the word “elec­tric­ity,” from the Greek, elek­tron, a name ap­plied, how­ev­er, not on­ly to am­ber but al­so to an al­loy of gold and sil­ver. By Latin writ­ers am­ber is var­ious­ly called elec­trum, sucinum (suc­cinum), and glae­sum or gle­sum. The He­brew hash­mal seems to have been am­ber.

Am­ber is not ho­mo­ge­neous in com­po­si­tion, but con­sists of sev­er­al resinous bod­ies more or less sol­uble in al­co­hol, ether and chlo­ro­form, as­so­ci­at­ed with an in­sol­uble bi­tu­mi­nous sub­stance. The av­er­age com­po­si­tion of am­ber leads to the gen­er­al for­mu­la C10H16O. Heat­ed rather be­low 300 deg. C. am­ber suf­fers de­com­po­si­tion, yield­ing an “oil of am­ber,” and leav­ing a black residue which is known as “am­ber colopho­ny,” or “am­ber pitch”; this forms, when dis­solved in oil of tur­pen­tine or in lin­seed oil, “am­ber var­nish” or “am­ber lac.”

True am­ber yields on dry dis­til­la­tion suc­cinic acid, the pro­por­tion vary­ing from about 3 to 8%, and be­ing great­est in the pale opaque or “bony” va­ri­eties. The aro­mat­ic and ir­ri­tat­ing fumes emit­ted by burn­ing am­ber are main­ly due to this acid. True Baltic am­ber is dis­tin­guished by its yield of suc­cinic acid, for many of the oth­er fos­sil resins which are of­ten termed am­ber con­tain ei­ther none of it, or on­ly a very small pro­por­tion; hence the name “suc­ci­nite” pro­posed by Pro­fes­sor J. D. Dana, and now com­mon­ly used in sci­en­tif­ic writ­ings as a spe­cif­ic term for the re­al Prus­sian am­ber. Suc­ci­nite has a hard­ness be­tween 2 and 3, which is rather greater than that of many oth­er fos­sil resins. Its spe­cif­ic grav­ity varies from 1.05 to 1.10.

The Baltic am­ber or suc­ci­nite is found as ir­reg­ular nod­ules in a ma­rine glau­conitic sand, known as “blue earth,” oc­cur­ring in the Low­er Oligocene stra­ta of Sam­land in East Prus­sia, where it is now sys­tem­at­ical­ly mined. It ap­pears, how­ev­er, to have been part­ly de­rived from yet ear­li­er Ter­tiary de­posits (Eocene); and it oc­curs al­so as a deriva­tive min­er­al in lat­er for­ma­tions, such as the drift. Relics of an abun­dant flo­ra oc­cur in as­so­ci­ation with the am­ber, sug­gest­ing re­la­tions with the flo­ra of East­ern . Asia and the south­ern part of North Amer­ica. H. R. Gop­pert named the com­mon am­ber-​yield­ing pine of the Baltic forests Pinites suc­ciniter, but as the wood, ac­cord­ing to some au­thor­ities, does not seem to dif­fer from that of the ex­ist­ing genus it has been al­so called Pinius suc­cinifera. It is im­prob­able, how­ev­er, that the pro­duc­tion of am­ber was lim­it­ed to a sin­gle species; and in­deed a large num­ber of conifers be­long­ing to dif­fer­ent gen­era are rep­re­sent­ed in the am­ber-​flo­ra. The resin con­tains, in ad­di­tion to the beau­ti­ful­ly pre­served plant-​struc­tures, nu­mer­ous re­mains of in­sects, spi­ders, an­nelids, crus­taceans and oth­er small or­gan­isms which be­came en­veloped while the ex­uda­tion was flu­id. In most cas­es the or­gan­ic struc­ture has dis­ap­peared, leav­ing on­ly a cav­ity, with per­haps a trace of chitin. Even hair and feath­ers have oc­ca­sion­al­ly been rep­re­sent­ed among the en­clo­sures. Frag­ments of wood not in­fre­quent­ly oc­cur, with the tis­sues well-​pre­served by im­preg­na­tion with the resin; while leaves, flow­ers and fruits are oc­ca­sion­al­ly found in mar­vel­lous per­fec­tion. Some­times the am­ber re­tains the form of drops and sta­lac­tites, just as it ex­ud­ed from the ducts and re­cep­ta­cles of the in­jured trees. The ab­nor­mal de­vel­op­ment of resin has been called “suc­ci­nosis.” Im­pu­ri­ties are of­ten present, es­pe­cial­ly when the resin dropped on to the ground, so that the ma­te­ri­al may be use­less ex­cept for var­nish-​mak­ing, whence the im­pure am­ber is called fir­niss. En­clo­sures of pyrites may give a bluish colour to am­ber. The so-​called “black am­ber” is on­ly a kind of jet. “Bony am­ber” owes its cloudy opac­ity to minute bub­bles in the in­te­ri­or of the resin.

Al­though am­ber is found along the shores of a large part of the Baltic and the North Sea, the great am­ber-​pro­duc­ing coun­try is the promon­to­ry of Sam­land. Pieces of am­ber torn from the sea-​floor are cast up by the waves, and col­lect­ed at ebb-​tide. Some­times the searchers wade in­to the sea, fur­nished with nets at the end of long poles, by means of which they drag in the sea-​weed con­tain­ing en­tan­gled mass­es of am­ber; or they dredge from boats in shal­low wa­ter and rake up am­ber from be­tween the boul­ders. Divers have been em­ployed to col­lect am­ber from the deep­er wa­ters. Sys­tem­at­ic dredg­ing on a large scale was at one time car­ried on in the Kurisches Haff by Messrs Stantien and Beck­er, the great am­ber mer­chants of Konigs­berg. At the present time ex­ten­sive min­ing op­er­ations are con­duct­ed in quest of am­ber. The “pit am­ber” was for­mer­ly dug in open works, but is now al­so worked by un­der­ground gal­leries. The nod­ules from the “blue earth” have to be freed from ma­trix and di­vest­ed of their opaque crust, which can be done in re­volv­ing bar­rels con­tain­ing sand and wa­ter. The sea-​worn am­ber has lost its crust, but has of­ten ac­quired a dull rough sur­face by rolling in sand.

Am­ber is ex­ten­sive­ly used for beads and oth­er triv­ial or­na­ments, and for cigar-​hold­ers and the mouth-​pieces of pipes. It is re­gard­ed by the Turks as spe­cial­ly valu­able, inas­much as it is said to be in­ca­pable of trans­mit­ting in­fec­tion as the pipe pass­es from mouth to mouth. The va­ri­ety most val­ued in the East is the pale straw-​coloured, slight­ly cloudy am­ber. Some of the best qual­ities are sent to Vi­en­na for the man­ufac­ture of smok­ing ap­pli­ances. In work­ing am­ber, it is turned on the lathe and pol­ished with whiten­ing and wa­ter or with rot­ten stone and oil, the fi­nal lus­tre be­ing giv­en by fric­tion with flan­nel. Dur­ing the work­ing much elec­tric­ity is de­vel­oped.

By grad­ual­ly heat­ing am­ber in an oil-​bath it be­comes soft and flex­ible. Two pieces of am­ber may be unit­ed by smear­ing the sur­faces with lin­seed oil, heat­ing them, and then press­ing them to­geth­er while hot. Cloudy am­ber may be clar­ified in an oil-​bath, as the oil fills the nu­mer­ous pores to which the tur­bid­ity is due. Small frag­ments, for­mer­ly thrown away or used on­ly for var­nish, are now uti­lized on a large scale in the for­ma­tion of “am­broid” or “pressed am­ber.” The pieces are care­ful­ly heat­ed with ex­clu­sion of air and then com­pressed in­to a uni­form mass by in­tense hy­draulic pres­sure; the soft­ened am­ber be­ing forced through holes in a met­al plate. The prod­uct is ex­ten­sive­ly used for the pro­duc­tion of cheap jew­ellery and ar­ti­cles for smok­ing. This pressed am­ber yields bril­liant in­ter­fer­ence colours in po­lar­ized light. Am­ber has of­ten been im­itat­ed by oth­er resins

like co­pal and kau­ri, as well as by cel­lu­loid and even glass. True am­ber is some­times coloured ar­ti­fi­cial­ly.

Am­ber was much val­ued as an or­na­men­tal ma­te­ri­al in very ear­ly times. It has been found in Myce­naean tombs; it is known from lake-​dwellings in Switzer­land, and it oc­curs with ne­olith­ic re­mains in Den­mark, whilst in Eng­land it is found with in­ter­ments of the bronze age. A re­mark­ably fine cup turned in am­ber from a bronze-​age bar­row at Hove is now in the Brighton Mu­se­um. Beads of am­ber oc­cur with An­glo-​Sax­on relics in the south of Eng­land; and up to a com­par­ative­ly re­cent pe­ri­od the ma­te­ri­al was val­ued as an amulet. It is still be­lieved to pos­sess cer­tain medic­inal virtue.

Rolled pieces of am­ber, usu­al­ly small but oc­ca­sion­al­ly of very large size, may be picked up on the east coast of Eng­land, hav­ing prob­ably been washed up from de­posits un­der the North Sea. Cromer is the best-​known lo­cal­ity, but it oc­curs al­so on oth­er parts of the Nor­folk coast, as well as at Yarmouth, South­wold, Alde­burgh and Fe­lixs­towe in Suf­folk, and as far south as Wal­ton-​on-​the-​Naze in Es­sex, whilst north­wards it is not un­known in York­shire. On the oth­er side of the North Sea, am­ber is found at var­ious lo­cal­ities on the coast of Hol­land and Den­mark. On the shores of the Baltic it oc­curs not on­ly on the Prus­sian and Pomera­ni­an coast but in the south of Swe­den, in Born­holm and oth­er is­lands, and in S. Fin­land. Am­ber has in­deed a very wide dis­tri­bu­tion, ex­tend­ing over a large part of north­ern Eu­rope and oc­cur­ring as far east as the Urals. Some of the am­ber dis­tricts of the Baltic and North Sea were known in pre­his­toric times, and led to ear­ly trade with the south of Eu­rope. Am­ber was car­ried to Ol­bia on the Black Sea, Mas­sil­ia on the Mediter­ranean, and Ha­tria at the head of the Adri­at­ic; and from these cen­tres it was dis­tribut­ed over the Hel­lenic world.

Whilst suc­ci­nite is the com­mon va­ri­ety of Eu­ro­pean am­ber, the fol­low­ing va­ri­eties al­so oc­cur: –

Gedan­ite, or “brit­tle am­ber,” close­ly re­sem­bling suc­ci­nite, but much more brit­tle, not quite so hard, with a low­er melt­ing- point and con­tain­ing no suc­cinic acid. It is of­ten cov­ered with a white pow­der eas­ily re­moved by wip­ing. The name comes from Gedanum, the Latin name of Danzig.

Stantien­ite, a brit­tle, deep brown­ish-​black resin, des­ti­tute of suc­cinic acid.

Beckerite, a rare am­ber in earthy-​brown nod­ules, al­most opaque, said to be re­lat­ed in prop­er­ties to gut­ta-​per­cha.

Glessite, a near­ly opaque brown resin, with nu­mer­ous mi­cro­scop­ic cav­ities and dusty en­clo­sures, named from gle­sum, an old name for am­ber.

Krantzite, a soft am­ber-​like resin, found in the lig­nites of Sax­ony.

Allin­gite, a fos­sil resin al­lied to suc­ci­nite, from Switzer­land.

Rouman­ite, or Ru­ma­ni­an am­ber, a dark red­dish resin, oc­cur­ring with lig­nite in Ter­tiary de­posits. The nod­ules are pen­etrat­ed by cracks, but the ma­te­ri­al can be worked on the lathe. Sul­phur is present to the ex­tent of more than 1%, whence the smell of sul­phuret­ted hy­dro­gen when the resin is heat­ed. Ac­cord­ing to G. Mur­go­ci the Ru­ma­ni­an am­ber is true suc­ci­nite.

Simetite, or Si­cil­ian am­ber, takes its name from the riv­er Sime­to or Gi­aret­ta. It oc­curs in Miocene de­posits and is al­so found washed up by the sea near Cata­nia. This beau­ti­ful ma­te­ri­al presents a great di­ver­si­ty of tints, but a rich hy­acinth red is com­mon. It is re­mark­able for its flu­ores­cence, which in the opin­ion of some au­thor­ities adds to its beau­ty. Am­ber is al­so found in many lo­cal­ities in Emil­ia, es­pe­cial­ly near the sul­phur-​mines of Ce­se­na. It has been con­jec­tured that the an­cient Etr­uscan or­na­ments in am­ber were wrought in the Ital­ian ma­te­ri­al, but it seems that am­ber from the Baltic reached the Etr­uscans at Ha­tria. It has even been sup­posed that am­ber passed from Sici­ly to north­ern Eu­rope in ear­ly times — a sup­po­si­tion said to re­ceive some sup­port from the fact that much of the am­ber dug up in Den­mark is red; but it must not be for­got­ten that red­dish am­ber is found al­so on the Baltic, though not be­ing fash­ion­able it is used rather for var­nish-​mak­ing than for or­na­ments. More­over, yel­low am­ber af­ter long buri­al is apt to ac­quire a red­dish colour. The am­ber of Sici­ly seems not to have been rec­og­nized in an­cient times, for it is not men­tioned by lo­cal au­thor­ities like Diodor­us Sicu­lus.

Bur­mite is the name un­der which the Burmese am­ber is now de­scribed. Un­til the British oc­cu­pa­tion of Bur­ma but lit­tle was known as to its oc­cur­rence, though it had been worked for cen­turies and was high­ly val­ued by the na­tives and by the Chi­nese. It is found in fi­at rolled pieces, ir­reg­ular­ly dis­tribut­ed through a blue clay prob­ably of Miocene age. It oc­curs in the Hukawng val­ley, in the Nan­go­taimaw hills, where it is ir­reg­ular­ly worked in shal­low pits. The mines were vis­it­ed some years ago by Dr Fritz Noetling, and the min­er­al has been de­scribed by Dr Ot­to Helm. The Burmese am­ber is yel­low or red­dish, some be­ing of ru­by tint, and like the Si­cil­ian am­ber it is flu­ores­cent. Bur­mite and simetite agree al­so in be­ing des­ti­tute of suc­cinic acid. Most of the Burmese am­ber is worked at Man­dalay in­to rosary-​beads and ear-​cylin­ders.

Many oth­er fos­sil resins more or less al­lied to am­ber have been de­scribed. Schrau­fite is a red­dish resin from the Carpathi­an sand­stone, and it oc­curs with jet in the cre­ta­ceous rocks of the Lebanon; ambrite is a resin found in many of the coals of New Zealand; re­ti­nite oc­curs in the lig­nite of Bovey Tracey in De­von­shire and else­where; whilst co­pa­line has been found in the Lon­don clay of High­gate in North Lon­don. Chemaw­inite or cedarite is an am­ber-​like resin from the Saskatchewan riv­er in Cana­da.

Am­ber and cer­tain sim­ilar sub­stances are found to a lim­it­ed ex­tent at sev­er­al lo­cal­ities in the Unit­ed States, as in the green- sand of New Jer­sey, but they have lit­tle or no eco­nom­ic val­ue. A flu­ores­cent am­ber is said, how­ev­er, to oc­cur in some abun­dance in South­ern Mex­ico. Am­ber is record­ed al­so from the Do­mini­can Re­pub­lic.

REPER­ENCES. — See, for Baltic am­ber, P. Dahms, “Ue­ber die Vorkom­men und die Ver­wen­dung des Bern­steins,” Zeitsch. fur prak­tis­che Ge­olog­ic, 1901, p. 201; H. Con­wentz, Mono­graph­ic der baltischen Bern­stein­baume (Danzig, 1890); R. Klebs, Guide to Ex­hib­it of the Ger­man Am­ber In­dus­try at World’s Fair (St Louis, 1904); and ab­stract by G. F. Kunz in Min­er­al Re­sources of the U. S. (1904). U. or Si­cil­ian am­ber, W. Arnold Bul­lum, The Tears of the He­lialdes, or Am­ber as a Gem (Lon­don, 1896). For Burmese am­ber, pa­pers by Fritz Noetling and Ot­to Helm in Records of Ge­ol. Surv. of In­dia, vol. xxvi. (1893), pp. 31, 61. For British am­ber, Clement Reid in Trans. Nor­folk Nat. Soc., vol. iii. (1884) p. 601; vol. iv. (1886) p. 247; and H. Con­wentz in Nat­ural Sci­ence, vol. ix. (1896) pp. 99, 161. (F. W. R.*)

AM­BERG, a town of Ger­many, in the king­dom of Bavaria, for­mer­ly the cap­ital of the Up­per Palati­nate, sit­uat­ed on both sides of the Vils, 42 m. E. of Nurem­berg by rail. Pop. 22,089. It has a town hall with hand­some rooms, a li­brary, a gym­na­si­um, a lyceum, el­emen­tary schools, an ar­se­nal, and eleven church­es, the finest of which is St Mar­tin’s, of the 15th cen­tu­ry, with many ex­cel­lent paint­ings and a tow­er 300 ft. high. A for­mer Je­suit monastery is now used for a gram­mar school and sem­inary. There are al­so a pil­grim­age church on a hill 1621 ft. high, a large con­vict prison for men, an in­dus­tri­al, com­mer­cial and oth­er schools. The prin­ci­pal man­ufac­tures are firearms, iron­mon­gery, earth­en­ware, woollen cloth, beer, stoneware, zinc goods, colours and salt; in the neigh­bour­hood are iron and coal mines. The French un­der Jour­dan were de­feat­ed by the Aus­tri­ans un­der the Arch­duke Charles near Am­berg in 1796.

AM­BER­GRIS (Am­bra grisea, Am­bre gris, or grey am­ber), a sol­id, fat­ty, in­flammable sub­stance of a dull grey or black­ish colour, the shades be­ing var­ie­gat­ed like mar­ble, pos­sess­ing a pe­cu­liar sweet, earthy odour. It oc­curs as a bil­iary con­cre­tion in the in­testines of the sper­ma­ceti whale (Phy­seter macro­cephalus), and is found float­ing up­on the sea, on the sea-​coast, or in the sand near the sea-​coast. It is met with in the At­lantic Ocean; on the coasts of Brazil and Mada­gas­car; al­so on the coast of Africa, of the East In­dies, Chi­na, Japan and the Moluc­ca is­lands; but most of the am­ber­gris which is brought to Eng­land comes from the Ba­hama Is­lands, Prov­idence, &c. It is al­so some­times found in the ab­domen of whales, al­ways in lumps of var­ious shapes and sizes, weigh­ing from 1/2 oz. to 100 or more pounds. Am­ber­gris, when tak­en from the in­testi­nal canal of

the sperm whale, is of a deep grey colour, soft con­sis­tence and a dis­agree­able smell. On ex­po­sure to the air it grad­ual­ly hard­ens, be­comes pale and de­vel­ops its pe­cu­liar sweet, earthy odour. In that con­di­tion its spe­cif­ic grav­ity ranges from 0.780 to 0.926. It melts at about 62 deg. C. to a fat­ty, yel­low resinous-​like liq­uid; and at 100 deg. C. it is volatilized in­to a white vapour. It is sol­uble in ether, and in volatile and fixed oils; it is on­ly fee­bly act­ed on by acids. By di­gest­ing in hot al­co­hol, a sub­stance termed am­brein, close­ly re­sem­bling cholesterin, is ob­tained, which sep­arates in bril­liant white crys­tals as the so­lu­tion cools. The use of am­ber­gris in Eu­rope is now en­tire­ly con­fined to per­fumery, though it for­mer­ly oc­cu­pied no in­con­sid­er­able place in medicine. In minute quan­ti­ties its al­co­holic so­lu­tion is much used for giv­ing a “flo­ral” fra­grance to bou­quets, wash­es and oth­er prepa­ra­tions of the per­fumer. It oc­cu­pies a very im­por­tant place in the per­fumery of the East, and there it is al­so used in phar­ma­cy and as a flavour­ing ma­te­ri­al in cook­ery. The high price it com­mands makes it pe­cu­liar­ly li­able to adul­ter­ation, but its gen­uine­ness is eas­ily test­ed by its sol­ubil­ity in hot al­co­hol, its fra­grant odour, and its uni­form fat­ty con­sis­tence on be­ing pen­etrat­ed by a hot wire.

AM­BERT, a town of cen­tral France, cap­ital of an ar­rondisse­ment of the de­part­ment of Puy-​de-​Dome, on the Dore, 52 m. E.S.E. of Cler­mont-​Fer­rand by rail. Pop. (1906), town, 3889; com­mune, 7581. The town has a church of the 15th and 16th cen­turies and car­ries on the man­ufac­ture of pa­per, lace, rib­bon, rosaries, &c., and trade in cheese. It is the seat of a sub-​pre­fect, and the pub­lic in­sti­tu­tions in­clude tri­bunals of first in­stance and of com­merce, a cham­ber of arts and man­ufac­tures, and a com­mu­nal col­lege.

AM­BI­ENT (from Lat. am­bi, on both sides, and ire, to go), sur­round­ing; a word im­ply­ing a mov­ing rather than a sta­tion­ary en­cir­cling. It is used most­ly in the phrase the “am­bi­ent air,” though Ba­con ap­plied it as an ad­jec­tive to the cler­gy, sug­gest­ing “am­bi­tion.” In as­trol­ogy it means the sky.

AM­BIGU, a French game of cards, com­posed of the char­ac­ter­is­tic el­ements of whist, bouil­lotte and pi­quet. A whist pack with the court cards delet­ed is used, and from two to six per­sons may play. Each play­er is giv­en an equal num­ber of coun­ters, and a lim­it of bet­ting is agreed up­on. Two cards are dealt, one at a time, to each play­er, af­ter each has placed two coun­ters in a pool. Each play­er then ei­ther keeps his hand, say­ing “Enough,” or takes one or two new cards from the top of the stock, af­ter which the stock is reshuf­fled and cut, and each play­er re­ceives two more cards, one at a time. The play­ers then ei­ther “play” or “pass.” If a per­son “plays,” he bets a num­ber of coun­ters and the oth­ers may equal this bet or raise it. Should no play­er meet the first bet, the bet­tor takes back his bet, leav­ing the pool in­tact, and re­ceives two coun­ters from the last play­er who re­fus­es to play. When two or more bet the same num­ber, they again draw cards and “pass” or “play” as be­fore. If all “pass,” each pays a counter to the pool and a new deal en­sues. The play­er bet­ting more than the oth­ers call wins the pool. He then ex­pos­es his hand and is paid by each ad­ver­sary ac­cord­ing to its val­ue. The hands rank as fol­lows: — “Point,” the num­ber Of pips on two or more cards of a suit (one counter). “Prime,” four cards of dif­fer­ent suits (two coun­ters). “Grand Prime,” the same with the num­ber of pips over 30 (three coun­ters). “Se­quence,” a hand con­tain­ing three cards of the same suit in se­quence (three coun­ters). “Tri­con,” three of a kind (four coun­ters). “Flush,” four cards of the same suit (five coun­ters). “Dou­blet,” a hand con­tain­ing two count­ing com­bi­na­tions at once, as 2, 3, 4 and 7 of spades, amount­ing to both a “se­quence” and a “flush” (eight coun­ters). “Fre­don,” four of a kind (the high­est pos­si­ble hand), ten or eleven coun­ters, ac­cord­ing to the num­ber of pips. Ties are de­cid­ed by the num­ber of pips.

AM­BI­GU­ITY (Fr. am­bi­gu­ite, med. Lat. am­bi­gu­itas, from Lat. am­bigu­us, doubt­ful; am­bi, both ways, agere, to drive), doubt­ful ness or un­cer­tain­ty. In law an am­bi­gu­ity as to the mean­ing of the words of a writ­ten in­stru­ment may be of con­sid­er­able im­por­tance. Am­bi­gu­ity, in law, is of two kinds, patent and la­tent. (1) Patent am­bi­gu­ity is that am­bi­gu­ity which is ap­par­ent on the face of an in­stru­ment to any one pe­rus­ing it, even if he be un­ac­quaint­ed with the cir­cum­stances of the par­ties. In the case of a patent am­bi­gu­ity parol ev­idence is ad­mis­si­ble to ex­plain on­ly what has been writ­ten, not what it was in­tend­ed to write. For ex­am­ple, in Saun­der­son v. Piper, 1839, 5, B.N.C. 425, where a bill was drawn in fig­ures for L. 245 and in words for two hun­dred pounds, ev­idence that “and forty-​five” had been omit­ted by mis­take was re­ject­ed. But where it ap­pears from the gen­er­al con­text of the in­stru­ment what the par­ties re­al­ly meant, the in­stru­ment will be con­strued as if there was no am­bi­gu­ity, as in Saye and Sate’s case, 10 Mod. 46, where the name of the grantor had been omit­ted in the op­er­ative part of a grant, but, as it was clear from an­oth­er part of the grant who he was, the deed was held to be valid. (2) La­tent am­bi­gu­ity is where the word­ing of an in­stru­ment is on the face of it clear and in­tel­li­gi­ble, but may, at the same time, ap­ply equal­ly to two dif­fer­ent things or sub­ject mat­ters, as where a lega­cy is giv­en “to my nephew, John,” and the testor is shown to have two nephews of that name. A la­tent am­bi­gu­ity may be ex­plained by parol ev­idence, for, as the am­bi­gu­ity has been brought about by cir­cum­stances ex­tra­ne­ous to the in­stru­ment, the ex­pla­na­tion must nec­es­sar­ily be sought for from such cir­cum­stances. (See al­so Ev­idence.)

AM­BIOR­IX, prince of Eburones, a tribe of Bel­gian Gaul. Al­though Cae­sar (q.v.) had freed him from pay­ing trib­ute to the Aduz­tu­ci, he joined Catu­vol­cus (win­ter, 54 B.C.) in ris­ing against the Ro­man forces un­der Q. Ti­turius Sabi­nus and I. Au­run­culeius Cot­ta, and al­most an­ni­hi­lat­ed them. An at­tack on Quin­tus Ci­cero (broth­er of the or­ator), then quar­tered with a le­gion in the ter­ri­to­ry of the Nervii, failed ow­ing to the time­ly ap­pear­ance of Cae­sar. Am­biroix is said to have found safe­ty across the Rhine.

Cae­sar, Bell. Gall. v. 26-51, vi. 29-43, vi­ii. 24; Dio Cas­sius xl. 7-11; Florus iii. 10.

AM­BLE­SIDE, a mar­ket-​town in the Ap­ple­by par­lia­men­tary di­vi­sion of West­mor­land, Eng­land, a mile from the head of Win­der­mere. Pop. of ur­ban dis­trict (1901) 2536. It is most beau­ti­ful­ly sit­uat­ed, for though the lake is hard­ly vis­ible from the town, the bare sharply ris­ing hills sur­round­ing the rich­ly wood­ed val­ley of the Rothay af­ford a se­ries of exquisite views. The hills im­me­di­ate­ly above this part of the val­ley are Wans­fell on the east, Loughrigg Fell on the west, and Ry­dal Fell and the ridge be­low Snark­er Pike (2096 ft.) to the north. At the head of Win­der­mere is Wa­ter­head, the land­ing-​stage of Am­ble­side, which is served by the lake steam­ers of the Fur­ness Rail­way Com­pa­ny. The chief roads which cen­tre up­on Am­ble­side are — one from the town of Winde­mere, fol­low­ing the east­ern shore of the lake; one from Ull­swa­ter, by Pat­terdale and Kirk­stone Pass; one from Keswick, by Dun­mail Raise and Gras­mere, and the two love­ly lakes of Gras­mere and Ry­dal Wa­ter; and one from the Brathay val­ley and the Lang­dales to the west. Am­ble­side is thus much fre­quent­ed by tourists. In its vicin­ity is Ry­dal Mount, for many years the res­idence of the po­et Wordsworth. The town has some in­dus­try in bob­bin-​mak­ing, and there are slate quar­ries in the neigh­bour­hood.

Close by the lake side the out­lines are still vis­ible of a Ro­man fort, the name of which is not known. It ap­pears to have guard­ed a route over the hills by Hard­knott and Wrynose Pass to Raven­glass on the Coast of Cum­ber­land.

AM­BLY­GO­NITE, a min­er­al usu­al­ly found as cleav­able or colum­nar, and com­pact mass­es; it is translu­cent and has a vit­re­ous lus­tre, and the colour varies from white to pale shades of vi­olet, grey, green or yel­low. There are good cleav­ages in two di­rec­tions. The hard­ness is 6 and the spe­cif­ic grav­ity 3.0. The min­er­al is thus not un­like felspar in gen­er­al ap­pear­ance, but

it is read­ily dis­tin­guished from this by its chem­ical char­ac­ters, be­ing an alu­mini­um and lithi­um flu­ophos­phate, Li(AlF)PO4, with part of the lithi­um re­placed by sodi­um and part of the flu­oine by hy­drox­yl. Crys­tals, which are rarely dis­tinct­ly de­vel­oped, be­long to the anor­th­ic sys­tem, and fre­quent­ly show twin lamel­lae.

The min­er­al was first dis­cov­ered in Sax­ony by A. Bre­ithaupt in 1817, and named by him from the Greek am­blus, blunt, and gouia, an­gle, be­cause of the ob­tuse an­gle be­tween the cleav­ages. Lat­er it was found at Mon­te­bras, dep. Creuse, France, and at He­bron in Maine; and on ac­count of slight dif­fer­ences in op­ti­cal char­ac­ter and chem­ical com­po­si­tion the names mon­te­br­asite and he­bronite have been ap­plied to the min­er­al from these lo­cal­ities. Re­cent­ly it has been dis­cov­ered in con­sid­er­able quan­ti­ty at Pala in San Diego coun­ty, Cal­ifor­nia, and at Cac­eres in Spain. Am­bly­go­nite oc­curs with lep­ido­lite, tour­ma­line and oth­er lithia-​bear­ing min­er­als in peg­matite-​veins. It con­tains about 10% of lithia, and, since 1886, has been uti­lized as a source of lithi­um salts, the chief com­mer­cial sources be­ing the Mon­te­bras de­posits, and lat­er the Cal­ifor­ni­an. (L.J.S.)

AM­BLY­PO­DA, a sub­or­der of prim­itive un­gu­late mam­mals, tak­ing its name from the short and stumpy feet, which were fur­nished with five toes each, and sup­port­ed mas­sive pil­lar-​like limbs. The brain-​cav­ity was ex­treme­ly small, and in­signif­icant in com­par­ison to the bod­ily bulk, which was equal to that of the largest rhinoceros­es. These an­imals are, in fact, de­scen­dants of the small an­ces­tral un­gu­lates which have re­tained all the prim­itive char­ac­ters of the lat­ter ac­com­pa­nied by a huge in­crease in bod­ily size. They are con­fined to the Eocene pe­ri­od, and oc­cur both in North Amer­ica and Eu­rope. The cheek teeth are short crowned (brachy­odont), with the tu­ber­cles more or less com­plete­ly fused in­to trans­verse ridges, or cross-​crests (lophodont type); and the to­tal num­ber of teeth is in one case the typ­ical 44, but in an­oth­er is re­duced be­low this. The ver­te­brae of the neck unite by near­ly flat sur­faces, the humerus has lost the fora­men, or per­fo­ra­tion, at the low­er end, and the third trochanter to the fe­mur may al­so be want­ing. In the fore-​limb the up­per and low­er se­ries of carpal bones scarce­ly al­ter­nate, but in the hind- foot the as­tra­galus over­laps the cuboid, while the fibu­la, which is quite dis­tinct from the tib­ia (as is the ra­dius from the ul­na in the fore-​limb), ar­tic­ulates with both as­tra­galus and cal­ca­neum. The most gen­er­al­ized type is Coryphodon, rep­re­sent­ing the fam­ily

Coryphodon­ti­dae, from the low­er Eocene of Eu­rope and North Amer­ica, in which there were 44 teeth, and no horn-​like ex­cres­cences on the long skull, while the fe­mur had a third trochanter. The ca­nines are some­what elon­gat­ed, and were fol­lowed by a short gap in each jaw, and the cheek-​teeth were adapt­ed for suc­cu­lent food. The length of the body reached about 6 ft. in some cas­es.

In the mid­dle Eocene for­ma­tions of North Amer­ica oc­curs the more spe­cial­ized Hin­tatheri­um (or Dinoceras), typ­ify­ing the fam­ily Uin­tatheri­idae, which al­so con­tains species some­times sep­arat­ed as Tinoceras. Uin­tatheres were huge crea­tures, with long nar­row skulls, of which the elon­gat­ed fa­cial por­tion caraed three pairs of bony horn-​cores, prob­ably cov­ered with short horns in life, the hind-​pair be­ing much the largest. The den­tal for­mu­la is i. 0/3, c. 1/1, p. $3\over 3\cdot4$, m. 3/3; the up­per ca­nines be­ing long sabre-​like weapons, pro­tect­ed by a de­scend­ing flange on each side of the front of the low­er iaw.

In the basal Eocene of North Amer­ica the Am­bly­po­da were rep­re­sent­ed by ex­treme­ly prim­itive, five-​toed, small un­gu­lates such as Perip­ty­chus and Pan­to­lamb­da, each of these typ­ify­ing a fam­ily. The full typ­ical se­ries of 44 teeth was de­vel­oped in each, but where­as in the Perip­ty­chi­dae the up­per mo­lars were bun­odont and tritu­ber­cu­lar, in the Pan­to­lamb­di­dae they have as­sumed a se­len­odont struc­ture. Cre­odont char­ac­ters (see CRE­ODON­TA) are dis­played in the skele­ton.

See al­so H. F. Os­born, “Evo­lu­tion of the Am­bly­po­da,” Bull. Amer. Mus. vol x. p. 169. (R. L.*)

AM­BO, or AM­BON (Gr. am­bon, from an­abainein, to walk up, the read­ing-​desk of ear­ly Basil­ican church­es, al­so called pur­gos. Orig­inal­ly small and mov­able, it was af­ter­wards made of large pro­por­tions and fixed in one place. In the Byzan­tine and ear­ly Ro­manesque pe­ri­ods it was an es­sen­tial part of church fur­ni­ture; but dur­ing the mid­dle ages it was grad­ual­ly su­per­seded in the West­ern Church by the pul­pit and lectern. The gospel and epis­tle are still read from the am­bo in the Am­brosian rite at Mi­lan. The po­si­tion of the am­bo was not ab­so­lute­ly uni­form; some­times in the cen­tral point be­tween the sanc­tu­ary and the nave, some­times in the mid­dle of the church, and some­times at one or both of the sides of the chan­cel. The nor­mal am­bo, when the church con­tained on­ly one, had three stages or de­grees, one above the oth­er, and it was usu­al­ly mount­ed by a flight of steps at each end. The up­per­most stage was re­served for the dea­con who sang the gospel (fac­ing the con­gre­ga­tion); for pro­mul­gat­ing epis­co­pal edicts; recit­ing the names in­scribed on the dip­ty­chs (see DIP­TYCH); an­nounc­ing fasts, vig­ils and feasts; read­ing ec­cle­si­as­ti­cal let­ters or acts of the mar­tyrs cel­ebrat­ed on that day; an­nounc­ing new mir­acles for pop­ular ed­ifi­ca­tion, pro­fes­sions by new con­verts or re­can­ta­tions by heretics; and (for priests and dea­cons) preach­ing ser­mons, — bish­ops as a gen­er­al rule preach­ing from their own throne. The sec­ond stage was for the sub-​dea­con who read the epis­tle (fac­ing the al­tar); and the third for the sub­or­di­nate cler­gy who read oth­er parts of scrip­ture. The in­con­ve­nience of hav­ing a sin­gle am­bo led to the sub­sti­tu­tion of two sep­arate am­bones, be­tween which these var­ious func­tions were di­vid­ed, one on the south side of the chan­cel be­ing for the read­ing of the gospel, and one on the north for read­ing the epis­tle. In the Rus­sian Or­tho­dox Church the term “am­bo” is used of the semi­cir­cu­lar steps lead­ing to the plat­form in front of the iconos­ta­sis (q.v.), but in Cathe­drals the bish­op has an am­bo in the cen­tre of the church. In the Greek Church the old­er form re­mains, usu­al­ly placed at the side. In the Uni­ate Greek Catholic Church the “am­bo” has be­come a ta­ble, on which are placed a cru­ci­fix and lights, be­fore the doors of the iconos­ta­sis; here bap­tisms, mar­riages and con­fir­ma­tions take place.

Am­bones were made of wood or else of cost­ly mar­bles, and were dec­orat­ed with mo­saics, re­liefs, gild­ing, &c.; some­times al­so cov­ered with canopies sup­port­ed on columns. They were of­ten of enor­mous size; that at St Sophia in Con­stantino­ple was large enough for the cer­emo­ni­al of coro­na­tion.

The church­es in Rome pos­sess many fine ex­am­ples of am­bones in mar­ble, of which the old­est is prob­ably that in S. Clemente, re­con­struct­ed in the be­gin­ning of the 12th cen­tu­ry. Those of slight­ly lat­er date are en­riched with mar­ble mo­sa­ic known as Cos­mati work, of which the ex­am­ples in S. Maria-​in-​Ara-​Coeli, S. Maria-​in-​Cosmedin and S. Loren­zo are those which are best known. Some ear­ly am­bones are found in Raven­na, and in the south of Italy are many fine ex­am­ples; the epis­tle am­bo in the cathe­dral at Rav­el­lo (1130), which is per­haps the ear­li­est, shows a Scan­di­na­vian in­flu­ence in the de­sign of its mo­sa­ic in­lay, an in­flu­ence which is found in Si­cil­ian work and may be a Nor­man im­por­ta­tion. The two am­bones in the Cathe­dral of Saler­no,

which are dif­fer­ent in de­sign, are mag­nif­icent in ef­fect and are en­riched with sculp­ture as well as with mo­sa­ic. In the gospel am­bo in the cathe­dral of Rav­el­lo (1272), and al­so in that of the con­vent of the Trini­ta del­la Ca­va near Saler­no, the spi­ral columns in­laid with mo­sa­ic stand on the backs of li­ons. In the epis­tle am­bo at Saler­no and the gospel am­bones at Ca­va and San Gio­van­ni del Toro in Rav­el­lo, the columns sup­port seg­men­tal arch­es car­ry­ing the am­bones; the epis­tle am­bo at Rav­el­lo and all those in Rome are raised on sol­id mar­ble bases.

See the litu­mi­cal and ec­cle­si­as­ti­cal dic­tio­nar­ies of Mar­tigny, Migne, and Smith and Cheetham, sub voce, where all the scat­tered ref­er­ences are col­lect­ed to­geth­er and sum­ma­rized. In Ciamp­inus, Vet­era Mon­umen­ta (Rome, 1747), plates xii., xi­ii., are sev­er­al il­lus­tra­tions of ac­tu­al ex­am­ples.

AM­BOISE, GEORGES D’, (1460-1510), French car­di­nal and min­is­ter of state, be­longed to a no­ble fam­ily pos­sessed of con­sid­er­able in­flu­ence. His fa­ther, Pierre d’Am­boise, seigneur de Chau­mont, was cham­ber­lain to Charles VII. and Louis XI. and am­bas­sador at Rome. His el­dest broth­er, Charles d’Am­boise, was gov­er­nor of the Isle of France, Cham­pagne and Bur­gundy, and coun­cil­lor of Louis XI. Georges d’Am­boise was on­ly four­teen when his fa­ther pro­cured for him the bish­opric of Mon­tauban, and Louis XI. ap­point­ed him one of his al­moners. On ar­riv­ing at man­hood d’Am­boise at­tached him­self to the par­ty of the duke of Or­leans, in whose cause he suf­fered im­pris­on­ment, and on whose re­turn to the roy­al favour he was el­evat­ed to the arch­bish­opric of Nar­bonne, which af­ter some time he changed for that of Rouen (1493). On the ap­point­ment of the duke of Or­leans as gov­er­nor of Nor­mandy, d’Am­boise be­came his lieu­tenant-​gen­er­al. In 1498 the duke of Or­leans mount­ed the throne as Louis XII., and d’Am­boise was sud­den­ly raised to the high po­si­tion of car­di­nal and prime min­is­ter. His ad­min­is­tra­tion was, in many re­spects, well-​in­ten­tioned and use­ful. Hav­ing the good for­tune to serve a king who was both eco­nom­ical and just, he was able to di­min­ish the im­posts, to in­tro­duce or­der among the sol­diery, and above all, by the or­di­nances of 1499, to im­prove the or­ga­ni­za­tion of jus­tice. He was al­so zeal­ous for the re­form of the church, and par­tic­ular­ly for the re­form of the monas­ter­ies; and it is great­ly to his cred­it that he did not avail him­self of the ex­treme­ly favourable op­por­tu­ni­ties he pos­sessed of be­com­ing a plu­ral­ist. He reg­ular­ly spent a large in­come in char­ity, and he laboured stren­uous­ly to stay the progress of the plague and famine which broke out in 1504. His for­eign pol­icy, less hap­py and less wise, was an­imat­ed by two aims — to in­crease the French pow­er in Italy and to seat him­self on the pa­pal throne; and these aims be sought to achieve by diplo­ma­cy, not by force. He, how­ev­er, sym­pa­thized with, and took part in, the cam­paign which was be­gun in 1499 for the Con­quest of Mi­lan. In 1500 he was named lieu­tenant- gen­er­al in Italy and charged with the or­ga­ni­za­tion of the con­quest. On the death of Alexan­der VI. he as­pired to the pa­pa­cy. He had French troops at the gates of Rome, by means of which he could eas­ily have fright­ened the con­clave and in­duced them to elect him; but he was per­suad­ed to trust to his in­flu­ence; the troops were dis­missed, and an Ital­ian was ap­point­ed as Pius III.; and again, on the death of Pius with­in the month, an­oth­er Ital­ian, Julius II., was cho­sen (1503). D’Am­boise re­ceived in com­pen­sa­tion the ti­tle of legate for life in France and in the Com­tat Ve­naissin. He was one of the ne­go­tia­tors of the dis­as­trous treaties of Blois (1504), and in 1508 of the League of Cam­brai against Venice. In 1509 he again ac­com­pa­nied Louis XII. in­to Italy, but on his re­turn he was seized at the city of Lyons with a fa­tal at­tack of gout in the stom­ach. He died there on the 25th of May 1510. His body was re­moved to Rouen, and a mag­nif­icent tomb, on which he is rep­re­sent­ed kneel­ing in the at­ti­tude of prayer, was erect­ed to his mem­ory in the cathe­dral of that town. Through­out his life he was an en­light­ened pa­tron of let­ters and art, and it was at his or­ders that the chateau of Gail­lon near Rouen was built.

See Let­tres du roi Louis XII. et du car­di­nal d’Am­boise (Brus­sels, 1712); L. Leg­en­dre, Vie du car­di­nal d’Am­boise (Rouen, 1726); E. Lavisse, His­toire de France (vol. v. by H. Lemon­nier, Paris, 19O3); J. A. Dev­ille, Tombeaux de la cathe­drale de Rouen (3rd ed., 1881). For a bib­li­og­ra­phy of the print­ed sources see, H. Haus­er, Les Sources de l’his­toire de France, KM`siecle, vol. i. (1906). (J. I.)

AM­BOISE, a town of cen­tral France in the de­part­ment of In­dre-​et-​Loire, on the left bank of the Loire, 12 m. E. of Tours by the Or­leans rail­way. Pop. (1906) 4632. Am­boise owes its celebri­ty to the im­pos­ing chateau which over­looks the Loire from the rocky em­inence above the town. The Lo­gis du Roi, the most im­por­tant por­tion, was the work of Charles VI­II.; the oth­er wing was built un­der Louis XII. and Fran­cis I. The ram­parts are strength­ened by two mas­sive tow­ers con­tain­ing an in­clined plane on which hors­es and car­riages may as­cend. The chapel of St Hu­bert, said to con­tain the re­mains of Leonar­do da Vin­ci, who was sum­moned to Am­boise by Fran­cis I., king of France, and died there in 1519, is in the late Goth­ic style; a del­icate­ly carved re­lief over the door­way rep­re­sents the con­ver­sion of St Hu­bert. The ho­tel de ville is es­tab­lished in a man­sion of Re­nais­sance ar­chi­tec­ture; a town gate­way of the 15th cen­tu­ry, sur­mount­ed by a bel­fry, is al­so of ar­chi­tec­tural in­ter­est. Iron-​found­ing, wool-​weav­ing, and the man­ufac­ture of boots and farm im­ple­ments are among the in­dus­tries.

Am­boise at the end of the 11th cen­tu­ry was a lord­ship un­der the counts of An­jou, one of whom, Hugues I., re­built the an­cient cas­tle. Its ter­ri­to­ry was unit­ed to the do­main of the crown of France by Charles VII. about the mid­dle of the 15th cen­tu­ry, and thence­forth the chateau be­came a favourite res­idence of the French kings. The dis­cov­ery in 1560 of the “con­spir­acy of Am­boise,” a plot of the Huguenots to re­move Fran­cis II. from the in­flu­ence of the house of Guise, was avenged by the death of 1200 mem­bers of that par­ty. In 1563 Am­boise gave its name to a roy­al edict al­low­ing free­dom of wor­ship to the Huguenot no­bil­ity and gen­try. Af­ter that pe­ri­od the chateau was fre­quent­ly used as a state prison, and Abd-​el-​Kad­er was a cap­tive there from 1848 to 1852. In 1872 it was re­stored by the Na­tion­al As­sem­bly to the house of Or­leans, to which it had come by in­her­itance from the duke of Penthievre in the lat­ter half of the 18th cen­tu­ry.

AM­BOY­NA (Dutch Am­bon), the name of a res­iden­cy, its chief town, and the is­land on which the town is sit­uat­ed, in the Dutch East In­dies.

The res­iden­cy shares with that of Ter­nate the ad­min­is­tra­tion of the Moluc­cas, the pre­vi­ous gov­ern­ment of which was abol­ished in 1867. It in­cludes a mass of is­lands in the Ban­da Sea (2 deg. 30′ - 8 deg. 20′ S. and 125 deg. 45′ - 135 deg. E.), in­clud­ing the is­land-​belt which sur­rounds the sea on the north, east and south; and is di­vid­ed for ad­min­is­tra­tive pur­pos­es in­to nine dis­tricts (afdeelin­gen): 1) Am­boy­na, the is­land of that name; (2) Saparua, with Oma and Nusa Laut; (3) Ka­jeli (East­ern Burn); (4) Masareti (West­ern Burn); (5) Kairatu (West­ern Ce­ram); (6) Wa­hai (the north­ern part of Mid-​Ce­ram); (7) Ama­hai (the south­ern part of Mid-​Ce­ram); (8) the Ban­da Isles, with East Ce­ram, Ce­ram Laut and Gorom; (9) the is­lands of Aru, Kei, Tim­or Laut or Ten­im­ber, and the south-​west­ern is­lands. The to­tal area of the res­iden­cy is about 19,861 sq. m., and its pop­ula­tion 296,000, in­clud­ing 2400 Eu­ro­peans.

Am­boy­na Is­land lies off the south-​west of Ce­ram, on the north side of the Ban­da Sea, be­ing one of a se­ries of vol­canic isles in the in­ner cir­cle round the sea. It is 32 m. in length, with an area of about 386 sq. m., and is of very ir­reg­ular fig­ure, be­ing al­most di­vid­ed in­to two. The south-​east­ern and small­er por­tion (called Leiti­mor) is unit­ed to the north­ern (Hi­toe) by a neck of land a few yards in breadth. The high­est moun­tains, Wawani (3609 ft.) and Sal­hutu (4020 ft.), have hot springs and sol­fa­taras. They are con­sid­ered to be vol­ca­noes, and the moun­tains of the neigh­bour­ing Uliasser is­lands the re­mains of vol­ca­noes. Gran­ite and ser­pen­tine rocks pre­dom­inate, but the shores of Am­boy­na Bay are of chalk, and con­tain sta­lac­tite caves. The sur­face is fer­tile, the rivers are small and not nav­iga­ble, and the roads are mere foot­paths. Co­coa is one of the prod­ucts. The cli­mate is com­par­ative­ly pleas­ant and healthy; the av­er­age tem­per­ature is 80 deg. F., rarely sink­ing be­low 72 deg. . The rain­fall, how­ev­er, af­ter the east­ern mon­soons, is very heavy, and the is­land is li­able to

vi­olent hur­ri­canes. It is re­mark­able that the dry sea­son (Oc­to­ber to April) is co­in­ci­dent with the pe­ri­od of the west mon­soon. In­dige­nous mam­mals are poor in species as well as few in num­ber; birds are more abun­dant, but of no greater va­ri­ety. The en­to­mol­ogy of the is­land, how­ev­er, is very rich, par­tic­ular­ly in re­spect of Lep­idoptera. Shells are ob­tained in great num­bers and va­ri­ety. Tur­tle-​shell is al­so large­ly ex­port­ed. The veg­eta­tion is al­so rich, and Am­boy­na pro­duces most of the com­mon trop­ical fruits and veg­eta­bles, in­clud­ing the sa­go-​palm, bread-​fruit, co­coa-​nut, sug­ar-​cane, maize, cof­fee, pep­per and cot­ton. Cloves, how­ev­er, form its chief prod­uct, though the trade in them is less im­por­tant than for­mer­ly, when the Dutch pro­hib­it­ed the rear­ing of the clove-​tree in all the oth­er is­lands sub­ject to their rule, in or­der to se­cure the monopoly to Am­boy­na. Am­boy­na wood, of great val­ue for or­na­men­tal work, is ob­tained from the hard knots which oc­cur on cer­tain trees in the forests of Ce­ram. The pop­ula­tion (about 39,000) is di­vid­ed in­to two class­es– orang burg­er or cit­izens, and orang ne­gri or vil­lagers, the for­mer be­ing a class of na­tive ori­gin en­joy­ing cer­tain priv­ileges con­ferred on their an­ces­tors by the old Dutch East In­dia Com­pa­ny. The na­tives are of mixed Malay-​Papuan blood. They are most­ly Chris­tians or Ma­hommedans. There are al­so, be­sides the Dutch, some Arabs, Chi­nese and a few Por­tuguese set­tlers.

Am­boy­na, the chief town, and seat of the res­ident and mil­itary com­man­der of the Moluc­cas, is pro­tect­ed by Fort Vic­to­ria, and is a clean lit­tle town with wide streets, well plant­ed. Agri­cul­ture, fish­eries and im­port and ex­port trade fur­nish the chief means of sub­sis­tence. It lies on the north-​west of the penin­su­la of Leiti­mor, and has a safe and com­modi­ous an­chor­age. Its pop­ula­tion is about 8000.

The Por­tuguese were the first Eu­ro­pean na­tion to vis­it Am­boy­na (1511). They es­tab­lished a fac­to­ry there in 1521, but did not ob­tain peace­able pos­ses­sion of it till 1580, and were dis­pos­sessed by the Dutch in 1609. About 1615 the British formed a set­tle­ment in the is­land, at Cam­bel­lo, which they re­tained un­til 1623, when it was de­stroyed by the Dutch, and fright­ful tor­tures in­flict­ed on the un­for­tu­nate per­sons con­nect­ed with it. In 1654, af­ter many fruit­less ne­go­ti­ations, Cromwell com­pelled the Unit­ed Provinces to give the sum of L. 300,000, to­geth­er with a small is­land, as com­pen­sa­tion to the de­scen­dants of those who suf­fered in the “Am­boy­na mas­sacre.” In 1673 the po­et Dry­den pro­duced his tragedy of Am­boy­na, or the Cru­el­ties of the Dutch to the En­glish Mer­chants. In 1796 the British, un­der Ad­mi­ral Rainier, cap­tured Am­boy­na, but re­stored it to the Dutch at the peace of Amiens in 1802. It was re­tak­en by the British in 1810, but once more re­stored to the Dutch in 1814.

AM­BRA­CIA (more cor­rect­ly AM­PRA­CIA), an an­cient Corinthi­an colony, sit­uat­ed about 7 m. from the Am­bra­cian Gulf, on a bend of the nav­iga­ble riv­er Ar­ac­thus (or Aratthus), in the midst of a fer­tile wood­ed plain. It was found­ed be­tween 650 and 625 B.C. by Gorgus, son of the Corinthi­an tyrant Cypselus. Af­ter the ex­pul­sion of Gorgus’s son Pe­rian­der its gov­ern­ment de­vel­oped in­to a strong democ­ra­cy. The ear­ly pol­icy of Am­bra­cia was de­ter­mined by its loy­al­ty to Corinth (for which it prob­ably served as an en­tre­pot in the Epirus trade), its con­se­quent aver­sion to Cor­cyra, and its fron­tier dis­putes with the Am­philochi­ans and Acar­na­ni­ans. Hence it took a promi­nent part in the Pelo­pon­nesian War un­til the crush­ing de­feat at Idomene (426) crip­pled its re­sources. In the 4th cen­tu­ry it con­tin­ued its tra­di­tion­al pol­icy, but in 338 sur­ren­dered to Philip II. of Mace­don. Af­ter forty-​three years of au­ton­omy un­der Mace­do­nian suzerain­ty it be­came the cap­ital of Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, who adorned it with palace, tem­ples and the­atres. In the wars of Philip V. of Mace­don and the Epirotes against the Ae­to­lian league (220-205) Am­bra­cia passed from one al­liance to the oth­er, but ul­ti­mate­ly joined the lat­ter con­fed­er­acy. Dur­ing the strug­gle of the Ae­to­lians against Rome it stood a stub­born siege. Af­ter its cap­ture and plun­der by M. Ful­vius No­bil­ior in 189, it fell in­to in­signif­icance. The foun­da­tion by Au­gus­tus of Nicopo­lis (q.v.), in­to which the re­main­ing in­hab­itants were draft­ed, left the site des­olate. In Byzan­tine times a new set­tle­ment took its place un­der the name of Ar­ta (q.v.). Some frag­men­tary walls of large, well-​dressed blocks near this lat­ter town in­di­cate the ear­ly pros­per­ity of Am­bra­cia.

AU­THOR­ITIES. — Thucy­dides ii. 68 - iii. 114; Aris­to­tle, Pol­itics, 1303a sqq.; Stra­bo p. 325; Poly­bius xxii. 9-13; Livy xxxvi­ii. 3-9; G. Wolfe, Jour­nal of Ge­ograph­ical So­ci­ety (Lon­don), iii. (1833) pp. 77-94; E. Ober­hum­mer, Akar­nanien, Am­brakien, &c. im Al­ter­tum (Mu­nich, 1887). (M. O. B. C.)

AM­BRIZ, a West African sea­port be­long­ing to Por­tu­gal, at the mouth of the Lo­je Riv­er, in 7 deg. 50′ S., 13 deg. E., some 70 m. N. of Loan­da. It forms a part of the province of An­go­la (q.v.). The town is with­in the free-​trade area of the con­ven­tion­al basin of the Con­go riv­er. Its chief ex­ports are rub­ber, gum, cof­fee and cop­per. Pop. about 2500. Am­briz was, pre­vi­ous­ly to 1884, the north­ern­most point of Africa south of the equa­tor ac­knowl­edged as Por­tuguese ter­ri­to­ry.

AM­BROS, AU­GUST WIL­HELM (1816-1876), Aus­tri­an com­pos­er and his­to­ri­an of mu­sic, was born at Mauth near Prague. His fa­ther was a cul­tured man, and his moth­er was the sis­ter of R. G. Kiesewet­ter (1773-1850), the mu­si­cal ar­chae­ol­ogist and col­lec­tor. Am­bros was well ed­ucat­ed in mu­sic and the arts, which were his abid­ing pas­sion: but he was des­tined for the law and an of­fi­cial ca­reer in the Aus­tri­an civ­il ser­vice, and he oc­cu­pied var­ious im­por­tant posts un­der the min­istry of jus­tice, mu­sic be­ing the em­ploy­ment of his leisure. From 1850 on­wards he be­came well known as a crit­ic and es­say-​writ­er, and in 1860 he be­gan work­ing on his mag­num opus, his His­to­ry of Mu­sic, which was pub­lished at in­ter­vals from 1864 in five vol­umes, the last two (1878, 1882) be­ing edit­ed and com­plet­ed by Ot­to Kade and Lang­haus. Am­bros be­came pro­fes­sor of the his­to­ry of mu­sic at Prague in 1869. He was an ex­cel­lent pi­anist, and the au­thor of nu­mer­ous com­po­si­tions some­what rem­inis­cent of Mendelssohn. He died at Vi­en­na on the 28th of June 1876.

AM­BROSE (fl. 1190), Nor­man po­et, and chron­icler of the Third Cru­sade, au­thor of a work called L’Es­toire de la guerre sainte, which de­scribes in rhyming French verse the ad­ven­tures of Richard Coeur de Li­on as a cru­sad­er. The po­em is known to us on­ly through one Vat­ican MS., and long es­caped the no­tice of his­to­ri­ans. The cred­it for de­tect­ing its val­ue be­longs to the late Gas­ton Paris, al­though his edi­tion (1897) was par­tial­ly an­tic­ipat­ed by the ed­itors of the Mon­umen­ta Ger­ma­ni­ae His­tor­ica, who pub­lished some se­lec­tions in the twen­ty-​sev­enth vol­ume of their Scrip­tores (1885). Am­brose fol­lowed Richard I. as a non­com­bat­ant, and not im­prob­ably as a court-​min­strel. He speaks as an eye-​wit­ness of the king’s do­ings at Messi­na, in Cyprus, at the siege of Acre, and in the abortive cam­paign which fol­lowed the cap­ture of that city. Am­brose is sur­pris­ing­ly ac­cu­rate in his chronol­ogy; though he did not com­plete his work be­fore 1195, it is ev­ident­ly found­ed up­on notes which he had tak­en in the course of his pil­grim­age. He shows no greater po­lit­ical in­sight than we should ex­pect from his po­si­tion; but re­lates what he had seen and heard with a naive vi­vac­ity which com­pels at­ten­tion. He is prej­udiced against the Sara­cens, against the French, and against all the ri­vals or en­emies of his mas­ter; but he is nev­er guilty of de­lib­er­ate mis­rep­re­sen­ta­tion. He is rather to be treat­ed as a bi­og­ra­pher than as a his­to­ri­an of the Cru­sade in its broad­er as­pects. None the less he is the chief au­thor­ity for the events of the years 1190-1192, so far as these are con­nect­ed with the Holy Land. The Itinerar­ium Reg­is Ri­car­di (for­mer­ly at­tribut­ed to Ge­of­frey Vin­sauf, but in re­al­ity the work of Richard, a canon of Holy Trin­ity, Lon­don) is lit­tle more than a free para­phrase of Am­brose. The first book of the Itinerar­ium con­tains some ad­di­tion­al facts; and the whole of the Latin ver­sion is adorned with dow­ers of rhetoric which are for­eign to the style of Am­brose. But it is no longer pos­si­ble to re­gard the Itinerar­ium as a first-​hand nar­ra­tive. Stubbs’s edi­tion of the Itinerar­ium (Rolls Se­ries, 1864), in which the con­trary hy­poth­esis is main­tained, ap­peared be­fore Gas­ton Paris pub­lished his dis­cov­ery.

See the edi­tion of L’Es­toire de la guerre sainte by Gas­ton Paris in the Col­lec­tion des doc­uments ined­its sur l’his­toire de France (1897); the ed­itor dis­cuss­es in his in­tro­duc­tion the bi­og­ra­phy of Am­brose, the val­ue of the po­em as a his­tor­ical source, and its re­la­tion to the Itinerar­ium. R. Pauli’s re­marks (in Mon­umen­ta Ger­ma­ni­ae His­tor­ica. Scrip­tores, xxvii.) al­so de­serve at­ten­tion. (H. W. C. D.)

AM­BROSE, SAINT (c. 340-307), bish­op of Mi­lan, one of the most em­inent fa­thers of the church in the 4th cen­tu­ry, was a cit­izen of Rome, born about 337-340 in Treves, where his fa­ther was pre­fect of Gal­lia Nar­bo­nen­sis. His moth­er was a wom­an of in­tel­lect and piety. Am­brose was ear­ly des­tined to fol­low his fa­ther’s ca­reer, and was ac­cord­ing­ly ed­ucat­ed in Rome. He made such progress in lit­er­ature, law and rhetoric, that the prae­tor Ani­cius Probus first gave him a place in the coun­cil and then made him con­sular pre­fect of Lig­uria and Emil­ia, with head­quar­ters at Mi­lan, where he made an ex­cel­lent ad­min­is­tra­tor. In 374 Aux­en­tius, bish­op of Mi­lan, died, and the or­tho­dox and Ar­ian par­ties con­tend­ed for the suc­ces­sion. An ad­dress de­liv­ered to them at this cri­sis by Am­brose led to his be­ing ac­claimed as the on­ly com­pe­tent oc­cu­pant of the see; though hith­er­to on­ly a cat­echu­men, he was bap­tized, and a few days saw him du­ly in­stalled as bish­op of Mi­lan. He im­me­di­ate­ly be­took him­self to the nec­es­sary stud­ies, and ac­quit­ted him­self in his new of­fice with abil­ity, bold­ness and in­tegri­ty. Hav­ing ap­por­tioned his mon­ey among the poor, and set­tled his lands up­on the church, with the ex­cep­tion of mak­ing his sis­ter Mar­cel­li­na ten­ant dur­ing life, and hav­ing com­mit­ted the care of his fam­ily to his broth­er, he en­tered up­on a reg­ular course of the­olog­ical study, un­der the care of Sim­pli­cian, a pres­byter of Rome, and de­vot­ed him­self to the labours of the church, labours which were tem­porar­ily in­ter­rupt­ed by an in­va­sion of Goths, which com­pelled Am­brose and oth­er church­men to re­tire to Il­lyricum.

The elo­quence of Am­brose soon found am­ple scope in the dis­pute be­tween the Ar­ians and the or­tho­dox or Catholic par­ty, whose cause the new bish­op es­poused. Gra­tian, the son of the el­der Valen­tini­an, took the same side; but the younger Valen­tini­an, who had now be­come his col­league in the em­pire, adopt­ed the opin­ions of the Ar­ians, and all the ar­gu­ments and elo­quence of Am­brose could not re­claim the young prince to the or­tho­dox faith. Theo­do­sius, the em­per­or of the East, al­so pro­fessed the or­tho­dox be­lief; but there were many ad­her­ents of Ar­ius scat­tered through­out his do­min­ions. In this dis­tract­ed state of re­li­gious opin­ion, two lead­ers of the Ar­ians, Pal­la­dius and Se­cun­di­anus, con­fi­dent of num­bers, pre­vailed up­on Gra­tian to call a gen­er­al coun­cil from all parts of the em­pire. This re­quest ap­peared so eq­ui­table that he com­plied with­out hes­ita­tion; but Am­brose, fore­see­ing the con­se­quence, pre­vailed up­on the em­per­or to have the mat­ter de­ter­mined by a coun­cil of the West­ern bish­ops. A syn­od, com­posed of thir­ty-​two bish­ops, was ac­cord­ing­ly held at Aquileia in the year 381. Am­brose was elect­ed pres­ident; and Pal­la­dius, be­ing called up­on to de­fend his opin­ions, de­clined, in­sist­ing that the meet­ing was a par­tial one, and that, all the bish­ops of the em­pire not be­ing present, the sense of the Chris­tian church con­cern­ing the ques­tion in dis­pute could not be ob­tained. A vote was then tak­en, when Pal­la­dius and his as­so­ciate Se­cun­di­anus were de­posed from the epis­co­pal of­fice.

Am­brose was equal­ly zeal­ous in com­bat­ing the at­tempt made by the up­hold­ers of the old state re­li­gion to re­sist the en­act­ments of Chris­tian em­per­ors. The pa­gan par­ty was led by Quin­tus Au­re­lius Sym­machus (q.v.), con­sul in 391, who pre­sent­ed to Valen­tini­an II. a forcible but un­suc­cess­ful pe­ti­tion pray­ing for the restora­tion of the al­tar of Vic­to­ry to its an­cient sta­tion in the hall of the sen­ate, the prop­er sup­port of sev­en vestal vir­gins, and the reg­ular ob­ser­vance of the oth­er pa­gan cer­emonies. To this pe­ti­tion Am­brose replied in a let­ter to Valen­tini­an, ar­gu­ing that the de­vot­ed wor­ship­pers of idols had of­ten been for­sak­en by their deities; that the na­tive val­our of the Ro­man sol­diers had gained their vic­to­ries, and not the pre­tend­ed in­flu­ence of pa­gan priests; that these idol­atrous wor­ship­pers re­quest­ed for them­selves what they re­fused to Chris­tians; that vol­un­tary was more hon­ourable than con­strained vir­gin­ity; that as the Chris­tian min­is­ters de­clined to re­ceive tem­po­ral emol­uments, they should al­so be de­nied to pa­gan priests; that it was ab­surd to sup­pose that God would in­flict a famine up­on the em­pire for ne­glect­ing to sup­port a re­li­gious sys­tem con­trary to His will as re­vealed in the Scrip­tures; that the whole pro­cess of na­ture en­cour­aged in­no­va­tions, and that all na­tions had per­mit­ted them even in re­li­gion; that hea­then sac­ri­fices were of­fen­sive to Chris­tians; and that it was the du­ty of a Chris­tian prince to sup­press pa­gan cer­emonies. In the epis­tles of Sym­machus and of Am­brose both the pe­ti­tion and the re­ply are pre­served. They are a strange blend of sophistry, su­per­sti­tion, sound sense and sol­id ar­gu­ment.

The in­creas­ing strength of the Ar­ians proved a formidable task for am­brose. In 384 the young em­per­or and his moth­er Justi­na, along with a con­sid­er­able num­ber of cler­gy and laity pro­fess­ing the Ar­ian faith, re­quest­ed from the bish­op the use of two church­es, one in the city, the oth­er in the sub­urbs of Mi­lan. Am­brose re­fused, and was re­quired to an­swer for his con­duct be­fore the coun­cil. He went, at­tend­ed by a nu­mer­ous crowd of peo­ple, whose im­petu­ous zeal so over­awed the min­is­ters of Valen­tini­an that he was per­mit­ted to re­tire with­out mak­ing the sur­ren­der of the church­es. The day fol­low­ing, when he was per­form­ing di­vine ser­vice in the Basil­ica, the pre­fect of the city came to per­suade him to give up at least the Por­tian church in the sub­urbs. As he still con­tin­ued ob­sti­nate, the court pro­ceed­ed to vi­olent mea­sures: the of­fi­cers of the house­hold were com­mand­ed to pre­pare the Basil­ica and the Por­tian church­es to cel­ebrate di­vine ser­vice up­on the ar­rival of the em­per­or and his moth­er at the en­su­ing fes­ti­val of East­er. Per­ceiv­ing the grow­ing strength of the prelate’s in­ter­est, the court deemed it pru­dent to re­strict its de­mand to the use of one of the church­es. But all en­treaties proved in vain, and drew forth the fol­low­ing char­ac­ter­is­tic dec­la­ra­tion from the bish­op: — “If you de­mand my per­son, I am ready to sub­mit: car­ry me to prison or to death, I will not re­sist; but I will nev­er be­tray the church of Christ. I will not call up­on the peo­ple to suc­cour me; I will die at the foot of the al­tar rather than desert it. The tu­mult of the peo­ple I will not en­cour­age: but God alone can ap­pease it.”

Many cir­cum­stances in the his­to­ry of Am­brose are strong­ly char­ac­ter­is­tic of the gen­er­al spir­it of the times. The chief caus­es of his vic­to­ry over his op­po­nents were his great pop­ular­ity and the su­per­sti­tious rev­er­ence paid to the epis­co­pal char­ac­ter at that pe­ri­od. But it must al­so be not­ed that he used sev­er­al in­di­rect means to ob­tain and sup­port his au­thor­ity with the peo­ple. He was lib­er­al to the poor; it was his cus­tom to com­ment severe­ly in his preach­ing on the pub­lic char­ac­ters of his times; and he in­tro­duced pop­ular re­forms in the or­der and man­ner of pub­lic wor­ship. It is al­leged, too, that at a time when the in­flu­ence of Am­brose re­quired vig­or­ous sup­port, he was ad­mon­ished in a dream to search for, and found un­der the pave­ment of the church, the re­mains of two mar­tyrs, Ger­va­sius and Pro­ta­sius. The ap­plause of the vul­gar was min­gled with the de­ri­sion of the court par­ty.

Al­though the court was dis­pleased with the re­li­gious prin­ci­ples and con­duct of Am­brose, it re­spect­ed his great po­lit­ical tal­ents; and when ne­ces­si­ty re­quired, his aid was so­licit­ed and gen­er­ous­ly grant­ed. When Max­imus usurped the supreme pow­er in Gaul, and was med­itat­ing a de­scent up­on Italy, Valen­tini­an sent Am­brose to dis­suade him from the un­der­tak­ing, and the em­bassy was suc­cess­ful. On a sec­ond at­tempt of the same kind Am­brose was again em­ployed; and al­though he was un­suc­cess­ful, it can­not be doubt­ed that, if his ad­vice had been fol­lowed, the schemes of the usurp­er would have proved abortive; but the en­emy was per­mit­ted to en­ter Italy; and Mi­lan was tak­en. Justi­na and her son fled; but Am­brose re­mained at his post, and did good ser­vice to many of the suf­fer­ers by caus­ing the plate of the church to be melt­ed for their re­lief. Theo­do­sius, the em­per­or of the East, es­poused the cause of Justi­na, and re­gained the king­dom. This Theo­do­sius was stern­ly re­buked by Am­brose for the mas­sacre of 7000 per­sons at Thes­sa­loni­ca in 390, and was bid­den im­itate David in his re­pen­tance as he had im­itat­ed him in guilt.

In 302, af­ter the as­sas­si­na­tion of Valen­tini­an and the usurpa­tion of Eu­ge­nius, Am­brose fled from Mi­lan; but when Theo­do­sius was even­tu­al­ly vic­to­ri­ous, he sup­pli­cat­ed the em­per­or for the par­don of those who had sup­port­ed Eu­ge­nius. Soon af­ter ac­quir­ing the undis­put­ed pos­ses­sion of the Ro­man em­pire, Theo­do­sius died at Mi­lan in 395, and two years lat­er (4th

April 397) Am­brose al­so passed away. He was suc­ceed­ed by Sim­pli­cian.

A man of pure char­ac­ter, vig­or­ous mind, un­weary­ing zeal and un­com­mon gen­eros­ity, Am­brose ranks high among the fa­thers of the an­cient church on many counts. His chief faults were am­bi­tion and big­otry. Though rank­ing with Au­gus­tine, Jerome, and Gre­go­ry the Great, as one of the Latin “doc­tors,” he is most nat­ural­ly com­pared with Hi­lary, whom he sur­pass­es in ad­min­is­tra­tive ex­cel­lence as much as he falls be­low him in the­olog­ical abil­ity. Even here, how­ev­er, his achieve­ments are of no mean or­der, es­pe­cial­ly when we re­mem­ber his ju­ridi­cal train­ing and his com­par­ative­ly late han­dling of Bib­li­cal and doc­tri­nal sub­jects. In mat­ters of ex­ege­sis he is, like Hi­lary, an Alexan­dri­an; his chief pro­duc­tions are homilet­ic com­men­taries on the ear­ly Old Tes­ta­ment nar­ra­tives, e.g. the Hex­ae­meron (Cre­ation) and Abra­ham, some of the Psalms, and the Gospel ac­cord­ing to Luke. In dog­mat­ic he fol­lows Basil of Cae­sarea and oth­er Greek au­thors, but nev­er­the­less gives a dis­tinct­ly West­ern cast to the spec­ula­tions of which he treats. This is par­tic­ular­ly man­ifest in the weight­ier em­pha­sis which he lays up­on hu­man sin and di­vine grace, and in the place which he as­signs to faith in the in­di­vid­ual Chris­tian life. His chief works in this field are De fide ad Gra­tia­nuni Au­gus­tunn, De Spir­itu Sanc­to, De in­car­na­tio­nis Do­mini­cae sacra­men­to, De mys­teri­is. His great spir­itu­al suc­ces­sor, Au­gus­tine, whose con­ver­sion was helped by Am­brose’s ser­mons, owes more to him than to any writ­er ex­cept Paul. Am­brose’s in­tense epis­co­pal con­scious­ness fur­thered the grow­ing doc­trine of the Church and its sac­er­do­tal min­istry, while the preva­lent as­ceti­cism of the day, con­tin­uing the Sto­ic and Ci­cero­ni­an train­ing of his youth, en­abled him to pro­mul­gate a lofty stan­dard of Chris­tian ethics. Thus we have the De of­fici­is min­istro­rum, De viduis, De vir­gini­tate and De paen­iten­tia.

Am­brose has al­so left sev­er­al fu­ner­al ora­tions and nine­ty- one let­ters, but it is as a hymn-​writ­er that he per­haps de­serves most hon­our. Catch­ing the im­pulse from Hi­lary and con­firmed in it by the suc­cess of Ar­ian psalmody, Am­brose com­posed sev­er­al hymns, marked by dig­ni­fied sim­plic­ity, which were not on­ly ef­fec­tive in them­selves but served as a fruit­ful mod­el for lat­er times. We can­not cer­tain­ly as­sign to him more than four or five (Deus Cre­ator Om­ni­um, Aeterne re­rum con­di­tor, Jam sur­git ho­ra ter­tia, and the Christ­mas hymn Veni re­demp­tor gen­tium) of those that have come down to us. Each of these hymns has eight four-​line stan­zas and is writ­ten in strict iambic tetram­eter.

On the Am­brosian rit­ual see LITUR­GY; on the Am­brosian li­brary see LI­BRARIES; on the church found­ed by him at Mi­lan in 387 see MI­LAN. Edi­tions: The Bene­dic­tine (4 vols., Venice, 1748 ff.); Migne, Pa­trol. Lat. xiv.-xvii.; P. A. Bal­leri­ni (6 vols., Mi­lan, 1875 ff.). LIT­ER­ATURE: Th. Forster, Am­brose, B. of Mai­land (Halle, 1884), and art. in Her­zog-​Hauck, Realen­cyk., where the lit­er­ature is cit­ed in full; A. Ebert, Glesch. der christlich-​latein. Litt. (2nd ed., 1889); O. Bar­den­hew­er, Pa­tro­log­ic (2nd ed., 1891); A. Har­nack, Hist. of Dog­ma, esp. vol. v.; W. Bright, Age ofthe Fa­thers. (A. J. G.)

AM­BROSE (AN­DREY SER­TIS-​KA­MEN­SKIY) (1708-1771), arch­bish­op of Moscow, was born at Nezhine in the gov­ern­ment of Chernigov, and stud­ied in the school of St Alexan­der Nevskiy, where he af­ter­wards be­came a tu­tor. At the age of thir­ty-​one he en­tered a monastery, where he took the name of Am­brose. Sub­se­quent­ly he was ap­point­ed archi­man­drite of the con­vent of New Jerusalem at Voz­ne­sen­sk. From this post he was trans­ferred as bish­op, first to the dio­cese of Pereyaslav, and af­ter­wards to that of Krusit­sy near Moscow, fi­nal­ly be­com­ing arch­bish­op of Moscow in 1761. He was fa­mous not on­ly for his in­ter­est in schemes for the al­le­vi­ation of pover­ty in Moscow, but al­so as the founder of new church­es and monas­ter­ies. A ter­ri­ble out­break of plague oc­curred in Moscow in 1771, and the pop­ulace be­gan to throng round an im­age of the Vir­gin to which they at­tribut­ed su­per­nat­ural heal­ing pow­er. Am­brose, per­ceiv­ing that this crowd­ing to­geth­er mere­ly en­abled the con­ta­gion to spread, had the im­age se­cret­ly re­moved. The mob, sus­pect­ing that he was re­spon­si­ble for its re­moval, at­tacked a monastery to which he had re­tired, dragged him away from the sanc­tu­ary, and, hav­ing giv­en him time to re­ceive the sacra­ment, stran­gled him. Am­brose’s works in­clude a litur­gy and trans­la­tions from the Fa­thers.

AM­BROSE (AM­BROISE), AUT­PERT (d. 778), French Bene­dic­tine monk. He be­came abbe of St Vin­cent on the Volturno “in the time of Desiderius, king of the Lom­bards.” He wrote a con­sid­er­able num­ber of works on the Bible and re­li­gious sub­jects gen­er­al­ly. Among these are com­men­taries on the Apoc­alypse (see Bibl. Pa­trum, xi­ii. 403), on the Psalms, on the Song of Solomon; Lives of SS. Pal­do, Tu­to and Va­so (ac­cord­ing to Ma­bil­lon); As­sump­tion of the Vir­gin; Com­bat be­tween the Virtues and the Vices.

See Ma­bil­lon, Ac­ta sanct. Bol­land. III. ii. 259, 266; Georg Lom­mel, Der os­tr­sankische Re­for­ma­tor Am­bro­sius (Giessen, 1847); Bol­lan­dist Bibl. hag. lat. (1898), 61.

AM­BROSE, ISAAC (1604-1663/4), En­glish Pu­ri­tan di­vine, was the son of Richard Am­brose, vicar of Orm­skirk, and was prob­ably de­scend­ed from the Am­bros­es of Low­ick in Fur­ness, a well-​known Catholic fam­ily. He en­tered Brazenose Col­lege, Ox­ford, in 1621, in his sev­en­teenth year. Hav­ing grad­uat­ed B.A. in 1624 and been or­dained, he re­ceived in 1627 the lit­tle cure of Castle­ton in Der­byshire. By the in­flu­ence of William Rus­sell, earl of Bed­ford, he was ap­point­ed one of the king’s itin­er­ant preach­ers in Lan­cashire, and af­ter liv­ing for a time in Garstang, he was se­lect­ed by the La­dy Mar­garet Hoghton as vicar of Pre­ston. He as­so­ci­at­ed him­self with Pres­by­te­ri­an­ism, and was on the cel­ebrat­ed com­mit­tee for the ejec­tion of “scan­dalous and ig­no­rant min­is­ters and school­mas­ters” dur­ing the Com­mon­wealth. So long as Am­brose con­tin­ued at Pre­ston he was favoured with the warm friend­ship of the Hoghton fam­ily, their an­ces­tral woods and the tow­er near Black­burn af­ford­ing him se­questered places for those de­vout med­ita­tions and “ex­pe­ri­ences” that give such a charm to his di­ary, por­tions of which are quot­ed in his Pri­ma Me­dia and Ul­ti­ma (1650, 1659). The im­mense au­di­to­ry of his ser­mon (Re­deem­ing the Time) at the fu­ner­al of La­dy Hoghton was long a liv­ing tra­di­tion all over the coun­ty. On ac­count of the feel­ing en­gen­dered by the civ­il war Am­brose left his great church of Pre­ston in 1654, and be­came min­is­ter of Garstang, whence, how­ev­er, in 1662 he was eject­ed with the two thou­sand min­is­ters who re­fused to con­form. His af­ter years were passed among old friends and in qui­et med­ita­tion at Pre­ston. He died of apoplexy about the 20th of Jan­uary 1663/4. As a re­li­gious writ­er Am­brose has a vivid­ness and fresh­ness of imag­ina­tion pos­sessed by scarce­ly any of the Pu­ri­tan Non­con­formists. Many who have no love for Pu­ri­tan doc­trine, nor sym­pa­thy with Pu­ri­tan ex­pe­ri­ence, have ap­pre­ci­at­ed the pathos and beau­ty of his writ­ings, and his Look­ing to Je­sus long held its own in pop­ular ap­pre­ci­ation with the writ­ings of John Bun­yan.

AM­BROSE THE CAMAL­DU­LIAN, the com­mon name of AM­BRO­GIO TRAVER­SARI (1386-1439), French ec­cle­si­as­tic, born near Flo­rence at the vil­lage of Por­ti­co. At the age of four­teen he en­tered the Camal­du­lian Or­der in the monastery of Sta Maria degli An­geli, and rapid­ly be­came a lead­ing the­olo­gian and Hel­lenist. In Greek lit­er­ature his mas­ter was Em­manuel Chrysoloras. He be­came gen­er­al of the or­der in 1431, and was a lead­ing ad­vo­cate of the pa­pa­cy. This at­ti­tude he showed clear­ly when he at­tend­ed the coun­cil of Basel as legate of Eu­ge­nius IV. So strong was his hos­til­ity to some of the del­egates that he de­scribed Basel as a west­ern Baby­lon. He like­wise sup­port­ed the pope at Fer­rara and Flo­rence, and worked hard in the at­tempt to rec­on­cile the East­ern and West­ern Church­es. Though this cause was un­suc­cess­ful, Am­brose is in­ter­est­ing as typ­ical of the new hu­man­ism which was grow­ing up with­in the church. Voigt says that he was the first monk in Flo­rence in whom the love of let­ters and art be­came pre­dom­inant over his ec­cle­si­as­ti­cal views. Thus while among his own col­leagues he seemed mere­ly a hyp­ocrit­ical and ar­ro­gant priest, in his re­la­tions with his broth­er hu­man­ists, such as Cosi­mo de Medi­ci, he ap­peared as the stu­dent of clas­si­cal an­tiq­ui­ties and es­pe­cial­ly of Greek the­olog­ical au­thors. His chief works are: — Ho­doe­pori­con, an ac­count of a jour­ney tak­en by the pope’s com­mand, dur­ing which he vis­it­ed the monas­ter­ies of Italy; a trans­la­tion of

Pal­la­dius’ Life of Chrysos­tom; of Nine­teen Ser­mons of Ephraem Syrus; of the Book of St Basil on Vir­gin­ity. A num­ber of MSS. re­main in the li­brary of St Mark at Venice. He died on the 20th of Oc­to­ber 1439.

See G. Voigt, Die Wieder­bele­bung des klass. Al­ter­tums (2 vols., 3rd ed., 1893); his Epis­to­lae were pub­lished by Can­na­to (Flo­rence, 1759 with a life by Menus; Bol­lan­dist Bibl. hag. lat. (1898), 65; A. Ma­sius, Uber die Stel­lung des Kamal­du­lensers Am­bor­gio Traver­sari zum Papst Eu­gen IV. und zum Basler Konzil (Do­beln, 1888); Sav­igny, Geschichte rom. Rechts, Mit­tel. (1850), vi. 422-424.

AM­BROSIA, in an­cient mythol­ogy, some­times the food, some­times the drink of the gods. The word has gen­er­al­ly been de­rived from Gr. a, not, and mbro­tos, mor­tal; hence the food or drink of the im­mor­tals. A. W. Ver­rall, how­ev­er, de­nies that there is any clear ex­am­ple in which the word am­bro­sios nec­es­sar­ily means “im­mor­tal,” and prefers to ex­plain it as “fra­grant,” a sense which is al­ways suit­able; cf. W. Leaf, Il­iad (2nd ed.), on the phrase am­bro­sios up­uos (ii. 18). If so, the word may be de­rived from the Semitic am­bar (am­ber­gris) to which East­ern na­tions at­tribute mirac­ulous prop­er­ties. W. H. Rosch­er thinks that both nec­tar and am­brosia were kinds of hon­ey, in which case their pow­er of con­fer­ring im­mor­tal­ity would be due to the sup­posed heal­ing and cleans­ing pow­er of hon­ey (see fur­ther NEC­TAR). Deriva­tive­ly the word Am­brosia (neut. plur.) was giv­en to cer­tain fes­ti­vals in hon­our of Diony­sus, prob­ably be­cause of the pre­dom­inance of feast­ing in con­nex­ion with them.

The name Am­brosia was al­so ap­plied by Dioscorides and Pliny to cer­tain herbs, and has been re­tained in mod­ern botany for a genus of plants from which it has been ex­tend­ed to the group of di­cotyle­dons called Am­brosi­aceae, in­clud­ing Am­brosia, Xan­thi­um and Iva, all an­nu­al herba­ceous plants rep­re­sent­ed in Amer­ica. Am­brosia mar­iti­ma and some oth­er species oc­cur al­so in the Mediter­ranean re­gion.

There is al­so an Amer­ican bee­tle, the Am­brosia bee­tle, be­long­ing to the fam­ily of Scolyti­dae, which de­rives its name from its cu­ri­ous cul­ti­va­tion of a suc­cu­lent fun­gus, called am­brosia. Am­brosia bee­tles bore deep though minute gal­leries in­to trees and tim­ber, and the wood-​dust pro­vides a bed for the growth of the fun­gus, on which the in­sects and lar­vae feed.

AM­BROSIANS, the name giv­en to sev­er­al re­li­gious broth­er­hoods which at var­ious times since the 14th cen­tu­ry have sprung up in and around Mi­lan; they have about as much con­nex­ion with St Am­brose as the “Jeromites” who were found chiefly in up­per Italy and Spain have with their pa­tron saint. On­ly the old­est of them, the Pra­tres S. Am­brosii ad Ne­mus, had any­thing more than a very lo­cal sig­nif­icance. This or­der is known from a bull of Gre­go­ry XI. ad­dressed to the monks of the church of St Am­brose out­side Mi­lan. These monks, it would ap­pear, though un­der the au­thor­ity of a pri­or, had no rule. In re­sponse to the re­quest of the arch­bish­op, the pope had com­mand­ed them to fol­low the rule of Au­gus­tine and to be known by the above name. They were fur­ther to re­cite the Am­brosian of­fice. Sub­se­quent­ly the or­der had a num­ber of in­de­pen­dent es­tab­lish­ments in Italy which were unit­ed in­to one con­gre­ga­tion by Eu­ge­nius IV., their head­quar­ters be­ing at Mi­lan. Their dis­ci­pline af­ter­wards be­came so slack that an ap­peal was made to Car­di­nal Bor­romeo ask­ing him to re­form their hous­es. By Six­tus V. the or­der was amal­ga­mat­ed with the con­gre­ga­tion of St Barn­abas, but In­no­cent X. dis­solved it in 1650.

The name Am­brosians is al­so giv­en to a 16th-​cen­tu­ry An­abap­tist sect, which laid claim to im­me­di­ate com­mu­ni­ca­tion with God through the Holy Ghost. Bas­ing their the­ol­ogy up­on the words of the Gospel of St John i. 9 — “There was the true light which lighteth ev­ery man, com­ing in­to the world” — they de­nied the ne­ces­si­ty of any priests or min­is­ters to in­ter­pret the Bible. Their lead­er Am­brose went so far as to hold fur­ther that the rev­ela­tion which was vouch­safed to him was a high­er au­thor­ity than the Scrip­tures. The doc­trine of the Am­brosians, who be­longed prob­ably to that sec­tion of the An­abap­tists known as Pneu­mati­ci, may be com­pared with the “In­ner Light” doc­trine of the Quak­ers.

See Her­zog-​Hauck’s Realen­cyk­lopadie, i. 439.

AM­BROSI­ASTER. A com­men­tary on St Paul’s epis­tles, “brief in words but weighty in mat­ter,” and valu­able for the crit­icism of the Latin text of the New Tes­ta­ment, was long at­tribut­ed to St Am­brose. Eras­mus in 1527 threw doubt on the ac­cu­ra­cy of this as­crip­tion, and the au­thor is usu­al­ly spo­ken of as Am­brosi­aster or pseu­do-​Am­brose. Ow­ing to the fact that Au­gus­tine cites part of the com­men­tary on Ro­mans as by “Sanc­tus Hi­lar­ius” it has been as­cribed by var­ious crit­ics at dif­fer­ent times to al­most ev­ery known Hi­lary. Dom G. Morin (Rev. d’hist. et de litt. re­li­gious­es, tom. iv. 97 f.) broke new ground by sug­gest­ing in 1899 that the writ­er was Isaac, a con­vert­ed Jew, writ­er of a tract on the Trin­ity and In­car­na­tion, who was ex­iled to Spain in 378-380 and then re­lapsed to Ju­daism, but he af­ter­wards aban­doned this the­ory of the au­thor­ship in favour of Dec­imus Hi­lar­ianus Hi­lar­ius, pro­con­sul of Africa in 377. With this at­tri­bu­tion Pro­fes­sor Alex. Souter, in his Study of Am­brosi­aster (Cam­bridge Univ. Press, 1905), agrees. There is scarce­ly any­thing to be said for the pos­si­bil­ity of Am­brose hav­ing writ­ten the book be­fore he be­came a bish­op, and added to it in lat­er years, in­cor­po­rat­ing re­marks of Hi­lary of Poitiers on Ro­mans. The best pre­sen­ta­tion of the case for Am­brose is by P. A. Bal­leri­ni in his com­plete edi­tion of that fa­ther’s works.

In the book cit­ed above Pro­fes­sor Souter al­so dis­cuss­es the au­thor­ship of the Quaes­tiones Vet­eris et Novi Tes­ta­men­ti, which the MSS. as­cribe to Au­gus­tine. He con­cludes, on very thor­ough philo­log­ical and oth­er grounds, that this is with one pos­si­ble slight ex­cep­tion the work of the same “Am­brosi­aster.” The same con­clu­sion had been ar­rived at pre­vi­ous­ly by Dom Morin.

AM­BROSI­NI, BAR­TOLOMEO (1588-1657), Ital­ian nat­ural­ist, was born and died at Bologna. He was a pupil of Al­drovan­di, sev­er­al of whose works he pub­lished, and whom he suc­ceed­ed even­tu­al­ly as di­rec­tor of the uni­ver­si­ty botan­ical gar­den. He stud­ied at the uni­ver­si­ty, and be­came suc­ces­sive­ly pro­fes­sor of phi­los­ophy, of botany and of medicine; and dur­ing the plague of 1630 in Bologna he worked as­sid­uous­ly for the re­lief of the suf­fer­ers. He was the au­thor of sev­er­al med­ical works of some im­por­tance in their day.

His broth­er, GI­AC­IN­TO AM­BROSI­NI (1605-1672), was a dis­tin­guished botanist, who suc­ceed­ed Bar­tolomeo as pro­fes­sor of botany and di­rec­tor of the uni­ver­si­ty gar­den in 1657. He pub­lished a cat­alogue of its plants and al­so a botan­ical dic­tio­nary.

AM­BRO­SIUS AU­RE­LIANUS, lead­er of the Britons against the Sax­ons in the 5th cen­tu­ry, was, ac­cord­ing to the leg­ends pre­served in Gildas and the His­to­ria Brit­ton­um, of Ro­man ex­trac­tion. There are signs of the ex­is­tence of two par­ties in the na­tion­al op­po­si­tion to the in­vaders, but as Pas­cent, son of Vor­tigern, is said by Nen­nius to have held his do­min­ions in the west by leave of Am­bro­sius, the Ro­man el­ement seems to have tri­umphed. Some mea­sure of suc­cess ap­pears to have at­tend­ed the ef­forts of Am­bro­sius, and it has been sug­gest­ed that Ames­bury in Wilt­shire is con­nect­ed with Em­rys, the Celtic form of his name.

See Be­de, Ec­cl. Hist. (Plum­mer), i. 16; Nen­nius, Hist. Britt. sec. 31; Gildas, De ex­cidio Brit­tarum, sec. 25; J. Rhys, Celtic Britain (1884), pp. 104, 105, 107.

AM­BU­LANCE (from the Fr. am­bu­lance, for­mer­ly ho­pi­tal am­bu­lant, de­rived from the Lat. am­bu­lare, to move about), a term gen­er­al­ly ap­plied in Eng­land and Amer­ica to the wag­on or oth­er ve­hi­cle in which the wound­ed in bat­tle, or those who have sus­tained in­juries in civ­il life, are con­veyed to hos­pi­tal. More strict­ly, in mil­itary par­lance, the term im­ports a hos­pi­tal es­tab­lish­ment mov­ing with an army in the field, to pro­vide for the col­lec­tion, treat­ment and care of the wound­ed on the bat­tle­field, and of the sick, un­til they can be re­moved to hos­pi­tals of a more sta­tion­ary char­ac­ter. In 1905-1906 the term “field am­bu­lance” was adopt­ed in the British ser­vice to de­note this or­ga­ni­za­tion, the for­mer di­vi­sion of the am­bu­lance ser­vice in­to “bear­er com­pa­nies” and “field hos­pi­tals” be­ing done away with. The de­scrip­tion of the British ser­vice giv­en be­low ap­plies gen­er­al­ly to the sys­tem in vogue in the army af­ter the ex­pe­ri­ence gained in the South African War of 1899-1902; but in re­cent years the med­ical ar­range­ments in con­nex­ion with the British army hos­pi­tals have been al­tered in var­ious de­tails, and the

changes in progress showed no sign of ab­so­lute fi­nal­ity. Some of these, how­ev­er, were rather of nomen­cla­ture than of sub­stance, and hard­ly af­fect the prin­ci­ples as de­scribed be­low.

His­to­ry.

The am­bu­lance or­ga­ni­za­tion which, var­ious­ly mod­ified in de­tails, now pre­vails in all civ­ilized armies, on­ly dates from the last decade of the 18th cen­tu­ry. Be­fore that time wound­ed sol­diers were ei­ther car­ried to the rear by com­rades or left unat­tend­ed to and ex­posed un­til the fight­ing was over. Sur­gi­cal as­sis­tance did not reach the bat­tle­field till the day af­ter the en­gage­ment, or even lat­er; and for many of the wound­ed it was then too late. In 1792 Baron Do­minique Jean Lar­rey (1766-1842) of the French army in­tro­duced his sys­tem of am­bu­lances volantes, or fly­ing field hos­pi­tals, ca­pa­ble of mov­ing with speed from place to place, like the “fly­ing ar­tillery” of that time. They were adapt­ed both for giv­ing the nec­es­sary pri­ma­ry sur­gi­cal treat­ment and for re­mov­ing the wound­ed quick­ly from the sphere of fight­ing. Napoleon warm­ly sup­port­ed Lar­rey in his ef­forts in this di­rec­tion, and the sys­tem was soon brought to a high state of ef­fi­cien­cy in the Grande Armee. About the same time an­oth­er dis­tin­guished sur­geon in the French army, Baron Pierre Fran­cois Per­cy (1754-1825), or­ga­nized a corps of bran­car­diers, or stretch­er-​bear­ers. These were sol­diers trained and equipped for the du­ty of col­lect­ing the wound­ed while a bat­tle was in progress, and car­ry­ing them to a place of safe­ty, where their wounds and in­juries could be at­tend­ed to.

Gene­va Con­ven­tion.

An­im­por­tant step to­wards the ame­lio­ra­tion of the con­di­tion of the wound­ed of armies in the field was the Eu­ro­pean Con­ven­tion signed at Gene­va in 1864, by the terms of which, sub­ject to cer­tain reg­ula­tions, not on­ly the wound­ed them­selves but al­so the of­fi­cial staff of am­bu­lances and their equip­ment were ren­dered neu­tral, the for­mer, there­fore, not be­ing li­able to be re­tained as pris­on­ers of war, nor the lat­ter to be tak­en as prize of war. This con­ven­tion has great­ly favoured the de­vel­op­ment of am­bu­lance es­tab­lish­ments, but as all com­bat­ants have not the same knowl­edge of the con­di­tions of this con­ven­tion, or do not in­ter­pret them in the same way, charges of treach­ery and abuse of the Red Cross flag are but too com­mon in mod­ern war­fare.

The Amer­ican Civ­il War marked the be­gin­ning of the mod­ern am­bu­lance sys­tem. The main fea­ture, how­ev­er, of the hos­pi­tal or­ga­ni­za­tion through­out that war was the rail­way hos­pi­tal ser­vice, which pro­vid­ed for the rapid con­veyance of the sick and wound­ed to the rear of the con­tend­ing armies. Hos­pi­tal car­riages, equipped with med­ical stores and ap­pli­ances, for the trans­port of cas­es from the front to the base, were rapid­ly in­tro­duced in­to oth­er armies, and played a great part in the am­bu­lance ser­vice of the Fran­co-​Ger­man War.

Ger­man sys­tem.

The Ger­man hos­pi­tal ser­vice as ex­ist­ing at the time of the Fran­co-​Ger­man War of 1870-71 was mod­ified and ex­tend­ed by the Kriegs San­itats Ord­nung of 1878 and the KriegsE­tap­pen Ord­nung of 1887, which com­plet­ed the or­ga­ni­za­tion by the ad­di­tion in time of war of nu­mer­ous sub­or­di­nate of­fices and de­part­ments. The main di­vi­sions of the am­bu­lance or­ga­ni­za­tion of the Ger­man army in the field fall in­to: (1) san­itary de­tach­ments, (2) field hos­pi­tals, (3) fly­ing hos­pi­tals, (4) hos­pi­tal re­serve de­pots, (5) “com­mit­tees for the trans­port of the sick,” and (6) rail­way hos­pi­tal trains. The whole ad­min­is­tra­tion of the am­bu­lance ser­vice of the grand army in the field is in the hands of the chief of the am­bu­lance san­itary staff, who is at­tached to head­quar­ters. Next in com­mand come sur­geons- gen­er­al of armies in the field, sur­geons-​gen­er­al of army corps, and un­der them again sur­geons-​in-​chief of di­vi­sions and reg­iments. Civ­il con­sult­ing sur­geons of em­inence, and pro­fes­sors from the uni­ver­si­ties, are al­so at­tached to the var­ious armies and di­vi­sions to co-​op­er­ate with and act as ad­vis­ers to the sur­geons of the stand­ing mil­itary sur­gi­cal staff. The hos­pi­tal trans­port ser­vice on the lines of com­mu­ni­ca­tion is high­ly or­ga­nized and the hos­pi­tal rail­way car­riages are elab­orate­ly equipped.

French sys­tem. The French am­bu­lance sys­tem, fi­nal­ly set­tled by the re­gle­ment of 1884, is or­ga­nized on al­most iden­ti­cal lines with the Ger­man; one of the prin­ci­pal pe­cu­liar­ities of the for­mer be­ing the am­bu­lances volantes al­ready re­ferred to. The peace or­ga­ni­za­tion of the Ger­man and French sys­tems does not ma­te­ri­al­ly dif­fer from that of the British ser­vice.

Japanese sys­tem.

In the Japanese army a spe­cial fea­ture is the san­itary corps, whose du­ty is the pre­ven­tion of dis­ease among the troops; it has been brought to a great pitch of per­fec­tion, with the re­sult that in the Rus­so-​Japanese War (1904-1905) the im­mu­ni­ty of the troops from all forms of pre­ventable dis­ease sur­passed all pre­vi­ous ex­pe­ri­ence. Not on­ly was the army ac­com­pa­nied by san­itary ex­perts who ad­vised on all ques­tions of camp­ing grounds, wa­ter sup­ply, &c., but be­fore the war be­gan the In­tel­li­gence De­part­ment col­lect­ed in­for­ma­tion as to the dis­eases of the coun­try like­ly to be the scene of op­er­ations, un­healthy places to be avoid­ed, and pre­cau­tions to be tak­en.

British army sys­tem.

Com­ing now to the am­bu­lance sys­tem of the British army, in which are com­prised the ar­range­ments and or­ga­ni­za­tion of the med­ical de­part­ment for the care and treat­ment of the sick and wound­ed from the time they are in­jured or tak­en ill, till they are able to re­turn to du­ty or are in­valid­ed home, we will trace the progress of a wound­ed man from the field of bat­tle to his home; re­mem­ber­ing that, as British troops are usu­al­ly en­gaged over­seas, hos­pi­tal ships as well as land trans­port are nec­es­sary.

First field dress­ing.

When a sol­dier falls wound­ed in ac­tion he is at­tend­ed by the reg­imen­tal sur­geon and stretch­er-​bear­ers, who ap­ply some ex­tem­po­rized method of stop­ping bleed­ing and dress the wounds with the “first field dress­ing” — a pack­et of an­ti­sep­tic ma­te­ri­al which ev­ery of­fi­cer and man on ac­tive ser­vice car­ries stitched to some part of his cloth­ing, and which con­tains ev­ery­thing nec­es­sary for dress­ing an or­di­nary gun­shot wound. Re­cent wars have demon­strat­ed that in all un­com­pli­cat­ed cas­es it is bet­ter to leave this dress­ing undis­turbed, as the wounds made by mod­ern pro­jec­tiles heal up at once if left alone, if air and dirt have been thus ex­clud­ed.

Col­lect­ing sta­tion.

From the field he is car­ried on a stretch­er by bear­ers (for­mer­ly of the “Bear­er Com­pa­nies”) of the Roy­al Army Med­ical Corps to the col­lect­ing sta­tion, where he is placed on an am­bu­lance wag­on of the first line of as­sis­tance and tak­en to the dress­ing sta­tion. Here his would will be ex­am­ined if con­sid­ered nec­es­sary, but as on the field the first med­ical of­fi­cer who ex­am­ined him has al­ready at­tached a “spec­ifi­ca­tion tal­ly” to the pa­tient, giv­ing par­tic­ulars of the wound, it will prob­ably not be dis­turbed un­less com­pli­cat­ed by bleed­ing, splin­ter­ing of bone or some oth­er con­di­tion re­quir­ing in­ter­fer­ence. Any op­er­ation, how­ev­er, which is ur­gent­ly called for will be here per­formed, nour­ish­ment, stim­ulants and opi­ates ad­min­is­tered if re­quired, and the pa­tient moved to the field hos­pi­tal in an am­bu­lance wag­on of the sec­ond line of as­sis­tance. From the field hos­pi­tal he is trans­ferred as soon as pos­si­ble by the am­bu­lance train to the gen­er­al hos­pi­tal at the ad­vanced base of op­er­ations, and from there in due time in an­oth­er train to the base of op­er­ations at the coast, from which he is ul­ti­mate­ly ei­ther re­turned to du­ty or sent home in a hos­pi­tal ship. The or­ga­ni­za­tion by which these re­quire­ments are ful­filled is the fol­low­ing: –

Reg­imen­tal ar­range­ments.

Ev­ery reg­iment and fight­ing unit has post­ed to it, on pro­ceed­ing on ac­tive ser­vice, a med­ical of­fi­cer who looks af­ter the health of the men and ad­vis­es the com­mand­ing of­fi­cer on san­itary mat­ters. When the reg­iment goes in­to ac­tion he takes com­mand of the reg­imen­tal stretch­er-​bear­ers who, to the num­ber of two per com­pa­ny have been in peace time in­struct­ed in first aid and in the car­ry­ing the wound­ed on stretch­ers. These men leave their arms be­hind and wear the Red Cross arm­lets, to in­di­cate their non-​com­bat­ant func­tions, but in these days, when a bat­tle is of­ten fought at long ranges, it is not to be won­dered at, or at­tribut­ed to dis­re­gard of the red cross flag by the en­emy, if med­ical of­fi­cers and stretch­er-​bear­ers are hit. The bear­er com­pa­ny in­to whose charge the wound­ed man next pass­es is com­posed of men of the Roy­al Army Med­ical Corps, with a de­tach­ment of the Army Ser­vice Corps for trans­port du­ties. In fu­ture, bear­er sec­tions of the Field Am­bu­lances will per­form the du­ties of the bear­er com­pa­ny. Its func­tion is to col­lect and suc­cour the wound­ed on the bat­tle­field and to hand them over to the field hos­pi­tals, with which these bear­er com­pa­nies

are close­ly as­so­ci­at­ed, though sep­arate­ly or­ga­nized. In the In­di­an army the bear­er com­pa­ny is pro­vid­ed from the per­son­nel of the field hos­pi­tal when there is a bat­tle, and re­verts to the hos­pi­tal again af­ter it is over. The war in South Africa of 1899- 1902 clear­ly demon­strat­ed the su­pe­ri­or­ity of the In­di­an plan; for af­ter the ac­tion the bear­er com­pa­ny staff should be avail­able to give the much-​need­ed help in the field hos­pi­tal, and some amal­ga­ma­tion of the two or­ga­ni­za­tions, or some­thing af­ter the plan of the am­bu­lance volante of the French, is nec­es­sary. The bear­ers af­ford the wound­ed any treat­ment re­quired, sup­ply wa­ter and seda­tives, and then car­ry them back on stretch­ers to the col­lect­ing sta­tion in the rear, whence they are con­veyed to the dress­ing sta­tion in the wag­ons or oth­er form of trans­port.

At the dress­ing sta­tion, which ought to be out of range of the fir­ing, and should have a good wa­ter sup­ply, the pa­tient is made as com­fort­able as pos­si­ble, nour­ish­ment and stim­ulants are ad­min­is­tered, and he is then tak­en to the field hos­pi­tal. In times of great stress, when it is de­sir­able to re­move the wound­ed quick­ly from the field, and there are no roads or wheeled trans­port is not avail­able, large num­bers of bear­ers are em­ployed to car­ry them on stretch­ers, &c. These men are en­gaged lo­cal­ly and are soon giv­en the slight train­ing nec­es­sary. This was done in Na­tal af­ter the bat­tles on the Tugela (1899), in which there were some thou­sands of wound­ed to be con­veyed; al­so in Egypt, where the lo­cal troops not re­quired for the fight­ing line were req­ui­si­tioned; the Japanese in Mon­go­lia em­ployed hun­dreds of Chi­nese coolies for this pur­pose, the gen­er­al use of sedan-​chairs in Chi­na hav­ing ac­cus­tomed the poor­er class of na­tives to this kind of labour.

In­di­an bear­ers.

In In­dia, the rank and file of the Roy­al Army Med­ical Corps not be­ing em­ployed, the bear­er work is car­ried out by na­tives spe­cial­ly en­list­ed and or­ga­nized in­to a corps. These men are bear­ers by caste — a rem­inis­cence of the sys­tem which pre­vailed gen­er­al­ly a hun­dred years ago, and is still met with in out-​of-​the-​way places, of con­veyance of trav­ellers in dhoolies, which are closed wood­en car­riages fixed on long poles and car­ried on men’s shoul­ders. The bear­ers con­vey the wound­ed in dandies, sim­ilar to dhoolies, but made most­ly of can­vas, so that they are much lighter. The courage of these bear­ers on the bat­tle­field has of­ten been praised. The old bear­er caste is, how­ev­er, rapid­ly dy­ing out ow­ing to the gen­er­al dis­con­tin­uance of the use of dhoolies. Thus the am­bu­lance or­ga­ni­za­tion in In­dia is en­tire­ly dif­fer­ent from that in oth­er parts of the British em­pire. The rank and file of the Roy­al Army Med­ical Corps are not em­ployed there, al­though the med­ical of­fi­cers are. The war­rant and non-​com­mis­sioned ranks are re­placed by a most use­ful body of men of An­glo-​In­di­an or Eurasian (half caste) birth, called the Sub­or­di­nate Med­ical De­part­ment, the mem­bers of which, now called as­sis­tant sur­geons (for­mer­ly apothe­caries), re­ceive a three years’ train­ing in med­ical work at the In­di­an med­ical schools and are com­pe­tent to per­form the com­pound­ing of medicines and to deal with all but the most se­ri­ous cas­es of in­jury and ill­ness. In the hos­pi­tals the men of the Roy­al Army Med­ical Corps are re­placed by the Na­tive Army Hos­pi­tal Corps, sub­di­vid­ed in­to ward-​ser­vants, cooks, wa­ter- car­ri­ers, sweep­ers and wash­er­men. The caste sys­tem ne­ces­si­tates this di­vi­sion of labour, and the men are not so ef­fi­cient or trust­wor­thy as the white sol­diers whose places they take. The bear­ers of the wound­ed are a sep­arate and dis­tinct class, part­ly at­tached to reg­iments, &c., as part of the reg­imen­tal trans­port, and part­ly or­ga­nized in­to bear­er com­pa­nies, at­tached to field hos­pi­tals. The dandies in which they car­ry the wound­ed are much more com­fort­able than stretch­ers, be­ing fit­ted with roofs and sides of can­vas to keep off sun and rain, thus be­ing col­lapsi­ble so that the dandy is quite flat when not in use. Still they are heavy, clum­sy, and can­not be fold­ed up in­to a small com­pass for trans­port like a stretch­er; they al­so take up a good deal of room in wag­ons and can scarce­ly be car­ried on the backs of an­imals ow­ing to the length of the pole. Hence rid­ing ponies and mules are much used in In­di­an war­fare, es­pe­cial­ly in the moun­tains, for the car­riage of less se­ri­ous­ly wound­ed men. In In­dia sep­arate hos­pi­tals are nec­es­sary for white and na­tive troops, and the lat­ter have ac­com­mo­da­tion for the large num­bers of non-​com­bat­ant camp-​fol­low­ers, mule-​drivers, cooks, of­fi­cers’ ser­vants, &c., &c., which con­sti­tute one of the most re­mark­able fea­tures of the In­di­an army or­ga­ni­za­tion.

Field hos­pi­tals.

Field hos­pi­tals, un­der the new scheme fur­nished by tent sec­tions of the Field Am­bu­lances, are each sup­posed to pro­vide ac­com­mo­da­tion for 100 pa­tients, who live on their field ra­tions suit­ably cooked and sup­ple­ment­ed by var­ious med­ical com­forts. The pa­tients are not sup­plied with hos­pi­tal cloth­ing, nor do they have beds, but he on straw, which is spread on the ground and cov­ered with wa­ter­proof sheets and blan­kets; of these lat­ter a con­sid­er­able re­serve is car­ried. These hos­pi­tals can and must at times ac­com­mo­date more than the reg­ula­tion num­ber of pa­tients, but in the South African War their re­sources were at times con­sid­er­ably over­taxed, with con­se­quent dis­com­fort and hard­ship to the pa­tients, the med­ical equip­ment prov­ing in­suf­fi­cient for un­ex­pect­ed­ly heavy calls up­on its re­sources.

Hos­pi­tals on the lines of com­mu­ni­ca­tion.

These hos­pi­tals are sup­posed to move with the army, and there­fore it is im­per­ative to pass the wound­ed quick­ly back from these to the sta­tion­ary hos­pi­tals on the lines of com­mu­ni­ca­tion (which vary ac­cord­ing to the length of these lines) and thence to the gen­er­al hos­pi­tals at the base. The size of the lines of com­mu­ni­ca­tion hos­pi­tals varies ac­cord­ing to cir­cum­stances, and they are as a rule “di­et­ed,” that is to say prop­er hos­pi­tal di­ets and not field ra­tions are is­sued to the pa­tients, who al­so are sup­plied with beds and prop­er hos­pi­tal cloth­ing. In these hos­pi­tals al­so there may be nurs­ing sis­ters, who of course are un­suit­ed for the rough work and life near­er the front. Sis­ters are al­so em­ployed on the hos­pi­tal trains, which were found most use­ful and brought to great per­fec­tion in the South African War, be­ing fit­ted with beds, kitchens, dis­pen­saries, &c., so that pa­tients were moved long dis­tances in com­fort.

Gen­er­al hos­pi­tals.

Ar­rived at the base of op­er­ations the wound­ed are ad­mit­ted to the gen­er­al hos­pi­tals, of which the num­bers and sit­ua­tion vary with cir­cum­stances, but each is sup­posed to have an of­fi­cers’ ward. In the South African War, ow­ing to the in­abil­ity of the com­par­ative­ly small Roy­al Army Med­ical Corps to meet all the re­quire­ments of the enor­mous force which was ul­ti­mate­ly em­ployed, many of the doc­tors were drawn from the civ­il pro­fes­sion, and the rank and file from the St John’s Am­bu­lance As­so­ci­ation and the Vol­un­teer Med­ical Staff Corps, while many nurs­ing sis­ters be­longed to the Army Nurs­ing Re­serve, or­di­nar­ily em­ployed in civ­il hos­pi­tals but li­able to be draft­ed out dur­ing war.

Civ­il gen­er­al hos­pi­tals.

In the South African War the pa­tri­otism and lib­er­al­ity of the British pub­lic fur­nished sev­er­al large gen­er­al hos­pi­tals, per­fect­ly equipped, and of­fi­cered by some of the most em­inent mem­bers of the med­ical pro­fes­sion in the Unit­ed King­dom. Among oth­ers may be men­tioned the Princess Chris­tian, the Im­pe­ri­al Yeo­man­ry (both field and gen­er­al hos­pi­tals), the Lang­man, the Port­land, the Scot­tish, Irish and Welsh hos­pi­tals. These were staffed en­tire­ly by civil­ians, ex­cept that an of­fi­cer of the Roy­al Army Med­ical Corps was at­tached to each as ad­min­is­tra­tor and or­ga­niz­er; and their per­son­nel was made up of physi­cians, sur­geons, nurs­es, dressers (med­ical stu­dents and in some cas­es ful­ly qual­ified sur­geons) and ser­vants; the num­bers, of course, vary­ing with the size of the hos­pi­tals. In ad­di­tion to the staff of these hos­pi­tals sev­er­al em­inent civ­il sur­geons, in­clud­ing Sir William Mac­cor­mac and Sir F. Treves, went out to the seat of war as con­sul­tants: an in­no­va­tion in the British ser­vice, but in ac­cor­dance with the sys­tem long in vogue in Ger­many.

To the Army Med­ical or­ga­ni­za­tion is af­fil­iat­ed in war time that of t