The Project Gutenberg Encyclopedia Volume 1 of 28

The per­cus­sion tube (fig. 18) has a sim­ilar­ly shaped body to the wire­less elec­tric tube, but the in­ter­nal con­struc­tion dif­fers; it is fit­ted with a strik­er, be­low which is a per­cus­sion cap on a hol­low brass anvil, and the tube is filled with pow­der.

With Q.F. guns (that is, strict­ly, those us­ing metal­lic car­tridge cas­es) the case it­self is fit­ted with the ig­nit­ing medi­um; in Eng­land these are called primers. For small guns the case con­tains a per­cus­sion primer, usu­al­ly a cop­per cap filled with a chlo­rate mix­ture and rest­ing against an anvil. The strik­er of

FIG. 18.–Primer.

the gun strikes the cap and fires the mix­ture. For larg­er guns an elec­tric primer (fig. 19) is used, the in­ter­nal con­struc­tion and ac­tion of which are pre­cise­ly sim­ilar to the wire­less tube al­ready de­scribed; the ex­te­ri­or is screwed for the case. For per­cus­sion

FIG. 19.–Elec­tric Primer.

fir­ing an or­di­nary per­cus­sion tube is placed in an adapter screwed in­to the case. In some for­eign ser­vices a com­bined elec­tric and per­cus­sion primer is used; the ac­tion of this will be un­der­stood from fig. 20.

The first car­tridges for can­non were made up of gun­pow­der packed in a pa­per bag or case. For many years af­ter the in­tro­duc­tion of can­non the pow­der was in­tro­duced in­to the bore by means of a scoop-​shaped la­dle fixed to the end of a long stave. The la­dle was made of the same di­am­eter as the shot, and it had a def­inite length so that it was filled once for the charg­ing of small guns but for larg­er guns the la­dle had to be filled twice or even thrice. The rule was to make the pow­der charge the same weight as that of the shot.

Car­tridges made up in pa­per or can­vas bags were af­ter­wards used in forts at night-​time or on board ship, so that the guns could be more rapid­ly load­ed and with less risk than by us­ing a la­dle. Be­fore load­ing, a piece of the pa­per or can­vas cov­er­ing had to be cut open im­me­di­ate­ly un­der the vent; af­ter the shot had been rammed home

FIG. 20.–Com­bined Primer.

the vent was filled with pow­der from a prim­ing horn, and the gun was then fired by means of a hot iron, quick match or port-​fire.

The an­cient breech-​load­ing guns were not so dif­fi­cult to load, as the pow­der cham­ber of the gun was re­mov­able and was charged by sim­ply fill­ing it up with pow­der and ram­ming a wad on top to pre­vent the es­cape of the pow­der.

Pa­per, can­vas and sim­ilar ma­te­ri­als are par­tic­ular­ly li­able to smoul­der af­ter the gun has been fired, hence the ne­ces­si­ty of well spong­ing the piece. Even with this pre­cau­tion ac­ci­dents of­ten oc­curred ow­ing to a car­tridge be­ing ig­nit­ed by the still glow­ing de­bris of the pre­vi­ous round. In or­der to pre­vent this, bags of non-​smoul­der­ing ma­te­ri­al, such as flan­nel, serge or silk cloth are used; com­bustible ma­te­ri­al such as wo­ven gun-​cot­ton cloth has al­so been tried, but there are cer­tain dis­ad­van­tages at­tend­ing this.

All smoke­less pow­ders are some­what dif­fi­cult to ig­nite in a gun, so that in or­der to pre­vent hang-​fires ev­ery car­tridge has a primer or ig­niter, of or­di­nary fine grain gun­pow­der, placed so as to in­ter­cept the flash from the tube; the out­side of the bag con­tain­ing this ig­niter is made of shal­loon, to al­low the flash to pen­etrate with ease. The charge for heavy guns (above 6 in.) is made up in sep­arate car­tridges con­tain­ing half and quar­ter charges, both for con­ve­nience of han­dling, and to al­low of a re­duced charge be­ing used.

The car­tridges are made of a bun­dle of cordite,or oth­er smoke­less pow­der, tight­ly tied with silk, placed in a silk cloth bag with the primer or ig­niter stitched on the un­closed end; the ex­te­ri­or is taped with silk cloth tape so as to form a stiff car­tridge. For

FIG. 21.–10-inch B.L. Gun Car­tridge.

some of the longer guns, the ex­te­ri­or of the car­tridre is con­ve­nient­ly made of a coned shape, the coned form be­ing pro­duced by build­ing up lay­ers out­side a cylin­dri­cal core. In these large car­tridges a silk cord beck­et runs up the cen­tre with a loop at the top for han­dling (fig. 21).

For how­itzers, vari­able charges are used, and are made up so that the weight can be read­ily al­tered. The fol­low­ing typ­ical in­stance (fig. 22) will serve to show the gen­er­al method of mak­ing

Fig. 22.–6-inch B.L. How­itzer Car­tridge.

such charges, whether for B.L. or Q.F. how­itzers. Small size cordite is used, and the charge is formed of a mush­room-​shaped core, made up in a shal­loon bag; on the stalk, so as to be eas­ily re­moved, three rings of cordite are placed. The bot­tom of the core con­tains the primer, and the rings can be at­tached to the core by two silk braids. The weight of the rings is grad­uat­ed so that by de­tach­ing one or more the vary­ing charges re­quired can be ob­tained.

For quick-​fir­ing guns the charge is con­tained in a brass case to which is fit­ted a primer for ig­nit­ing the charge. This case is in­sert­ed in­to the gun, and when fired slight­ly ex­pands and tight­ly fits the cham­ber of the gun, thus act­ing as an ob­tu­ra­tor and pre­vent­ing any es­cape of gas from the breech. This class of am­mu­ni­tion is es­pe­cial­ly use­ful for the small­er cal­ibres of guns, such as 3-pr., 6-pr. and field guns, but Messrs Krupp al­so em­ploy metal­lic car­tridge cas­es for the largest type of gun, prob­ably on ac­count of the known dif­fi­cul­ty of en­sur­ing trust­wor­thy ob­tu­ra­tion by any oth­er means prac­ti­ca­ble with slid­ing wedge guns.

The charges for these cas­es are made up in a very sim­ilar man­ner to those al­ready de­scribed for B.L. guns. Where nec­es­sary, dis­tance pieces formed of pa­pi­er-​mache tubes and felt wads are used to fill up the space in the case and so pre­vent any move­ment of the charge. The mouth of the case is closed ei­ther by the base end of the pro­jec­tile (fig. 23), in which case it is called “fixed am­mu­ni­tion” or “si­mul­ta­ne­ous load­ing am­mu­ni­tion.” or by a metal­lic cap (fig. 24), when it is called “sep­arate

FIG. 24.–4.7-inch Q.F. Car­tridge great­ly re­duced scale).

load­ing am­mu­ni­tion,” pro­jec­tile and charge be­ing thus load­ed by sep­arate op­er­ations. (A. G. H.)

The Bul­let.–The orig­inal mus­ket bul­let was a spher­ical lead­en ball two sizes small­er than the bore, wrapped in a loose­ly fit­ting pa­per patch which formed the car­tridge. The load­ing was, there­fore, easy with the old smooth-​bore Brown Bess and sim­ilar mil­itary mus­kets. The orig­inal muz­zle-​load­ing ri­fle, on the oth­er hand, with a close­ly fit­ting ball to take the grooves, was load­ed with dif­fi­cul­ty, par­tic­ular­ly when foul, and for this rea­son was not gen­er­al­ly used for mil­itary pur­pos­es.

In 1826 Delirque, a French in­fantry of­fi­cer, in­vent­ed a breech with abrupt shoul­ders on which the spher­ical bul­let was rammed down un­til it ex­pand­ed and filled the grooves. The ob­jec­tion in this case was that the de­formed bul­let had an er­rat­ic flight. The Brunswick ri­fle, in­tro­duced in­to the British army in the reign of William IV., fired a spher­ical bul­let weigh­ing 557 grs. with a belt to fit the grooves. The ri­fle was not eas­ily load­ed, and soon fouled. In 1835 W. Green­er pro­duced a new ex­pan­sive bul­let, an oval ball, a di­am­eter and a half in length, with a flat end, per­fo­rat­ed, in which a cast metal­lic ta­per plug was in­sert­ed. The ex­plo­sion of the charge drove the plug home, ex­pand­ed the bul­let, filled the grooves and pre­vent­ed windage. A tri­al of the Green­er bul­let in Au­gust 1835, at Tynemouth, by a par­ty of the 60th (now King’s Roy­al) Ri­fles, proved suc­cess­ful. The range and ac­cu­ra­cy of the ri­fle were re­tained, while the load­ing proved as easy as with a smooth-​bore mus­ket. The in­ven­tion was, how­ev­er, re­ject­ed by the mil­itary au­thor­ities on the ground that the bul­let was a com­pound one. In 1852 the gov­ern­ment award­ed Minie, a French­man, L. 20,000 for a bul­let of the same prin­ci­ple, adopt­ed in­to the British ser­vice. Sub­se­quent­ly, in 1857, Green­er was al­so award­ed L. 1000 for “the first pub­lic sug­ges­tion of the prin­ci­ple of ex­pan­sion, com­mon­ly called the Minie prin­ci­ple, in 1836.” The Minie bul­let con­tained an iron cup in a cav­ity in the base of the bul­let. The form of the bul­let was sub­se­quent­ly changed from conoidal to cylin­dro-​conoidal, with a hemi­spher­ical iron cup. This bul­let was used in the En­field ri­fle in­tro­duced in­to the British army in 1855. It weighed 530 grs., and was made up in­to car­tridges and lu­bri­cat­ed as for the Minie ri­fle. A box­wood plug to the bul­let was al­so used. The bul­let used in the breech-​load­ing Mar­ti­ni-​Hen­ry ri­fle, adopt­ed by the British gov­ern­ment in 1871 in suc­ces­sion to the Snider-​En­field ri­fle, weighed 480 grs., and was fired from an Eley-​Box­er car­tridge- case with a wad of wax lu­bri­ca­tion at the base of the bul­let.

Be­tween 1854 and 1857 Sir Joseph Whit­worth con­duct­ed a long se­ries of ri­fle ex­per­iments, and proved, among oth­er points, the ad­van­tages of a small­er bore and, in par­tic­ular, of an elon­gat­ed bul­let. The Whit­worth bul­let was made to fit the grooves of the ri­fle me­chan­ical­ly. The Whit­worth ri­fle was nev­er adopt­ed by the gov­ern­ment, al­though it was used ex­ten­sive­ly for match pur­pos­es and tar­get prac­tice be­tween 1857 and 1866, when it was grad­ual­ly su­per­seded by Met­ford’s Sys­tem men­tioned be­low.

The next im­por­tant change in the his­to­ry of the ri­fle bul­let oc­curred in 1883, when Ma­jor Ru­bin, di­rec­tor of the Swiss Lab­ora­to­ry at Thun, in­vent­ed the small-​cal­ibre ri­fle, one of whose es­sen­tial fea­tures was the em­ploy­ment of an elon­gat­ed com­pound bul­let, with a lead­en core in a cop­per en­ve­lope. About 1862 and lat­er, W. E. Met­ford had car­ried out an ex­haus­tive se­ries of ex­per­iments on bul­lets and ri­fling, and had in­vent­ed the im­por­tant sys­tem of light ri­fling with in­creas­ing spi­ral, and a hard­ened bul­let. The com­bined re­sult of the above in­ven­tions was that in De­cem­ber 1888 the Lee-​Met­ford small-​bore .303 ri­fle, Mark I., was fi­nal­ly adopt­ed for the British army. The lat­est de­vel­op­ment of this ri­fle is now known as the .303 Lee-​En­fleld, which fires a long, thin, nick­el-​cov­ered, lead­en-​cored bul­let 1.25 in. long, weigh­ing on­ly 215 grs., while the Mar­ti­ni-​Hen­ry bul­let, 1.27 in. in length and .45 in. in di­am­eter, weighed 480 grs.

The adop­tion of the small­er elon­gat­ed bul­let, ne­ces­si­tat­ed by the small­er cal­ibre of the ri­fle, en­tailed some def­inite dis­ad­van­tages. The lighter bul­let is more af­fect­ed by wind. Its greater rel­ative length to di­am­eter ne­ces­si­tates a sharp­er pitch of ri­fling in or­der prop­er­ly to re­volve the bul­let (one turn in 10 in. for the .303 ri­fle as com­pared with one turn in 22 in. for the Mar­ti­ni-​Hen­ry). This, in its turn, ne­ces­si­tates a hard nick­el en­ve­lope for the lead­en bul­let in or­der to pre­vent its “strip­ping,” or be­ing forced through the bar­rel with­out ro­ta­tion. The gen­er­al re­sult is that, while the en­veloped bul­let has a much high­er pen­etra­tive pow­er than one of lead on­ly, it does not usu­al­ly in­flict so se­vere a wound, nor has it such a stun­ning ef­fect as the old lead bul­let. It cuts a small clean hole, but does not de­form. This fact is of some mil­itary im­por­tance, as, for ex­am­ple, in war­fare with sav­ages, in which the chief dan­ger is usu­al­ly a rush of large num­bers at close quar­ters. The ad­van­tages, how­ev­er, of the small­er cal­ibre and the lighter bul­let and am­mu­ni­tion are con­sid­ered to out­weigh the dis­ad­van­tages, and they have been uni­ver­sal­ly adopt­ed for all mil­itary ri­fles.

Bul­lets for tar­get and sport­ing-​ri­fles have, in the main, fol­lowed, or oc­ca­sion­al­ly pre­ced­ed, the line of progress of mil­itary ri­fle bul­lets. In 1861 Hen­ry in­tro­duced a mod­ifi­ca­tion of the groov­ing of the cylin­dri­cal Whit­worth bul­let, and in 1864 and 1865 the Rig­by me­chan­ical­ly fit­ting bul­let was used with suc­cess at the Na­tion­al Ri­fle As­so­ci­ation meet­ing, and in the sec­ond stage of the Queen’s prize. The bul­lets of sport­ing ri­fles, and par­tic­ular­ly those of Ex­press ri­fles, are of­ten lighter than mil­itary bul­lets, and made with hol­low points to en­sure the ex­pan­sion of the pro­jec­tile on or af­ter im­pact. The size and shape of the hol­low in the point vary ac­cord­ing to the pur­pose re­quired and the na­ture of the game hunt­ed. If greater pen­etra­tion is need­ed, the lead­en bul­let is hard­ened with mer­cury or tin, or the mil­itary nick­el-​coat­ed bul­let is used with the small-​bore, smoke­less- pow­der ri­fles. Ex­plo­sive bul­lets filled with det­onat­ing pow­der were at one time used in Ex­press and large-​bore ri­fles for large game. The use of these bul­lets is now prac­ti­cal­ly aban­doned ow­ing to their un­cer­tain­ty of ac­tion and the dan­ger in­volved in han­dling them. Their use in war­fare is pro­hib­it­ed by in­ter­na­tion­al law.

The nick­el-​cov­ered bul­let, when used in a mod­ern small-​bore ri­fle for sport­ing pur­pos­es, is made in­to an ex­pand­ing bul­let, ei­ther by leav­ing the lead­en core un­cov­ered at the nose of the bul­let, with or with­out a hol­low point, or by cut­ting trans­verse or lon­gi­tu­di­nal nicks of vary­ing depth in the point or cir­cum­fer­ence of the bul­let.

A cone-​shaped sharp-​point­ed bul­let, named the Spitzer bul­let, has been tried in the Unit­ed States un­der the aus­pices of the Ord­nance De­part­ment, in a Spring­field ri­fle, which is prac­ti­cal­ly iden­ti­cal with the British ser­vice .303 Lee-​En­field. This bul­let is lighter than the Lee-​En­field bul­let (150 grs. as against 215 grs.), and when fired with a heav­ier charge of pow­der (51 grs. as against 31 grs.) gives, it is claimed, bet­ter re­sults in muz­zle-​ve­loc­ity, tra­jec­to­ry, de­flex­ion from wind and wear and tear of ri­fling, than the present uni­ver­sal­ly used cylin­der-​shaped bul­let. In 1906 de­tails of its pro­to­type, the Ger­man “S” bul­let (Spitzgeschoss), and of the French “D” bul­let, were pub­lished.

The Car­tridge.–The orig­inal car­tridge for mil­itary small arms dates from 1586. It con­sist­ed of a charge of pow­der and a bul­let in a pa­per en­ve­lope. This car­tridge was used with the muz­zle- load­ing mil­itary firearm, the base of the car­tridge be­ing ripped or bit­ten off by the sol­dier, the pow­der poured in­to the bar­rel, and the bul­let then rammed home. Be­fore the in­ven­tion of the fire­lock or flint-​lock, about 1635, the prim­ing was orig­inal­ly put in­to the pan of the wheel-​lock and snaphance mus­kets from a flask con­tain­ing a fine-​grained pow­der called ser­pen­tine pow­der. Lat­er the pan was filled from the car­tridge above de­scribed be­fore load­ing. The mech­anism of the flint-​lock mus­ket, in which the

FIG. 25.

pan was cov­ered by the fur­rowed steel struck by the flint, ren­dered this method of prim­ing un­nec­es­sary, as, in load­ing, a por­tion of the charge of pow­der passed from the bar­rel through the vent in­to the pan, where it was held by the cov­er and ham­mer.

The next im­por­tant ad­vance in the method of ig­ni­tion was the in­tro­duc­tion of the cop­per per­cus­sion cap. This was on­ly gen­er­al­ly ap­plied to the British mil­itary mus­ket (the Brown Bess) in 1842, a quar­ter of a cen­tu­ry af­ter the in­ven­tion of per­cus­sion pow­der and af­ter an elab­orate gov­ern­ment test at Wool­wich in 1834. The in­ven­tion which made the per­cus­sion cap pos­si­ble was patent­ed by the Rev. A. J. Forsyth in 1807, and con­sist­ed of prim­ing with a ful­mi­nat­ing pow­der made of chlo­rate of potash, sul­phur and char­coal, which ex­plod­ed by con­cus­sion. This in­ven­tion was grad­ual­ly de­vel­oped, and used, first in a steel cap, and then in a cop­per cap, by var­ious gun­mak­ers and pri­vate in­di­vid­uals be­fore com­ing in­to gen­er­al mil­itary use near­ly thir­ty years lat­er. The al­ter­ation of the mil­itary flint-​lock to the per­cus­sion mus­ket was eas­ily ac­com­plished by re­plac­ing the pow­der pan by a per­fo­rat­ed nip­ple, and by re­plac­ing the cock or ham­mer which held the flint by a small­er ham­mer with a hol­low to fit on the nip­ple when re­leased by the trig­ger. On the nip­ple was placed the cop­per cap con­tain­ing the det­onat­ing com­po­si­tion, now made of three parts of chlo­rate of potash, two of ful­mi­nate of mer­cury and one of pow­dered glass. The det­onat­ing cap thus in­vent­ed and adopt­ed, brought about the in­ven­tion of the mod­ern car­tridge case, and ren­dered pos­si­ble the gen­er­al adop­tion of the breech-​load­ing prin­ci­ple for all va­ri­eties of ri­fles, shot guns and pis­tols. Prob­ably no in­ven­tion con­nect­ed with firearms has wrought such changes in the prin­ci­ple of gun con­struc­tion as those ef­fect­ed by the ex­pan­sive car­tridge case. This in­ven­tion has com­plete­ly rev­olu­tion­ized the art of gun­mak­ing, has been suc­cess­ful­ly ap­plied to all de­scrip­tions of firearms, and has pro­duced a new and im­por­tant in­dus­try–that of car­tridge man­ufac­ture.

Its es­sen­tial fea­ture is the pre­ven­tion of all es­cape of gas at the breech when the weapon is fired, by means of an ex­pan­sive car­tridge case con­tain­ing its own means of ig­ni­tion. Pre­vi­ous to this in­ven­tion shot guns and sport­ing ri­fles were load­ed by means of pow­der flasks and shot flasks, bul­lets, wads and cop­per caps, all car­ried sep­arate­ly. The ear­li­est ef­fi­cient mod­ern car­tridge case was the pin-​fire, patent­ed, ac­cord­ing to some au­thor­ities, by Houiller, a Paris gun­smith, in 1847; and, ac­cord­ing to oth­ers, by Lefaucheux, al­so a Paris gun­smith, in or about 1850. It con­sist­ed of thin weak shell made of brass and pa­per which ex­pand­ed by the force of the ex­plo­sion, fit­ted per­fect­ly in­to the bar­rel, and thus formed an ef­fi­cient gas check. A small per­cus­sion cap was placed in the mid­dle of the base of the car­tridge, and was ex­plod­ed by means of a brass pin pro­ject­ing from the side and struck by the ham­mer. This pin al­so af­ford­ed the means of ex­tract­ing the car­tridge case. This car­tridge was in­tro­duced in Eng­land by Lang, of Cock­spur Street, Lon­don, about 1855.

The cen­tral-​fire car­tridge was in­tro­duced in­to Eng­land in 1861 by Daw. It is said to have been the in­ven­tion of Pot­tet of Paris, im­proved up­on by Schnei­der, and gave rise to much lit­iga­tion in re­spect of its patent rights. Daw was sub­se­quent­ly de­feat­ed in his con­trol of the patents by Eley Bros. In this car­tridge the cap in the cen­tre of the car­tridge base is det­onat­ed by a strik­er pass­ing through the stand­ing breech to the in­ner face, the car­tridge case be­ing with­drawn, or, in the most mod­ern weapons, eject­ed by a slid­ing ex­trac­tor fit­ted to the breech end of the bar­rel, which catch­es the rim of the base of the car­tridge.

This is prac­ti­cal­ly the mod­ern car­tridge case now in uni­ver­sal use. In the case of shot guns it has been grad­ual­ly in­proved in small de­tails. The cas­es are made ei­ther of pa­per of var­ious qual­ities with brass bases, or en­tire­ly of thin brass. The wadding be­tween pow­der and shot has been thick­ened and im­proved in qual­ity; and the end of the car­tridge case is now made to fit more per­fect­ly in­to the breech cham­ber. These car­tridges vary in size from 32 bore up to 4 bore for shoul­der guns. They are al­so made as small as .410 and .360 gauge: their length varies from 1 3/4 in. to 4 in. Car­tridges for punt guns are usu­al­ly 1 1/2 in. in di­am­eter and 9 3/4 in. in length.

In the case of mil­itary ri­fles the breech-​load­ing car­tridge case was first adopt­ed in prin­ci­ple by the Prus­sians about 1841 in the nee­dle-​gun (q.v.) breech-​load­er. In this a con­ical bul­let rest­ed on a thick wad, be­hind which was the pow­der, the whole be­ing en­closed in strong lu­bri­cat­ed pa­per. The det­ona­tor was in the hin­der sur­face of the wad, and fired by a nee­dle driv­en for­ward from the breech, through the base of the car­tridge and through the pow­der, by the ac­tion of a spi­ral spring set free by the pulling of the trig­ger.

In 1867 the British war of­fice adopt­ed the Eley-​Box­er metal­lic cen­tral-​fire car­tridge case in the En­field ri­fles, which were con­vert­ed to breech-​load­ers on the Snider prin­ci­ple. This con­sist­ed of a block open­ing on a hinge, thus form­ing a false breech against which the car­tridge rest­ed. The det­onat­ing cap was in the base of the car­tridge, and was ex­plod­ed by a strik­er pass­ing through the breech block. Oth­er Eu­ro­pean pow­ers adopt­ed breech-​load­ing mil­itary ri­fles from 1866 to 1868, with pa­per in­stead of metal­lic car­tridge cas­es. The orig­inal Eley-​Box­er car­tridge case was made of thin coiled brass. Lat­er the sol­id-​drawn, cen­tral-​fire car­tridge case, made of one en­tire sol­id piece of tough hard met­al, an al­loy of cop­per, &c., with a sol­id head of thick­er met­al, has been gen­er­al­ly sub­sti­tut­ed.

Cen­tral-​fire car­tridges with sol­id-​drawn metal­lic cas­es con­tain­ing their own means of ig­ni­tion are now uni­ver­sal­ly used in all mod­ern va­ri­eties of mil­itary and sport­ing ri­fles and pis­tols. There is great va­ri­ety in the length and di­am­eter of car­tridges for the dif­fer­ent kinds and cal­ibres of ri­fles and pis­tols. Those for mil­itary ri­fies vary from 2.2 in. to 2.25 in. in length, and from .256 to .315 gauge. For sport­ing ri­fles from 2 1/4 in. to 3 1/2 in. in length, and through nu­mer­ous gauges from .256 in. to .600 in. For re­volvers, pis­tols, rook and rab­bit ri­fles, and for Mor­ris tubes, car­trillges vary from .22 in. to .301 in. in gauge. All minia­ture car­tridges with light charges are made for breech adapters to en­able .303 mil­itary ri­fles to be used on minia­ture ri­fle ranges. All the above car­tridges are cen­tral-​fire. Rim-​fire car­tridges for ri­fles, re­volvers and pis­tols vary from .22 in. to .56 in. gauge ac­cord­ing to the weapon for which they are re­quired. The car­tridge for the British war of­fice minia­ture ri­fle is .22 cal­ibre, with 5 grs. of pow­der and a bul­let weigh­ing 40 grs. Most mod­ern mil­itary ri­fles are sup­plied with clip or charg­er load­ing ar­range­ments, where­by the mag­azine is filled with the re­quired num­ber of car­tridges in one mo­tion. A clip is sim­ply a case of car­tridges which is dropped in­to the mag­azine; a charg­er is a strip of met­al hold­ing the bases of the car­tridges, and is placed over the mag­azine, the car­tridges be­ing pressed out in­to the lat­ter. Both clips and charg­ers, be­ing con­sum­able stores, may be con­sid­ered as am­mu­ni­tion. (H. S.-K.)

AMNESTY (from the Gr. amnes­tia, obliv­ion), an act of grace by which the supreme pow­er in a state re­stores those who may have been guilty of any of­fence against it to the po­si­tion of in­no­cent per­sons. It in­cludes more than par­don, inas­much as it oblit­er­ates all le­gal re­mem­brance of the of­fence. Amnesties, which may be grant­ed by the crown alone, or by act of par­lia­ment, were for­mer­ly usu­al on coro­na­tions and sim­ilar oc­ca­sions, but are chiefly ex­er­cised to­wards as­so­ci­ations of po­lit­ical crim­inals, and are some­times grant­ed ab­so­lute­ly, though more fre­quent­ly there are cer­tain spec­ified ex­cep­tions. Thus, in the case of the ear­li­est record­ed amnesty, that of Thrasy­bu­lus at Athens, the thir­ty tyrants and a few oth­ers were ex­press­ly ex­clud­ed from its op­er­ation; and the amnesty pro­claimed on the restora­tion of Charles II. did not ex­tend to those who had tak­en part in the ex­ecu­tion of his fa­ther. Oth­er cel­ebrat­ed amnesties are that pro­claimed by Napoleon on the 13th of March 1815, from which thir­teen em­inent per­sons, in­clud­ing Tal­leyrand, were ex­cept­ed; the Prus­sian amnesty of the 10th of Au­gust 1840; the gen­er­al amnesty pro­claimed by the em­per­or Fran­cis Joseph of Aus­tria in 1857; the gen­er­al amnesty grant­ed by Pres­ident John­son af­ter the Civ­il War in 1868; and the French amnesty of 1905. The last act of amnesty passed in Great Britain was that of 1747, which pro­claimed a par­don to those who had tak­en part in the sec­ond Ja­co­bite re­bel­lion.

AMOE­BA, the Greek equiv­alent of the name “Amibe” giv­en by Bery St Vin­cent to the Pro­teus an­imal­cule of ear­li­er nat­ural­ists, used as a quasi-​pop­ular term for any sim­ple naked pro­tist the sole ex­ter­nal or­gans of which are pseu­dopo­dia, i.e. tem­po­rary out­growths of the clear­er out­er lay­er of the soft pro­to­plas­mic body. It is al­so used as a gener­ic name, and in its present lim­ita­tions by E. Pe­nard in­cludes on­ly those the pseu­dopo­dia of which are con­stant­ly chang­ing, blunt out­growths. In the for­mer wider sense, amoe­bae are found in slug­gish wa­ters, fresh and salt, all over the world; they read­ily make their ap­pear­ance in in­fu­sions pu­tre­fy­ing af­ter in­fec­tion from aeri­al­ly car­ried germs, and the leu­co­cytes or colour­less blood cor­pus­cles of Meta­zoa are es­sen­tial­ly amoe­bae in their struc­ture and be­haviour. The pro­to­plasm of the in­di­vid­ual is di­vid­ed in­to a cen­tral­ly placed body, the nu­cle­us, of rel­ative­ly sta­ble shape, and the cy­to­plasm, it­self di­vid­ed in­to an out­er, clear­er ec­to­plasm (“ec­tosarc”) and an in­ner, more gran­ular en­do­plasm (“en­dosarc”), pass­ing in­to one an­oth­er. The move­ments of amoe­bae are of sev­er­al kinds. (1) The amoe­ba may grow out ir­reg­ular­ly in­to blunt lobes, the pseu­dopo­dia, some be­ing emit­ted while oth­ers are re­tract­ed, and so may ad­vance in any di­rec­tion by the emis­sion of pseu­dopo­dia thith­er­ward, and the en­large­ment of these by the pas­sage of the or­gan­ism in­to them. (2) Again, it may ad­vance by a sort of rolling: the low­er sur­face, or that in con­tact with the sub­stra­tum over or un­der which it is pass­ing, is vis­cid and ad­heres to the sub­stra­tum, the su­per­fi­cial dor­sal lay­er pass­ing for­ward and bend­ing over to the ven­tral side; whilst the con­verse ac­tion takes place at the hin­der end; (3) or again, the pseu­dopo­dia, when long, well marked and rel­ative­ly per­ma­nent, may serve as ac­tu­al limbs on which the body is sup­port­ed and on which it moves. In the out­growth of a pseu­do­pod the pro­cess may take place grad­ual­ly, the ec­to­plasm grow­ing as it stretch­es, or it may take place by the lim­it­ing lay­er of the ec­tosarc burst­ing, as it were, and a round­ed promi­nence of the en­dosarc pro­trud­ing and at once form­ing a new “skin’, or pel­li­cle. This last mode, termed “erup­tive,” is com­mon in the case of the enor­mous, mult­in­ucle­ate amoe­ba termed Pelomyxa palus­tris, which at­tains a di­am­eter when con­tract­ed and spher­ical of as much as a line (over 2 mm.). From the ease with which amoe­bae are ob­tained and kept alive un­der the mi­cro­scope, as well as from their iden­ti­ty in struc­ture with the prim­itive el­ements of Meta­zoa, they have al­ways been favourite ob­jects of study for pro­to­plas­mic phys­iol­ogy un­der its sim­plest con­di­tions. Among the in­ves­ti­ga­tors of pro­to­plas­mic move­ments we may cite F. Du­jardin, O. Butschli, L. Rhum­bler and H. S. Jen­nings. The open­ing to the ex­te­ri­or of the con­trac­tile vesi­cle has been found here. Pelomyxa has yield­ed to A. E. Dixon and M. Har­tog a pep­tic fer­ment, such as has been ex­tract­ed by C. F. W. Kruken­berg from the myx­omycete Fuli­go (Flow­ers of Tan), which is the largest known naked mass of pro­to­plasm with­out cel­lu­lar dif­fer­en­ti­ation.

Amoe­ba shows al­so the mul­ti­pli­ca­tion by fis­sion, so char­ac­ter­is­tic of the cell: for the study of oth­er modes of re­pro­duc­tion, spore for­ma­tion and syn­gam­ic (or so-​called fer­til­iza­tion) pro­cess­es, fresh-​wa­ter or salt-​wa­ter amoe­bae are ill suit­ed, and up to this date we do not know the life cy­cle of any free-​liv­ing naked amoe­ba, though that of some par­asitic forms and shell-​bear­ers have been ful­ly made out. Some amoe­bae are cer­tain­ly young states of Myx­omycetes. En­cyst­ment, the ex­cre­tion of a mem­brane around the cell to tide over un­favourable cir­cum­stances, has been not­ed in al­most all species.

Amoe­ba coli and A. his­tolyt­ica are par­asites in the gut of man, the for­mer rel­ative­ly harm­less, the lat­ter the cause of se­vere dysen­tery and hep­at­ic ab­scess, com­mon in In­dia.

H. S. Jen­nings has re­cent­ly made a full study of the move­ments of Amoe­ba, and of its gen­er­al be­haviour, and found there­in many in­di­ca­tions that these are on the whole such as we should ex­pect of an or­gan­ism work­ing by “tri­al and er­ror” rather than the uni­form modes of non-​liv­ing be­ings. Thus the op­er­ations of an amoe­ba in­gest­ing a round, en­cyst­ed Eu­gle­na are summed up thus: “One seems to see that the amoe­ba is try­ing to ob­tain this cyst for food, that it shows re­mark­able per­ti­nac­ity in con­tin­uing its at­tempts to put forth ef­forts to ac­com­plish this in var­ious ways, and that it shows re­mark­able per­ti­nac­ity in con­tin­uing its at­tempts to in­gest the food when it meets with dif­fi­cul­ties. In­deed the scene could be de­scribed in a much more vivid and in­ter­est­ing way by the use of terms still more an­thro­po­mor­phic in ten­den­cy.” (M. HA.)

AMOL, or AMUL, a town of Per­sia, in the province of Mazan­daran, 23 m. W. of Bar­furush, in 36 deg. 28′ N. Lat. and 52 deg. 23′ E. long. Pop. about 10,000. It is sit­uat­ed on both banks of the Her­az, or Her­haz riv­er, which is crossed here by a very nar­row stone bridge of twelve arch­es and flows in­to the Caspi­an Sea 12 m. low­er down. Amol is not walled and is now a place of lit­tle im­por­tance, but in and around it there are ru­ins and an­cient build­ings which bear wit­ness to its for­mer great­ness. Of these the most con­spic­uous is the mau­soleum of Seyed Kav­vam ud-​din, king of Mazan­daran, who died in 1379, and one old mosque dates from A.D. 793. The town has spa­cious and well-​sup­plied bazaars and post and tele­graph of­fices.

AMON­TONS, GUIL­LAUME (1663-1705), French ex­per­imen­tal philoso­pher, the son of an ad­vo­cate who had left his na­tive province of Nor­mandy and es­tab­lished him­self at Paris, was born in that city on the 31st of Au­gust 1663. He de­vot­ed him­self par­tic­ular­ly to the im­prove­ment of in­stru­ments em­ployed in phys­ical ex­per­iments. In 1687 he pre­sent­ed to the Acade­my of Sci­ences an hy­grom­eter of his own in­ven­tion, and in 1695 he pub­lished his on­ly book, Re­mar­ques et ex­pe­ri­ences physiques sur la con­struc­tion d’une nou­velle clep­sy­dre, sur les barome­tres, les ther­mome­tres et les hy­grome­tres. In 1699 he pub­lished some in­ves­ti­ga­tions on fric­tion, and in 1702-1703 two note­wor­thy pa­pers on ther­mom­etry. He ex­per­iment­ed with an air-​ther­mome­ter, in which the tem­per­ature was de­fined by mea­sure­ment of the length of a col­umn of mer­cury; and he point­ed out that the ex­treme cold of such a ther­mome­ter would be that which re­duced the “spring” of the air to noth­ing, thus be­ing the first to rec­og­nize that the use of air as a ther­mo­met­ric sub­stance led to the in­fer­ence of the ex­is­tence of a ze­ro of tem­per­ature. In 1704 he not­ed that barom­eters are af­fect­ed by heat as well as by the weight of the at­mo­sphere, and in the fol­low­ing year he de­scribed barom­eters with­out mer­cury, for use at sea. Amon­tons, who through dis­ease was ren­dered al­most com­plete­ly deaf in ear­ly youth, died at Paris on the 11th of Oc­to­ber 1705.

‘AMO­RA (He­brew for “speak­er” or “dis­cours­er”), a ti­tle ap­plied to the rab­bis of the 2nd to 5th cen­turies, i.e. to the com­pil­ers of the Tal­mud. Each tana–or rab­bi of the ear­li­er pe­ri­od–had a spokesman, who re­peat­ed to large au­di­ences the dis­cours­es of the tana. But the ‘amo­ra soon ceased to be a mere re­peater, and de­vel­oped in­to an orig­inal ex­pounder of scrip­ture and tra­di­tion.

AMOR­ITES, the name giv­en by the Is­raelites to the ear­li­er in­hab­itants of Pales­tine. They are re­gard­ed as a pow­er­ful peo­ple, gi­ants in stature “like the height of the cedars,” who had oc­cu­pied the land east and west of the Jor­dan. The Bib­li­cal us­age ap­pears to show that the terms “Canaan­ites” and “Amor­ites” were used syn­ony­mous­ly, the for­mer be­ing char­ac­ter­is­tic of Ju­daean, the lat­ter of Ephraimite and Deutero­nom­ic writ­ers. A dis­tinc­tion is some­times main­tained, how­ev­er, when the Amor­ites are spo­ken of as the peo­ple of the past, where­as the Canaan­ites are re­ferred to as still sur­viv­ing. The old name is an eth­nic term, ev­ident­ly to be con­nect­ed with the terms Amur­ru and Amar, used by As­syr­ia and Egypt re­spec­tive­ly. In the spelling Mar-​tu, the name is as old as the first Baby­lo­ni­an dy­nasty, but from the 15th cen­tu­ry B.C. and down­wards its syl­lab­ic equiv­alent Amur­ru is ap­plied pri­mar­ily to the land ex­tend­ing north­wards of Pales­tine as far as Kadesh on the Orontes. The term “Canaan,” on the oth­er hand, is con­fined more es­pe­cial­ly to the south­ern dis­trict (from Gebal to the south of Pales­tine). But it is pos­si­ble that the terms at an ear­ly date were in­ter­change­able, Canaan be­ing ge­ograph­ical and Amor­ite eth­ni­cal. The wider ex­ten­sion of the use of Amur­ru by the Baby­lo­ni­ans and As­syr­ians is com­pli­cat­ed by the fact that it was even ap­plied to a dis­trict in the neigh­bour­hood of Baby­lo­nia. If the peo­ple of the first Baby­lo­ni­an dy­nasty (about 21st cen­tu­ry B.C.) called them­selves “Amor­ites,” as Ranke seems to have shown, it is pos­si­ble that some feel­ing of com­mon ori­gin was rec­og­nized at that ear­ly date.

See Ranke, Bab. Ex­ped. Penn­syl­va­nia, se­ries D, iii. 33 sqq.; and for gen­er­al in­for­ma­tion, W. M. Muller, Asien u. Eu­ropa, 217 sqq.; Pinch­es, Old Tes­ta­ment, In­dex (s.v..) The peo­ple of Amar are rep­re­sent­ed on the Egyp­tian mon­uments with yel­low skin, blue eyes, red eye­brows and beard, whence it has been con­jec­tured that they were akin to the Libyans (Sayce, Ex­pos­itor, Ju­ly 1888). Senir, the “Amor­ite’, name of Her­mon (Deut. iii. 9). ap­pears to be iden­ti­cal with Saniru in the Lebanon, men­tioned by Shal­maneser Il. In the Old Tes­ta­ment the chief ref­er­ences may be clas­si­fied as fol­lows:–prim­itive in­hab­itants gen­er­al­ly, Is. xvii. 9 (on text see comm.), Ezek. xvi. 3; a peo­ple W. of Jor­dan, Josh. x. 5; Judg. i. 34-36; Deut. i. 7, 44; Gen. xiv. 7, xlvi­ii. 22: E. of Jor­dan, Num. xxi. 13, 21 sqq.; Josh. ii. 10, xxiv. 8; Judg. x. 8. See fur­ther CANAAN, PALES­TINE.

AMOR­PHISM (from a, pri­va­tive, and morfe, form), a term used in chem­istry and min­er­al­ogy to de­note the ab­sence of reg­ular or crys­talline struc­ture in a body; the ad­jec­tive “amor­phous,” form­less or of ir­reg­ular shape, be­ing al­so used tech­ni­cal­ly in bi­ol­ogy, &c.

AMORT, EU­SE­BIUS (1692–1775), Ger­man Catholic the­olo­gian, was born at Biber­muh­le, near Tolz, in Up­per Bavaria, on the 15th of Novem­ber 1692. He stud­ied at Mu­nich, and at an ear­ly age joined the Canons Reg­ular at Polling, where, short­ly af­ter his or­di­na­tion in 1717, he taught the­ol­ogy and phi­los­ophy. In 1733 he went to Rome as the­olo­gian to Car­di­nal Nic­co­lo Maria Ler­cari (d. 1757). He re­turned to Polling in 1735 and de­vot­ed the rest of his life to the re­vival of learn­ing in Bavaria. He died at Polling on the 5th of Febru­ary 1775. Amort, who had the rep­uta­tion of be­ing the most learned man of his age, was a vo­lu­mi­nous writ­er on ev­ery con­ceiv­able sub­ject, from po­et­ry to as­tron­omy, from dog­mat­ic the­ol­ogy to mys­ti­cism. His best known works are: a man­ual of the­ol­ogy in 4 vols., The­olo­gia elec­ti­ca, moralis et scholas­ti­ca (Augs­burg, 1752; re­vised by Bene­dict XIV. for the 1753 edi­tion pub­lished at Bologna); a de­fence of Catholic doc­trine, en­ti­tled Demon­stra­tio crit­ica re­li­gio­nis Catholi­cae (Augs­burg, 1751); a work on in­dul­gences, which has of­ten been crit­icized by Protes­tant writ­ers, De Orig­ine, Pro­gres­su, Val­ore, et Fruc­tu In­dul­gen­tio­rum (Augs­burg, 1735); a trea­tise on mys­ti­cism, De Rev­ela­tion­ibus et Vi­sion­ibus, &c. (2 vols., 1744); and the as­tro­nom­ical work No­va philosophi­ae plan­etarum et ar­tis crit­icae sys­tem­ata (Nurem­berg, 1723). The list of his oth­er works, in­clud­ing his three eru­dite con­tri­bu­tions to the ques­tion of au­thor­ship of the Im­ita­tio Christi, will be found in C. Tou­ssaint’s schol­ar­ly ar­ti­cle in A. Va­cant’s Dict. de the­olo­gie (1900, cols. 1115-1117).

AMOR­TI­ZA­TION (de­rived through the French from Lat. ad, and mortem, to death), lit­er­al­ly an ex­tinc­tion or do­ing to death, a word for­mer­ly used of alien­at­ing lands in mort­main, and now for the pay­ing off of a debt, par­tic­ular­ly by means of a reg­ular sink­ing-​fund; thus “amor­ti­za­tion” and “amor­ti­za­tion fund” gen­er­al­ly re­fer to the lat­ter method of ex­tin­guish­ing some pe­cu­niary li­abil­ity.

AMORY, THOMAS (c. 1691-1788), British au­thor, was born about 1601, his fa­ther be­ing the sec­re­tary for the for­feit­ed es­tates in Ire­land. He was an ec­cen­tric char­ac­ter and seems to have lived a very se­clud­ed life. He pub­lished Mem­oirs; con­tain­ing the lives of sev­er­al Ladies of Great Britain; a His­to­ry of An­tiq­ui­ties &c. (1755) and Life of John Bun­cle Esq. (1756 and 1766). Both books are an ex­traor­di­nary mix­ture of fic­tion, au­to­bi­og­ra­phy, scenic de­scrip­tion and the­olog­ical dis­cus­sion. Amory died on the 25th of Novem­ber 1788.

AMOS, in the Bible, an Is­raeli­tish prophet of the 8th cen­tu­ry B.C. He was a na­tive of Tekoa, i.e. as most sup­pose, a place which still bears the same name 6 m. S. of Beth­le­hem. He was a shep­herd, or per­haps a sheep-​breed­er, but com­bined this oc­cu­pa­tion with that of a ten­der of syco­more figs. It is true, the Tekoa just men­tioned lies too high for syco­mores; so it has been al­most too in­ge­nious­ly sup­posed that Amos may have owned a plan­ta­tion of syco­mores in the hill coun­try lead­ing down to Philis­tia, tech­ni­cal­ly called the Shep­helah (R. Y., “low­land”). Here there were syco­mores in abun­dance (1 Kings x. 27). That this was his usu­al oc­cu­pa­tion we learn from a bet­ter source than the head­ing (i. 1), viz. a nar­ra­tive (vii. 10, 17), ev­ident­ly of ear­ly ori­gin, which in­ter­rupts the se­ries of prophet­ic vi­sions on the fall of the king­dom of Is­rael. Amos, it ap­pears, though him­self a Ju­dahite, had been proph­esy­ing in the north­ern king­dom, when his ac­tiv­ity was brought to an abrupt close by the head priest of the roy­al sanc­tu­ary at Bethel, Amazi­ah, who bade him es­cape to the land of Ju­dah and get his liv­ing there. The re­ply of Amos is full of in­struc­tion. “No prophet am I; no prophet’s son am I; a shep­herd am I, and one who tends syco­more-​figs. And Yah­weh took me from be­hind the flock; and Yah­weh said to me, Go, proph­esy against my peo­ple Is­rael.” The fol­low­ing words show that a prophet in an­cient Is­rael had the ut­most free­dom of speech. It was far oth­er­wise in the pe­ri­od of the fall of Ju­dah. (See JEREMI­AH.)

But what had Amos said that ap­peared so dan­ger­ous to the head priest? Amazi­ah sum­ma­rizes it thus, “Jer­oboam shall die by the sword, and Is­rael shall go away in­to cap­tiv­ity from his own land” (vii. 11; cf. vii. 9b, v. 27, vi. 7). He omits all the rea­sons for this stern prophe­cy. The rea­sons are that the good old Is­raeli­tish virtue of broth­er­li­ness is dy­ing away, that op­pres­sion and in­jus­tice are ram­pant (ii. 6-8, iii. 9, 10, iv. 1, v. 11, 12, vi­ii. 4-6), and that rites are prac­tised in the name of re­li­gion which are ab­hor­rent to Yah­weh, be­cause they ei­ther have no moral mean­ing at all, and are mere forms (v. 21-23), or else, jndged from Amos’s pu­ri­fied point of view, are ab­so­lute­ly im­moral (ii. 7; cf. vi­ii. 14). On the de­tails of the cap­tiv­ity Amos pre­serves a mys­te­ri­ous vague­ness. The fact, how­ev­er, he puts for­ward with the con­fi­dence of one who is in­ti­mate with his God (iii. 7), and most prob­ably it was at some great fes­ti­val that he spoke the words which so per­turbed Amazi­ah. The priest may not in­deed him­self have be­lieved them, but he prob­ably feared their ef­fect on the moral courage of the peo­ple. And it is per­haps not ar­bi­trary to sup­pose that the splen­dour of the rit­ual in Amos’s time im­plies a tremu­lous anx­iety that Is­rael’s seem­ing pros­per­ity un­der Jer­oboam II. (see JEWS) may not be as se­cure as could be wished. For Amos can­not have been quite alone ei­ther in Is­rael or in Ju­dah; there must have been a lit­tle flock of those who felt with Amos that there was small rea­son in­deed to “de­sire the day of Yah­weh” (v. 18; see Harp­er’s note).

But why did Amos so em­phat­ical­ly de­cline to be called a prophet? A prophet in some true sense he cer­tain­ly was, a prophet who, with­in his own range, has not been sur­passed. He means this–that he is no mere ec­stat­ic en­thu­si­ast or “dervish,” whose pri­ma­ry aim is to keep up the war­like spir­it of the peo­ple, tak­ing for grant­ed that Yah­weh is on the peo­ple’s side, and that he is per­fect­ly free from the taint of self­ish­ness, not hav­ing to sup­port him­self by his proph­esy­ing. He could not in­deed tell Amazi­ah this, but it is nev­er­the­less true that he was the founder, or one of the founders, of a new type of prophet. He was al­so ei­ther the first, or one of the first, to write down, or to get writ­ten down, the sub­stance of his spo­ken prophe­cies, and per­haps al­so prophe­cies which he nev­er de­liv­ered at all. This was the con­se­quence of his ill suc­cess as a pub­lic preach­er. The oth­er prophets of the same or­der may be pre­sumed to have been hard­ly less un­suc­cess­ful. Hence the new phe­nomenon of writ­ten prophe­cies. The lit­er­ary skill of Amos leads one to sup­pose that he had pre­pared in ad­vance for this, per­haps we may say, not al­to­geth­er un­for­tu­nate ne­ces­si­ty.

That there are many hard prob­lems con­nect­ed with the fas­ci­nat­ing book of Amos can­not be de­nied. The one point on which we have in­di­cat­ed a doubt, viz. as to the sit­ua­tion of Tekoa, ought strict­ly to be ac­com­pa­nied by oth­ers. For in­stance, how came Amos to trans­fer him­self to north­ern Is­rael? How hard it must have been to ob­tain a foot­ing there while he was a mere stu­dent and ob­serv­er! And how came he by his wide knowl­edge of peo­ple out­side the lim­its of Is­rael? The most re­cent and elab­orate com­men­ta­tor even calls him an “eth­nol­ogist.” And last­ly, whence came his mas­tery of the po­et­ical and lit­er­ary arts? Is he re­al­ly the Colum­bus of writ­ten prophe­cy? And be­hind these ques­tions is the fun­da­men­tal prob­lem of the text, which has been some­what too slight­ly treat­ed. The text of Hosea may be in a much worse con­di­tion, but a keen scruti­ny dis­clos­es many an un­cer­tain­ty, not to say im­pos­si­bil­ity, in the tra­di­tion­al form of Amos. That the text has been much adapt­ed and al­tered is cer­tain; not less ob­vi­ous are the cor­rup­tions due to care­less­ness and ac­ci­dent.

The main di­vi­sions of the book are plain, viz. chaps. i.-ii., chaps. iii.-vi., and chaps. vii.-ix. This ar­range­ment, how­ev­er, is prob­ably not due to Amos him­self, or to his im­me­di­ate dis­ci­ples, but to some lat­er redac­tor. A num­ber of pas­sages seem to have been in­sert­ed sub­se­quent­ly to the time of Amos, on which see En­cy. Bib., “Amos,” and the in­tro­duc­tion to Robert­son Smith’s Prophets of Is­rael(2), though in some cas­es the fi­nal de­ci­sion will have to be pre­ced­ed by a more thor­ough ex­am­ina­tion of the tra­di­tion­al text. The most ob­vi­ous non-​Amosian pas­sage in the book is the con­clud­ing pas­sage, ix. 8-15, which has ev­ident­ly sup­plant­ed the orig­inal close of the sec­tion. The mean­ing of the phrase “the taber­na­cle (booth) of David that is fall­en” (ver. 11) is not per­fect­ly clear. Be­yond rea­son­able doubt, how­ev­er, the writ­er seeks to take out the sting of the pre­ced­ing pas­sage in which Is­rael is de­vot­ed to ut­ter de­struc­tion. The pen­itent and God-​fear­ing Jews of the post-​ex­il­ic age need­ed some soft­en­ing ap­pendix, and this the ed­itor pro­vid­ed.

En­glish read­ers are now well sup­plied with books on Amos. Driv­er’s Joel and Amos (see JOEL) (1897) and G. A. Smith’s Twelve Prophets, vol. i. (1896), sup­ple­ment and il­lus­trate each oth­er. Harp­er’s Amos anid Hosea (see HOSEA) (1905) gives the cream of all the good things that have been said be­fore, with a gen­er­al­ly sound judg­ment; it is ad­dressed to ad­vanced stu­dents, and is per­haps less cau­tious than the two for­mer. The Ger­man com­men­taries on the Mi­nor Prophets by Nowack (2nd ed., 1905) and (es­pe­cial­ly) Mar­ti (1904) must not, how­ev­er, be ne­glect­ed. Well­hausen’s briefer work (3rd ed., 1898) is es­riecial­ly sug­ges­tive for tex­tu­al crit­icism. Cheyne’s Crit­ica Bib­li­ca (1904), cf. his re­view of Harp­er in Hi­bbert Jour­nal, iii. 824 fl., breaks new ground. (T. K. C.)

AMOS, SHEL­DON (1835-1886), En­glish ju­rist, was ed­ucat­ed at Clare Col­lege, Cam­bridge, and was called to the bar as a mem­ber of the Mid­dle Tem­ple in 1862. In 1869 he was ap­point­ed to the chair of ju­rispru­dence in Uni­ver­si­ty Col­lege, Lon­don, and in 1872 be­came read­er un­der the coun­cil of le­gal ed­uca­tion and ex­am­in­er in con­sti­tu­tion­al law and his­to­ry to the uni­ver­si­ty of Lon­don. Fail­ing health led to his res­ig­na­tion of those of­fices, and he took a voy­age to the South Seas. He resid­ed for a short time at Syd­ney, and fi­nal­ly set­tled in Egypt, where he prac­tised as an ad­vo­cate. Af­ter the bom­bard­ment of Alexan­dria, and the re­or­ga­ni­za­tion of the Egyp­tian ju­di­ca­ture, he was ap­point­ed judge of the court of ap­peal, but be­ing with­out any pre­vi­ous ex­pe­ri­ence of ad­min­is­tra­tive work he found the strain too great for his health. He came to Eng­land on leave in the au­tumn of 1885, and on his re­turn to Egypt he died sud­den­ly at Alexan­dria on the 3rd of Jan­uary 1886. His prin­ci­pal pub­li­ca­tions are: Sys­tem­at­ic View of the Sci­ence of Ju­rispru­dence (1872); Lec­tures on In­ter­na­tion­al Law (1873); Sci­ence of Law (1874); Sci­ence of Pol­itics (1883); His­to­ry and Prin­ci­ples of the Civ­il Law of Rome as Aid to the Study of Sci­en­tif­ic and Com­par­ative Ju­rispru­dence (1883), and nu­mer­ous pam­phlets. His wife, Mrs Shel­don Amos (Sarah Maclardie Bunting), took a promi­nent part in Lib­er­al Non­con­formist pol­itics and in move­ments con­nect­ed with the po­si­tion of wom­en. She died at Cairo on the 21st of Jan­uary 1908.

AMOY, a city and treaty-​port in the province of Fuh-​kien, Chi­na, sit­uat­ed on the slope of a hill, on the south coast of a small and bar­ren is­land named Hi­amen, in 24 deg. 28′ N. and 118 deg. 10′ E. It is a large and ex­ceed­ing­ly dirty place, about 9 m. in cir­cum­fer­ence, and is di­vid­ed in­to two por­tions, an in­ner and an out­er town, which are sep­arat­ed from each oth­er by a ridge of hills, on which a citadel of con­sid­er­able strength has been built. Each of these di­vi­sions of the city pos­sess­es a large and com­modi­ous har­bour, that of the in­ner town, or city prop­er, be­ing pro­tect­ed by strong for­ti­fi­ca­tions. There are dry-​docks and an ex­cel­lent an­chor­age. Amoy may be re­gard­ed as the port of the in­land city of Chang-​chow, with which it has riv­er com­mu­ni­ca­tion, and its trade, both for­eign and coast­wise, is ex­ten­sive and valu­able. The chief ar­ti­cles im­port­ed are sug­ar, rice, raw cot­ton and opi­um, as well as cot­ton cloths, iron goods and oth­er Eu­ro­pean man­ufac­tures. The chief ex­ports are tea, porce­lain and pa­per. The trade car­ried on by means of Chi­nese junks is said to be large, and the na­tive mer­chants are con­sid­ered to be among the wealth­iest and most en­ter­pris­ing in Chi­na. By oth­er ves­sels the trade in 1870 was:–im­ports, L. 1,915,427; ex­ports, L. 1,440,000. In 1904 the fig­ures were:–im­ports, L. 2,081,494; ex­ports, L. 384,494. The falling off of ex­ports is due to the de­creased de­mand for Chi­na tea, for which Amoy was one of the chief cen­tres. The na­tive pop­ula­tion is now es­ti­mat­ed at 300,000, and the for­eign res­idents num­ber about 280. A large part of the trade is that car­ried on with the neigh­bour­ing Japanese is­land of For­mosa. The province of Fuh-​kien is claimed by the Japanese as their par­tic­ular sphere of in­flu­ence. Amoy was cap­tured by the British in 1841, af­ter a de­ter­mined re­sis­tance, and is one of the five ports that were opened to British com­merce by the treaty of 1842; it is now open to the ships of all na­tions.

AM­PELIUS, LU­CIUS, pos­si­bly a tu­tor or school­mas­ter, and au­thor of an ex­treme­ly con­cise sum­ma­ry–a kind of in­dex–of uni­ver­sal his­to­ry (Liber Memo­ri­alis) from the ear­li­est times to the reign of Tra­jan. Its ob­ject and scope are suf­fi­cient­ly in­di­cat­ed in the ded­ica­tion to a cer­tain Macri­nus: “Since you de­sire to know ev­ery­thing, I have writ­ten this `book of notes,’ that you may learn of what the uni­verse and its el­ements con­sist, what the world con­tains, and what the hu­man race has done.” It seems to have been in­tend­ed as a text-​book to be learnt by heart. The lit­tle work, in fifty chap­ters, gives a sketch of cos­mog­ra­phy, ge­og­ra­phy, mythol­ogy (chaps. i.-x.), and his­to­ry (chap. x.-end). The his­tor­ical por­tion, deal­ing main­ly with the re­pub­li­can pe­ri­od, is un­trust­wor­thy, and the text in many places cor­rupt; the ear­li­er chap­ters are more valu­able, and con­tain some in­ter­est­ing in­for­ma­tion. In chap. vi­ii. (Mirac­ula Mun­di) oc­curs the on­ly ref­er­ence in an an­cient writ­er to the fa­mous sculp­tures of Perga­mum, dis­cov­ered in 1871, ex­ca­vat­ed in 1878, and now at Berlin: “At Perga­mum there is a great mar­ble al­tar, 40 ft. high, with colos­sal sculp­tures, rep­re­sent­ing a bat­tle of the gi­ants.” Noth­ing is known of the au­thor or of the date at which he lived: the times of Tra­jan, Hadri­an, An­ton­inus Pius, the be­gin­ning of the 3rd cen­tu­ry, and the age of Dio­cle­tian and Con­stan­tine have all been sug­gest­ed. The Macri­nus to whom the work is ded­icat­ed may have been the em­per­or, who reigned 217-218, but the name is not un­com­mon, and it seems more like­ly that he was a young man with a thirst for uni­ver­sal knowl­edge, which the Liber Memo­ri­alis was com­piled to sat­is­fy.

There is no En­glish edi­tion or trans­la­tion. The first edi­tion of Am­pelius was pub­lished in 1638 by Salma­sius (Saumaise) from the Di­jon MS., now lost, to­geth­er with the Epit­ome of Florus; the lat­est edi­tion is by Wolf­flin (1854), based on Salma­sius’s copy of the lost codex.

See Glaser, Rheinis­ches Mu­se­um, ii. (1843); Zink, Eos, ii (1866); Wolf­flin, De L. Am­pelii Li­bro Memo­ri­ali (1854).

AM­PELOP­SIS (from Gr. am­pe­los, vine, and op­sis, ap­pear­ance, as it re­sem­bles the grape-​vine in habit), a genus of the vine or­der Am­pelideae and near­ly al­lied to the grape-​vine. The plants are rapid­ly-​grow­ing, hardy, or­na­men­tal climbers, which flour­ish in com­mon gar­den soil, and are read­ily prop­agat­ed by cut­tings. They climb by means of ten­drils. A. quin­que­fo­lia, Vir­gini­an creep­er, a na­tive of North Amer­ica, in­tro­duced to Eu­rope ear­ly in the 17th cen­tu­ry, has pal­mate­ly com­pound leaves with three to five leaflets. A. tri­cus­pi­da­ta, bet­ter known as A. Veitchii, a more re­cent in­tro­duc­tion (1868) from Japan, has small­er leaves very vari­able in shape; it clings read­ily to stone or brick work by means of suck­ers at the ends of the branched ten­drils.

AM­PERE, AN­DRE MARIE (1775-1836), French physi­cist, was born at Polemieux, near Lyons, on the 22nd of Jan­uary 1775. He took a pas­sion­ate de­light in the pur­suit of knowl­edge from his very in­fan­cy, and is re­port­ed to have worked out long arith­meti­cal sums by means of peb­bles and bis­cuit crumbs be­fore he knew the fig­ures. His fa­ther be­gan to teach him Latin, but ceased on dis­cov­er­ing the boy’s greater in­cli­na­tion and ap­ti­tude for math­emat­ical stud­ies. The young Am­pere, how­ev­er, soon re­sumed his Latin lessons, to en­able him to mas­ter the works of Eu­ler and Bernouil­li. In lat­er life he was ac­cus­tomed to say that he knew as much about math­emat­ics when he was eigh­teen as ev­er he knew; but his read­ing em­braced near­ly the whole round of knowl­edge–his­to­ry, trav­els, po­et­ry, phi­los­ophy and the nat­ural sci­ences. When Lyons was tak­en by the army of the Con­ven­tion in 1793, the fa­ther of Am­pere, who, hold­ing the of­fice of juge de paix, had stood out res­olute­ly against the pre­vi­ous rev­olu­tion­ary ex­cess­es, was at once thrown in­to prison, and soon af­ter per­ished on the scaf­fold. This event pro­duced a pro­found im­pres­sion on his sus­cep­ti­ble mind, and for more than a year he re­mained sunk in ap­athy. Then his in­ter­est was aroused by some let­ters on botany which fell in­to his hands, and from botany he turned to the study of the clas­sic po­ets, and to the writ­ing of vers­es him­self. In 1796 he met Julie Car­ron, and an at­tach­ment sprang up be­tween them, the progress of which he naive­ly record­ed in a jour­nal (Amo­rum). In 1799 they were mar­ried. From about 1796 Am­pere gave pri­vate lessons at Lyons in math­emat­ics, chem­istry and lan­guages; and in 1801 he re­moved to Bourg, as pro­fes­sor of physics and chem­istry, leav­ing his ail­ing wife and in­fant son at Lyons. She died in 1804, and he nev­er re­cov­ered from the blow. In the same year he was ap­point­ed pro­fes­sor of math­emat­ics at the lycee of Lyons. His small trea­tise, Con­sid­er­ations sur la the­orie math­ema­tique du jeu, which demon­strat­ed that the chances of play are de­cid­ed­ly against the ha­bit­ual gam­bler, pub­lished in 1802, brought him un­der the no­tice of J. B. J. De­lam­bre, whose rec­om­men­da­tion ob­tained for him the Lyons ap­point­ment, and af­ter­wards (1804) a sub­or­di­nate po­si­tion in the poly­tech­nic school at Paris, where he was elect­ed pro­fes­sor of math­emat­ics in 1809. Here he con­tin­ued to pros­ecute his sci­en­tif­ic re­search­es and his mul­ti­far­ious stud­ies with un­abat­ed dili­gence. He was ad­mit­ted a mem­ber of the In­sti­tute in 1814. It is on the ser­vice that he ren­dered to sci­ence in es­tab­lish­ing the re­la­tions be­tween elec­tric­ity and mag­netism, and in de­vel­op­ing the sci­ence of elec­tro­mag­netism, or, as be called it, elec­tro­dy­nam­ics, that Am­pere’s fame main­ly rests. On the 11th of Septem­ber 1820 he heard of H. C. Oer­st­ed’s dis­cov­ery that a mag­net­ic nee­dle is act­ed on by a volta­ic cur­rent. On the 18th of the same month he pre­sent­ed a pa­per to the Acade­my, con­tain­ing a far more com­plete ex­po­si­tion of that and kin­dred phe­nom­ena. (See ELEC­TROKI­NET­ICS.) The whole field thus opened up he ex­plored with char­ac­ter­is­tic in­dus­try and care, and de­vel­oped a math­emat­ical the­ory which not on­ly ex­plained the elec­tro­mag­net­ic phe­nom­ena al­ready ob­served but al­so pre­dict­ed many new ones. His orig­inal mem­oirs on this sub­ject may be found in the Ann. Chim. Phys. be­tween 1820 and 1828. Late in life he pre­pared a re­mark­able Es­sai sur la philoso­phie des sci­ences. In ad­di­tion, he wrote a num­ber of sci­en­tif­ic mem­oirs and pa­pers, in­clud­ing two on the in­te­gra­tion of par­tial dif­fer­en­tial equa­tions (Jour. Ecole Poly­techn. x., xi.). He died at Mar­seilles on the 10th of June 1836. The great ami­abil­ity and child­like sim­plic­ity of Am­pere’s char­ac­ter are well brought out in his Jour­nal et cor­re­spon­dance (Paris, 1872).

AM­PERE, JEAN JACQUES (1800-1864), French philol­ogist and man of let­ters, on­ly son of An­dre Marie Am­pere, was born at Lyons on the 12th of Au­gust 1800. He stud­ied the folk-​songs and pop­ular po­et­ry of the Scan­di­na­vian coun­tries in an ex­tend­ed tour in north­ern Eu­rope. Re­turn­ing to France, he de­liv­ered in 1830 a se­ries of lec­tures on Scan­di­na­vian and ear­ly Ger­man po­et­ry at the Athenaeum in Mar­seilles. The first of these was print­ed as De l’His­toire de la poe­sie (1830), and was prac­ti­cal­ly the first in­tro­duc­tion of the French pub­lic to the Scan­di­na­vian and Ger­man epics. In Paris he taught at the Sor­bonne, and be­came pro­fes­sor of the his­to­ry of French lit­er­ature at the Col­lege de France. A jour­ney in north­ern Africa (1841) was fol­lowed by a tour in Greece and Italy, in com­pa­ny with Pros­per Mer­imee and oth­ers. This bore fruit in his Voy­age dan­tesque (print­ed in his Grece, Rome et Dante, 1848), which did much to pop­ular­ize the study of Dante in France. In 1848 he be­came a mem­ber of the French Acade­my, and in 1851 he vis­it­ed Amer­ica. From this time he was oc­cu­pied with his chief work, L’His­toire ro­maine a Rome (4 vols., 1861-1864), un­til his death at Pau on the 27th of March 1864.

The Cor­re­spon­dance et sou­venirs (2 vols.) of A. M. and J. J. Am­pere (1805-1854) was pub­lished in 1875. No­tices of J. J. Am­pere are to be found in Sainte-​Beuve’s Por­traits lit­teraires, vol. iv., and Nou­veaux Lundis, vol. xi­ii.; and in P. Mer­imee’s Por­traits his­toriques et lit­teraires (2nd ed., 1875).

AM­PEREME­TER, or AM­ME­TER, an in­stru­ment for the mea­sure­ment of elec­tric cur­rents in terms of the unit called the am­pere. (See ELEC­TROKI­NET­ICS; CON­DUC­TION, ELEC­TRIC; and UNITS, PHYS­ICAL.) Since elec­tric cur­rents may be ei­ther con­tin­uous, i.e. uni­di­rec­tion­al, or al­ter­nat­ing, and the lat­ter of high or of low fre­quen­cy, am­pereme­ters may first be di­vid­ed in­to those (1) for con­tin­uous or di­rect cur­rents, (2) for low fre­quen­cy al­ter­nat­ing cur­rents, and (3) for high fre­quen­cy al­ter­nat­ing cur­rents. A con­tin­uous elec­tric cur­rent of one am­pere is de­fined to be one which de­posits elec­trolyt­ical­ly 0.001118 of a gramme of sil­ver per sec­ond from a neu­tral so­lu­tion of sil­ver ni­trate.1 An al­ter­nat­ing cur­rent of one am­pere is de­fined to be one which pro­duces the same heat in a sec­ond in a wire as the unit con­tin­uous cur­rent de­fined as above to be one am­pere. These def­ini­tions pro­vide a ba­sis on which the cal­ibra­tion of am­pereme­ters can be con­duct­ed. Am­pereme­ters may then be clas­si­fied ac­cord­ing to the phys­ical prin­ci­ple on which they are con­struct­ed. An elec­tric cur­rent in a con­duc­tor is rec­og­nized by its abil­ity (a) to cre­ate heat in a wire through which it pass­es, (b) to pro­duce a mag­net­ic field round the con­duc­tor or wire. The heat makes it­self ev­ident by rais­ing the tem­per­ature and there­fore elon­gat­ing the wire, whilst the mag­net­ic field cre­ates me­chan­ical forces which act on pieces of iron or oth­er con­duc­tors con­vey­ing elec­tric cur­rents when placed in prox­im­ity to the con­duc­tor in ques­tion. Hence we may clas­si­fy am­me­ters in­to (1) Ther­mal; (2) Elec­tro­mag­net­ic, and (3) Elec­tro­dy­nam­ic in­stru­ments.

1. Ther­mal Am­me­ters.–These in­stru­ments are al­so called hot-​wire am­me­ters. In their sim­plest form they con­sist of a wire through which pass­es the cur­rent to be mea­sured, some ar­range­ment be­ing pro­vid­ed for mea­sur­ing the small ex­pan­sion pro­duced by the heat gen­er­at­ed in the wire. This may con­sist sim­ply in at­tach­ing one end of the wire to an in­dex lever and the oth­er to a fixed sup­port, or the elon­ga­tion of the wire may cause a ro­ta­tion in a mir­ror from which a ray of light is re­flect­ed, and the move­ment of this ray over a scale will then pro­vide, the nec­es­sary means of in­di­ca­tion. It is found most con­ve­nient to make use of the sag of the wire pro­duced when it is stretched be­tween two fixed points (K1K2, fig. 1) and then heat­ed. To ren­der the elon­ga­tion ev­ident, an­oth­er wire is at­tached to its cen­tre S2, this last hav­ing a thread fixed to its mid­dle of which the oth­er end is twist­ed round the shaft of an in­dex nee­dle or in some way con­nect­ed to it through a mul­ti­ply­ing gear. The ex­pan­sion of the work­ing wire when it is heat­ed will then in­crease or cre­ate a sag in it ow­ing to its in­crease in

FIG. 1.–Di­agram show­ing the ar­range­ments of Hart­mann and Braun’s Hotwire Am­me­ter.

length, and this is mul­ti­plied and ren­dered ev­ident by the move­ment of the in­dex nee­dle. In or­der that this may take place, the heat­ed wire must be flex­ible and must there­fore be a sin­gle fine wire or a bun­dle of fine wires. In am­me­ters for small cur­rents it is cus­tom­ary to pass the whole cur­rent through the heat­ing wire. In in­stru­ments for larg­er cur­rents the main cur­rent pass­es through a metal­lic strip act­ing as a bye-​pass or shunt, and to the ends of this shunt are at­tached the ends of the work­ing wire. A known frac­tion of the cur­rent is then in­di­cat­ed and mea­sured. This shunt is gen­er­al­ly a strip of plati­noid or con­stantin, and the work­ing wire it­self is of the same met­al. There is there­fore a cer­tain ra­tio in which any cur­rent pass­ing through the am­me­ter is di­vid­ed be­tween the shunt and the work­ing wire.

Ther­mal am­me­ters rec­om­mend them­selves for the fol­low­ing rea­sons:–(1) the same in­stru­ment can be used for con­tin­uous cur­rents and for al­ter­nat­ing cur­rents of low fre­quen­cy; (2) there is no tem­per­ature cor­rec­tion, (3) if used with al­ter­nat­ing cur­rents no cor­rec­tion is nec­es­sary for fre­quen­cy, un­less that fre­quen­cy is very high. It is, how­ev­er, req­ui­site to make pro­vi­sion for the ef­fect of changes in at­mo­spher­ic tem­per­ature. This is done by mount­ing the work­ing wire on a met­al plate made of the same met­al as the work­ing wire it­self; thus if the work­ing wire is of plati­noid it must be mount­ed on a plati­noid bar, the sup­ports which car­ry the ends of the work­ing wire be­ing in­su­lat­ed from this bar by be­ing bushed with ivory or porce­lain. Then no changes of ex­ter­nal tem­per­ature can af­fect the sag of the wire, and the on­ly thing which can al­ter its length rel­ative­ly to the sup­port­ing bar is the pas­sage of a cur­rent through it. Hot-​wire am­me­ters are, how­ev­er, li­able to a shift of ze­ro, and means are al­ways pro­vid­ed by some ad­just­ing screw for slight­ly al­ter­ing the sag of the wire and so ad­just­ing the in­dex nee­dle to the ze­ro of the scale. Hot-​wire am­me­ters are open to the fol­low­ing ob­jec­tions:–The scale di­vi­sions for equal in­cre­ments of cur­rent are not equal in length, be­ing gen­er­al­ly much clos­er to­geth­er in the low­er parts of the scale. The rea­son is that the heat pro­duced in a giv­en time in a wire is pro­por­tion­al to the square of the strength of the cur­rent pass­ing through it, and hence the rate at which the heat is pro­duced in the wire, and there­fore its tem­per­ature, in­creas­es much faster than the cur­rent it­self in­creas­es. From this it fol­lows that hot-​wire am­me­ters are gen­er­al­ly not ca­pa­ble of giv­ing vis­ible in­di­ca­tions be­low a cer­tain min­imum cur­rent for each in­stru­ment. The in­stru­ment there­fore does not be­gin to read from ze­ro cur­rent, but from some high­er lim­it which, gen­er­al­ly speak­ing, is about one-​tenth of the max­imum, so that an am­me­ter read­ing up to 10 am­peres will not give much vis­ible in­di­ca­tion be­low 1 am­pere. On the oth­er hand, hot-​wire in­stru­ments are very “dead-​beat,” that is to say, the nee­dle does not move much for the small fluc­tu­ations in the cur­rent, and this qual­ity is gen­er­al­ly in­creased by af­fix­ing to the in­dex nee­dle a small cop­per plate which is made to move in a strong mag­net­ic field (see fig. 2). Hot-​wire in­stru­ments work­ing on the sag prin­ci­ple can be used in any po­si­tion if prop­er­ly con­struct­ed, and are very portable. In the con­struc­tion of such an in­stru­ment it is es­sen­tial that the wire should be sub­ject­ed to a pro­cess of prepa­ra­tion or “age­ing,” which con­sists in pass­ing through it a fair­ly strong cur­rent, at least the max­imum that it will ev­er have to car­ry, and start­ing and stop­ping this cur­rent fre­quent­ly. The wire ought to be so treat­ed for many hours

FIG. 2.–Hot-​wire Am­me­ter.

be­fore it is placed in the in­stru­ment. It is al­so nec­es­sary to no­tice that shunt in­stru­ments can­not be used for high fre­quen­cies, as then the rel­ative in­duc­tance of the shunt and wire be­comes im­por­tant and af­fects the ra­tio in which the cur­rent is di­vid­ed, where­as for low fre­quen­cy cur­rents the in­duc­tance is unim­por­tant. In con­struct­ing a hot-​wire in­stru­ment for the mea­sure­ment of high fre­quen­cy cur­rents it is nec­es­sary to make the work­ing wire of a num­ber of fine wires placed in par­al­lel and slight­ly sep­arat­ed from one an­oth­er, and to-​pass the whole of the cur­rent to be mea­sured through this strand.

In cer­tain forms, hot-​wire in­stru­ments are well adapt­ed for the mea­sure­ment of very small al­ter­nat­ing cur­rents. One use­ful form has been made as fol­lows:–Two fine wires of di­am­eter not greater than .001 in. are stretched par­al­lel to one an­oth­er and 2 or 3 mm. apart. At the mid­dle of these par­al­lel wires, which are prefer­ably about 1 m. in length, rests a very light metal­lic bridge to which a mir­ror is at­tached, the mir­ror re­flect­ing a ray of light from a lamp up­on a screen. If a small al­ter­nat­ing cur­rent is passed through one wire, it sags down, the mir­ror is tilt­ed, and the spot of light on the screen is dis­placed. Changes of at­mo­spher­ic tem­per­ature af­fect both wires equal­ly and do not tilt the mir­ror. The in­stru­ment can be cal­ibrat­ed by a con­tin­uous cur­rent. An­oth­er form of hot-​wire am­me­ter is a mod­ifi­ca­tion of the elec­tric ther­mome­ter orig­inal­ly in­vent­ed by Sir W. Snow Har­ris. It con­sists of a glass bulb, in which there is a loop of fine wire, and to the bulb is at­tached a U-​tube in which there is some liq­uid. When a cur­rent is passed through the wire, con­tin­uous or al­ter­nat­ing, it cre­ates heat, which ex­pands the air in the bulb and forces the liq­uid up one side of the U-​tube to a cer­tain po­si­tion in which the rate of loss of heat by the air is equal to the rate at which it is gain­ing heat. The in­stru­ment can be cal­ibrat­ed by con­tin­uous cur­rents and may then be used for high fre­quen­cy al­ter­nat­ing cur­rents.

2. Elec­tro­mag­net­ic Am­me­ters.–An­oth­er large class of am­me­ters de­pend for their ac­tion up­on the fact that an elec­tric cur­rent cre­ates an elec­tric field round its con­duc­tor, which varies in strength from point to point, but is oth­er­wise pro­por­tion­al to the cur­rent. A small piece of iron placed in this field tends to move from weak to strong places in the field with a force de­pend­ing on the strength of the field and the rate at which the field varies. In its sim­plest form an elec­tro­mag­net­ic am­me­ter con­sists of a cir­cu­lar coil of wire in which is piv­ot­ed ec­cen­tri­cal­ly an in­dex nee­dle car­ry­ing at its low­er end a small mass of iron. The nee­dle is bal­anced so that grav­ity com­pels it to take a cer­tain po­si­tion in which the frag­ment of iron oc­cu­pies a po­si­tion in the cen­tre of the field of the coil where it is weak­est. When a cur­rent is passed through the coil the iron tends to move near­er to the coil of the wire where the field is stronger and so dis­places the in­dex nee­dle over the scale. Such an in­stru­ment is called a soft-​iron grav­ity am­me­ter. An­oth­er type of sim­ilar in­stru­ment con­sists of a coil of wire hav­ing a frag­ment of iron wire sus­pend­ed from one arm of an in­dex nee­dle near the mouth of a coil. When a cur­rent is passed through the wire form­ing the coil, the frag­ment of iron is drawn more in­to the aper­ture of the coil where the field is stronger and so dis­places an in­dex nee­dle over a scale. In the con­struc­tion of this soft-​iron in­stru­ment it is es­sen­tial that the frag­ment of iron should be as small and as well an­nealed as pos­si­ble and not touched with tools af­ter an­neal­ing; al­so it should be prefer­ably not too elon­gat­ed in shape so that it may not ac­quire per­ma­nent mag­ne­ti­za­tion but that its mag­net­ic con­di­tion may fol­low the changes of the cur­rent in the coil. If these con­di­tions are not ful­filled suf­fi­cient­ly, the am­me­ter will not give the same in­di­ca­tions for the same cur­rent if that cur­rent has been reached (a) by in­creas­ing from a small­er cur­rent, or (b) by de­creas­ing from a larg­er cur­rent. In this case there is said to be hys­tere­sis in the read­ings. Al­though there­fore most sim­ple and cheap to con­struct, such soft-​iron in­stru­ments are not well adapt­ed for ac­cu­rate work. A much bet­ter form of elec­tro­mag­net­ic am­me­ter can be con­struct­ed on a prin­ci­ple now ex­ten­sive­ly em­ployed, which con­sists in piv­ot­ing in the strong field of a per­ma­nent mag­net a small coil through which a part of the cur­rent to be mea­sured is sent. Such an in­stru­ment is called a shunt­ed mov­able coil am­me­ter, and is rep­re­sent­ed by a type of in­stru­ment shown in fig. 3. The

FIG. 3.–Shunt­ed Mov­able Coil Am­me­ter, Isen­thal & Co.

con­struc­tion of this in­stru­ment is as fol­lows:–With­in the in­stru­ment is a horse­shoe mag­net hav­ing soft-​iron pole pieces so ar­ranged as to pro­duce a uni­form mag­net­ic field. In this mag­net­ic field is piv­ot­ed a small cir­cu­lar or rect­an­gu­lar coil car­ried in jew­elled bear­ings, the cur­rent be­ing passed in­to and out of the mov­able coil by fine flex­ible con­duc­tors. The coil car­ries an in­dex nee­dle mov­ing over a scale, and there is gen­er­al­ly an iron core in the in­te­ri­or of the coil but fixed and in­de­pen­dent of it. The coil is so sit­uat­ed that, in its ze­ro po­si­tion when no cur­rent is pass­ing through it, the plane of the coil is par­al­lel to the di­rec­tion of the lines of force of the field. When a cur­rent is passed through the coil it ro­tates in the field and dis­places the in­dex over the scale against the con­trol of a spi­ral spring like the hair­spring of a watch. Such in­stru­ments can be made to have equidi­vi­sion­al scales and to read from ze­ro up­wards. It is es­sen­tial that the per­ma­nent mag­net should be sub­ject­ed to a pro­cess of age­ing so that its field may not be li­able to change sub­se­quent­ly with time.

In the case of am­me­ters in­tend­ed for very small cur­rents, the whole cur­rent can be sent through the coil, but for larg­er cur­rents it is nec­es­sary to pro­vide in the in­stru­ment a shunt which car­ries the main cur­rent, the mov­able coil be­ing con­nect­ed to the ends of this shunt so that it takes a def­inite small frac­tion of the cur­rent passed through the in­stru­ment. In­stru­ments of this type with a per­ma­nent mag­net­ic field are on­ly avail­able for the mea­sure­ment of con­tin­uous cur­rents, but soft-​iron in­stru­ments of the above-​de­scribed grav­ity type can be em­ployed with cer­tain re­stric­tions for the mea­sure­ment of al­ter­nat­ing cur­rents. Di­rect read­ing equidi­vi­sion­al mov­able coil am­me­ters can be made in var­ious portable forms, and are very much em­ployed as lab­ora­to­ry in­stru­ments and al­so as am­me­ters for the mea­sure­ment of large elec­tric cur­rents in elec­tric gen­er­at­ing sta­tions. In this last case the shunt need not be con­tained in the in­stru­ment it­self but may be at a con­sid­er­able dis­tance, wires be­ing brought from the shunt which car­ries the main cur­rent to the mov­able coil am­me­ter it­self, which per­forms the func­tion sim­ply of an in­di­ca­tor,

3. Elec­tro­dy­nam­ic Am­me­ters.–In­stru­ments of the third class de­pend for their ac­tion on the fact dis­cov­ered by Am­pere, that me­chan­ical forces ex­ist be­tween con­duc­tors car­ry­ing elec­tric cur­rents when those con­duc­tors oc­cu­py cer­tain rel­ative po­si­tions. If there be two par­al­lel wires through which cur­rents are pass­ing, then these wires are drawn to­geth­er if the cur­rents are in the same di­rec­tion and pressed apart if they are in op­po­site di­rec­tions. (See ELEC­TROKI­NET­ICS.) In­stru­ments of this type are called Elec­tro­dy­namome­ters, and have been em­ployed both as lab­ora­to­ry re­search in­stru­ments and for tech­ni­cal pur­pos­es. In one well-​known form, called a Siemens Elec­tro­dy­namome­ter, there is a fixed coil (fig. 4), which is sur­round­ed by an­oth­er coil hav­ing its ax­is at right an­gles to that of the fixed coil. This sec­ond coil is sus­pend­ed by a num­ber of silk fi­bres, and to the coil is al­so at­tached a spi­ral spring the oth­er end of which is fas­tened to a tor­sion head. If then the tor­sion head is twist­ed, the sus­pend­ed coil ex­pe­ri­ences a torque and is dis­placed through

FIG. 4.–Siemens Elec­tro­dy­namome­ter. F, Fixed coil; D, Mov­able coil; S, Spi­ral spring; T, Tor­sion head; MM, Mer­cury cups; I, In­dex nee­dle.

an an­gle equal to that of the tor­sion head. The cur­rent can be passed in­to and out of the mov­able coil by per­mit­ting the ends of the coil to dip in­to two mer­cury cups. If a cur­rent is passed through the fixed coil and mov­able coil in se­ries with one an­oth­er, the mov­able coil tends to dis­place it­self so as to bring the ax­es of the coils, which are nor­mal­ly at right an­gles, more in­to the same di­rec­tion. This ten­den­cy can be re­sist­ed by giv­ing a twist to the tor­sion head and so ap­ply­ing to the mov­able coil through the spring a restor­ing torque, which op­pos­es the torque due to the dy­nam­ic ac­tion of the cur­rents. If then the tor­sion head is pro­vid­ed with an in­dex nee­dle, and al­so if the mov­able coil is pro­vid­ed with an in­di­cat­ing point, it is pos­si­ble to mea­sure the tor­sion­al an­gle through which the head must be twist­ed to bring the mov­able coil back to its ze­ro po­si­tion. In these cir­cum­stances the tor­sion­al an­gle be­comes a mea­sure of the torque and there­fore of the prod­uct of the strengths of the cur­rents in the two coils, that is to say, of the square of the strength of the cur­rent pass­ing through the two coils if they are joined up in se­ries. The in­stru­ment can there­fore be grad­uat­ed by pass­ing through it known and mea­sured con­tin­uous cur­rents, and it then be­comes avail­able for use with ei­ther con­tin­uous or al­ter­nat­ing cur­rents. The in­stru­ment can be pro­vid­ed with a curve or ta­ble show­ing the cur­rent cor­re­spond­ing to each an­gu­lar dis­place­ment of the tor­sion head. It has the dis­ad­van­tage of not be­ing di­rect read­ing when made in the usu­al form, but can eas­ily be con­vert­ed in­to a di­rect read­ing in­stru­ment by ap­pro­pri­ate­ly di­vid­ing the scale over which the in­dex of the tor­sion head moves.

Am­pere Bal­ance.–Very con­ve­nient and ac­cu­rate in­stru­ments based on the above prin­ci­ples have been de­vised by Lord Kelvin, and a large va­ri­ety of these am­pere bal­ances, as they are called, suit­able for mea­sur­ing cur­rents from a frac­tion of an am­pere up to many thou­sands of am­peres, have been con­struct­ed by that il­lus­tri­ous in­ven­tor. The dif­fi­cul­ty which has gen­er­al­ly pre­sent­ed it­self to those who have tried to de­sign in­stru­ments on the

FIG. 5.–Kelvin Flex­ible Metal­lic Lig­ament.

elec­tro­dynome­ter prin­ci­ple for use with large cur­rents has been that of get­ting the cur­rent in­to and out of the mov­able con­duc­tor, and yet per­mit­ting that con­duc­tor to re­main free to move un­der very small force. The use of mer­cury cups is open to many ob­jec­tions on ac­count of the fact that the mer­cury be­comes ox­idized, and such in­stru­ments are not very con­ve­nient for trans­porta­tion. The great nov­el­ty in the am­pere bal­ances of Lord Kelvin was a joint or elec­tric cou­pling, which is at once ex­ceed­ing­ly flex­ible and yet ca­pa­ble of be­ing con­struct­ed to car­ry with safe­ty any de­sired cur­rent. This he achieved by the in­tro­duc­tion of a de­vice which is called a metal­lic lig­ament. The gen­er­al prin­ci­ple of its con­struc­tion is as fol­lows:–Let +A, -A (fig. 5), be a pair of se­mi-​cylin­dri­cal fixed trun­nions which are car­ried on a sup­port­ing frame and held with flat sides down­wards. Let +B, -B, be two small­er trun­nions which project out from the sides of the two strips con­nect­ing to­geth­er a pair of rings CC. The rings and the con­nect­ing strips con­sti­tute the cir­cuit which is to be ren­dered mov­able. A cur­rent en­ter­ing by the trun­nion + B flows round the two halves of the cir­cuit, as shown by the ar­rows, and comes out at the trun­nion -B. In fig. 5 the cur­rent is shown di­vid­ing round the two rings; but in all the bal­ances, ex­cept those in­tend­ed for the largest cur­rents, the cur­rent re­al­ly cir­cu­lates first round one ring and then round the oth­er. To make the lig­ament, a very large num­ber of ex­ceed­ing­ly fine cop­per wires laid close to­geth­er are sol­dered to the up­per sur­face of the up­per trun­nion. The mov­able cir­cuit CC thus hangs by two lig­aments which are formed of very fine cop­per wires. This mode of sus­pen­sion en­ables the con­duc­tor CC to vi­brate freely like a bal­ance, but at the same time very large cur­rents can eas­ily be passed through this per­fect­ly flex­ible joint. Above and be­low these mov­able coils, which form as it were the two scale- pans of a bal­ance, are fixed oth­er sta­tion­ary coils, and the con­nex­ions of all these six coils (shown in fig. 6) are such that when a cur­rent

FIG. 6.–Con­nex­ions of Kelvin Am­pere Bal­ance.

is passed through the whole of the coils in se­ries, forces of at­trac­tion and re­pul­sion are brought in­to ex­is­tence which tend to force one mov­able coil up­wards and the oth­er mov­able coil down­wards. This ten­den­cy is re­sist­ed by the weight of a mass of met­al, which can be caused to slide along a tray at­tached to the mov­able coils. The ap­pear­ance of the com­plete in­stru­ment is shown by fig. 7. When a cur­rent is passed through the in­stru­ment it caus­es one end of the mov­able sys­tem to tilt down­wards, and the oth­er end up­wards; the slid­ing weight is then moved along the tray by means of a silk cord un­til equi­lib­ri­um is again es­tab­lished. The val­ue of the cur­rent in am­peres is then ob­tained ap­prox­imate­ly by ob­serv­ing the po­si­tion of the weight on the scale, or it may be ob­tained more ac­cu­rate­ly in the fol­low­ing

FIG. 7.–Lord Kelvin’s Am­pere Bal­ance.

man­ner:–The up­per edge of the shelf on which the weights slide (see fig. 8) is grad­uat­ed in­to equal di­vi­sions, and the weight is pro­vid­ed with a sharp tongue of met­al in or­der that its po­si­tion on the shelf may be ac­cu­rate­ly de­ter­mined. Since the cur­rent pass­ing through the bal­ance when equi­lib­ri­um is ob­tained with a giv­en weight is pro­por­tion­al to the square root of the cou­ple due to this weight, it fol­lows that the cur­rent strength when equi­lib­ri­um is ob­tained is pro­por­tion­al to the prod­uct of the square root of the weight used

FIG. 8.–Slid­er of Kelvin Am­pere Bal­ance.

and the square root of the dis­place­ment dis­tance of this weight from its ze­ro po­si­tion. Each in­stru­ment is ac­com­pa­nied by a pair of weights and by a square root ta­ble, so that the prod­uct of the square root of the num­ber cor­re­spond­ing to the po­si­tion of the slid­ing weight and the as­cer­tained con­stant for each weight, gives at once the val­ue of the cur­rent in am­peres. Each of these bal­ances is made to cov­er a cer­tain range of read­ing. Thus the cen­ti-​am­pere bal­ance ranges from 1 to 100 cen­ti-​am­peres, the de­ci-​am­pere bal­ance from 1 to 100 de­ci-​am­peres, the am­pere bal­ance from 1 to 100 am­peres, the de­ka-​am­pere bal­ance from 1 to 100 am­peres, the hec­to-​am­pere bal­ance from 6 to 600 am­peres, and the ki­lo-​am­pere bal­ance from 100 to 2500 am­peres. They are con­struct­ed for the mea­sure­ment not on­ly of con­tin­uous or un­vary­ing but al­so of al­ter­nat­ing cur­rents. In those in­tend­ed for al­ter­nat­ing cur­rents, the main cur­rent through the mov­able coil, whether con­sist­ing of one turn or more than one turn, is car­ried by a wire rope, of which each com­po­nent strand is in­su­lat­ed by silk cov­er­ing, to pre­vent the in­duc­tive ac­tion from al­ter­ing the dis­tri­bu­tion of the cur­rent across the trans­verse sec­tion of the con­duc­tor. To avoid the cre­ation of in­duced cur­rents, the coil frames and the base boards are con­struct­ed of slate. Kelvin am­pere bal­ances are made in two types–(1) a vari­able weight type suit­able for ob­tain­ing the am­pere val­ue of any cur­rent with­in their range; and (2) a fixed weight type in­tend­ed to in­di­cate when a cur­rent which can be var­ied at plea­sure has a cer­tain fixed val­ue. An in­stru­ment of the lat­ter type of con­sid­er­able ac­cu­ra­cy was de­signed by Lord Kelvin for the British Board of Trade Elec­tri­cal Lab­ora­to­ry, and it is there used as the prin­ci­pal stan­dard am­pere bal­ance. A fixed weight is placed on one coil and the cur­rent is var­ied grad­ual­ly un­til the bal­ance is just in equi­lib­ri­um. In these cir­cum­stances the cur­rent is known to have a fixed val­ue in am­peres de­ter­mined by the weight at­tached to the in­stru­ment.

Cal­ibra­tion.–The cal­ibra­tion of am­me­ters is best con­duct­ed by means of a se­ries of stan­dard low re­sis­tances and of a po­ten­tiome­ter (q.v..) The am­me­ter to be cal­ibrat­ed is placed in se­ries with a suit­able low re­sis­tance which may be .1 ohm, .01 ohm, .001 ohm or more as the case may be. A steady con­tin­uous cur­rent is then passed through the am­me­ter and low re­sis­tance, placed in se­ries with one an­oth­er and ad­just­ed so as to give any re­quired scale read­ing on the am­me­ter. The po­ten­tial dif­fer­ence of the ends of the low re­sis­tance is at the same time mea­sured on the po­ten­tiome­ter, and the quo­tient of this po­ten­tial dif­fer­ence by the known val­ue of the low re­sis­tance gives the true val­ue of the cur­rent pass­ing through the am­me­ter. This can be then com­pared with the ob­served scale read­ing and the er­ror of the am­me­ter not­ed.2

A good am­me­ter should com­ply with the fol­low­ing qual­ifi­ca­tions:–(1) its read­ings should be the same for the same cur­rent whether reached by in­creas­ing from a low­er cur­rent or de­creas­ing from a high­er cur­rent; (2) if used for al­ter­nat­ing cur­rents its in­di­ca­tions should not vary with the fre­quen­cy with­in the range of fre­quen­cy for which it is like­ly to be used; (3) it should not be dis­turbed by ex­ter­nal mag­net­ic fields; (4) the scale di­vi­sions should, if pos­si­ble, be equal in length and there should be no dead part in the scale. In the use of am­me­ters in which the con­trol is the grav­ity of a weight, such as the Kelvin am­pere bal­ances and oth­er in­stru­ments, it should be not­ed that the scale read­ing or in­di­ca­tion of the in­stru­ment will vary with the lat­itude and with the height of the in­stru­ment above the mean sea-​lev­el. Since the dif­fer­ence be­tween the ac­cel­er­ation of grav­ity at the pole and at the equa­tor is about 1/2%, the cor­rec­tion for lat­itude will be quite sen­si­ble in an in­stru­ment which might be used at var­ious times in high and low lat­itudes. If G is the ac­cel­er­ation of grav­ity at the equa­tor and g that at any lat­itude l, then g = G (1 + 0.00513 sin2 l). In the case of an in­stru­ment with grav­ity con­trol, the lat­itude at which it is cal­ibrat­ed should there­fore be stat­ed.

FIG. 9.– Edge­wise Switch­board Am­me­ter, Kelvin & James White Ltd.

Switch­board Am­me­ters.–For switch­board use in elec­tric sup­ply sta­tions where space is valu­able, in­stru­ments of the type called edge­wise am­me­ters are much em­ployed. In these the in­di­cat­ing nee­dle moves over a grad­uat­ed cylin­dri­cal­ly shaped scale, and they are for the most part elec­tro­mag­net­ic in­stru­ments (see fig. 9).

BIB­LI­OG­RA­PHY.–Lord Kelvin (Sir W. Thom­son), “New Stan­dard and In­spec­tion­al Elec­tri­cal Mea­sur­ing In­stru­ments,” Proc. Soc. Tele­graph En­gi­neers, 1888, 17, p. 540; J. A. Flem­ing, A Hand­book for the Elec­tri­cal Lab­ora­to­ry and Test­ing Room (2 vols., Lon­don, 1901, 1903 ); G. D. As­pinall Parr, Elec­tri­cal Mea­sur­ing In­stru­ments (Glas­gow, 1903); J. Swin­burne, “Elec­tric Light Mea­sur­ing in­stru­ments,” Proc. In­st. Civ. Eng., 1891-1892, 110, pt. 4; K. Edgcumbe and F. Pun­ga, “Di­rect Read­ing Mea­sur­ing In­stru­ments for Switch­board Use,” Jour. In­st. Elec. Eng., 1904, 33, p. 620. (J. A. F.)

1 See J. A. Flem­ing, A Hand­book for the Elec­tri­cal Lab­ora­to­ry and Test­ing Room, vol. i. p. 341 (1901), al­so A. Gray, Ab­so­lute Mea­sure­ments in Elec­tric­ity and Mag­netism, vol. ii. pt. ii. p. 412 (1893).

2 See “The Elec­trol­ysis of Cop­per Sul­phate in Stan­dard­iz­ing Elec­tri­cal In­stru­ments,” by A. W. Meik­le, read be­fore the Phys­ical So­ci­ety of Glas­gow Uni­ver­si­ty on the 27th of Jan­uary 1888, or J. A. Flem­ing, A Hand­book for the Elec­tri­cal Lab­ora­to­ry and Test­ing Room, vol. i. p. 343.

AM­PER­SAND (a cor­rup­tion of the mixed En­glish and Latin phrase, “and per se and,” of which there are many di­alect forms, as “am­pussyand,” or “am­perse­and”), the name of the sign & or &, which is a com­bi­na­tion of the let­ters e, t, of the Lat. et= and. The sign is now usu­al­ly called “short and.” In old-​fash­ioned primers and nurs­ery books the name and sign were al­ways added at the end of the al­pha­bet.

AM­PHIA­RAUS, in Greek mythol­ogy, a cel­ebrat­ed seer and prince of Ar­gos, son of Oicles (or Apol­lo) and Hy­per­me­stra, and through his fa­ther de­scend­ed from the prophet Melam­pus (Odyssey, xv. 244). He took part in the voy­age of the Arg­onauts and in the chase of the Ca­ly­do­nian boar; but his chief fame is in con­nex­ion with the ex­pe­di­tion of the Sev­en against Thebes, or­ga­nized by Adras­tus, the broth­er of his wife Eri­phyle, for the pur­pose of restor­ing Polyne­ices to the throne. Am­phia­raus, fore­see­ing the dis­as­trous is­sue of the war, at first re­fused to share in it; he had, how­ev­er, promised Eri­phyle when he mar­ried her that, in the event of any dis­pute aris­ing be­tween her broth­er and him­self, she should de­cide be­tween them; and now Eri­phyle, bribed by Polyne­ices with the fa­tal neck­lace giv­en by Cad­mus to Har­mo­nia, per­suad­ed him against his bet­ter judg­ment to set out on the ex­pe­di­tion. Know­ing his doom, he bade his sons, Al­cmaeon and Am­philochus, avenge his death up­on their moth­er, up­on whom, as he stepped in­to his char­iot, he turned a look of anger. This scene was rep­re­sent­ed up­on the chest of Cypselus de­scribed by Pau­sa­nias (v. 17).

The as­sault on Thebes was dis­as­trous for the Sev­en; and Am­phia­raus, pur­sued by Per­icly­menus, would have been slain with his spear, had not Zeus with a thun­der­bolt opened a chasm in­to which the seer, with his char­iot, hors­es and char­io­teer, dis­ap­peared. Hence­forth he was num­bered with the im­mor­tals and wor­shipped as a god. Near Oro­pus, on the sup­posed site of his pass­ing, his sanc­tu­ary arose, with heal­ing springs, and an or­acle fa­mous for its in­ter­pre­ta­tion of dreams (Pau­sa­nias i. 34). The ru­ins of this tem­ple, with in­scrip­tions which iden­ti­fy it, have been dis­cov­ered and pre­served at Mavrodil­isi, in the provinces of Boeo­tia and At­ti­ca. There was an­oth­er tem­ple ded­icat­ed to him on the road from Thebes to Pot­ni­ae, and here was the or­acle of Am­phia­raus con­sult­ed by Croe­sus and Mar­do­nius.

Homer, Odyssey, xi. 326; Herodotus vi­ii. 134; Pin­dar, Olympia, vi., Ne­mea, ix.; Apol­lodor­us iii. 6.

AM­PHIB­IA, a zo­olog­ical term orig­inal­ly em­ployed by Lin­naeus to de­note a class of the An­imal King­dom com­pris­ing crocodiles, lizards and sala­man­ders, snakes and Cae­cil­iae, tor­tois­es and tur­tles and frogs; to which, in the lat­er edi­tions of the Sys­tema Nat­urae he added some groups of fish­es. In the Tableau El­emen­taire, pub­lished in 1795, Cu­vi­er adopts Lin­naeus’s term in its ear­li­er sense, but us­es the French word “Rep­tiles,” al­ready brought in­to use by Bris­son, as the equiv­alent of Am­phib­ia. In ad­di­tion Cu­vi­er ac­cepts the Lin­naean sub­di­vi­sions of Am­phib­ia-​Rep­til­ia for the tor­tois­es, lizards (in­clud­ing crocodiles), sala­man­ders and frogs; and Am­phib­ia-​Ser­pentes for the snakes, apo­dal lizards and Cae­cil­iae.

In 17991 Alexan­dre Brong­niart point­ed out the wide dif­fer­ences which sep­arate the frogs and sala­man­ders (which he terms Ba­tra­chia) from the oth­er rep­tiles; and in 1804 P. A. La­treille,2 right­ly es­ti­mat­ing the val­ue of these dif­fer­ences, though he was not an orig­inal work­er in the field of ver­te­brate zo­ol­ogy, pro­posed to sep­arate Brong­niart’s Ba­tra­chia from the class of Rep­til­ia prop­er, as a group of equal val­ue, for which he re­tained the Lin­naean name of Am­phib­ia.

Cu­vi­er went no fur­ther than Brong­niart, and, in the Reg­ne An­imal, he dropped the term Am­phib­ia, and sub­sti­tut­ed Rep­til­ia for it. J. F. Meck­el,3 on the oth­er hand, while equal­ly ac­cept­ing Brong­niart’s clas­si­fi­ca­tion, re­tained the term Am­phib­ia in its ear­li­er Lin­naean sense; and his ex­am­ple has been gen­er­al­ly fol­lowed by Ger­man writ­ers, as, for in­stance, by H. Stan­nius, in that re­mark­able mon­ument of ac­cu­rate and ex­ten­sive re­search, the Hand­buch der Zootomie (2nd ed., 1856).

In 1816, de Blainville,4 adopt­ing La­treille’s view, di­vid­ed the Lin­naean Am­phib­ia in­to Squam­iferes and Nudipel­lif­eres, or Am­phi­bi­ens; though he of­fered an al­ter­na­tive ar­range­ment, in which the class Rep­tiles is pre­served and di­vid­ed in­to two sub­class­es, the Or­nithoides and the Ichthy­oides. The lat­ter are Brong­niart’s Ba­tra­chia, plus the Cae­cil­iae, whose true affini­ties had, in the mean­while, been shown by A. M. C. Dumer­il; and, in this ar­range­ment, the name Am­phi­bi­ens is re­strict­ed to Pro­teus and Siren.

B. Mer­rem’s Pholi­do­ta and Ba­tra­chia (1820), F. S. Leuckart’s Monop­noa and Dip­noa (1821), J. Muller’s Squa­ma­ta and Nu­da (1832), are mere­ly new names for de Blainville’s Or­nithoides and Ichthy­oides, though Muller gave far bet­ter anatom­ical char­ac­ters of the two groups than had pre­vi­ous­ly been put for­ward.

More­over, fol­low­ing the in­di­ca­tions al­ready giv­en by K. E. von Baer in 1828,5 Muller calls the at­ten­tion of nat­ural­ists to the im­por­tant fact, that while all the Squa­ma­ta pos­sess an am­nion and an al­lan­tois, these struc­tures are ab­sent in the em­bryos of all the Nu­da. An ap­peal made by Muller for ob­ser­va­tions on the de­vel­op­ment of the Cae­cil­iae, and of those Am­phib­ia which re­tain gills or gill-​clefts through­out life, has un­for­tu­nate­ly yield­ed no fruits.

In 1825 P. A. La­treille6 pub­lished a new clas­si­fi­ca­tion of the Ver­te­bra­ta, which are pri­mar­ily di­vid­ed in­to Haemath­er­ma. con­tain­ing the three class­es of Mam­mifera, Monotrema­ta and Aves; and Haemacry­ma, al­so con­tain­ing three class­es– Rep­til­ia, Am­phib­ia and Pisces. This di­vi­sion of the Ver­te­bra­ta in­to hot and cold blood­ed is a cu­ri­ous­ly ret­ro­grade step, on­ly in­tel­li­gi­ble when we re­flect that the ex­cel­lent en­to­mol­ogist had no re­al com­pre­hen­sion of ver­te­brate mor­phol­ogy; but he makes some atone­ment for the blun­der by steadi­ly up­hold­ing the class dis­tinct­ness of the Am­phib­ia. In this he was fol­lowed by Dr J. E. Gray; but Dumer­il and Bibron in their great work,7 and Dr Gun­ther in his Cat­alogue, in sub­stance, adopt­ed Brong­niart’s ar­range­ment, the Ba­tra­chia be­ing sim­ply one of the four or­ders of the class Rep­til­ia. Hux­ley adopt­ed La­treille’s view of the dis­tinct­ness of the Am­phib­ia, as a class of the Ver­te­bra­ta, co-​or­di­nate with the Mam­malia, Aves, Rep­til­ia and Pisces; and the same ar­range­ment was ac­cept­ed by Gegen­baur and Haeck­el. In the Hunte­ri­an lec­tures de­liv­ered at the Roy­al Col­lege of Sur­geons in 1863, Hux­ley di­vid­ed the Ver­te­bra­ta in­to Mam­mals, Sauroids and Ichthy­oids, the lat­ter di­vi­sion con­tain­ing the Am­phib­ia and Pisces. Sub­se­quent­ly he pro­posed the names of Saurop­si­da and Ichthy­op­si­da for the Sauroids and Ichthy­oids re­spec­tive­ly.

Sir Richard Owen, in his work on The Anato­my of Ver­te­brates, fol­lowed La­treille in di­vid­ing the Ver­te­bra­ta in­to Haema­tother­ma and Haema­tocrya, and adopt­ed Leuckart’s term of Dip­noa for the Am­phib­ia. T. H. Hux­ley, in the ninth edi­tion of this En­cy­clopae­dia, treat­ed of Brong­niart’s Ba­tra­chia, un­der the des­ig­na­tion Am­phib­ia, but this use of the word has not been gen­er­al­ly ac­cept­ed. (See BA­TRA­CHIA.) (T. H. H.; P. C. M.)

1 Brong­niart’s Es­sai d’une clas­si­fi­ca­tion na­turelle des rep­tiles was not pub­lished in full till 1803. It ap­pears in the vol­ume of the Mem­oires pre­sentes a l’In­sti­tut par divers sa­vans for 1805.

2 Nou­veau dic­tio­nnaire d’his­toire na­turelle, xxiv., cit­ed in La­treille’s Fan­nilles na­turelles du reg­ne an­imal.”

3 Sys­tem der ver­gle­ichen­den Anatomie (1821).

4 “Pro­drome d’une Nou­velle Dis­tri­bu­tion du reg­ne An­imal.” Bul­letin des sci­ences par la So­ci­ete Philo­ma­tique de Paris (1816), p. 113.

5 En­twick­elungs-​Geschichte der Thiere, p. 262

6 Familles na­turelles du reg­ne an­imal.

7 Er­petolo­gie gen­erale, ou his­toire na­turelle com­plete des rep­tiles (1836).

AM­PHI­BOLE, an im­por­tant group of rock-​form­ing min­er­als, very sim­ilar in chem­ical com­po­si­tion and gen­er­al char­ac­ters to the py­rox­enes, and like them falling in­to three se­ries ac­cord­ing to the sys­tem of crys­tal­liza­tion. They dif­fer from the py­rox­enes, how­ev­er, in hav­ing an an­gle be­tween the pris­mat­ic cleav­age of 56 deg. in­stead of 87 deg. ; they are specif­ical­ly lighter than the cor­re­spond­ing py­rox­enes; and, in their op­ti­cal char­ac­ters, they are dis­tin­guished by their stronger pleochro­ism and by the wider an­gle of ex­tinc­tion on the plane of sym­me­try.

They are min­er­als of ei­ther orig­inal or sec­ondary ori­gin; in the for­mer case oc­cur­ring as con­stituents (horn­blende) of ig­neous rocks, such as gran­ite, dior­ite, an­desite, &c. Those of sec­ondary ori­gin have ei­ther been de­vel­oped (tremo­lite) in lime­stones by con­tact-​meta­mor­phism, or have re­sult­ed (acti­no­lite) by the al­ter­ation of augite by dy­namo-​meta­mor­phism. Pseu­do­morphs of am­phi­bole af­ter py­rox­ene are known as uralite.

The name am­phi­bole (from the Gr. am­fi­bo­los, am­bigu­ous) was used by R. J. Hauy to in­clude tremo­lite, acti­no­lite and horn­blende; this term has since been ap­plied to the whole group. Nu­mer­ous sub-​species and va­ri­eties are dis­tin­guished, the more im­por­tant of which are tab­ulat­ed be­low in three se­ries. The for­mu­lae of each will be seen to con­form to the gen­er­al metasil­icate for­mu­la R”SiO3.

OR­THORHOM­BIC SE­RIES. An­tho­phyl­lite . . (Mg,Fe)SiO3. MON­OCLIN­IC SE­RIES. Tremo­lite . . CaMg3(SiO3)4. Acti­no­lire . . Ca(Mg,Fe)3(SiO3)4. Cum­ming­tonite . (Fe,Mg)SiO3. Rich­terite . . (K2,Na2,Mg,Ca,Mn)SiO3. Horn­blende . . {Ca(Mg,Fe)3(SiO3)4 with {NaAl(SiO3)2 and (Mg,Fe) (Al,Fe)2SiO6. MON­OCLIN­IC SE­RIES–con­tin­ued.

Glau­co­phane . . NaAl(SiO3)2.(Fe,Mg)SiO3. Cro­ci­do­lite . . NaFe(SiO3)2.Fe­SiO3. Riebeck­ite . . 2NaFe(SiO3)2.Fe­SiO3. Ar­fved­sonite . . Na8(Ca,Mg)3(Fe,Mn)14(Al,Fe)2 Si21O45. ANOR­TH­IC SE­RIES. Aenig­matite . . Na4Fe”9Al Fe” ‘(Si,Ti)12O38.

Of these, tremo­lite, horn­blende and cro­ci­do­lite, as well as the im­por­tant va­ri­eties, as­bestos and jade, are treat­ed un­der their own head­ings. Brief men­tion on­ly need be here made of some of the oth­ers. Nat­ural­ly, on ac­count of the wide vari­ations in chem­ical com­po­si­tion, the dif­fer­ent mem­bers vary con­sid­er­ably in char­ac­ters and gen­er­al ap­pear­ance; the spe­cif­ic grav­ity, for ex­am­ple, varies from 2.9 in tremo­lite to 3.8 in aenig­matite.

An­tho­phyl­lite oc­curs as brown­ish, fi­brous or lamel­lar mass­es with horn­blende in mi­ca-​schist at Kongs­berg in Nor­way and some oth­er lo­cal­ities. An alu­mi­nous va­ri­ety is known as gedrite, and a deep green, Rus­sian va­ri­ety con­tain­ing lit­tle iron as kupf­ferite.

Acti­no­lite is an im­por­tant mem­ber of the mon­oclin­ic se­ries, form­ing ra­di­at­ing groups of aci­cu­lar crys­tals of a bright green or grey­ish-​green colour. It oc­curs fre­quent­ly as a con­stituent of crys­talline schists. The name (from ak­tis, a ray, and lithos, a stone) is a trans­la­tion of the old Ger­man word Strahlstein, ra­di­at­ed stone.

Glau­co­phane, cro­ci­do­lite, riebeck­ite and ar­fved­sonite form a some­what spe­cial group of al­ka­li-​am­phi­boles. The two for­mer are blue fi­brous min­er­als oc­cur­ring in crys­talline schists, and are the re­sult of dy­namo-​meta­mor­phic pro­cess­es; the two lat­ter are dark green min­er­als which oc­cur as orig­inal con­stituents of ig­neous rocks rich in so­da, such as nepheline-​syen­ite and phono­lite.

Aenig­matite and its va­ri­ety cossyrite are rare min­er­als form­ing con­stituents of ig­neous rocks of the nepheline-​syen­ite and phono­lite groups. (L. J. S.)

AM­PHI­BO­LITE, the name giv­en to a rock con­sist­ing main­ly of am­phi­bole (horn­blende), the use of the term be­ing re­strict­ed, how­ev­er, to meta­mor­phic rocks. Holocrys­talline plu­ton­ic ig­neous rocks com­posed es­sen­tial­ly of horn­blende are known as horn­blendites. As is the case with most petro­log­ical terms the ex­act con­no­ta­tion is not very strict­ly de­fined; most au­thors al­low that ac­ces­so­ry min­er­als such as felspar, gar­net, augite and quartz may be present in vari­able and of­ten con­sid­er­able amount. A fo­li­at­ed or schis­tose struc­ture, though of­ten de­vel­oped in these rocks, is not uni­ver­sal. The horn­blende is usu­al­ly dark green (acti­no­lite) but may be near­ly black in the hand spec­imen; in the mi­cro­scop­ic slide it is com­mon­ly green of var­ious shades, but may be brown, blue or near­ly colour­less. It fre­quent­ly oc­curs in elon­gat­ed blad­ed prisms, but rarely shows good crys­tal faces. The term horn­blende-​schist is em­ployed by many writ­ers as near­ly syn­ony­mous with am­phi­bo­lite; most horn­blende-​schists con­tain felspar and iron ox­ides, while sphene, ru­tile, quartz and ap­atite are rarely ab­sent. Red­dish gar­nets are of­ten con­spic­uous in the rocks of this group (gar­net-​am­phi­bo­lites), and when in ad­di­tion a green-​coloured augite oc­curs the rocks are in­ti­mate­ly al­lied to the horn­blende-​eclog­ites. Epi­dote al­so, in yel­low grains, is com­mon (epi­dote-​am­phi­bo­lites), and in these rocks the horn­blende may be of the blue and rich­ly pleochroic va­ri­ety known as glau­co­phane (glau­co­phane-​epi­dote-​schists). Horn­blende-​schists con­tain­ing dark green fer­rif­er­ous horn­blende (grunorite-​schists) are abun­dant in some parts of North Amer­ica. Tremo­lite-​schists con­sist es­sen­tial­ly of white or very pale green am­phi­bole; oc­ca­sion­al­ly they are black from the pres­ence of nu­mer­ous minute grains of iron ox­ide or of graphite. Many tremo­lite-​schists con­tain much talc and chlo­rite, and as these rocks have been de­rived from peri­dotites they not in­fre­quent­ly show resid­ual grains of olivine. Nephrite (Gr. ne­fros, a kid­ney) is a very com­pact, hard­ly schis­tose am­phi­bo­lite, con­sist­ing of fine in­ter­wo­ven fi­bres of horn­blende. Among oth­er ac­ces­so­ry min­er­als bi­otite, chlo­rite, talc, scapo­lite and tour­ma­line may be men­tioned; if abun­dant they give rise to spe­cial va­ri­eties such as bi­otite-​am­phi­bo­lite, &c.

The am­phi­bo­lites are typ­ical rocks of the meta­mor­phic group and as such at­tain a large de­vel­op­ment in all re­gions of crys­talline schists and gneiss­es such as the Alps, Ar­dennes, Harz, Scot­tish High­lands, and the Lakes dis­trict of North Amer­ica. They oc­cur in two ways, viz. as large cir­cu­lar or el­lip­ti­cal ar­eas which mark the site of old plu­ton­ic stocks or boss­es of ba­sic rock, and as long nar­row strips in­ter­ca­lat­ed among out­crops of oth­er meta­mor­phic rocks. Re­gard­ed from the point of view of their ori­gin they fall in­to two groups, the or­tho-​am­phi­bo­lites, which are mod­ified ig­neous rocks, and the para-​am­phi­bo­lites, which are al­tered sed­iments. The for­mer are far the more com­mon. Ig­neous rocks which con­tain much augite (e.g. do­lerites, gab­bros, di­abas­es, py­rox­en­ites and many peri­dotites) are usu­al­ly con­vert­ed in­to am­phi­bo­lites when they are sub­ject­ed to pres­sure and in­ter­sti­tial move­ments dur­ing earth-​fold­ing. If felspar be present al­so, epi­dote may form, while part of the felspar re­crys­tal­lizes as a species of the same min­er­al rich­er in al­ka­lies or as mi­ca. Olivine and il­menite, the oth­er com­mon con­stituents of these rocks, may, alone or in con­junc­tion with the above-​named min­er­als, yield gar­net, talc, sphene, ru­tile, &c. There is lit­tle or no al­ter­ation in the bulk com­po­si­tion of the rock, but its com­po­nent el­ements en­ter in­to new com­bi­na­tions. Chem­ical anal­ysis, ac­cord­ing­ly, will of­ten en­able us to iden­ti­fy an ig­neous rock (di­abase, &c.) un­der the guise of an am­phi­bo­lite. The trans­for­ma­tion of the rock may be com­plete, so that no trace is left of the orig­inal struc­tures or min­er­als. Very of­ten, how­ev­er, it is on­ly par­tial, and by ob­tain­ing a suf­fi­cient­ly large num­ber of spec­imens a se­ries of in­ter­me­di­ate or tran­si­tion­al stages may be stud­ied; these prove con­clu­sive­ly the na­ture of the pro­cess, though its caus­es are less clear­ly un­der­stood. Green horn­blende may be seen grad­ual­ly re­plac­ing augite, at first in nee­dle-​like crys­tals, for which grad­ual­ly more com­pact mass­es are sub­sti­tut­ed. The felspar breaks up in­to a mo­sa­ic in which al­bite, epi­dote or zoisite, quartz and gar­net may of­ten be iden­ti­fied. Bi­otite and pri­ma­ry horn­blende suf­fer com­par­ative­ly lit­tle change; olivine dis­ap­pears, and gar­net, talc and tremo­lite or an­tho­phyl­lite take its place. The orig­inal struc­tures of this group of rocks (ophitic, por­phyrit­ic, poikilitic, vesic­ular, &c.) grad­ual­ly fade away, and merge in­to those of the meta­mor­phic am­phi­bo­lites. Even when the greater part of the rock mass has suf­fered com­plete re­con­struc­tion, ker­nels or pha­coids may re­main, show­ing the old ig­neous struc­tures, though the min­er­als are great­ly al­tered. The tran­si­tion­al stages from gab­bro or di­abase to am­phi­bo­lite are so com­mon that they form a widespread and im­por­tant group of rocks, which have been de­scribed un­der the names green­stone, green­stone-​schist, flaser-​gab­bro, saus­surite- gab­bro, meta-​di­abase, &c. The or­tho-​am­phi­bo­lites al­so in­clude a small group of ig­neous rocks, which have a fo­li­at­ed or band­ed struc­ture due to move­ments and pres­sure dur­ing con­sol­ida­tion, e.g. fo­li­at­ed dior­ite or dior­ite-​schist.

The sed­imen­ta­ry am­phi­bo­lites or para-​am­phi­bo­lites, less com­mon than those above de­scribed, are fre­quent in some dis­tricts, such as the north­ern Alps, south­ern high­lands of Scot­land, Green Moun­tains, U.S.A. Many of them have been ash-​beds, and their con­ver­sion in­to horn­blende-​schists fol­lows ex­act­ly sim­ilar stages to those ex­em­pli­fied by ba­sic crys­talline ig­neous rocks. Oth­ers have been greywack­es of var­ied com­po­si­tion with epi­dote, chlo­rite, felspar, quartz, iron ox­ides, &c., and may have been mixed with vol­canic ma­te­ri­als, or may be part­ly de­rived from the dis­in­te­gra­tion of ba­sic rocks. When they are most meta­mor­phosed they are of­ten very hard to dis­tin­guish from ig­neous horn­blende-​schists; yet they rarely fail to re­veal signs of bed­ding, peb­bly struc­ture, sed­imen­ta­ry band­ing and grad­ual tran­si­tion in­to un­doubt­ed­ly sed­imen­ta­ry types of gneiss and schist. De­posits con­tain­ing dolomite and siderite al­so read­ily yield am­phi­bo­lites (tremo­lite-​schists, grunorite-​schists, &c.) es­pe­cial­ly where there has been a cer­tain amount of con­tact meta­mor­phism by ad­ja­cent granitic mass­es. (J. S. F.)

AM­PHI­BOL­OGY, or AM­PHI­BOLY (Gr. ampi­bo­lia), in log­ic, a ver­bal fal­la­cy aris­ing from am­bi­gu­ity in the gram­mat­ical struc­ture of a sen­tence (Aris­tot., Organon,Soph., El., chap. iv.). It oc­curs fre­quent­ly in po­et­ry, ow­ing to the al­ter­ation for met­ri­cal rea­sons of the nat­ural or­der of words; Jevons quotes as an ex­am­ple Shake­speare, Hen­ry VI.: “The duke yet lives that Hen­ry shall de­pose.”

AM­PH­IC­TY­ONY (Gr. am­fik­tuo­nia, i.e. a body com­posed of am­fik­tiones, am­fik­tuones, “dwellers around”), an as­so­ci­ation of an­cient Greek com­mu­ni­ties cen­tring in a shrine. As the ex­tant sources do not de­fine the term, and as they ap­ply it to but five or six as­so­ci­ations, the ma­jor­ity of which are lit­tle known, mod­ern schol­ars are in doubt as to the es­sen­tial char­ac­ter of the in­sti­tu­tion, and hes­itate there­fore to ex­tend the name be­yond this lim­it­ed list. The word it­self in­di­cates that the as­so­ci­ation pri­mar­ily com­prised neigh­bours, though the Del­ph­ic am­ph­ic­ty­ony came in time to in­clude rel­ative­ly dis­tant com­mu­ni­ties (Stra­bo ix. 3, 7). For the ori­gin of the in­sti­tu­tion it is safe to as­sume that neigh­bour­ing com­mu­ni­ties, whether tribes (ethne) or cities, de­sir­ing friend­ly in­ter­course with one an­oth­er chose the sanc­tu­ary of some de­ity con­ve­nient­ly sit­uat­ed, at which to hold their pe­ri­od­ical fes­ti­val for wor­ship and their fair for the in­ter­change of goods. If the lim­it­ed use of the word ac­cord­ing to our sources is not pure­ly ac­ci­den­tal, at all events there were many Greek leagues, not ex­press­ly termed am­ph­ic­ty­onies, which had the char­ac­ter­is­tics here stat­ed.

The Delian am­ph­ic­ty­ony prob­ably reached the height of its splen­dour ear­ly in the 7th cen­tu­ry B.C. The Hymn to the Delian Apol­lo, com­posed about that time, cel­ebrates the gath­er­ing of the Io­ni­ans with their wives and chil­dren at the shrine of their god on the is­land of De­los, to wor­ship him with mu­sic, danc­ing and gym­nas­tic con­tests (vv. 146-164; cf. Thuc. iii. 104). The lat­er mis­for­tunes of the Io­ni­ans caused a de­cline of the fes­ti­val. Pei­si­stra­tus, tak­ing pos­ses­sion of De­los, seems to have used the sanc­tu­ary as a means of ex­tend­ing his po­lit­ical in­flu­ence. When af­ter the great war with Per­sia the Aegean cities un­der the lead­er­ship of Athens unit­ed in a po­lit­ical league (477 B.C.), they chose as its cen­tre the tem­ple of the Delian Apol­lo, doubt­less through a de­sire to con­nect the new al­liance with the as­so­ci­ations of the old am­ph­ic­ty­ony. How far the coun­cil and oth­er in­sti­tu­tions of the Delian con­fed­er­acy were based up­on the am­ph­ic­ty­on­ic or­ga­ni­za­tion can­not be de­ter­mined. The re­moval of the trea­sury to Athens in 454 B.C. de­prived De­los of po­lit­ical im­por­tance, though the am­ph­ic­ty­ony con­tin­ued. The coun­cil grad­ual­ly dwin­dled, and prob­ably came to an end with­out for­mal abo­li­tion. In 426 B.C. the Athe­ni­ans pu­ri­fied the is­land and in­sti­tut­ed a great fes­ti­val to be held un­der their pres­iden­cy ev­ery four years (Thuc. iii. 104). In 422 they ex­pelled the Delians (Thuc. v. 1). At the end of the Pelo­pon­nesian War Athens was de­prived of De­los along with her oth­er pos­ses­sions, but she ap­pears to have re­gained con­trol of the is­land af­ter the vic­to­ry of Cnidus (394). An in­scrip­tion of 390 B.C. proves that at this date Athe­ni­an au­thor­ity had been re­stored. The af­fairs of the tem­ple were man­aged by a board of five Athe­ni­an am­ph­ic­tyons, as­sist­ed by some Delian of­fi­cials (in­scrr. in Bull. Hell. vi­ii. 284, 304, 307 f.); and in the 4th cen­tu­ry we again hear of a coun­cil in ad­di­tion to the board (CIG. i. 158). At this time the am­ph­ic­ty­ony is known to have em­braced both the Athe­ni­ans and the in­hab­itants of the Cy­clades; but a strong Delian par­ty bit­ter­ly op­posed Athe­ni­an rule (cf. in­scr. in Bull. Hell. iii. 473 f.), which came to an end with the suprema­cy of Mace­don. The dis­so­lu­tion of the am­ph­ic­ty­ony soon fol­lowed.

Far more fa­mous is the Del­ph­ic, or more strict­ly, the Py­lae­ic-​Del­ph­ic, am­ph­ic­ty­ony. It was orig­inal­ly com­posed of twelve tribes dwelling round Ther­mopy­lae–the Thes­salians, Boeo­tians, Do­ri­ans, Io­ni­ans, Per­rhae­bians, Mag­netes, Locri­ans, Oetaeans, Ph­thiotes, Ma­hans, Pho­cians (Aeschin. ii. 116), and Dolop­ians (Paus. x. 8. 2). The name of the coun­cil (py­laea) and of one set of deputies (py­lagori), to­geth­er with the im­por­tant place held in the am­ph­ic­ty­ony by the tem­ple of Deme­ter at An­thela, near Ther­mopy­lae, sug­gests that this shrine was the orig­inal cen­tre of the as­so­ci­ation. How and when Del­phi be­came a sec­ond cen­tre is quite un­cer­tain. The coun­cil of the league in­clud­ed deputies of two dif­fer­ent kinds–py­lagori and hi­erom­nemones. the lat­ter were twen­ty-​four in num­ber, two from each tribe. As the league was orig­inal­ly made up of neigh­bours, the Do­ri­an tribe must have com­prised sim­ply the in­hab­itants of Doris; the Locri­ans were prob­ably the east­ern (Op­un­tian) branch; and the Io­ni­ans were doubt­less lim­it­ed to the ad­ja­cent is­land of Eu­boea. Af­ter­wards, by af­fil­iat­ing them­selves to Doris, the Pelo­pon­nesian Do­ri­ans gained ad­mis­sion, and Athens must have en­tered as an Io­ni­an city be­fore the first Sa­cred War. Hence­forth Athens mo­nop­olized one of the two Io­ni­an votes, while the oth­er passed in ro­ta­tion among the re­main­ing Ion­ic, per­haps on­ly among the Eu­boe­ic, cities. In the same way Doris held one Do­ri­an vote and the oth­er passed in ro­ta­tion among the Do­ri­an cities of Pelo­pon­nesus; and the east and west Locri­ans came to have one each. When af­ter the sec­ond Sa­cred War the Pho­cians were ex­pelled, Mace­don re­ceived their two votes (346 B.C.) About the same time the Per­rhae­bians and the Dolop­ians were de­prived of half their rep­re­sen­ta­tion, and the two votes were trans­ferred to the Del­phi­ans (in­scrr. in N. Jahrb. f. cl. Philol. clv. 742, cf. 743, 753; Bull. Hell. xxi. 322, cf. 325; Bour­guet, Sanct. Pyth. 145, 147). In the fol­low­ing cen­tu­ry the Ae­to­lians gained such dom­inance in the am­ph­ic­ty­ony as to con­vert the coun­cil in­to an or­gan of their league. Re­cent re­search has made it ap­pear cer­tain (cf. Pomp­tow, ib. 754 ff.) that they were nev­er for­mal­ly ad­mit­ted to mem­ber­ship, but that they main­tained their suprema­cy in the coun­cil (Livy xxxi. 32. 3; Polyb. iv. 25. 8) by con­trol­ling the votes of their al­lies, who– called Ae­to­lians in the in­scrip­tions–were of­ten in the ma­jor­ity. They made no ma­te­ri­al change in its com­po­si­tion, which, ac­cord­ing­ly, af­ter the dis­so­lu­tion of their league by the Ro­mans is found to be near­ly as it was af­ter the sec­ond Sa­cred War. A few mi­nor changes came in un­der the suprema­cy of the Ro­man re­pub­lic; and fi­nal­ly Au­gus­tus in­creased the num­ber of votes to thir­ty, and dis­tribut­ed them ac­cord­ing to his plea­sure. In the age of the An­tonines the as­so­ci­ation was still in ex­is­tence (paus. x. 8. 4 f.).

Al­though the hi­erom­nemones of the Thes­salians, who held the pres­iden­cy, and per­haps of a few oth­er com­mu­ni­ties, must have been elect­ed, the of­fice was or­di­nar­ily, as at Athens, filled by lot. As a rule they were re­newed an­nu­al­ly (Aristoph. Clouds, 623 f.; Fou­cart, in Bull. Hell. vii. 411, 413 f.). Each hi­erom­nemon was ac­com­pa­nied by two py­lagori, elect­ed se­mi-​an­nu­al­ly (De­mosth. xvi­ii. 149; Aeschin. iii. 115; Tim. Lex. Plat., s.v. ‘Am­fik­tuones), and rep­re­sent­ing the same tribe, though not nec­es­sar­ily the same city. On one oc­ca­sion Athens is known to have sent three. The hi­erom­nemones were for­mal­ly su­pe­ri­or, but be­cause of the method of ap­point­ment they were nec­es­sar­ily men of mediocre abil­ity, in­ex­pe­ri­enced in speak­ing and pub­lic busi­ness, and for that rea­son they read­ily be­came the tools of the py­lagori, who were or­ators and states­men. In the lit­er­ary sources, ac­cord­ing­ly, the lat­ter are right­ly giv­en cred­it for the acts of the coun­cil; it was the py­lagori who set a price on the head of the traitor Ephialtes ( Herod. vii. 213 ), and who on the mo­tion of Themis­to­cles re­ject­ed the propo­si­tion of Lacedae­mon for the ex­pul­sion of the states which had sid­ed with Per­sia (Plut. Them. 20). The py­lagori had a right to pro­pose mea­sures and to take part in the de­lib­er­ations; they as well as the hi­erom­nemones were re­quired to take the ju­ror’s oath; and the acts of the coun­cil were in­scribed of­fi­cial­ly as res­olu­tions of the hi­erom­nemones and py­lagori con­joint­ly. The hi­erom­nemon, how­ev­er, cast the vote of his com­mu­ni­ty, though in the record his two py­lagori were made equal­ly re­spon­si­ble for it. The nec­es­sary in­fer­ence from these facts is that the vote was de­ter­mined by a ma­jor­ity of the three deputies (in­scr. in Bull. Hell. xxvii. 106-111, A 20-33; B 1-10). The coun­cil de­cid­ed all ques­tions which fell with­in its com­pe­tence. Mat­ters of greater im­por­tance, as the levy of an ex­traor­di­nary fine on a state or the dec­la­ra­tion of a sa­cred war, it pre­sent­ed in the form of a res­olu­tion to an as­sem­bly (ekkle­sia), com­posed of the deputies, the am­ph­ic­ty­on­ic priests, and any oth­er cit­izens of the league who chanced to be present (Aeschin. iii. 124; cf. Hyp. iv. 7, 26 f.). This as­sem­bly was rel­ative­ly unim­por­tant, how­ev­er, and is men­tioned on­ly by the two au­thor­ities here cit­ed.

It is now well es­tab­lished by epi­graph­ic ev­idence (Bull. Hell. vii. 412 f., 417; Pomp­tow, in N. Jahrb. f. cl. Philol. cxlix. 826-829) that the am­ph­ic­tyons met both in the spring and in the au­tumn at Del­phi, and the lit­er­ary sources should alone be suf­fi­cient au­thor­ity for meet­ings in the same sea­sons at Ther­mopy­lae (Hyp. iv. 7, 25 ff.; Stra­bo ix. 3, 7, 4, 17; Har­pocra­tion, s.v. Pu­lai.) It is known, too, that the meet­ing at Ther­mopy­lae fol­lowed that at Del­phi (in­scr. in Bull. Hell. xxiv. 136 f.).

The pri­ma­ry func­tion of the coun­cil was to ad­min­is­ter the tem­po­ral af­fairs of the two shrines, of which the sanc­tu­ary of Apol­lo at Del­phi claimed by far the greater share of at­ten­tion. The hi­erom­nemones were re­quired pe­ri­od­ical­ly to in­spect the lands be­long­ing to this god, to pun­ish those who en­croached, and to see that the ten­ants ren­dered their quo­ta of pro­duce; and the coun­cil held the states re­spon­si­ble for the right per­for­mance of such du­ties by their re­spec­tive deputies (CIA. ii. 545; in­scr. in Bull. Hell. vii. 428 f.). An­oth­er task of the coun­cil was to su­per­vise the trea­sury, to pro­tect it from thieves, and by in­vest­ments to in­crease the cap­ital (Stra­bo ix. 3, 7; Isoc. xv. 232; De­mosth. xxi. 144; Plut. Sull. 12). Nat­ural­ly, too, it con­trolled the ex­pen­di­ture. We find it, ac­cord­ing­ly, in the 6th cen­tu­ry B.C. con­tract­ing for the re­build­ing of the Del­ph­ic tem­ple af­ter it had been de­stroyed by fire (Herod. v. 62; Paus. x. 5. 13), and in the 4th cen­tu­ry cre­at­ing an Hel­lenic col­lege of tem­ple-​builders for the pur­pose (in­scrr. in Bull. Hell. xx. 202 f., 206, xxi. 478, xxiv. 464), adorn­ing the in­te­ri­or with stat­ues and pic­tures (Diod. xvi. 33), in­scrib­ing the proverbs of the Sev­en Sages on the walls (Paus. x. 24. 1), be­stow­ing crowns on bene­fac­tors of the god (CIG. i. 1689 b), prepar­ing for the Pythi­an games, award­ing the prizes (Pind. Pyth. iv. 66, x. 8 f.), in­sti­tut­ing a board of trea­sur­ers (in­scr. in Bour­guet, Sanct. Pyth. 175 ff.) and is­su­ing coins. It was al­so in the ma­te­ri­al in­ter­est of Apol­lo that the coun­cil passed a law which for­bade the Greeks to levy tolls on pil­grims to the shrine (Aeschin. iii. 107; Stra­bo ix. 3, 4), and an­oth­er re­quir­ing the am­ph­ic­ty­on­ic states to keep in re­pair their own roads which led to­wards Del­phi (CIA. ii. 545). A law of great in­ter­est, dat­ing from the be­gin­ning of the in­sti­tu­tion, im­posed an oath up­on the mem­bers of the league not to de­stroy an am­ph­ic­ty­on­ic city or to cut it off from run­ning wa­ter in war or peace; but to wage war up­on those who trans­gressed this or­di­nance, to de­stroy their cities, and to pun­ish any oth­ers who by theft or plot­ting sought to in­jure the god (Aeschin. ii. 115). In this reg­ula­tion, which was in­tend­ed to mit­igate the us­ages of war amongst the mem­bers of the league, we have one of the ori­gins of Greek in­ter­state law. Though oth­er reg­ula­tions were made to se­cure peace at the time of the fes­ti­val (Dion. Hal. iv. 25. 3), and though oc­ca­sion­al­ly the coun­cil was called up­on to ar­bi­trate in a dis­pute (cf. De­mosth. xvi­ii. 135), no pro­vi­sion was made to com­pel ar­bi­tra­tion.

For the en­force­ment of such laws and for ad­min­is­tra­tive ef­fi­cien­cy in gen­er­al it was nec­es­sary that the coun­cil should have ju­di­cial pow­er. As ju­rors the deputies took an oath to de­cide ac­cord­ing to writ­ten law, or in cas­es not cov­ered by law, ac­cord­ing to their best will and judg­ment (CIA. ii. 545). The ear­li­est known am­ph­ic­ty­on­ic penal­ty was the de­struc­tion of Crisa for hav­ing levied tolls on pil­grims (Aeschin. iii. 107; Stra­bo ix. 3, 4; cf. Paus. x. 37. 5-8). This of­fence was the cause of the first Sa­cred War. The sec­ond and third Sa­cred Wars, fought in the 4th cen­tu­ry B.C., were waged by the am­ph­ic­tyons against the Pho­cians and the Am­phissaeans re­spec­tive­ly for al­leged tres­pass­ing on the sa­cred lands (Aeschin. iii. 124, 128; Diod. xvi. 23, 31 f.). In the 5th cen­tu­ry the coun­cil fined the Dolop­ians for hav­ing dis­turbed com­merce by their pira­cy (Plut. Cim. 8), and in the 4th cen­tu­ry the Lacedae­mo­ni­ans for hav­ing oc­cu­pied the citadel of Thebes in time of peace (Diod. xvi. 23, 29).

The judg­ments of the coun­cil were some­times con­sid­ered un­fair, and were oc­ca­sion­al­ly de­fied by the states af­fect­ed. The Lacedae­mo­ni­ans re­fused to pay the fine above men­tioned; the Athe­ni­ans protest­ed against the treat­ment of Am­phissa, and were slow in ac­cept­ing the de­ci­sions giv­en un­der the in­flu­ence of Mace­don. The in­abil­ity of the coun­cil to en­force its res­olu­tions was chiefly due to its com­po­si­tion; the ma­jor­ity of the com­mu­ni­ties rep­re­sent­ed were even in com­bi­na­tion no match for in­di­vid­ual cities like Athens, Spar­ta or Thebes. The coun­cil was a pow­er in pol­itics on­ly when ma­nip­ulat­ed by a great state, as Thebes, Mace­don or Ae­to­lia, and in such a case its de­crees were most like­ly to give of­fence by their par­ti­san­ship. Al­though the coun­cil some­times cham­pi­oned the Hel­lenic cause, as could any as­so­ci­ation or in­di­vid­ual, it nev­er ac­quired a rec­og­nized au­thor­ity over all Greece; and notwith­stand­ing its fre­quent par­tic­ipa­tion in po­lit­ical af­fairs, it re­mained es­sen­tial­ly a re­li­gious con­vo­ca­tion.

In ad­di­tion to the three as­so­ci­ations thus far men­tioned there was an am­ph­ic­ty­ony of Onch­es­tus (Stra­bo ix. 2, 33). It may be in­ferred from a com­par­ison of Paus. iv. 5. 2 with Herod. vi. 92 that there was an am­ph­ic­ty­ony of Ar­gos of which Ep­idau­rus and Aegi­na were mem­bers. An am­ph­ic­ty­ony of Corinth has, with less jus­ti­fi­ca­tion, been as­sumed on the strength of a pas­sage in Pin­dar (Nem. Od. vi. 40-42).

AU­THOR­ITIES.–Fou­cart, “Am­ph­ic­ty­ones,” in Darem­berg and Saglio, Dict. d. an­tiq. grecq. et rom. (1873) i. 235-238; F. Qauer, “Am­phik­ty­onia,” in Pauly-​Wis­sowa, Realen­cy­cl. d. cl. Al­ter­tum­swiss. (1894) i. 1904-1935; Pomp­tow, Fasti Del­phi­ci, ii. in Neue Jalhrb. f. cl. Philol. (1894) cxlix. 497-558, clv. (1897) 737-763, 783-848; E. A. Free­man, His­to­ry of Fed­er­al Gov­ern­ment in Greece and Italy (2nd ed., Lon­don and New York, 1895), 95-111; W. S. Fer­gu­son, Schomann-​Lip­sius, Griechis­che Al­terthumer (1902), ii. 29-44; E. Bour­guet, L’Ad­min­is­tra­tion fi­nanciere du sanc­tu­aire pythioue au IVe siecle avant J.-C (Paris, 1905). The ear­li­er lit­er­ature has been de­prived of a great part of its val­ue by re­cent dis­cov­er­ies of in­scrip­tions, many of which may be found in the Bul­letin de cor­re­spon­dance hel­lenique, iii. vii. vi­ii. x. xx. xxi. xxiv. xxvi. xxvii., edit­ed with com­men­tary chiefly by Bour­guet, Col­in, Fou­cart and Ho­molle. See al­so H. Col­litz, Samm­lung d. griech. Di­alekt-​In­schriften, ii. p. 643 ff. and Nos. 2508 ff., edit­ed by Bau­nack. (G. W. B.)

AM­PHILOCHUS, in Greek leg­end, a fa­mous seer, son of Am­phia­raus and Eri­phyle and broth­er of Al­cmaeon. Ac­cord­ing to some he as­sist­ed in the mur­der of Eri­phyle, which, ac­cord­ing to oth­ers, was car­ried out by Al­cmaeon alone (Apol­lodor­us iii. 6, 7). He took part in the ex­pe­di­tion of the Epigo­ni against Thebes and in the Tro­jan War. Af­ter the fall of Troy he found­ed, in con­junc­tion with Mop­sus, an­oth­er fa­mous seer, the or­acle of Mal­los in Cili­cia. The two seers af­ter­wards fought for its pos­ses­sion, and both were slain in the com­bat. Am­philochus is al­so said to have been killed by Apol­lo (Stra­bo xiv. 675, 676). Ac­cord­ing to an­oth­er sto­ry, he re­turned to Ar­gos from Troy, but, be­ing dis­sat­is­fied with the con­di­tion of things there, left it for Acar­na­nia, where he found­ed Am­philochi­an Ar­gos on the Am­bra­cian gulf. He was wor­shipped at Oro­pus, Athens and Spar­ta.

Stra­bo xiv. pp. 675, 676; Thucy­dides ii. 68; Pau­sa­nias i. 34, iii. 15.

AM­PHION and ZETHUS, in an­cient Greek mythol­ogy, the twin sons of Zeus by An­tiope. When chil­dren, they were ex­posed on Mount Cithaeron, but were found and brought up by a shep­herd. Am­phion be­came a great singer and mu­si­cian, Zethus a hunter and herds­man (Apol­lodor­us iii. 5). Af­ter pun­ish­ing Ly­cus and Dirce for cru­el treat­ment of An­tiope (q.v.), they built and for­ti­fied Thebes, huge blocks of stone form­ing them­selves in­to walls at the sound of Am­phion’s lyre (Ho­race, Odes, iii. 11). Am­phion mar­ried Niobe, and killed him­self af­ter the loss of his wife and chil­dren (Ovid, Metam. vi. 270). The broth­ers were buried in one grave and wor­shipped as the Dioscuri “with white hors­es” (Eu­rip. Phoen. 609).

AM­PHIOXUS, or LANCELET, the name of small, fish-​like, ma­rine crea­tures, form­ing the class Cephalo­chor­da, of the phy­lum Ver­te­bra­ta. Lancelets are found in brack­ish or salt wa­ter, gen­er­al­ly near the coast, and have been re­ferred to sev­er­al gen­era and many species. They were first dis­cov­ered by P. S. Pal­las in 1778, who took them to be slugs and de­scribed them un­der the name Li­max lance­ola­tus. The true po­si­tion in the an­imal king­dom was first rec­og­nized in 1834 by O. G. Cos­ta, who named the genus Bran­chios­toma, and it has since been dealt with by many writ­ers.

The the­oret­ical in­ter­est of Am­phioxus de­pends up­on a va­ri­ety of cir­cum­stances. In its man­ner of de­vel­op­ment from the egg, and in the con­sti­tu­tion of its di­ges­tive, vas­cu­lar, res­pi­ra­to­ry (branchial), ex­cre­to­ry, skele­tal, ner­vous and mus­cu­lar sys­tems it ex­hibits what ap­pears to be a pri­mor­dial con­di­tion of ver­te­brate or­ga­ni­za­tion, a con­di­tion which is, in fact, part­ly re­ca­pit­ulat­ed in the course of the em­bry­on­ic stages of cra­ni­ate ver­te­brates. In com­par­ative mor­phol­ogy it pro­vides many il­lus­tra­tions of im­por­tant bi­olog­ical prin­ci­ples (such, for ex­am­ple, as sub­sti­tu­tion and change of func­tion of or­gans), and throws new light up­on, or at least points the way to new ideas of, the prim­itive re­la­tions of dif­fer­ent or­gan­ic sys­tems in re­spect of their func­tion and to­pog­ra­phy. One of the most puz­zling fea­tures in its struc­ture, and, at the same time, one of the great­est ob­sta­cles to the view that it is es­sen­tial­ly prim­itive and not mere­ly a de­gen­er­ate crea­ture, is the en­tire ab­sence of the paired or­gans of spe­cial sense, ol­fac­to­ry, op­tic and au­di­to­ry, which are so char­ac­ter­is­tic of the high­er ver­te­brates. Al­though it is true that there is a cer­tain amount of gra­da­tion in the de­gree of de­vel­op­ment to which these or­gans have at­tained in the var­ious or­ders, yet it is hard­ly suf­fi­cient to en­able the imag­ina­tion to bridge over the gap which sep­arates Am­phioxus from the low­est fish­es in re­gard to this fea­ture of or­ga­ni­za­tion.

Clas­si­fi­ca­tion.–On ac­count of the ab­sence of any­thing in the na­ture of a skull, Am­phioxus has been re­gard­ed as the type of a di­vi­sion, Acra­nia, in con­trast with the Cra­ni­ata which com­prise all the high­er Chor­da­ta. The or­di­nal name for the gen­era and species of Am­phioxus is Cephalo­chor­da, the term re­fer­ring to the ex­ten­sion of the pri­ma­ry back­bone or no­to­chord to the an­te­ri­or ex­trem­ity of the body; the fam­ily name is Bran­chios­to­mi­dae. The amount of gener­ic di­ver­gence ex­hib­it­ed by the mem­bers of this fam­ily is not great in the mass, but is of sin­gu­lar in­ter­est in de­tail. There are two prin­ci­pal gen­era–1. Bran­chios­toma Cos­ta, hav­ing paired sex­ual or­gans (go­nadic pouch­es); 2. Het­ero­pleu­ron Kirkaldy, with uni­lat­er­al go­nads. Of these, the for­mer in­cludes two sub­gen­era, Am­phioxus (s. str.) Yarrell and Dolichorhynchus Wil­ley. The species be­long­ing to the genus Het­ero­pleu­ron are di­vid­ed among the three sub­gen­era Param­phioxus Haeck­el, Epigo­nichthys Pe­ters, and Asym­metron An­drews. The gener­ic char­ac­ters are based up­on def­inite mod­ifi­ca­tions of form which af­fect the en­tire fa­cies of the an­imals, while the spe­cif­ic di­ag­noses de­pend up­on mi­nor char­ac­ters, such as the num­ber of my­otomes or mus­cle-​seg­ments.

Habits and Dis­tri­bu­tion.–With re­gard to its habits, all that need be said here is that while Am­phioxus is an ex­pert swim­mer when oc­ca­sion re­quires, yet it spends most of its time bur­row­ing in the sand, in which, when at rest, it lies buried with head pro­trud­ing and mouth wide agape. Its food con­sists of mi­cro­scop­ic or­gan­isms and or­gan­ic par­ti­cles; these are drawn in­to the mouth

FIG. 1.–Epigo­nichthys cul­tel­lus from be­low and from the left side. (Slight­ly al­tered from Kirkaldy.) rm and lm, Right and left meta­pleur; at, atri­opore; an, anus; e, “eye­spot” at an­te­ri­or end of neu­ro­chord pro­ject­ing be­yond the my­otomes (my); n, no­to­chord; rgo, go­nads of right side on­ly show­ing through by trans­paren­cy; go 20, the last go­nad; dfr, dor­sal fin with fin cham­bers and fin rays; vfc, ven­tral fin cham­bers.

to­geth­er with cur­rents of wa­ter in­duced by the ac­tion of the vi­bratile cil­ia which are abun­dant along spe­cial tracts on the sides and roof of the vestibule of the mouth and in the walls of the per­fo­rat­ed phar­ynx (“cil­iary in­ges­tion”). Am­phioxus favours a lit­toral habi­tat, and rarely if ev­er de­scends be­low the 50-fath­om line. Species oc­cur in all seas of the tem­per­ate, trop­ical and sub­trop­ical zones. The Eu­ro­pean species, A. lance­ola­tus, is found in the Black and Mediter­ranean Seas, and on the coasts of France, Great Britain and Scan­di­navia, while a close­ly al­lied species or sub­species, A. carib­aeus, fre­quents the Caribbean re­gion from Chesa­peake to La Pla­ta. A. cal­ifornien­sis oc­curs on the coast of Cal­ifor­nia, and A. belcheri ex­tends its area of dis­tri­bu­tion from Queens­land through Sin­ga­pore to Japan. A re­cent­ly de­scribed species, Dolichorhynchus in­di­cus, char­ac­ter­ized by the great length of the prae­oral lobe or snout, has been dredged in the In­di­an Ocean. Param­phioxus bas­sanus oc­curs on the coast of Aus­tralia from Port Phillip to Port Jack­son; P. cin­galen­sis at Cey­lon. Epigo­nichthys cul­tel­lus (fig. 1) in­hab­its Tor­res Strait, and has al­so been

FIG. 2.–Am­phioxus lance­ola­tus, Yarrell (Bran­chios­toma lu­bricum, Coste). (From Ray Lankester.) (1) Lat­er­al view of adult, to show gen­er­al form, the my­omeres, fin rays and go­nads. A, Oral ten­ta­cles 28 to 32 in full-​grown an­imals, 20 to 24 in half-​grown spec­imens); B, prae­oral hood or prae­oral epi­pleur; C, pli­cat­ed ven­tral sur­face of atri­al cham­ber; D1, D17, D26, go­nads, twen­ty-​six pairs, co­in­ci­dent with my­otomes 10 to 36; E, meta­pleur or lat­er­al ridge on atri­al epi­pleur; F, atri­pore, co­in­ci­dent with my­otome 36; G1, G15, G34, dou­ble ven­tral fin rays, ex­tend­ing from my­otomes 37 to 52, but hav­ing no nu­mer­ical re­la­tion to them; H, po­si­tion of anus, be­tween my­otomes 51 and 52; I, no­to­chord, pro­ject­ing be­yond my­otomes; K7, K27, K62, my­otomes or mus­cu­lar seg­ments of body-​wall, 62 in num­ber; L100, L230, L253, dor­sal fin rays, about 250 in num­ber, the hard sub­stance of the ray be­ing ab­sent at the ex­treme ends of the body (these have no con­stant nu­mer­ical re­la­tion to the my­omeres); M, no­to­chord as seen through the trans­par­ent my­otomes, the thin dou­ble-​lined spaces be­ing the con­nec­tive-​tis­sue sep­ta and the broad­er spaces the mus­cu­lar tis­sue of the my­otomes; N, po­si­tion of brown fun­nel of left side (atrio-​coelom­ic canal); O, nerve tube rest­ing on no­to­chord.

(2) Dis­sec­tion of Am­phioxus. By a hor­izon­tal in­ci­sion on each side of the body a large ven­tral area has been sep­arat­ed and turned over, as it were on a hinge, to the an­imal’s left side. The per­fo­rat­ed pha­ryn­geal re­gion has then been de­tached from the ad­her­ent epi­pleu­ra or op­er­cu­lar folds (wall of atri­al or branchial cham­ber) by cut­ting the flut­ed pharyn­go-​pleu­ral mem­brane d, and sep­arat­ed by a ver­ti­cal cut from the in­testi­nal re­gion. a, Edge of groove formed by ad­he­sion of me­di­an dor­sal sur­face of al­imen­ta­ry canal to sheath of no­to­chord; b, me­di­an dor­sal sur­face of al­imen­ta­ry canal; c, left dor­sal aor­ta; cc, sin­gle dor­sal aor­ta, formed by union of the two an­te­ri­or ves­sels; cc’, same ves­sel rest­ing on in­tes­tine; d, cut edge of pharyn­go-​pleu­ral folds of atri­al tu­nic, re­al­ly the orig­inal out­er body-​wall be­fore the down­growth of epi­pleu­ra; d’, atri­al tu­nic (orig­inal body-​wall) at non-​per­fo­rate re­gion, cut and turned back so as to ex­pose peri-​en­ter­ic coelom and in­tes­tine r; e’, up­stand­ing folds of body-​wall (pharyn­go-​pleu­ral folds) on al­ter­nate bars of per­fo­rate re­gion of body; f, atrio-​coelom­ic canals or brown fun­nels (col­lar-​pores of Bal­anoglos­sus); g, cav­ity of a go­nad-​sac; m, cut mus­cu­la­ture of body-​wall; n, anus; o, post-​atri­opo­ral ex­ten­sion of atri­al cham­ber in form of a tubu­lar cae­cum; p, atri­opore; q, hep­at­ic cae­cum; r, in­tes­tine; s, coelom; t, area of ad­he­sion be­tween al­imen­ta­ry canal and sheath of no­to­chord; v, atri­al cham­ber or branchial cav­ity; w, post-​atri­opo­ral por­tion of in­tes­tine; x, canals of meta­pleu­ra ex­posed by cut­ting; E, probe pass­ing through atri­opore in­to atri­al or branchial cham­ber; FF’, probe pass­ing from coelom, where it ex­pands be­hind the atri­opore, in­to nar­row­er peri-​en­ter­ic coelom of praeatri­opo­ral re­gion.

(3) Por­tion of (2) en­larged to show atrio-​coelom­ic canals (“brown fun­nels” of Lankester). Let­ter­ing as in (2).

(4)Sec­tion tak­en trans­verse­ly through prae­oral re­gion near ter­mi­na­tion of nerve tube. a, Ol­fac­to­ry cil­iat­ed pit on an­imal’s left side, its wall con­flu­ent with sub­stance of nerve tube; b, pig­ment spot (rudi­men­ta­ry eye) on an­te­ri­or ter­mi­na­tion of nerve tube; c, first pair of nerves in sec­tion; d, fin ray; e, my­otome; f, no­to­chord; g, space round my­otome (?ar­ti­fact or coelom); h, sub­chordal canal (? blood-​ves­sel); i, a sym­met­ri­cal epi­pleu­ra of prae­oral hood.

found at Ter­nate. Asym­metron lu­cayanum is the Ba­haman rep­re­sen­ta­tive of the fam­ily, with a sub­species, A. cau­da­tum, in the South Pa­cif­ic from New Guinea to the Loy­al­ty Is­lands. The Pe­ru­vian species, Bran­chios­toma elon­ga­tum, with near­ly eighty my­otomes, can­not at present be as­signed to its prop­er sub­genus.

Ex­ter­nal Form.–The fol­low­ing de­scrip­tion, un­less oth­er­wise stat­ed, refers to A. lance­ola­tus. Am­phioxus is a small fish-​like crea­ture at­tain­ing a max­imum length of about 3 in., semi­trans­par­ent in ap­pear­ance, show­ing iri­des­cent play of colour. The body is nar­row, lat­er­al­ly com­pressed and point­ed at both ends. The main mus­cu­la­ture can be seen through the thin skin to be di­vid­ed in­to about six­ty pairs of mus­cle-​seg­ments (my­otomes) by means of com­ma-​shaped dis­sepi­ments, the my­ocom­mas, which stretch be­tween the skin and the cen­tral skele­tal ax­is of the body. These my­otomes en­able it to swim rapid­ly with char­ac­ter­is­tic ser­pen­tine un­du­la­tions of the body, the move­ments be­ing ef­fect­ed by the al­ter­nate con­trac­tion and re­lax­ation of the lon­gi­tu­di­nal mus­cles on both sides. Ap­par­ent­ly cor­re­lat­ed with this pe­cu­liar lo­co­mo­tion is the anatom­ical fact of the al­ter­ation of the my­otomes on the two sides. Sym­met­ri­cal at their first ap­pear­ance in the em­bryo, the somites (from which the my­otomes are de­rived) ear­ly un­der­go a cer­tain dis­tor­tion, the ef­fect of which is to car­ry the somites of the left side for­wards through the length of one half-​seg­ment. For ex­am­ple, the twen­ty-​sev­enth my­otome of the left side is placed op­po­site to the twen­ty-​sixth my­ocom­ma of the right side. The back of the body is oc­cu­pied by a crest, called the dor­sal fin, con­sist­ing of a hol­low ridge, the cav­ity of which is di­vid­ed in­to about 250 com­part­ments or fin cham­bers, in­to each of which, with the ex­cep­tion of those near the an­te­ri­or and pos­te­ri­or end of the body, projects a stout pil­lar com­posed of char­ac­ter­is­tic lam­inar tis­sue, the fin ray. The dor­sal crest is con­tin­ued round both ex­trem­ities, be­com­ing ex­pand­ed to form the ros­tral fin in front and the cau­dal fin be­hind. Even in ex­ter­nal view, care­ful in­spec­tion will show that the body is di­vis­ible in­to four re­gions, name­ly, cephal­ic, atri­al, ab­dom­inal and cau­dal. The cephal­ic re­gion in­cludes the ros­trum or prae­oral

FIG.–Trans­verse sec­tions of am­phioxus. (From Lankester.) A. Sec­tion through re­gion of atrio-​coelom­ic canal s, v. B . Sec­tion in front of mouth; the right and left sides are trans­posed. a, Cav­ity sur­round­ing fin ray; a’, fin ray; b, mus­cu­lar tis­sue of my­otome; c, nerve- cord; d, no­to­chord; c, left aor­ta; f thick­ened ridges of ep­ithe­li­um of prae­oral cham­ber (Rad­er or­gan); g, coiled tube ly­ing in a coelom­ic space on right side of prae­oral hood, ap­par­ent­ly an artery; h, cu­ti­cle of no­to­chord; i, con­nec­tive-​tis­sue sheath of no­to­chord; k, me­di­an ridge of skele­tal canal of nerve-​cord; l, skele­tal canal pro­tect­ing nerve-​cord; m, in­ter-​seg­men­tal skele­tal sep­tum of my­otome; n, sub­cu­ta­neous skele­tal con­nec­tive tis­sue; o, dit­to of meta­pleur (this should be rel­ative­ly thick­er than it is); q, sub­cu­ta­neous con­nec­tive tis­sue of ven­tral sur­face of atri­al wall (not a canal, as sup­posed by Stie­da and oth­ers); r, epi­blas­tic ep­ithe­li­um; s go­nad-​sac con­tain­ing ova; t, pha­ryn­geal bar in sec­tion, one of the pharyn­go-​pleu­ral fold and coelom; v, atrio-​coelom­ic fun­nel; w, so-​called “dor­sal” coelom; x, lym­phat­ic space or canal of meta­pleur; y, sub-​pha­ryn­geal vas­cu­lar trunk; z, blood-​ves­sel (por­tal vein) on wall of hep­at­ic cae­cum; aa, space of atri­al or branchial cham­ber; bb, ven­tral groove of phar­ynx (an­te­ri­or­ly this takes the form of a ridge); cc, hy­per­branchial groove of phar­ynx; dd, lu­men or space of hep­at­ic cae­cum; ee, nar­row coelom­ic space sur­round­ing hep­at­ic cae­cum; ff) lin­ing cell-​lay­er of hep­at­ic cae­cum; gg, in­ner face of a pha­ryn­geal bar clothed with hy­poblast, the out­er face cov­ered with epi­blast (rep­re­sent­ed black); hh, a main pha­ryn­geal bar with pro­ject­ing pha­ryn­geal fold (on which the ref­er­ence line rests) in sec­tion, show­ing coelom­ic space be­neath the black epi­blast; ii, trans­verse ven­tral mus­cle of epi­pleu­ra; kk, raphe or plane of fu­sion of two down-​grown epi­pleu­ra; ll, space and nu­cle­at­ed cells on dor­sal face of no­to­chord; mm, sim­ilar space and cells on its ven­tral face. lobe and the mouth. As al­ready stat­ed, the no­to­chord ex­tends be­yond the mouth to the tip of the ros­trum. The mouth con­sists of two por­tions, an out­er vestibule and an in­ner aper­tu­ra oris; the lat­ter is sur­round­ed by a sphinc­ter mus­cle, which forms the so-​called velum. The vestibule of the mouth is the space bound­ed by the oral hood; this aris­es by sec­ondary down­growth of lid-​like folds over the true oral aper­ture, and is pro­vid­ed with a fringe of ten­tac­ular cir­ri, each of which is sup­port­ed by a sol­id skele­tal ax­is. The oral hood with its cir­ri has a spe­cial nerve sup­ply and mus­cu­la­ture by which the cir­ri can be ei­ther spread out, or bent in­wards so that those of one side may in­ter­dig­itate with those of the oth­er, thus com­plete­ly clos­ing the en­trance to the mouth. The velum is al­so pro­vid­ed with a cir­clet of twelve tan­ta­cles (in some species six­teen) which hang back­wards in­to the phar­ynx; these are the ve­lar ten­ta­cles. The atri­al re­gion ex­tends from the mouth over about two-​thirds of the length of the body, ter­mi­nat­ing at a large me­di­an ven­tral aper­ture, the atri­opore; this is the ex­cur­rent ori­fice for the res­pi­ra­to­ry cur­rent of wa­ter and al­so serves for the evac­ua­tion of the gen­er­ative prod­ucts. This re­gion

FIG. 4.–Am­phioxus lance­ola­tus laid open ven­tral­ly. (Af­ter Rathke, slight­ly al­tered.) m, Mouth ap­pear­ing as an elon­gat­ed slit when re­laxed (as in the lam­prey); p, per­fo­rat­ed phar­ynx; e, en­dostyle; g, go­nads; l, liv­er; at, lev­el of atri­opore; i, in­tes­tine; an, anus. In this species the atri­um is pro­duced as an asym­met­ri­cal blind pouch be­hind the atri­opore as far as the anus.

is re­al­ly the bran­chio­gen­ital re­gion, al­though the fact is not ap­par­ent in ex­ter­nal view. The ven­tral side of the body in the atri­al re­gion is broad and con­vex, in the atri­al re­gion is broad and con­vex, so that the body presents the ap­pear­ance of a spher­ical tri­an­gle in trans­verse sec­tion, the apex be­ing formed by the dor­sal fin and the an­gles bor­dered by two hol­low folds, the meta­pleu­ral folds, each of which con­tains a con­tin­uous lon­gi­tu­di­nal lymph-​space, the meta­pleu­ral canal. In the genus Bran­chios­toma the meta­pleu­ral folds ter­mi­nate sym­met­ri­cal­ly short­ly be­hind the atri­opore, but in Het­ero­pleu­ron the right meta­pleur pass­es un­in­ter­rupt­ed­ly in­to the me­di­an crest of the ven­tral fin (fig. 1). In this con­nex­ion it may al­so be men­tioned that in all cas­es the right half of the oral hood is di­rect­ly con­tin­uous with the ros­tral fin (fig. 2). The ab­dom­inal re­gion com­pris­es a short stretch of body be­tween atri­opore and anus, the ter­mi­na­tion of the al­imen­ta­ry canal. It is char­ac­ter­ized by the pres­ence of a spe­cial de­vel­op­ment of the lophio­derm or me­di­an fin-​sys­tem, name­ly, the ven­tral fin, which is com­posed of two por­tions, a low­er keel-​like por­tion, which un­der­lies an up­per cham­bered por­tion, each cham­ber con­tain­ing typ­ical­ly a pair of gelati­nous fin rays. Fi­nal­ly, the cau­dal re­gion com­pris­es the post-​anal di­vi­sion of the trunk. The keel of the ven­tral fin is con­tin­ued past the anus in­to the ex­pand­ed cau­dal fin, and so it hap­pens that the anal open­ing is dis­placed from the mid­dle line to the left side of the fin. In Asym­metron the cau­dal re­gion is re­mark­able for the cu­ri­ous elon­ga­tion of the no­to­chord, which is pro­duced far be­yond the last of the my­otomes.

Al­imen­ta­ry, Res­pi­ra­to­ry and Ex­cre­to­ry Sys­tems.–Al­though the func­tion of the two lat­ter sys­tems of or­gans is the pu­rifi­ca­tion of the blood, they are not usu­al­ly con­sid­ered to­geth­er, and it is there­fore the more re­mark­able that their close as­so­ci­ation in Am­phioxus ren­ders it nec­es­sary to treat them in com­mon. The al­imen­ta­ry canal is a per­fect­ly straight tube lined through­out by cil­iat­ed ep­ithe­li­um. As food par­ti­cles pass in through the mouth they be­come en­veloped in a slimy sub­stance (se­cret­ed by the en­dostyle) and con­veyed down the gut by the ac­tion of the vi­bratile cil­ia as a con­tin­uous food-​rope, the peri­staltic move­ments of the gut-​wall be­ing very fee­ble. The first part of the al­imen­ta­ry canal con­sists of the phar­ynx or branchial sac, the side walls of which are per­fo­rat­ed by up­wards of six­ty pairs of elon­gat­ed slits, the gill-​clefts. Each pri­ma­ry gill-​cleft be­comes di­vid­ed in­to two by a tongue-​bar which grows down sec­on­dar­ily from the up­per wall of the cleft and fus­es with the ven­tral wall. New clefts con­tin­ue to form at the pos­te­ri­or end of the phar­ynx dur­ing the adult life of the an­imal. The gill-​clefts open di­rect­ly from the cav­ity of the phar­ynx in­to that of the atri­um, and so give egress to the res­pi­ra­to­ry cur­rent which en­ters the mouth with the food (fig. 4). The atri­um or atri­al cham­ber is a pe­ripha­ryn­geal cav­ity of sec­ondary ori­gin ef­fect­ing the en­clo­sure of the gill-​clefts, which in the lar­va opened di­rect­ly to the ex­te­ri­or. The atri­um is thus anal­ogous to the op­er­cu­lar cav­ity of fish­es and tad­poles, and, as stat­ed above, re­mains in com­mu­ni­ca­tion with the ex­te­ri­or by means of the atri­opore. The pri­ma­ry and sec­ondary bars which sep­arate and di­vide the suc­ces­sive gill-​clefts from one an­oth­er are tra­versed by blood-​ves­sels which run from a sim­ple tubu­lar con­trac­tile ven­tral branchial ves­sel along the bars in­to a dor­sal aor­ta. The ven­tral branchial ves­sel lies be­low the hy­po­branchial groove or en­dostyle; and is the rep­re­sen­ta­tive of a heart. As wa­ter for res­pi­ra­tion streams through the clefts, gaseous in­ter­change takes place be­tween the cir­cu­lat­ing colour­less blood and the per­co­lat­ing wa­ter. The phar­ynx projects freely in­to the atri­um; it is sur­round­ed at the sides and be­low by the con­tin­uous atri­al cav­ity, but dor­sal­ly it is held in po­si­tion in two ways. First, its dor­sal wall (which is grooved to form the hy­per­pha­ryn­geal groove) is close­ly ad­her­ent to the sheath of the no­to­chord; and sec­ond­ly, the phar­ynx is at­tached through the in­ter­me­di­ation of the pri­ma­ry bars. These are sus­pend­ed to the mus­cu­lar body- wall by a dou­ble mem­brane, called the lig­amen­tum den­tic­ula­tum, which forms at once the roof of the atri­al cham­ber and the floor of a per­sis­tent por­tion of the orig­inal body-​cav­ity or coelom (the dor­sal coelom­ic canal on each side of the phar­ynx). The lig­amen­tum den­tic­ula­tum is thus lined on one side by the epi­blas­tic atri­al ep­ithe­li­um, and on the oth­er by mesoblas­tic coelom­ic ep­ithe­li­um. Now this lig­ament is in­sert­ed in­to the pri­ma­ry bars some dis­tance be­low the up­per lim­its of the gill-​clefts, and it there­fore fol­lows that, cor­re­spond­ing with each tongue-​bar, the atri­al cav­ity is pro­duced up­ward be­yond the in­ser­tion of the lig­ament in­to a se­ries of bags or pock­ets, which may be called the atri­al pouch­es. At the top of each of these pouch­es there is a minute ori­fice, the aper­ture of a small tubule ly­ing above each pouch in the dor­sal coelom. These tubules are the ex­cre­to­ry tubules or nephridia. They com­mu­ni­cate with the coelom by sev­er­al open­ings or nephros­tomes, and with the atri­um by a sin­gle open­ing in each case, the nephrid­io­pore. It is im­por­tant to em­pha­size the fact that in Am­phioxus the ex­cre­to­ry tubules are co-​ex­ten­sive with the gill-​clefts. The per­fo­rat­ed phar­ynx ter­mi­nates some dis­tance in front of the atri­opore. At the lev­el of its pos­te­ri­or end a pair of fun­nelashaped pouch­es of the atri­um are pro­duced for­wards in­to the dor­sal coelom. These are the atri­al coelom­ic fun­nels or brown fun­nels, so called on ac­count of the char­ac­ter­is­tic pig­men­ta­tion of their walls. There are rea­sons for sup­pos­ing that these fun­nels are ves­tiges of an an­cient ex­cre­to­ry sys­tem, which has giv­en way by sub­sti­tu­tion to the ex­cre­to­ry tubules de­scribed above. In the same re­gion of the body, name­ly, close be­hind the phar­ynx, a large di­ver­tic­ulum is giv­en off from the ven­tral side of the gut. This is the hep­at­ic cae­cum (fig. 2,2,q, fig. 4, l), which is quite me­di­an at its first ori­gin, but, as it grows in length, comes to lie against the right wall of the phar­ynx. Al­though with­in the atri­al cav­ity, it is sep­arat­ed from the lat­ter by a nar­row coelom­ic space, bound­ed to­wards the atri­um by coelom­ic and atri­al ep­ithe­li­um. No food pass­es in­to the hep­at­ic cae­cum, which has been de finite­ly shown on em­bry­olog­ical and phys­io­log­ical grounds to be the sim­plest per­sis­tent form of the ver­te­brate liv­er.

Ner­vous Sys­tem.–As has al­ready been in­di­cat­ed, a sol­id sub­cylin­dri­cal elas­tic rod, the no­to­chord, sur­round­ed by a sheath of lam­inar con­nec­tive tis­sue, the cordal sheath, lies above the al­imen­ta­ry canal in con­tact with its dor­sal wall, and ex­tends be­yond it both in front and be­hind to the ob­tuse­ly point­ed ex­trem­ities of the body. This no­to­chord rep­re­sents the per­sis­tent pri­mor­dial skele­tal ax­is which, in the high­er Cra­ni­ata (though not so in the low­er), gives way by sub­sti­tu­tion to the seg­ment­ed ver­te­bral col­umn. Im­me­di­ate­ly above the no­to­chord there lies an­oth­er sub­cylin­dri­cal cord, al­so sur­round­ed by a sheath of con­nec­tive tis­sue. This cord is nei­ther elas­tic nor sol­id, but con­sists of nerve tis­sue, fi­bres and gan­glion cells, sur­round­ing a small cen­tral canal. For the sake of uni­for­mi­ty in nomen­cla­ture this nerve-​cord may be called the neu­ro­chord. It is the cen­tral ner­vous sys­tem, and con­tains with­in it­self the el­ements of the brain and spinal mar­row of high­er forms. The neu­ro­chord ta­pers to­wards its pos­te­ri­or end, where it is co­ex­ten­sive with the no­to­chord, but ends abrupt­ly in front, some dis­tance be­hind the tip of the snout. The neu­ro­chord at­tains its great­est thick­ness not at its an­te­ri­or end but some way be­hind this re­gion; but the cen­tral canal di­lates at the an­te­ri­or ex­trem­ity to form a thin-​walled cere­bral vesi­cle, in the front wall of which there is an ag­gre­ga­tion of dark pig­ment cells con­sti­tut­ing an eye­spot, vis­ible through the trans­par­ent skin (fig. 1). There are two pairs of spe­cial­ized cere­bral nerves in­ner­vat­ing the prae­oral lobe, and pro­vid­ed with pe­riph­er­al gan­glia placed near the ter­mi­na­tion of the small­er branch­es. Cor­re­spond­ing with each pair of my­otomes, and sub­ject to the same al­ter­na­tion, two pairs of spinal nerves arise from the neu­ro­chord, name­ly, a right and left pair of com­pact dor­sal sen­so­ry roots with­out gan­glion­ic en­large­ment, and a right and left pair of ven­tral mo­tor roots com­posed of loose fi­bres is­su­ing sep­arate­ly from the neu­ro­chord and pass­ing di­rect­ly to their ter­mi­na­tion on the mus­cle-​plates of the my­otomes. The first dor­sal spinal nerve co­in­cides in po­si­tion with the my­ocom­ma which sep­arates the first my­otome from the sec­ond on each side, and there­after the suc­ces­sive dor­sal roots pass through the sub­stance of the my­ocom­ma­ta on their way to the skin; they are there­fore sep­tal or in­ter­seg­men­tal in po­si­tion. The ven­tral roots, on the con­trary, are myal or seg­men­tal in po­si­tion. In ad­di­tion to the cere­bral eye­spot there are large num­bers of minute black pig­ment­ed bod­ies be­side and be­low the cen­tral canal of the neu­ro­chord, com­menc­ing from the lev­el of the third my­otome. It has been de­ter­mined that these bod­ies are of the na­ture of eyes (Becher­au­gen, R. Hesse), each con­sist­ing of two cells, a cup-​shaped pig­ment cell and a tri­an­gu­lar reti­nal cell. These may be called the spinal eyes, and it is said that they are dis­posed in such a way as to re­ceive il­lu­mi­na­tion pref­er­en­tial­ly from the right side, al­though this fact has no re­la­tion with the side up­on which Am­phioxus may lie up­on the sand. When kept in cap­tiv­ity the an­imal of­ten lies up­on one side on the sur­face of the sand, but on ei­ther side in­dif­fer­ent­ly. Over the cere­bral eye there is a small ori­fice placed to the left of the base of the cephal­ic fin, lead­ing in­to a pit which ex­tends from the sur­face of the body to the sur­face of the cere­bral vesi­cle; this is known as A. von Kol­lik­er’s ol­fac­to­ry pit.

Re­pro­duc­tive Sys­tem.–The sex­es are sep­arate, and the male or fe­male

Fig. 5.–Di­agram of em­bryo go­nads, or Am­phioxus seen from above in op­ti­cal sec­tion. (Adapt­ed from Hatschek.) pc, Prae­chordal head-​cav­ity of em­bryo; cc, col­lar-​cav­ity (first somite); my, meso­der­mic somites (my­ocoelom­ic or archen­ter­ic pouch­es); ch, no­to­chord with the neu­ral tube (neu­ro­chord) ly­ing up­on it; np, an­te­ri­or neu­ro­pore; ne, po­si­tion of pos­te­ri­or neurenter­ic canal.

go­nads, which are ex­act­ly sim­ilar in out­ward ap­pear­ance, oc­cur as a se­ries of go­nadic pouch­es pro­ject­ing in­to the atri­al cav­ity at the base of the my­otomes (figs. 2, 3, 4). At the breed­ing sea­son the walls of the pouch­es burst and the sex­ual el­ements pass in­to the atri­um, whence they are dis­charged through the atri­opore in­to the wa­ter, where fer­til­iza­tion takes place.

De­vel­op­ment.–The de­vel­op­ment of Am­phioxus pos­sess­es many fea­tures of in­ter­est, and can­not fail to re­tain its im­por­tance as an in­tro­duc­tion to the study of em­bry­ol­ogy. The four prin­ci­pal phas­es in the de­vel­op­ment are: (1) Blas­tu­la, (2) Gas­tru­la, (3) Flag­el­late Em­bryo, (4) Lar­va. The seg­men­ta­tion or cleav­age of the ovum which fol­lows up­on fer­til­iza­tion ter­mi­nates in the achieve­ment of the blas­tu­la form, a minute sphere of cells sur­round­ing a cen­tral cav­ity. Then fol­lows the phe­nomenon of gas­tru­la­tion, by which one-​half of the blas­tu­la is in­vagi­nat­ed in­to the oth­er, so as to oblit­er­ate the seg­men­ta­tion cav­ity. The em­bryo now con­sists of two lay­ers of cells, epi­blast and hy­poblast, sur­round­ing a cav­ity, the archen­teron, which opens to the ex­te­ri­or by the ori­fice of in­vagi­na­tion or blasto­pore. One im­por­tant fact should

FIG. 6.–An­te­ri­or re­gion of two pelag­ic lar­vae of A. lance­ola­tus ob­tained by the tow-​net in 8-10 fath­oms, show­ing the asym­me­try of the large lat­er­al sinis­tral mouth with its cil­iat­ed mar­gin cm and the dex­tral se­ries of sim­ple pri­ma­ry gill-​slits (1ps-14ps.) The lar­vae swim nor­mal­ly like the adult or sus­pend them­selves by their flag­el­la (not shown in the fig­ures) ver­ti­cal­ly in mid-​wa­ter. There is noth­ing in their mode of life which will af­ford an ex­pla­na­tion of the asym­me­try which is a de­vel­op­men­tal phe­nomenon. Let­ter­ing of up­per fig­ure.–anp, An­te­ri­or neu­ral pore; bc, rudi­ment of buc­cal skele­ton; c, cil­ia; cb, cil­iat­ed band; cc, cil­iat­ed groove; cm, cil­ia at mar­gin of mouth; gl, ex­ter­nal open­ing of club-​shaped gland; Hn, Hatschek’s nephrid­ium; lm, left meta­pleur; n, no­to­chord; pp, prae­oral pit; ps, pri­ma­ry gill-​slits, 1, 5, and 13; rm, right meta­pleur show­ing through. Let­ter­ing of’low­er fgure.–a, Atri­um; al, al­imen­ta­ry canal; bp, blood-​ves­sel; cv, cere­bral vesi­cle; df, dor­sal sec­tion of my­ocoel (=fin spaces); e, “eye­spot”; end, en­dostyle; gl, club-​shaped gland; lm, edge of left meta­pleur; m, low­er edge of mouth; n, no­to­chord; nt} pig­ment­ed nerve tube; ps, pri­ma­ry gill-​slits, 1, 9, and 14; rc, re­nal cells on atri­al floor; rm, edge of right meta­pleur; so, sense or­gan open­ing in­to prae­oral pit; ss, thick­en­ings, the rudi­ments of the row of sec­ondary gill-​slits.

be not­ed with re­gard to the gas­tru­la, in which it seems to dif­fer from the gas­tru­lae of in­ver­te­bra­ta. Af­ter in­vagi­na­tion is com­plet­ed, the em­bryo be­gins to elon­gate, the blasto­pore be­comes nar­row­er, and the dor­sal wall of the gas­tru­la los­es its con­vex­ity, and be­comes flat­tened to form the dor­sal plate, the out­er lay­er of which is the pri­mordi­um of the neu­ro­chord and the in­ner lay­er the pri­mordi­um of the no­to­chord. While still with­in the egg-​mem­brane the epi­blas­tic cells be­come flag­el­lat­ed, and the gas­tru­la ro­tates with­in the mem­brane. About the eighth hour af­ter com­mence­ment of de­vel­op­ment the mem­brane rup­tures and the oval em­bryo es­capes, swim­ming by means of its flag­el­la at the sur­face of the sea for an­oth­er twen­ty-​four hours, dur­ing which the prin­ci­pal or­gans are laid down, al­though the mouth does not open un­til the close of this pe­ri­od. The pri­mordi­um of the neu­ro­chord (neu­ral or medullary plate) re­ferred to above be­comes closed in from the sur­face by the over­growth of sur­round­ing epi­blast, and its edges al­so bend up, meet, and fi­nal­ly fuse to form a tube, the medullary or neu­ral tube. An im­por­tant fact to note is that the blasto­pore is in­clud­ed in this over­growth of epi­blast, so that the neu­ral tube re­mains for some time in open com­mu­ni­ca­tion with the archen­teron by means of a pos­te­ri­or neurenter­ic canal. It is still longer be­fore the neu­ral tube com­pletes its clo­sure in front, ex­hibit­ing a small ori­fice at the sur­face, the an­te­ri­or neu­ro­pore. It is thus pos­si­ble that the neurenter­ic canal is due to the con­junc­tion of a pos­te­ri­or neu­ro­pore with the blasto­pore, i.e. it is a com­plex and not a sim­ple struc­ture. Paired archen­ter­ic pouch­es mean­while ap­pear at the sides of the ax­ial no­to­chordal tract, the mesoblas­tic somites. The first of these dif­fers in sev­er­al re­spects from those which suc­ceed, and has been called the col­lar cav­ity (MacBride). In front of the lat­ter there re­mains a por­tion of the archen­teron, which be­comes con­strict­ed off as the head cav­ity. This be­comes di­vid­ed in­to two, the right half form­ing the cav­ity of the ros­trum, while the left ac­quires an open­ing to the ex­te­ri­or, and forms the prae­oral pit of the lar­va, which sub­se­quent­ly gives rise to spe­cial cil­iat­ed tracts in the vestibule of the mouth men­tioned above. The lar­val pe­ri­od com­mences at about the thir­ty-​sixth hour with the per­fo­ra­tion of the mouth, first gill-​cleft and anus. The lar­va is cu­ri­ous­ly asym­met­ri­cal, as many as four­teen gill-​clefts ap­pear­ing in an un­paired se­ries on the right side, while the mouth is a large ori­fice on the left side, the anus be­ing me­di­an. The adult form is achieved by meta­mor­pho­sis, which can­not be fur­ther de­scribed here. One point must not be omit­ted, name­ly, the ho­moge­ny of the en­dostyle of Am­phioxus and the thy­roid gland of Cra­ni­ata.

REF­ER­ENCES.–T. Boveri, “Die Nieren­canalchen des Am­phioxus,” Zo­ol Jahrb. Anat. v. (1892), p. 429; T. Fe­lix, “Beitrage zur En­twick­elungs­geschichte der Salmoniden,” Anat. Hefte Arb. vi­ii. 1897; Am­phioxus, p. 333; T. Gar­bows­ki, “Am­phioxus als Grund­lage der Meso­dermthe­orie,” Anat Anz. xiv. (1898), p. 473; R. Hesse, “Die Se­hor­gane des Am­phioxus,” Zeitschr. wiss. Zo­ol. lxi­ii. (1898), p 456; J. W. Kirkaldy, “A Re­vi­sion of the Gen­era and Species of the Bran­chios­to­mi­dae,” Quart. J. Mi­cr. Sci. xxxvii. (1895), p. 303; E. R. Lankester, “Con­tri­bu­tions to the Knowl­edge of Am­phioxus lance­ola­tus (Yarrell),” op. cit., xxix. (1889), p. 365; Lwoff, “Die Bil­dung der pri­maren Ke­im­blat­ter und die Entste­hung der Chor­da und des Meso­derms bei den Wirbelth­ieren,” Bull. Soc. Moscow (1894); E. W. MacBride, “The ear­ly De­vel­op­ment of Am­phioxus,” Quart. J. Mi­cr. Sci. xl. (1897), p. 589, and xli­ii. (1900); T. H. Mor­gan and A. P. Hazen, “The Gas­tru­la­tion of Am­phioxus,” J. Mor­phol. xvi. (1900), p. 569; P. Sam­mas­sa, “Stu­di­en uber den Ein­fluss des Dot­ters auf die Gas­tru­la­tion und die Bil­dung der pri­maren Ke­im­blat­ter der Wirbelth­iere: iv. Am­phioxus,” Arch. f. En­twick. Mech. vii. (1898), p. 1; G. Schnei­der, “Einiges uber Re­sorp­tion und Ex­cre­tion bei Am­phioxus lance­ola­tus,” Anat. Anz. xvi. (1899), p. 601; J. Sobot­ta, “Die Rei­fung und Be­fruch­tung des Eies von Am­phioxus lance­ola­tus,” Arch. mikr. Anat. l. (1897), p. 15; F. E. Weiss, “Ex­cre­to­ry tubules in Am­phioxus lance­ola­tus,” Quart. J. Mi­cr. Sci. xxxi. (1890), p. 489; A. Wil­ley, Am­phioxus and the an­ces­try of the Ver­te­brates (1894); “Re­marks on some re­cent Work on the Pro­to­chor­da,” Quart. J. Mi­cr. Sci. xli­ii. (1899), p. 223; pleu­ron of New Zealand,” ib. (1901); E. Bur­chardt, “Fin­er Anato­my of Am­phioxus,” with bib­li­og­ra­phy, Je­na Zeitschr. xxxiv. (1900), p. 719. (A. W.*)

AM­PHIPO­LIS (mod. Yeni Keui), an an­cient city of Mace­do­nia, on the east bank of the riv­er Stry­mon, where it emerges from Lake Cercini­tis, about 3 m. from the sea. Orig­inal­ly a Thra­cian town, known as ‘En­nea `Odoi (“Nine Roads”), it was col­onized by Athe­ni­ans with oth­er Greeks un­der Hagnon in 437 B.C., pre­vi­ous at­tempts–in 497, 476 (Schol. Aesch. De fals. leg. 31) and 465–hav­ing been un­suc­cess­ful. In 424 B.C. it sur­ren­dered to the Spar­tan Brasi­das with­out re­sis­tance, ow­ing to the gross neg­li­gence of the his­to­ri­an Thucy­dides, who was with the fleet at Tha­sos. In 422 B.C. Cleon led an un­suc­cess­ful ex­pe­di­tion to re­cov­er it, in which both he and Brasi­das were slain. The im­por­tance of Am­phipo­lis in an­cient times was due to the fact that it com­mand­ed the bridge over the Stry­mon, and con­se­quent­ly the route from north­ern Greece to the Helle­spont; it was im­por­tant al­so as a de­pot for the gold and sil­ver mines of the dis­trict, and for tim­ber, which was large­ly used in ship­build­ing. This im­por­tance is shown by the fact that, in the peace of Nicias (421 B.C.), its restora­tion to Athens is made the sub­ject of a spe­cial pro­vi­sion, and that about 417, this pro­vi­sion not hav­ing been ob­served, at least one ex­pe­di­tion was made by Nicias with a view to its re­cov­ery. Philip of Mace­don made a spe­cial point of oc­cu­py­ing it (357), and un­der the ear­ly em­pire it be­came the head­quar­ters of the Ro­man pro­prae­tor, though it was rec­og­nized as in­de­pen­dent. Many in­scrip­tions, coins, &c., have been found here, and traces of the an­cient for­ti­fi­ca­tions and of a Ro­man aque­duct are vis­ible.

AM­PHIPROSTYLE (from the Gr. am­fi, on both sides, and pros­tu­los, a por­ti­co), the term for a tem­ple (q.v.) with a por­ti­co both in the front and in the rear.

AM­PHIS­BAE­NA (a Greek word, from am­fis, both ways, and bainein, to go), a ser­pent in an­cient mythol­ogy, be­gin­ning or end­ing at both head and tail alike. Its fa­bled ex­is­tence has been uti­lized by the po­ets, such as Mil­ton, Pope and Ten­nyson. In mod­ern zo­ol­ogy it is the name giv­en to the main genus of a fam­ily of worm-​shaped lizards, most of which in­hab­it the trop­ical parts of Amer­ica, the West In­dies and Africa. The com­mon­est species in South Amer­ica and the An­tilles is the sooty or dusky A. fulig­inosa. The body of the am­phis­bae­na, from 18 to 20 in. long, is of near­ly the same thick­ness through­out. The head is small, and there can scarce­ly be said to be a tail, the vent be­ing close to the ex­trem­ity of the body. The an­imal lives most­ly un­der­ground, bur­row­ing in soft earth, and feeds on ants and oth­er small an­imals. From its ap­pear­ance, and the ease with which it moves back­wards, has arisen the pop­ular be­lief that the am­phis­bae­na has two heads, and that when the body is cut in two the parts seek each oth­er out and re­unite. From this has arisen an­oth­er pop­ular er­ror, which at­tributes ex­traor­di­nary cu­ra­tive prop­er­ties to its flesh when dried and pul­ver­ized.

AM­PHITHE­ATRE (Gr. am­fi, around, and the­atron, a place for spec­ta­tors), a build­ing in which the seats for spec­ta­tors sur­round the scene of the per­for­mance. The word was doubt­less coined by the Greeks of Cam­pa­nia, since it was here that the glad­ia­to­ri­al shows for which the am­phithe­atre was pri­mar­ily used were first or­ga­nized as pub­lic spec­ta­cles. The ear­li­est build­ing of the kind still ex­tant is that at Pom­peii, built af­ter 80 B.C. It is called spec­tac­ula in a con­tem­po­rary in­scrip­tion. The word am­phithe­atrum is first found in writ­ers of the Au­gus­tan age.

In Italy, com­bats of glad­ia­tors at first took place in the fo­rums, where tem­po­rary wood­en scaf­fold­ings were erect­ed for the spec­ta­tors; and Vit­ru­vius gives this as the rea­son why in that coun­try the fo­rums were in the shape of a par­al­lel­ogram in­stead of be­ing squares as in Greece. Wild beasts were al­so hunt­ed in the cir­cus. But to­wards the end of the Ro­man re­pub­lic, when the shows in­creased both in fre­quen­cy and in cost­li­ness, spe­cial build­ings be­gan to be pro­vid­ed for them.

The first am­phithe­atre at Rome was that con­struct­ed, 59 B.C., by C. Scri­bo­nius Cu­rio. Pliny tells us that Cu­rio built two wood­en the­atres, which were placed back to back, and that af­ter the dra­mat­ic rep­re­sen­ta­tions were fin­ished, they were turned round, with all the spec­ta­tors in them, so as to make one cir­cu­lar the­atre, in the cen­tre of which glad­ia­tors fought; but the sto­ry is in­cred­ible, and must have arisen from the false trans­la­tion of am­fithe­atron by “dou­ble the­atre.” It is un­cer­tain whether Cae­sar, in 46 B.C., con­struct­ed a tem­po­rary am­phithe­atre of wood for his shows of wild beasts; at any rate, the first per­ma­nent am­phithe­atre was built by C. Statil­ius Tau­rus in 20 B.C. Prob­ably the shell on­ly was of stone. It was burnt in the great fire of A.D. 64.

We hear of an am­phithe­atre be­gun by Caligu­la and of a wood­en struc­ture raised in the year A.D. 57 by Nero; but these were su­per­seded by the Am­phithe­atrum Flav­ium (known at least since the 8th cen­tu­ry as the Colos­se­um, from its colos­sal size), which was be­gun by Ves­pasian on the site of an ar­ti­fi­cial lake in­clud­ed in the Gold­en House of Nero, and in­au­gu­rat­ed by Ti­tus in A.D. 80 with shows last­ing one hun­dred days. It was sev­er­al times re­stored by the em­per­ors, hav­ing been twice struck by light­ning in the 3rd cen­tu­ry and twice dam­aged by earth­quake in the 5th. Glad­ia­to­ri­al shows were sup­pressed by Hon­orius in A.D. 404, and wild beast shows are not record­ed af­ter the reign of Theodor­ic (d. A.D. 526). In the 8th cen­tu­ry Be­de wrote Quamdiu stabit Col­iseus, stabit et Ro­ma; quan­do cadet Col­iseus, cadet et Ro­ma. A large part of the west­ern ar­cades seem to have col­lapsed in the earth­quake of A.D. 1349, and their re­mains were used in the Re­nais­sance as a quar­ry for build­ing ma­te­ri­als (e.g. for the Palaz­zo di Venezia, the Can­cel­le­ria and the Palaz­zo Far­nese).

Rome pos­sess­es the re­mains of a sec­ond am­phithe­atre on the Es­quiline, called by the chro­nol­ogist of A.D. 354 Am­phithe­atrum Cas­trense, which prob­ably means the “court” or “im­pe­ri­al” am­phithe­atre. Its fine brick­work seems to date from Tra­jan’s reign. It was in­clud­ed by Au­re­lian in the cir­cuit of his wall. The re­mains of nu­mer­ous am­phithe­atres ex­ist in the var­ious provinces of the em­pire. The finest are–in Italy, those of Verona (prob­ably of the Fla­vian pe­ri­od), Ca­pua (built un­der Hadri­an) and Poz­zuoli; in France, at Nimes, Ar­les and Fre­jus; in Spain, at Ital­ica (near Seville); in Tunisia, at Thys­drus (El-​Jem); and at Po­la, in Dal­ma­tia. The builders of­ten took ad­van­tage of nat­ural fea­tures, such as a de­pres­sion be­tween hills; and rud­er struc­tures, main­ly con­sist­ing of banked-​up earth, are found, e.g. at Silch­ester (Cal­le­va). The am­phithe­atre at Pom­peii (length 444ft., breadth 342 ft., seat­ing ca­pac­ity 20,000) is formed by a huge em­bank­ment of earth sup­port­ed by a re­tain­ing wall and high but­tress­es car­ry­ing arch­es. The stone seats (of which there are thir­ty-​five rows in three di­vi­sions) were on­ly grad­ual­ly con­struct­ed as the means of the com­mu­ni­ty al­lowed. Ac­cess to the high­est seats was giv­en by ex­ter­nal stair­cas­es, and there was no sys­tem of un­der­ground cham­bers for wild beasts, com­bat­ants, &c.

In con­trast to this sim­ple struc­ture the Colos­se­um rep­re­sents the most elab­orate type of am­phithe­atre cre­at­ed by the ar­chi­tects of the em­pire. Its ex­ter­nal el­eva­tion con­sist­ed of four storeys. The three low­est had ar­cades whose piers were adorned with en­gaged columns of the three Greek or­ders. The arch­es num­bered eighty. Those of the base­ment storey served as en­trances; sev­en­ty-​six were num­bered and al­lot­ted to the gen­er­al body of spec­ta­tors, those at the ex­trem­ities of the ma­jor ax­is led in­to the are­na, and the box­es re­served for the em­per­or and the pre­sid­ing mag­is­trate were ap­proached from the ex­trem­ities of the mi­nor ax­is. The high­er ar­cades had a low para­pet with (ap­par­ent­ly) a stat­ue in each arch, and gave light and air to the pas­sages which sur­round­ed the build­ing. The open­ings of the ar­cades above the prin­ci­pal en­trances were larg­er than the rest, and were adorned with fig­ures of char­iots. The high­est stage was com­posed of a con­tin­uous wall of ma­son­ry, pierced by forty small square win­dows, and adorned with Corinthi­an pi­lasters. There was al­so a se­ries of brack­ets to sup­port the poles on which the awning was stretched.

The in­te­ri­or may be nat­ural­ly di­vid­ed in­to the are­na and the cavea (see an­nexed plan, which shows the Colos­se­um at two dif­fer­ent lev­els).

The are­na was the por­tion as­signed to the com­bat­ants, and de­rived its name from the sand with which it was strewn, to ab­sorb the blood and pre­vent it from be­com­ing slip­pery. Some of the em­per­ors showed their prodi­gal­ity by sub­sti­tut­ing pre­cious pow­ders, and even gold dust, for sand. The are­na was gen­er­al­ly of the same shape as the am­phithe­atre it­self, and was sep­arat­ed from the spec­ta­tors by a wall built per­fect­ly smooth, that the wild beasts might not by any pos­si­bil­ity climb it. At Rome it was faced in­side with pol­ished mar­ble, but at Pom­peii it was sim­ply paint­ed. For fur­ther se­cu­ri­ty, it was sur­round­ed by a met­al rail­ing or net­work, and the are­na was some­times sur­round­ed al­so by a ditch (eu­ri­pus), es­pe­cial­ly on ac­count of the ele­phants. Be­low the are­na were sub­ter­ranean cham­bers and pas­sages, from which wild beasts and glad­ia­tors were raised on mov­able plat­forms (peg­ma­ta) through trap-​doors. Such cham­bers have been found in the am­phithe­atres of Ca­pua and Poz­zuoli as well as in the Colos­se­um. Means were al­so pro­vid­ed by which the are­na could be flood­ed when a sea-​fight (nau­machia) was ex­hib­it­ed, as was done by Ti­tus at the in­au­gu­ra­tion of the Colos­se­um.

The part as­signed to the spec­ta­tors was called cavea. It was di­vid­ed in­to sev­er­al gal­leries (mae­ni­ana) con­cen­tric with the out­er walls, and there­fore, like them, of an el­lip­ti­cal form. The place of hon­our was the low­est of these, near­est to the are­na, and called the podi­um. The di­vi­sions in it were larg­er, so as to be able to con­tain mov­able seats. At Rome it was here that the em­per­or sat, his box bear­ing the name of sug­ges­tus, cu­bicu­lum or pul­vinar. The sen­ators, prin­ci­pal mag­is­trates, vestal vir­gins, the provider (ed­itor) of the show, and oth­er per­sons of note, oc­cu­pied the rest of the podi­um. At Nimes, be­sides the high of­fi­cials of the town, the podi­um had places as­signed to the prin­ci­pal gilds, whose names are still seen in­scribed up­on it, with the num­ber of places re­served for each. In the Colos­se­um there were three mae­ni­ana above the podi­um, sep­arat­ed from each oth­er by ter­races (praecinc­tiones) and walls (bal­tei), and di­vid­ed ver­ti­cal­ly in­to wedge-​shaped blocks (cunei) by stairs. The low­est was ap­pro­pri­at­ed to the eques­tri­an or­der, the high­est was cov­ered in with a por­ti­co, whose roof formed a ter­race on which spec­ta­tors found stand­ing room. Nu­mer­ous pas­sages (vom­ito­ria) and small stairs gave ac­cess to them; while long cov­ered cor­ri­dors, be­hind and be­low them, served for shel­ter in the event of rain. At Pom­peii each place was num­bered, and else­where their ex­tent is de­fined by lit­tle marks cut in the stone. The spec­ta­tors were ad­mit­ted by tick­ets (tesser­ae), and or­der pre­served by a staff of of­fi­cers ap­point­ed for the pur­pose.

The height of the Colos­se­um is about 160 ft.; but the fourth storey in its present form is not ear­li­er in date than the 3rd cen­tu­ry A.D. It seems to have been orig­inal­ly of wood, since an in­scrip­tion of the year A.D. 80 men­tions the sum­mum mae­ni­anum in ligneis. It is stat­ed in the Noti­tia Ur­bis Ro­mae (4th cen­tu­ry) that the Colos­se­um con­tained 87,000 places; but Huelsen cal­cu­lates that the seats would ac­com­mo­date 45,000 per­sons at most, be­sides whom 5000 could find stand­ing room. The ex­ag­ger­at­ed es­ti­mate is due to the fact that space was al­lot­ted to cor­po­rate bod­ies, whose num­bers were tak­en as da­ta. The great­est length is about 615 ft., and the length of the short­er ax­is of the el­lipse about 510 ft. The di­men­sions of the are­na were 281 ft. by 177 ft.

The fol­low­ing ta­ble, giv­ing the di­men­sions of some of the prin­ci­pal am­phithe­atres, is based main­ly on the fig­ures giv­en by Fried­lan­der (l.c.):–

|———————-|———————|——————–| | | EN­TIRE BUILD­ING. | ARE­NA. | | |———|———–|———-|———| | | Greater | Short­er | Greater | Short­er | | | Ax­is. | Ax­is. | Ax­is. | Ax­is. | | |———|———–|———-|———| | Rome (Colos­se­um) | 615 | 510 1/2 | 281 | 177 | | Ca­pua | 557 | 458 | 250 | 148 | | Ju­lia Cae­sarea | 551 | 289 | 459 | 197 | |Ital­ica (Seville) | 514 | 439 1/2 | . . | . . | | Verona | 502 1/2| 403 | 248 | 145 1/2 | | Thys­drus | 488 | 406 | 308 | 197 | | Tar­ra­co | 486 | 390 | 277 | 181 | | Poz­zuoli | 482 | 383 | 236 1/2 | 137 3/4 | | Tours | 472 | 406 | 223 | 98 1/2 | | Po­la | 449 1/2| 367 1/2 | 230 | 144 1/2 | | Ar­les | 448 | 352 | 229 | 129 | | Pom­peii | 444 | 342 | 218 1/2 | 115 | | Nimes | 440 | 336 | 227 | 126 1/2 | |———————-|———|———–|———-|———|

BIB­LI­OGR­PHY.–Arts. “Am­phithe­atrum” in Smith’s Dic­tio­nary of Greek and Ro­man An­tiq­ui­ties (3rd ed., 1890), and in Darem­berg and Saglio’s Dic­tio­nnaire des an­tiq­uites; Fried­lan­der, Darstel­lun­gen aus der Sit­tengeschichte Roms (6th ed., 1888-1890), vol. ii. pp. 551-620; Durm, Geschichte der Baukun­st, II.2 (1905), 360 ff. Of old­er works, J. Lip­sius, De Am­phithe­atris (1585): Car­lo Fontana, L’An­fiteatro Flavio (1725); and Maf­fei, Verona Il­lus­tra­ta, vol. ii. (1826), are wor­thy of men­tion. For the am­phithe­atre at Pom­peii, see Mau-​Kelsey.

Pom­peii, its Life and Art (2nd ed. 1904), chap. 30; for the Colos­se­um, Mid­dle­ton, Re­mains of An­cient Rome, ii. pp. 78-110, and Huelsen’s art. “Flav­ium Am­phithe­atrum” in Pauly-​Wos­sowa, Realen­cy­clopadie. (H. S. J.)

AM­PHITRITE, in an­cient Greek mythol­ogy, a sea-​god­dess, daugh­ter of Nereus (or Oceanus) and wife of Po­sei­don. She was so en­tire­ly con­fined in her au­thor­ity to the sea and the crea­tures in it, that she was nev­er as­so­ci­at­ed with her hus­band ei­ther for pur­pos­es of wor­ship or in works of art, ex­cept when he was to be dis­tinct­ly re­gard­ed as the god who con­trolled the sea. She was one of the Nerei­ds, and dis­tin­guish­able from the oth­ers on­ly by her queen­ly at­tributes. It was said that Po­sei­don saw her first danc­ing at Nax­os among the oth­er Nor­ei­ds, and car­ried her off (Schol. on Od. iii. 91). But in an­oth­er ver­sion of the myth, she then fled from him to the far­thest ends of the sea, where the dol­phin of Po­sei­don found her, and was re­ward­ed by be­ing placed among the stars (Er­atos­thenes, Catast. 31). In works of art she is rep­re­sent­ed ei­ther en­throned be­side him, or driv­ing with him in a char­iot drawn by sea-​hors­es or oth­er fab­ulous crea­tures of the deep, and at­tend­ed by Tri­tons and Nerei­ds. In po­et­ry her name is of­ten used for the sea.

AM­PHIT­RY­ON, in Greek mythol­ogy, son of Al­caeus, king of Tiryns in Ar­go­lis. Hav­ing ac­ci­den­tal­ly killed his un­cle Elec­try­on, king of Myce­nae, he was driv­en out by an­oth­er un­cle, Sthenelus. He fled with Al­cmene, Elec­try­on’s daugh­ter, to Thebes, where he was cleansed from the guilt of blood by Cre­on, his ma­ter­nal un­cle, king of Thebes. Al­cmene, who had been be­trothed to Am­phit­ry­on by her fa­ther, re­fused to mar­ry him un­til he had avenged the death of her broth­ers, all of whom ex­cept one had fall­en in bat­tle against the Taphi­ans. It was on his re­turn from this ex­pe­di­tion that Elec­try­on had been killed. Am­phit­ry­on ac­cord­ing­ly took the field against the Taphi­ans, ac­com­pa­nied by Cre­on, who had agreed to as­sist him on con­di­tion that he slew the Teumes­sian fox which had been sent by Diony­sus to rav­age the coun­try. The Taphi­ans, how­ev­er, re­mained in­vin­ci­ble un­til Co­maetho, the king’s daugh­ter, out of love for Am­phit­ry­on cut off her fa­ther’s gold­en hair, the pos­ses­sion of which ren­dered him im­mor­tal. Hav­ing de­feat­ed the en­emy, Am­phit­ry­on put Co­maetho to death and hand­ed over the king­dom of the Taphi­ans to Cephalus. On his re­turn to Thebes he mar­ried Al­cmene, who gave birth to twin sons, Iph­icles be­ing the son of Am­phit­ry­on, Her­acles of Zeus, who had vis­it­ed her dur­ing Am­phit­ry­on’s ab­sence. He fell in bat­tle against the Minyans, against whom he had un­der­tak­en an ex­pe­di­tion, ac­com­pa­nied by the youth­ful Her­acles, to de­liv­er Thebes from a dis­grace­ful trib­ute. Ac­cord­ing to Eu­ripi­des (Her­cules Furens) he sur­vived this ex­pe­di­tion, and was slain by his son in his mad­ness. Am­phit­ry­on was the ti­tle of a lost tragedy of Sopho­cles; the episode of Zeus and Al­cmene forms the sub­ject of come­dies by Plau­tus and Moliere. From Moliere’s line “Le ver­ita­ble Am­phit­ry­on est l’Am­phit­ry­on ou l’on dine” (Am­phit­ry­on, iii. 5), the name Am­phit­ry­on has come to be used in the sense of a gen­er­ous en­ter­tain­er, a good host.

Apol­lodor­us ii. 4; Herodotus v. 59; Pau­sa­nias vi­ii. 14, ix, 10, 11, 17; Hes­iod, Shield, 1-56; Pin­dar, Pythia, ix. 81.

AM­PHO­RA (a Latin word from Gr. am­foreus, de­rived from am­fi, on both sides, and fer­ein, to bear), a large big-​bel­lied ves­sel used by the an­cient Greeks and Ro­mans for pre­serv­ing wine, oil, hon­ey, and fruits; and in lat­er times as a cinerary urn. It was so named from usu­al­ly hav­ing an ear or han­dle on each side of the neck (dio­ta.) It was com­mon­ly made of earth­en­ware, but some­times of stone, glass or even more cost­ly ma­te­ri­als. Am­phorae ei­ther rest­ed on a foot, or end­ed in a point so that they had to be fixed in the ground. The old­er am­phorae were oval-​shaped, such as the vas­es filled with oil for prizes at the Pana­thenaic fes­ti­val, hav­ing on one side a fig­ure of Athena, on the oth­er a rep­re­sen­ta­tion of the con­test; the lat­ter were tall and slen­der, with vo­lut­ed han­dles. The first class ex­hibits black fig­ures on a red­dish back­ground, the sec­ond red fig­ures on a black ground. The am­pho­ra was a stan­dard mea­sure of ca­pac­ity among both Greeks and Ro­mans, the At­tic con­tain­ing near­ly nine gal­lons, and the Ro­man about six. In mod­ern botany it is a tech­ni­cal term some­times de­not­ing the low­er part of the cap­sule called pyx­id­ium, at­tached to the flow­er stalk in the form of an urn.

AM­PLIA­TIVE (from Lat. am­pli­are, to en­large), an ad­jec­tive used main­ly in log­ic, mean­ing “ex­tend­ing,’ or “adding to that which is al­ready known.” In Nor­man law an “am­pli­ation” was a post­pone­ment of a sen­tence in or­der to ob­tain fur­ther ev­idence.

AM­PLI­TUDE (from Lat. am­plus, large), in as­tron­omy, the an­gu­lar dis­tance of the ris­ing or set­ting sun, or oth­er heav­en­ly body, from the east or west point of the hori­zon; used most­ly by nav­iga­tors in find­ing the vari­ation of the com­pass by the set­ting sun. In al­ge­bra, if a be a re­al pos­itive quan­ti­ty and o a root of uni­ty, then a is the am­pli­tude of the prod­uct ao. In el­lip­tic in­te­grals, the am­pli­tude is the lim­it of in­te­gra­tion when the in­te­gral is ex­pressed in the form $\int_0^\phi\sqrt{1-N^2\sin^2\phi}d\phi$. The hy­per­bol­ic or Gu­der­man­ni­an am­pli­tude of the quan­ti­ty x is tan-1 (sinh x.) In me­chan­ics, the am­pli­tude of a wave is the max­imum or­di­nate. (See WAVE.)

AMP­SANC­TUS, or AM­SANC­TUS (mod. Sor­gente Mefi­ta), a small lake in the ter­ri­to­ry of the Hirpi­ni, IO m. S.E. of Ae­clanum, close to the Via Ap­pia. There are now two small pools which ex­hale car­bon­ic acid gas and sul­phuret­ted hy­dro­gen. Close by was a tem­ple of the god­dess Mephi­tis, with a cave from which suf­fo­cat­ing vapours rose, and for this rea­son the place was brought in­to con­nex­ion with the leg­ends of the in­fer­nal re­gions. Vir­gil’s de­scrip­tion (Aeneid, vii. 563) is not, how­ev­er, very ac­cu­rate.

AMPTHILL, ODO WILLIAM LEOPOLD RUS­SELL, 1ST BARON (1829-1884), British diplo­ma­tist and am­bas­sador, was born in Flo­rence on the 20th of Febru­ary 1829. He was the son of Ma­jor- Gen­er­al Lord George William Rus­sell, by Eliz­abeth Ann, niece of the mar­quess of Hast­ings, who was gov­er­nor-​gen­er­al of In­dia dur­ing the fi­nal strug­gle with the Mahrat­tas. His ed­uca­tion, like that of his two broth­ers–Hast­ings, who be­came even­tu­al­ly 9th duke of Bed­ford, and Arthur, who sat for a gen­er­ation in the House of Com­mons as mem­ber for Tavi­stock–was car­ried on en­tire­ly at home, un­der the gen­er­al di­rec­tion of his moth­er, whose beau­ty was cel­ebrat­ed by By­ron in Bep­po. La­dy William Rus­sell was as strong-​willed as she was beau­ti­ful, and cer­tain­ly de­served to be de­scribed as she was by Dis­raeli, who said in con­ver­sa­tion, “I think she is the most for­tu­nate wom­an in Eng­land, for she has the three nicest sons.” If it had not been for her strong will it is as like­ly as not that all the three would have gone through the usu­al mill of a pub­lic school, and have lost half their very pe­cu­liar charm. In March 1849 Odo was ap­point­ed by Lord Malmes­bury at­tache at Vi­en­na. From 1850 to 1852 he was tem­porar­ily em­ployed in the for­eign of­fice, whence he passed to Paris. He re­mained there, how­ev­er, on­ly about two months, when he was trans­ferred to Vi­en­na. In 1853 he be­came sec­ond paid at­tache at Paris, and in Au­gust 1854 he was trans­ferred as first paid at­tache to Con­stantino­ple, where he served un­der Lord Strat­ford de Red­cliffe. He had charge of the em­bassy dur­ing his chief’s two vis­its to the Crimea in 1855, but left the East to work un­der Lord Napi­er at Wash­ing­ton in 1857. In the fol­low­ing year he be­came sec­re­tary of lega­tion at Flo­rence, but was de­tached from that place to re­side in Rome, where he re­mained for twelve years, till Au­gust 1870. Dur­ing all that pe­ri­od he was the re­al though un­of­fi­cial rep­re­sen­ta­tive of Eng­land at the Vat­ican, and his con­sum­mate tact en­abled him to do all, and more than all, that an or­di­nary man could have done in a stronger po­si­tion. A ref­er­ence, how­ev­er, to his ev­idence be­fore a com­mit­tee of the House of Com­mons in 1871 will make it clear to any un­prej­udiced read­er that those were right who, dur­ing the ear­ly ‘fifties, urged so strong­ly the im­por­tance of hav­ing a du­ly ac­cred­it­ed agent at the pa­pal court. The line tak­en by him dur­ing the Vat­ican coun­cil has been crit­icized, but no fault can just­ly be found with it. Abreast as he was of the best thought of his time–the broth­er of Arthur Rus­sell, who, more per­haps than any oth­er man, was its most ide­al rep­re­sen­ta­tive in Lon­don so­ci­ety–he sym­pa­thized strong­ly with the views of those who laboured to pre­vent the ex­treme par­ti­sans of pa­pal in­fal­li­bil­ity from hav­ing ev­ery­thing their own way. But in his ca­pac­ity of clear-​head­ed ob­serv­er, whose busi­ness it was to re­flect the ac­tu­al truth up­on the mind of his gov­ern­ment, he was obliged to make it quite clear that they had no chance what­ev­er, and in con­vers­ing with those whose opin­ions were quite un­like his own, such as Car­di­nal Man­ning, he seems to have shown that he had no il­lu­sions about the re­sult of the long de­bate. In 1868 Odo Rus­sell mar­ried La­dy Emi­ly There­sa Vil­liers, the daugh­ter of Lord Claren­don. In 1870 he was ap­point­ed as­sis­tant un­der-​sec­re­tary at the for­eign of­fice, and in Novem­ber of that year was sent on a spe­cial mis­sion to the head­quar­ters of the Ger­man army, where he re­mained till 1871.

It was in con­nex­ion with this mis­sion that an episode oc­curred which at the time threw much dis­cred­it up­on Glad­stone’s gov­ern­ment. Rus­sia had tak­en ad­van­tage of the col­lapse of France and her own cor­dial re­la­tions with Prus­sia to de­nounce the Black Sea claus­es of the treaty of Paris of 1856. Rus­sell, in an in­ter­view with Bis­mar­ck, point­ed out that un­less Rus­sia with­drew from an at­ti­tude which in­volved the de­struc­tion of a treaty solemn­ly guar­an­teed by the pow­ers, Great Britain would be forced to go to war “with or with­out al­lies.” This strong at­ti­tude was ef­fec­tive, and the ques­tion was ul­ti­mate­ly re­ferred to and set­tled by the con­fer­ence which met at Lon­don in 1871. Though the re­sult was to score a dis­tinct diplo­mat­ic suc­cess for the Lib­er­al gov­ern­ment, the bel­li­cose method em­ployed wound­ed Lib­er­al sen­ti­ment and threat­ened to cre­ate trou­ble for the min­istry in par­lia­ment. On the 16th of Febru­ary 1871, ac­cord­ing­ly, Glad­stone, in an­swer to a ques­tion, said that “the ar­gu­ment used by Mr Odo Rus­sell was not one which had been di­rect­ed by her Majesty’s gov­ern­ment,” that it was used by him “with­out any spe­cif­ic in­struc­tions or au­thor­ity from the gov­ern­ment,” but that, at the same time, no blame was to be at­tached to him, as it was “per­fect­ly well known that the du­ty of diplo­mat­ic agents re­quires them to ex­press them­selves in that mode in which they think they can best sup­port and rec­om­mend the propo­si­tions of which they wish to pro­cure ac­cep­tance.” This Glad­sto­ni­an ex­pla­na­tion was wide­ly crit­icized as an il­le­git­imate at­tack on Rus­sell. What is cer­tain is that the for­eign of­fice and the coun­try prof­it­ed by Rus­sell’s firm­ness. (See Mor­ley’s Glad­stone, ii. 534.)

A lit­tle lat­er in the same year he re­ceived the well-​de­served re­ward of his labours by be­ing made am­bas­sador at Berlin.

Dur­ing the months he passed at the for­eign of­fice he was ex­am­ined be­fore the com­mit­tee of the House of Com­mons, al­ready al­lud­ed to, and had an op­por­tu­ni­ty of stat­ing very dis­tinct­ly in pub­lic some of his views with re­gard to his pro­fes­sion. “If you could on­ly or­ga­nize diplo­ma­cy prop­er­ly,” he said, “you would cre­ate a body of men who might in­flu­ence the des­tinies of mankind and en­sure the peace of the world.” In these words we have the key to the thought and ha­bit­ual ac­tion of one of the best and wis­est pub­lic ser­vants of the time.

Rus­sell re­mained at Berlin, with on­ly brief in­ter­vals of ab­sence, from the 16th of Oc­to­ber 1871 till his death at Pots­dam on the 25th of Au­gust 1884. He was third plenipo­ten­tiary at the Berlin congress, and is gen­er­al­ly cred­it­ed with hav­ing pre­vent­ed, by his tact and good sense, the British prime min­is­ter from mak­ing a speech in French, which he knew very im­per­fect­ly and pro­nounced abom­inably. In 1874 Odo Rus­sell re­ceived a patent of prece­dence rais­ing him to the rank of a duke’s son, and af­ter the congress of Berlin he was of­fered a peer­age by the Con­ser­va­tive gov­ern­ment. This he nat­ural­ly de­clined, but ac­cept­ed the hon­our in 1881 when it was of­fered by the Lib­er­als, tak­ing the ti­tle of Baron Ampthill. He be­came a privy coun­cil­lor in 1872 and was made a G.C.B. some­what lat­er. At the con­fer­ence about the Greek fron­tier, which fol­lowed the congress of Berlin, he was the on­ly British rep­re­sen­ta­tive. Dur­ing all his long so­journ in the Prus­sian cap­ital, he did ev­ery­thing that in him lay to bring about close and friend­ly re­la­tions be­tween Great Britain and Ger­many. He kept on the best of terms with Bis­mar­ck, care­ful­ly avoid­ing ev­ery­thing that could give any cause of of­fence to that most jeal­ous and most un­scrupu­lous min­is­ter, whom he, how­ev­er, did not hes­itate to with­stand when his un­scrupu­lous­ness went the length of de­lib­er­ate­ly at­tempt­ing to de­ceive.

He was suc­ceed­ed as 2nd baron by his son, ARTHUR OLIV­ER VIL­LIERS RUS­SELL (b. 1869), who rowed in the Ox­ford eight (1889, 1890, 1891) and be­came a promi­nent Union­ist politi­cian. He was pri­vate sec­re­tary to Mr Cham­ber­lain, 1895-1897, and gov­er­nor of Madras, 1899-1906. In 1904 he act­ed tem­porar­ily as Viceroy of In­dia. (M. G. D.)

AMPTHILL, a mar­ket town in the north­ern par­lia­men­tary di­vi­sion of Bed­ford­shire, Eng­land, 44 m. N.N.W. of Lon­don by the Mid­land rail­way. Pop. of ur­ban dis­trict (1901) 2177. It lies on the south­ern slope of a low range of hills, in a well-​wood­ed dis­trict. The church of St An­drew ranges in date from Ear­ly En­glish to Per­pen­dic­ular. It con­tains a mon­ument to Richard Nicolls (1624-1672), who, un­der the pa­tron­age of the duke of York, broth­er to Charles II., to whom the king had grant­ed the Dutch North Amer­ican colony of New Nether­land, re­ceived the sub­mis­sion of its chief town, New Am­ster­dam, in 1664, and be­came its first En­glish gov­er­nor, the town tak­ing the name of New York. Nicolls per­ished in the ac­tion be­tween the En­glish and Dutch fleets at Sole­bay, and the ball which killed him is pre­served on his tomb. Houghton Park, in the vicin­ity, con­tains the ru­ins of Houghton House, built by Mary, count­ess of Pem­broke, in the time of James I. To this count­ess Sir Philip Sid­ney ded­icat­ed the Ar­ca­dia. Ampthill Park be­came in 1818 the seat of that Lord Hol­land in whose time Hol­land House, in Kens­ing­ton, Lon­don, be­came fa­mous as a re­sort of the most dis­tin­guished in­tel­lec­tu­al so­ci­ety. In the park a cross marks the site of Ampthill Cas­tle, the res­idence of Cather­ine of Aragon while her di­vorce from Hen­ry VI­II. was pend­ing. A com­mem­ora­tive in­scrip­tion on the cross was writ­ten by Ho­race Walpole. Brew­ing, straw-​plait­ing and lace-​mak­ing are car­ried on in Ampthill.

AM­PUL­LA (ei­ther a diminu­tive of am­pho­ra, or from Lat. am­bo, both, and ol­la, a pot), a small, nar­row-​necked, round-​bod­ied vase for hold­ing liq­uids, es­pe­cial­ly oil and per­fumes. It is the Latin term equiv­alent to the Greek lekuthos. It was used in an­cient times for toi­let pur­pos­es and anoint­ing the bod­ies of the dead, be­ing then buried with them. Gildas men­tions the use of am­pul­lae as es­tab­lished among the Britons in his time, and St Colum­ba is said to have em­ployed one in the coro­na­tion of King Aidan. Both the name and the func­tion of the am­pul­la have sur­vived in the West­ern Church, where it still sig­ni­fies the ves­sel con­tain­ing the oil con­se­crat­ed by the bish­op for rit­ual us­es, es­pe­cial­ly in the sacra­ments of Con­fir­ma­tion, Or­ders and Ex­treme Unc­tion. The word oc­curs re­peat­ed­ly in the ser­vice of coro­na­tion of the En­glish sovereign in con­nex­ion with the an­cient cer­emo­ny of anoint­ing by the arch­bish­op of Can­ter­bury, which is still ob­served. The am­pul­la of the re­galia of Eng­land takes the form of a gold­en ea­gle with out­spread wings. The most cel­ebrat­ed am­pul­la in his­to­ry was that known as la sainte am­poule, in the abbey of St Re­mi at Reims, from which the kings of France were anoint­ed. Ac­cord­ing to the leg­end it had been brought from heav­en by a dove for the coro­na­tion of Clo­vis, and at one pe­ri­od the kings of France claimed prece­dence over all oth­er sovereigns on ac­count of it. It was de­stroyed at the Rev­olu­tion. The word “am­pul­la” is used in bi­ol­ogy, by anal­ogy from the shape, for a cer­tain por­tion of the anato­my of a plant or an­imal.

AM­RAM (d. 875), a fa­mous gaon or head of the Jew­ish Acade­my of Sura (Per­sia) in the 9th cen­tu­ry. He was au­thor of many “Re­spon­sa,” but his chief work was litur­gi­cal. He was the first to ar­range a com­plete litur­gy for the syn­agogue, and his Prayer-​Book (Sid­dur Rab `Am­ram) was the foun­da­tion of most of the ex­tant rites in use among the Jews. The Sid­dur was pub­lished in War­saw in two parts (1865).

AM­RAOTI, or UM­RAWAT­TEE, a town and dis­trict of In­dia, in Be­rar, Cen­tral Provinces. The dis­trict was re­con­sti­tut­ed in 1905, when that of El­lich­pur was in­cor­po­rat­ed with it. The town has a sta­tion 6 m. from Bad­nera junc­tion on the Great In­di­an Penin­su­la line. Pop. (1901) 34,216, show­ing an in­crease of 22% in the decade. It is the rich­est town of Be­rar, with the most nu­mer­ous and sub­stan­tial com­mer­cial pop­ula­tion. It pos­sess­es a branch of the Bank of Bom­bay, and has the largest cot­ton mart, where an av­er­age of 80,593 bo­jas of cot­ton are bought and sold an­nu­al­ly. It has al­so a large grain mar­ket, cot­ton press­es, gin­ning fac­to­ries and oil mills. Am­raoti raw cot­ton is quot­ed on the Liv­er­pool Ex­change.

The dis­trict of Am­raoti has an area of 4754 sq. m. In 1901 the pop­ula­tion was 630,245, show­ing a de­crease of 4% in the decade; on the area as now con­sti­tut­ed it was 809,499. The dis­trict is an ex­ten­sive plain, about 800 ft. above sea-​lev­el, the gen­er­al flat­ness be­ing on­ly bro­ken by a small chain of hills, run­ning in a north-​west­er­ly di­rec­tion be­tween Am­raoti and Chan­dor, with an av­er­age height from 400 to 500 ft. above the low­lands. The prin­ci­pal towns, be­sides Am­raoti, are Kar­in­ja, Ko­la­pur, and Bad­nera, which lies on the Great In­di­an Penin­su­la rail­way, the main line of which cross­es the dis­trict. Se­vere drought vis­it­ed Am­raoti in 1899-1900.

AM­RA­VATI, or AMA­RA­VATI, a ru­ined city of In­dia in the Gun­tur dis­trict of the Madras pres­iden­cy, on the south bank of the Kist­na riv­er, 62 m. from its mouth. The town is of great in­ter­est for the an­ti­quary as one of the chief cen­tres of the Bud­dhist king­dom of Ven­gi, and for its stu­pa (sepul­chral mon­ument). Am­ra­vati has been iden­ti­fied with Hsuan Tsang’s To-​na-​kie-​tse-​kia and with the Rah­mi of Arab ge­og­ra­phers. Sub­se­quent to the dis­ap­pear­ance of Bud­dhism from this re­gion the town be­came a cen­tre of the Sivaite faith. When Hsuan Tsang vis­it­ed Am­ra­vati in A.D. 639 it had al­ready been de­sert­ed for a cen­tu­ry, but he speaks in glow­ing terms of its mag­nif­icence and beau­ty. Very care­ful and artis­tic rep­re­sen­ta­tions of the stu­pa with its dagho­ba and in­ter­est­ing rail, pil­lars and sculp­tures will be found in Fer­gus­son’s Tree and Ser­pent Wor­ship, and in his His­to­ry of In­di­an Ar­chi­tec­ture (1876). Its elab­orate carv­ings il­lus­trate the life of Bud­dha. Some are pre­served in the British Mu­se­um; oth­ers in the mu­se­um at Madras.

An ac­count by Dr James Burgess was pub­lished in 1877 as one of the vol­umes of the Ar­chae­olog­ical Sur­vey of South­ern In­dia.

`AMR-​IBN-​EL-​ASS, or `AMR (strict­ly `AMR B. `AS), one of the most fa­mous of the first race of the Sara­cen lead­ers, was of the tribe of Ko­reish (Qureish). In his youth he was an an­tag­onist of Ma­homet. His zeal prompt­ed him to un­der­take an em­bassy to the king of Ethiopia, in or­der to stim­ulate him against the con­verts whom he had tak­en un­der his pro­tec­tion, but he re­turned a con­vert to the Ma­hommedan faith and joined the fugi­tive prophet at Med­ina. When Abu Bekr re­solved to in­vade Syr­ia, he en­trust­ed `Amr with a high com­mand. `Amr soon per­ceived that his troops were not suf­fi­cient for a se­ri­ous bat­tle. Re­in­forced by Khalid b. al-​Walid, whom Abu Bekr sent in all haste from Irak to Syr­ia, he de­feat­ed the im­pe­ri­al troops, com­mand­ed by Theodor­us, the broth­er of Her­aclius, not far from Ram­leh in Pales­tine, on the 31st of Ju­ly 634. When Omar be­came caliph he made Khalid chief com­man­der of the Syr­ian armies, `Amr re­main­ing in Pales­tine to com­plete the sub­mis­sion of that province. It is not cer­tain that `Amr as­sist­ed Khalid in the siege of Dam­as­cus, but very prob­able that he took part in the de­ci­sive bat­tle of Yarmuk, 20th of Au­gust 636. Af­ter this bat­tle he laid siege to Jerusalem, in which en­ter­prise he was sec­ond­ed a year lat­er by Abu Obei­da, then chief com­man­der. Af­ter the sur­ren­der of Jerusalem `Amr be­gan the siege of Cae­sarea, which, how­ev­er, was brought to a suc­cess­ful end in Septem­ber or Oc­to­ber 640 by Moawiya, `Amr hav­ing ob­tained Omar’s sanc­tion for an ex­pe­di­tion against Egypt. To­wards the end of 639 he led an army of 4000 Arabs in­to that coun­try. Dur­ing his march a mes­sen­ger from Omar ar­rived with a let­ter con­tain­ing di­rec­tions to re­turn if he should have re­ceived it in Syr­ia, but if in Egypt to ad­vance, in which case all need­ful as­sis­tance would be in­stant­ly sent to him. The con­tents of the let­ter were not made known to his of­fi­cers un­til he was as­sured that the army was on Egyp­tian soil, so that the ex­pe­di­tion might be con­tin­ued un­der the sanc­tion of Omar’s or­ders. Hav­ing tak­en Fara­ma (Pelu­si­um), he ad­vanced to Misr, north of the an­cient Mem­phis, and be­sieged it and the strong fortress of Baby­lon for sev­en months. Al­though nu­mer­ous re­in­force­ments ar­rived, he would have found it very dif­fi­cult to storm the place pre­vi­ous to the in­un­da­tion of the Nile but for treach­ery with­in the citadel; the Greeks who re­mained there were ei­ther made pris­on­ers or put to the sword. On the same spot `Amr built a city named Fo­stat (“the en­camp­ment”), the ru­ins of which are known by the name of Old Cairo. The mosque which he erect­ed and called by his own name is de­scribed in Asi­at­ic Jour­nal (1890), p. 759. `Amr pur­sued the Greeks to Alexan­dria, but find­ing that it was im­pos­si­ble to take the place by storm, he con­tent­ed him­self with blockad­ing it with the greater part of his army, and re­duc­ing the Delta to sub­mis­sion with the rest. At the end of twelve months Alexan­dria sued for peace, and a treaty was signed on the 8th of Novem­ber 641. To `Amr act­ing on Omar’s com­mand has been at­tribut­ed the burn­ing of the fa­mous Alexan­dri­an li­brary. (See LI­BRARIES and ALEXAN­DRIA.) Not on­ly is this act of bar­barism in­con­sis­tent with the char­ac­ters of Omar and his gen­er­al, but the ear­li­est au­thor­ity for the sto­ry is Ab­ul­farag­ius (Barhe­braeus), a Chris­tian writ­er, who lived six cen­turies lat­er. Af­ter the con­quest of Egypt `Amr car­ried his con­quests east­ward along the North African coast as far as Bar­ca and even Tripo­lis. His ad­min­is­tra­tion of Egypt was mod­er­ate and states­man­like, and un­der his rule the pro­duce of the Nile Val­ley was a con­stant source of sup­ply to the cities of Ara­bia. He even re­opened a canal at least 80 m. long from the Nile to the Red Sea with the ob­ject of re­new­ing com­mu­ni­ca­tion by sea. Re­moved from his of­fice by Oth­man in 647, who re­placed him by Ibn abi Sarh, he sid­ed with Moawiya in the con­test for the caliphate, and was large­ly re­spon­si­ble for the de­po­si­tion of Ali (q.v.) and the es­tab­lish­ment of the Omayyad dy­nasty. (See CALIPHATE, sec­tion B.) In 658 he re­con­quered Egypt in Moawiya’s in­ter­est, and gov­erned it till his death on the 6th of Jan­uary 664. In a pa­thet­ic speech to his chil­dren on his deathbed, he bit­ter­ly lament­ed his youth­ful of­fence in op­pos­ing the prophet, al­though Ma­homet had for­giv­en him and had fre­quent­ly af­firmed that “there was no Mus­sul­man more sin­cere and stead­fast in the faith than `Amr.”

Sir W. Muir, The Caliphate (Lon­don, 1891); E. Gib­bon,s De­cline and Fall; M. J. de Goe­je, Mem­oire sur la con­quete de la Syrie (Lei­den, 1900); But­ler, Arab Con­quest of Egypt (Ox­ford, 1902); art. EGYPT, His­to­ry, Ma­hommedan Pe­ri­od.

`AMR IBN KULTHUM, Ara­bi­an po­et, au­thor of one of the Mo`al­lakat. Lit­tle or noth­ing is known of his life save that he was a mem­ber of the tribe of Tagh­lib and that he is said to have died of ex­ces­sive wine-​drink­ing. Some sto­ries of him are told in the Book of Songs (see AB­UL­FARAJ), vol. ix. pp. 181-185.

AM­RIT­SAR, or UM­RIT­SAR, a city and dis­trict of British In­dia, in the La­hore di­vi­sion of the Pun­jab. The city has a sta­tion on the North West­ern rail­way 32 m. E. of La­hore, its po­si­tion on which has great­ly as­sist­ed its de­vel­op­ment. Am­rit­sar is chiefly no­table as the cen­tre of the Sikh re­li­gion and the site of the Gold­en Tem­ple, the chief wor­ship­ping place of the Sikhs. Ram Das, the fourth gu­ru, laid the foun­da­tions of the city up­on a site grant­ed by the em­per­or Ak­bar. He al­so ex­ca­vat­ed the holy tank from which the town de­rives its name of Am­ri­ta Turas, or Pool of Im­mor­tal­ity. It is up­on a small is­land in the mid­dle of this tank that the Gold­en Tem­ple is now sit­uat­ed. About two cen­turies af­ter­wards, in the course of the strug­gle be­tween the Sikhs and the Ma­hommedans, Ah­mad Shah Du­rani rout­ed the Sikhs at the great bat­tle of Pa­ni­pat, and on his home­ward march he de­stroyed the town of Am­rit­sar, blew up the tem­ple with gun­pow­der, filled in the sa­cred tank with mud, and de­filed the holy place by the slaugh­ter of cows. But when Ah­mad Shah re­turned to Kab­ul the Sikhs rose once more and re-​es­tab­lished their re­li­gion. Fi­nal­ly the city and sur­round­ing dis­trict fell un­der the sway of Ran­jit Singh at La­hore, and passed with the rest of the Pun­jab in­to the pos­ses­sion of the British af­ter the sec­ond Sikh war. The Gold­en Tem­ple is so called on ac­count of its cop­per dome, cov­ered with gold foil, which shines bril­liant­ly in the rays of the In­di­an sun, and is re­flect­ed back from the wa­ters of the lake; but the build­ing as a whole is too squat to have much ar­chi­tec­tural mer­it apart from its or­na­men­ta­tion. Mar­ble ter­races and balustrades sur­round the tank, and a mar­ble cause­way leads across the wa­ter to the tem­ple, whose gild­ed walls, roof, dome and cupo­las, with vivid touch­es of red cur­tains, are re­flect­ed in the still wa­ter. The tem­ple was con­sid­er­ably en­riched by the spoils tak­en by Ran­jit Singh in his con­quests. The pop­ula­tion of Am­rit­sar in 1901 was 162,429. A Sikh col­lege for uni­ver­si­ty ed­uca­tion was opened in 1897. The oth­er pub­lic build­ings in­clude two church­es, a town hall and a hos­pi­tal. Am­rit­sar is fa­mous for its car­pet-​weav­ing in­dus­try. It was the first mis­sion sta­tion of the church of Eng­land in the Pun­jab.

The dis­trict is bound­ed on the N.W. by the riv­er Ravi, on the S.E. by the riv­er Beas, on the N.E. by the dis­trict of Gur­daspur, and on the S.W. by the dis­trict of La­hore. Am­rit­sar dis­trict is a near­ly lev­el plain, with a very slight slope from east to west. The banks of the Beas are high, and on this side of the dis­trict well-​wa­ter is not found ex­cept at 50 ft. be­low the sur­face; while to­wards the Ravi wells are less than 20 ft. in depth. The on­ly stream pass­ing through the dis­trict is the Kirni or Sa­ki, which takes its rise in a marsh in the Gur­daspur dis­trict, and af­ter travers­ing part of the dis­trict emp­ties it­self in­to the Ravi. Nu­mer­ous canals in­ter­sect the dis­trict, af­ford­ing am­ple means of ir­ri­ga­tion. The Sind, Pun­jab and Del­hi rail­way (North West­ern) and Grand Trunk road, which runs par­al­lel with it, af­ford the prin­ci­pal means of land com­mu­ni­ca­tion and traf­fic. The area of the dis­trict is 1601 sq. m.; pop. (1901) 1,023,828, show­ing an in­crease of 3% on the pre­vi­ous decade. It is the head­quar­ters of the Sikh re­li­gion, con­tain­ing 264,329 Sikhs as against 280,985 Hin­dus and 474,976 Ma­hommedans. The prin­ci­pal crops are wheat, pulse, maize, mil­let, with some cot­ton and sug­ar-​cane. There are fac­to­ries for gin­ning and press­ing cot­ton.

AM­RO­HA, a town of British In­dia, in the Morad­abad dis­trict of the Unit­ed Provinces. It con­tains the tomb of a Ma­hommedan saint, Shaikh Sad­du, and has been for many cen­turies a Ma­hommedan cen­tre. Pop. (1901) 40,077.

AM­RUM, or AM­ROM, a Ger­man is­land in the North Sea, off the coast of Schleswig-​Hol­stein to the south of Sylt. Pop. (1900) 900. It is 6 m. long and 3 m. broad, with an area of 10 1/2 sq. m., and is reached from the main­land by a reg­ular steam­boat ser­vice to Wittdun, a favourite sea-​bathing re­sort; or at low wa­ter by car­riage from Fohr. The larg­er part of Am­rum con­sists of a tree­less sandy ex­panse, but a fringe of rich marsh­es af­fords good pas­ture-​land. The prin­ci­pal place is Nebel, con­nect­ed by a light rail­way with Wittdun. (See al­so FRISIAN IS­LANDS.)

AM­RU’-UL-​QAIS, or IM­RU’-UL QAIS, IBN HU­JR, Ara­bi­an po­et of the 6th cen­tu­ry, the au­thor of one of the Mo`al­laat (q.v.), was re­gard­ed by Ma­homet and oth­ers as the most dis­tin­guished po­et of pre-​Is­lam­ic times. He was of the king­ly fam­ily of Kin­da, and his moth­er was of the tribe of Tagh­lib. While he was still young, his fa­ther was killed by the Bani Asad. Af­ter this his life was de­vot­ed to the at­tempt to avenge his fa­ther’s death. He wan­dered from tribe to tribe to gain as­sis­tance, but his at­tempts were al­ways foiled by the per­sis­tent fol­low­ing of the mes­sen­gers of Mund­hir of Hi­ra (Hi­ra). At last he went to the Jew­ish Ara­bi­an prince, Samu`al, left his daugh­ter and trea­sure with him, and by means of Harith of Ghas­san pro­cured an in­tro­duc­tion to the Byzan­tine em­per­or Jus­tini­an. Af­ter a long stay in Con­stantino­ple he was named phy­larch of Pales­tine, and re­ceived a body of troops from Justin II. With these he start­ed on his way to Ara­bia. It is said that a man of Asad, who had fol­lowed him to Con­stantino­ple, charged him be­fore the em­per­or with the se­duc­tion of a princess, and that Justin sent him a poi­soned cloak, which caused his death at An­cyra.

His po­ems are con­tained in W. Ahlwardt’s The Di­vans of the six an­cient Ara­bic Po­ets (Lon­don, 1870), and have been pub­lished sep­arate­ly in M`G. de Slane’s Le Di­wan d’Am­ro’lka­is (Paris, 1837); a Ger­man ver­sion with life and notes in F. Ruck­ert’s Am­rilka­is der Dichter und Konig (Stuttgart, 1843). Many sto­ries of his life are told in the Kitab ul-​Aghani, vol. vi­ii. pp. 62-77. (G. W. T.)

AMS­DORF, NICO­LAUS VON (1483-1565), Ger­man Protes­tant re­former, was born on the 3rd of De­cem­ber 1483 at Tor­gau, on the Elbe. He was ed­ucat­ed at Leipzig, and then at Wit­ten­berg, where he was one of the first who ma­tric­ulat­ed (1502) in the re­cent­ly found­ed uni­ver­si­ty. He soon ob­tained var­ious aca­dem­ical hon­ours, and be­came pro­fes­sor of the­ol­ogy in 1511. Like An­dreas Carl­stadt, he was at first a lead­ing ex­po­nent of the old­er type of scholas­tic the­ol­ogy, but un­der the in­flu­ence of Luther aban­doned his Aris­totelian po­si­tions for a the­ol­ogy based on the Au­gus­tini­an doc­trine of grace. Through­out his life he re­mained one of Luther’s most de­ter­mined sup­port­ers; was with him at the Leipzig con­fer­ence (1519), and the di­et of Worms (1521); and was in the se­cret of his Wart­burg seclu­sion. He as­sist­ed the first ef­forts of the Ref­or­ma­tion at Magde­burg (1524), at Goslar (1531) and at Ein­beck (1534); took an ac­tive part in the de­bates at Schmal­ka­lden (1537), where he de­fend­ed the use of the sacra­ment by the un­be­liev­ing; and (1539) spoke out strong­ly against the bigamy of the land­grave of Hesse. Af­ter the death of the count pala­tine, bish­op of Naum­burg-​Zeitz, he was in­stalled there (Jan­uary 20, 1542), though in op­po­si­tion to the chap­ter, by the elec­tor of Sax­ony and Luther. His po­si­tion was a painful one, and he longed to get back to Magde­burg, but was per­suad­ed by Luther to stay. Af­ter Luther’s death (1546) and the bat­tle of Muhlberg (1547) he had to yield to his ri­val, Julius von Pflug, and re­tire to the pro­tec­tion of the young duke of Weimar. Here he took part in found­ing Je­na Uni­ver­si­ty (1548); op­posed the “Augs­burg In­ter­im” (1548); su­per­in­tend­ed the pub­li­ca­tion of the Je­na edi­tion of Luther’s works; and de­bat­ed on the free­dom of the will, orig­inal sin, and, more no­tice­ably, on the Chris­tian val­ue of good works, in re­gard to which he held that they were not on­ly use­less, but prej­udi­cial. He urged the sep­ara­tion of the High Luther­an par­ty from Melanchthon (1557), got the Sax­on dukes to op­pose the Frank­fort Re­cess (1558) and con­tin­ued to fight for the pu­ri­ty of Luther­an doc­trine. He died at Eise­nach on the 14th of May 1565, and was buried in the church of St George there, where his ef­fi­gy shows a well-​knit frame and sharp-​cut fea­tures. He was a man of strong will, of great ap­ti­tude for con­tro­ver­sy, and con­sid­er­able learn­ing, and thus ex­er­cised a de­cid­ed in­flu­ence on the Ref­or­ma­tion. Many let­ters and oth­er short pro­duc­tions of his pen are ex­tant in MS., es­pe­cial­ly five thick vol­umes of Ams­dor­fi­ana, in the Weimar li­brary. They are a valu­able source for our knowl­edge of Luther. A small sect, which adopt­ed his opin­ion on good works, was called af­ter him; but it is now of mere his­tor­ical in­ter­est.

BIB­LI­OG­RA­PHY.–Life, in Th. Pres­sel, Leben u. aus­ge­wahlte Schrift. der Vater der luth. Kirche, vol. vi­ii. (pub­lished sep­arate­ly El­ber­feld, 1862, 8vo); J. Meier in Das Leben der Alt­vater der luth. Kirche, vol, iii. ed. M. Meur­er (1863); art. by G. Kaw­er­au in Her­zog-​Hauck, Realen­cyk. fur prot. The­olo­gie (3rd ed., Leipzig, 1896).

AM­SLER, SAMUEL (1791-1849), Swiss en­graver, was born at Schinz­nach, in the can­ton of Aar­gau. He stud­ied his art un­der Jo­han Hein­rich Lips (1758-1817) and Karl Ernst Hess, at Mu­nich, and from 1816 pur­sued it in Italy, and chiefly at Rome, till in 1829 he suc­ceed­ed his for­mer mas­ter Hess as pro­fes­sor of cop­per en­grav­ing in the Mu­nich acade­my. The works he de­signed and en­graved are re­mark­able for the grace of the fig­ures, and for the won­der­ful skill with which he re­tains and ex­press­es the char­ac­ter­is­tics of the orig­inal paint­ings and stat­ues. He was a pas­sion­ate ad­mir­er of Raphael, and had great suc­cess in re­pro­duc­ing his works. Am­sler’s prin­ci­pal en­grav­ings are: “The Tri­umphal March of Alexan­der the Great,” and a full-​length “Christ,” af­ter the sculp­tures of Thor­wald­sen and Dan­neck­er; the “En­tomb­ment of Christ,” and two “Madon­nas” af­ter Raphael; and the “Union be­tween Re­li­gion and the Arts,” af­ter Over­beck, his last Work, on which he spent six years.

AM­STER­DAM, the chief city of Hol­land, in the province of North Hol­land, on the south side of the Y or Ij, an arm of the Zuider Zee, in 52 deg. 22`N. and 4 deg. 53′ E. Pop. (1900) 523,557. It has com­mu­ni­ca­tion by rail­way and canal in ev­ery di­rec­tion; steam-​tramways con­nect it with Edam, Purmerend, Alk­maar and Hil­ver­sum, and elec­tric rail­ways with Haar­lem and the sea-​side re­sort of Zand­voort. Am­ster­dam, the “dam or dyke of the Am­stel”, is so called from the Am­stel, the canal­ized riv­er which pass­es through the city to the Y. To­wards the land the city is sur­round­ed by a semi­cir­cu­lar fos­se or canal, and was at one time reg­ular­ly for­ti­fied; but the ram­parts have been de­mol­ished and are re­placed by fine gar­dens and hous­es, and on­ly one gate­way, the Muider­poort, is still stand­ing. With­in the city are four sim­ilar canals (gracht­en) with their ends rest­ing on the Y, ex­tend­ing in the form of polyg­onal cres­cents near­ly par­al­lel to each oth­er and to the out­er canal. Each of these canals marks the line of the city walls and moat at dif­fer­ent pe­ri­ods. Less­er canals in­ter­sect the oth­ers ra­di­al­ly, thus vir­tu­al­ly di­vid­ing the city in­to a num­ber of is­lands; whence it has been com­pared with Venice. The nu­cle­us of the town lies with­in the in­ner­most cres­cent canal, and, with the large square, the Dam, in the cen­tre, rep­re­sents the area of Am­ster­dam about the mid­dle of the 14th cen­tu­ry. At one ex­trem­ity of the en­clos­ing canal is the Schrei­jer­storen (1482) or “Weep­ers’ Tow­er,” so called on ac­count of its be­ing at the head of the an­cient har­bour, and the scene in for­mer days of sor­row­ful leave-​tak­ings. Be­tween this and the next cres­cent of the Heeren Gracht sprang up, on the east, the labyrinthine quar­ter where for more than three cen­turies the large Jew­ish pop­ula­tion has been lo­cat­ed, and in the mid­dle of which the painter Rem­brandt lived (1640-1656) and the philoso­pher Spinoza was born (1632). Be­yond the Heeren Gracht lie the Keiz­ers Gracht and the Prin­sen Gracht re­spec­tive­ly, and these three cel­ebrat­ed canals, with their tree-​bor­dered quays and plain but state­ly old-​fash­ioned hous­es, form the prin­ci­pal thor­ough­fares of the city. West of the Prin­sen Gracht lies the re­gion called De Jor­daan, a cor­rup­tion of Le Jardin, the name which it ac­quired from the fact of its streets be­ing called af­ter var­ious flow­ers. It was formed by the set­tle­ment of French refugees here af­ter the re­vo­ca­tion of the edict of Nantes. The out­er­most cres­cent canal is called the Sin­gel Gracht (gir­dle canal), and marks the bound­ary of the city at the end of the 17th cen­tu­ry. The streets in the old­est part of Am­ster­dam are of­ten nar­row and ir­reg­ular, and the sky-​line is pic­turesque­ly bro­ken by fan­tas­tic gables, roofs and tow­ers. The site of the city be­ing orig­inal­ly a peat bog, the foun­da­tions of the hous­es have to be se­cured by driv­ing long piles (4-20 yds.) in­to the firm clay be­low, the palace on the Dam be­ing sup­port­ed on near­ly 14,000 piles. As late as 1822, how­ev­er, an over­laden corn mag­azine sank in­to the mud. Mod­ern Am­ster­dam ex­tends south­ward be­yond the Sin­gel Gracht, and here the hous­es are of­ten very hand­some, while the broad streets are plant­ed with rows of large trees. In the mid­dle of this new re­gion lies the Von­del Park, named af­ter the great na­tion­al po­et Joost van den Von­del (d. 1679), whose stat­ue stands in the park. The Willems Park ad­join­ing was added in lat­er times. In the old­er part of the town the chief open space is the Zo­olog­ical Gar­dens in the north-​east­ern cor­ner. They be­long to a pri­vate so­ci­ety called Natu­ra Ar­tis Mag­is­tra, and came in­to ex­is­tence in 1838. They have, how­ev­er, been much en­larged since then, and bear a high rep­uta­tion. In con­nex­ion with the gar­dens there are an aquar­ium (1882), a li­brary, and an ethno­graph­ical and nat­ural his­to­ry mu­se­um. Con­certs are giv­en here in sum­mer as well as in the Von­del Park. Close to the Zo­olog­ical Gar­dens are the Botan­ical Gar­dens, and a small park, al­so the prop­er­ty of a pri­vate so­ci­ety, in which there is a va­ri­ety the­atre. The pub­lic squares of the city in­clude the Sophi­aplein, with the pic­turesque old mint-​tow­er; the Rem­brandt­plein, with a mon­ument (1852) to the painter by Lodswyk Roy­er; the Thor­beck­eplein, with a mon­ument to the states­man, J. R. Thor­becke (1798-1872), and the Lei­dschep­lein, with the large town the­atre, re­built in 1890-1894 af­ter a fire.

Build­ings and In­sti­tu­tions.–The Dam is the vi­tal cen­tre of Am­ster­dam. All the tramways meet here, and some of the bus­iest streets, and here too are sit­uat­ed the Nieuwe Kerk and the palace. In the mid­dle of the Dam stands a mon­ument to those who fell in the Bel­gian rev­olu­tion of 1830-1831, and called the Met­al Cross af­ter the war medals struck at that time. The palace is an im­pos­ing build­ing in the clas­si­cal style, orig­inal­ly built as a town-​hall in 1648-1655 by the ar­chi­tect Ja­cob van Kem­pen. It was first giv­en up to roy­al­ty on the oc­ca­sion of the vis­it of the Stadthold­er William V. in 1768, and forty years lat­er was ap­pro­pri­at­ed as a roy­al palace by Louis Bona­parte, king of Hol­land. But King William I. af­ter­wards for­mal­ly re­turned the palace to the city, and the sovereign is there­fore ac­tu­al­ly the city’s guest when re­sid­ing in it. Beau­ti­ful­ly dec­orat­ed on the ex­te­ri­or with gable re­liefs by Ar­tus Quelli­nus (1609-1668) of Antwerp, its great ex­ter­nal de­fect is the ab­sence of a grand en­trance. The ar­chi­tec­tural and or­na­men­tal sculp­ture of the in­te­ri­or is most­ly by the same artist, and there are a few in­ter­est­ing pic­tures, as well as some re­al­is­tic wall paint­ings by the 18th cen­tu­ry artist Ja­cob de Wit sim­ilar to those in the Huis ten Bosch near the Hague. The great hall is one of the most splen­did of its kind in Eu­rope. Like most of the less­er apart­ments, it is lined with white Ital­ian mar­ble, and in spite of its enor­mous di­men­sions the roof is un­sup­port­ed by pil­lars. An­cient flags cap­tured in war dec­orate the walls, and in the mid­dle of the mar­ble floor is a rep­re­sen­ta­tion of the fir­ma­ment in­laid in cop­per. The Nieuwe Kerk (St Cather­ine’s), in which the sovereigns of Hol­land are crowned, is a fine Goth­ic build­ing dat­ing from 1408. In­ter­nal­ly it is re­mark­able for its re­mains of an­cient stained glass, fine carv­ings and in­ter­est­ing mon­uments, in­clud­ing one to the fa­mous Ad­mi­ral de Ruyter (d. 1676). A large stained-​glass win­dow com­mem­orates the tak­ing of the oath by Queen Wil­helmi­na in 1898. The new ex­change (1901) is a strik­ing build­ing in red brick and stone, and lies a short dis­tance away be­tween the Dam and the fine cen­tral sta­tion (1889). The Oude Kerk (St Nicholaas), so called, was built about the year 1300, and con­tains some beau­ti­ful stained glass of the 16th and 17th cen­turies, by Pieter Aert­sen of Am­ster­dam (1508-1575) and oth­ers. One win­dow con­tains the arms of the bur­go­mas­ters of Am­ster­dam from 1578 to 1767. Among the mon­uments are those to var­ious naval heroes, in­clud­ing Ad­mi­rals van Heemskerk (d. 1607), Sweers (d. 1673) and van der Hulst (d. 1666). The North Church was the last work of the ar­chi­tect Hen­drik de Keyser (1565-1621) of Utrecht. The Ro­man Catholic church of St Nicholaas (1886) was built to re­place the ac­com­mo­da­tion pre­vi­ous­ly af­ford­ed by a com­mon dwelling-​house, now the Mu­se­um Am­stelkring of ec­cle­si­as­ti­cal an­tiq­ui­ties. Among the nu­mer­ous Jew­ish syn­agogues, the largest is that of the Por­tuguese Jews (1670), which is said to be an im­ita­tion of the tem­ple of Solomon. Oth­er build­ings of in­ter­est are the St An­tonieswaag, built as a town gate in 1488-1585, and now con­tain­ing the city archives; the Trip­pen­huis, built as a pri­vate house in 1662, and now the home of the Roy­al So­ci­ety of Sci­ence, Let­ters and Fine Arts; the Nether­lands Bank (1865-1869), built by the ar­chi­tect W. A. Froger; the new build­ing (1860) of the Sea­men’s In­sti­tute, found­ed in 1785; the cel­lu­lar prison; and the so-​called Paleis van Volksvli­jt, an im­mense build­ing of iron and glass with a fine gar­den, built by Dr Samuel Sarphati, and used for in­dus­tri­al ex­hi­bi­tions, the per­for­mance of op­eras, &c. The mu­se­ums and pic­ture gal­leries of Am­ster­dam are of great in­ter­est. The Ryks Mu­se­um, or state mu­se­um, is the first in Hol­land. It is a large, hand­some and fine­ly sit­uat­ed build­ing de­signed by Dr P. J. H. Cuyper in the Dutch Re­nais­sance style, and erect­ed in 1876-1885. The ex­te­ri­or is dec­orat­ed with sculp­tures and tile-​work, and in­ter­nal­ly it is di­vid­ed, broad­ly speak­ing, in­to a mu­se­um of gen­er­al an­tiq­ui­ties be­low, and the large gallery of pic­tures of the Dutch and Flem­ish schools above. The nu­cle­us of this un­sur­passed na­tion­al col­lec­tion of pic­tures was formed out of the col­lec­tions re­moved hith­er from the Pavil­ion at Haar­lem, con­sist­ing of mod­ern paint­ings, and from the town-​hall, the van der Hoop Mu­se­um and the Trip­pen­huis in Am­ster­dam. The im­por­tant van der Hoop col­lec­tion arose out of be­quests by Adri­an van der Hoop and his wid­ow in 1854 and 1880; but the most fa­mous pic­tures in the Ryks Mu­se­um are per­haps the three which come from the Trip­pen­huis, name­ly, the so-​called “Night­watch” and the “Syn­dics of the Cloth Hall” by Rem­brandt, an­dlthe “Ban­quet of the Civic Guard,” by van der Helst. The Trip­pen­huis gallery con­sist­ed of the pic­tures brought from the Hague by Louis Bona­parte, king of Hol­land, and be­long­ing to the col­lec­tion of the Or­ange fam­ily dis­persed dur­ing the Napoleon­ic pe­ri­od. The mu­nic­ipal mu­se­um con­tains a col­lec­tion of fur­ni­ture, paint­ings, &c., be­queathed by Sophia Lopez-​Suas­so (1890), a medi­co-​phar­ma­ceu­ti­cal col­lec­tion, and the Na­tion­al Guard Mu­se­um. The Joseph Fodor Mu­se­um (1860) con­tains mod­ern French and Dutch pic­tures. The pri­vate col­lec­tion found­ed by Bur­go­mas­ter Jan Six (d. 1702), the friend and pa­tron of Rem­brandt, was sold to the state in 1907; the pic­tures, ex­cept the fam­ily Rem­brandts, are in the Ryks Mu­se­um. Close to this is the Wil­let-​Holthuy­sen Mu­se­um (1895) of fur­ni­ture, porce­lain, &c.

Ed­uca­tion and Char­ities.–There are two uni­ver­si­ties in Am­ster­dam: the Free Uni­ver­si­ty (1880), and the more an­cient state uni­ver­si­ty of Am­ster­dam, orig­inal­ly found­ed in 1632, but re­con­struct­ed in 1887. In ad­di­tion to the nu­mer­ous sci­ence lab­ora­to­ries the state uni­ver­si­ty pos­sess­es a very fine li­brary of about 100,000 vol­umes, in­clud­ing the Rosen­thal col­lec­tion of over 8000 books on Jew­ish lit­er­ature. Mod­ern ed­uca­tion­al in­sti­tu­tions in­clude a school of en­gi­neer­ing (1879), a school for teach­ers (1878) and a school of in­dus­tri­al art (1879). Am­ster­dam is al­so re­mark­able for the num­ber and high char­ac­ter of its benev­olent in­sti­tu­tions, which are to a large ex­tent sup­port­ed by vol­un­tary con­tri­bu­tions. Among oth­ers may be men­tioned hos­pi­tals for the sick, the aged, the in­firm, the blind, the deaf, the dumb, the in­sane, and homes for wid­ows, or­phans, foundlings and sailors. The cos­tumes of the chil­dren ed­ucat­ed at the dif­fer­ent or­phan­ages are var­ied and pic­turesque, those of the mu­nic­ipal or­phan­age be­ing dressed in the city colours of red and black. In the Wal­loon or­phan­age are some in­ter­est­ing pic­tures by van der Helst and oth­ers. The So­ci­ety for Pub­lic Wel­fare (Maatschap­pij tot nut van het Al­ge­meen), found­ed in 1785, has for its ob)ect the pro­mo­tion of the ed­uca­tion and im­prove­ment of all class­es, and has branch­es in ev­ery part of Hol­land. Among oth­er Am­ster­dam so­ci­eties are the Fe­lix Meri­tis (1776), and the Ar­ti et Am­ici­ti­ae (1839), whose art ex­hi­bi­tions are of a high or­der.

Har­bour and Com­merce.–The first at­tempt which the city of Am­ster­dam made to over­come the evils wrought to its trade by the slow for­ma­tion of the Pam­pus sand­bank at the en­trance to the Y from the Zuider Zee, was the con­struc­tion of the North Hol­land canal to the Helder in 1825. But the route was too long and too in­tri­cate, and in 1876 a much larg­er and more di­rect ship canal was built across the isth­mus to the North Sea at Ymuiden. The se­ri­ous ri­val­ry of Rot­ter­dam, es­pe­cial­ly with re­gard to the tran­sit trade, and the in­ad­equa­cy of the Keulsche Vaart, which con­nect­ed the city with the Rhine, led to the con­struc­tion in 1892 of the Mer­wede canal to Gor­inchem. Mean­while a com­plete trans­for­ma­tion took place on the Y to suit the new re­quire­ments of the city’s trade. The three is­lands built out in­to the riv­er serve to car­ry the rail­way across the front of the city, and form a long se­ries of quays. On ei­ther side are the large East and West docks (1825-1834), and be­yond these stretch the lone quays at which the Amer­ican and East In­di­an lin­ers are berthed. On the west of the West dock is the tim­ber dock, and east of the East dock is an­oth­er se­ries of is­lands joined to­geth­er so as to form basins and quays, one of which is the State Ma­rine dock (1790-1795) with the ar­se­nal and ad­mi­ral­ty of­fices. Open­ing out of one of the cres­cent canals which pen­etrate the city from the Y is the State En­tre­pot dock (1900), the free har­bour of Am­ster­dam, where the pro­duce from the Dutch East In­dies is stored. On the north side of the Y are the dry docks and the petroleum dock (1880-1890). The prin­ci­pal im­ports are tim­ber, coal, grain, ore, petroleum and colo­nial pro­duce. Un­der the last head fall to­bac­co, tea, cof­fee, co­coa, sug­ar, Pe­ru­vian bark and oth­er drugs. Di­amond-​cut­ting has long been prac­tised by the Jews and forms one of the most char­ac­ter­is­tic in­dus­tries of the city. Oth­er in­dus­tries in­clude sug­ar re­finer­ies, soap, oil, glass, iron, dye and chem­ical works; dis­til­leries, brew­eries, tan­ner­ies; to­bac­co and snuff fac­to­ries; ship­build­ing and the man­ufac­ture of ma­chin­ery and stearine can­dles. Al­though no longer the Cen­tre of the bank­ing trans­ac­tions of the world, the Am­ster­dam ex­change is still of con­sid­er­able im­por­tance in this re­spect. The cel­ebrat­ed Bank of Am­ster­dam, found­ed in 1609, was dis­solved in 1796, and the present Bank of the Nether­lands was es­tab­lished in 1814 on the mod­el of the Bank of Eng­land. The mon­ey mar­ket is the head­quar­ters of com­pa­nies formed to pro­mote the cul­ti­va­tion of colo­nial pro­duce.

His­to­ry.–In 1204, when Giese­brecht II. of Am­stel built a cas­tle there, Am­stet­dam was a fish­ing ham­let held in fee by the lords of Am­stel of the bish­ops of Utrecht, for whom they act­ed as bailiffs. In 1240 Giese­brecht III., son of the builder of the cas­tle, con­struct­ed a dam to keep out the sea. To these two, then, the ori­gin of the city may be as­cribed. The first men­tion of the town is in 1275, in a char­ter of Floris IV., count of Hol­land, ex­empt­ing it from cer­tain tax­es.

In 1296 the place passed out of the hands of the lords of Am­stel, ow­ing to the part tak­en by Giese­brecht IV. in the mur­der of Count Floris V. of Hol­land. Count John (d. 1304), af­ter com­ing to an un­der­stand­ing with the bish­op of Utrecht, be­stowed the fief on his broth­er, Guy of Hain­aut. Guy gave the town its first char­ter in 1300. It es­tab­lished the usu­al type of gov­ern­ment un­der a bailiff (schout) and ju­di­cial as­ses­sors (scab­ini, or schop­pe­nen), the over­lord’s suprema­cy be­ing guard­ed, and an ap­peal ly­ing from the court of the scab­ini, in case of their dis­agree­ment, to Utrecht. In 1342 more ex­ten­sive priv­ileges were grant­ed by Count William IV., in­clud­ing free­dom from tolls by land and wa­ter in re­turn for cer­tain an­nu­al dues. In 1482 the town was sur­round­ed with walls; and in the 16th cen­tu­ry, dur­ing the re­li­gious trou­bles, it re­ceived a great in­crease of pros­per­ity ow­ing to the in­flux of refugees from Antwerp and Bra­bant. Am­ster­dam, in­flu­enced by its trad­ing in­ter­ests, did not join the oth­er towns in re­volt against Spain un­til 1578. In 1587 the earl of Le­ices­ter made an un­suc­cess­ful at­tempt to seize it. The great de­vel­op­ment of Am­ster­dam was due, how­ev­er, to the treaty of West­phalia in 1648, by which its ri­val, Antwerp, was ru­ined, ow­ing to the clos­ing of the Scheldt. The city held out ob­sti­nate­ly against the pre­ten­sions of the stadthold­ers, and in 1650 opened the dykes in or­der to pre­vent William II. from seiz­ing it. The same de­vice was suc­cess­ful against Louis XIV. in 1672; and Am­ster­dam, now rec­on­ciled with the stadthold­er, was one of the staunch­est sup­port­ers of William III. against France. Af­ter the re­vo­ca­tion of the edict of Nantes in 1685 it opened its gates to nu­mer­ous French refugees; but this hard­ly com­pen­sat­ed it for its loss­es dur­ing the war. In 1787 Am­ster­dam was oc­cu­pied by the Prus­sians, and in 1795 by the French un­der Pichegru. It was now made the cap­ital of the Bata­vian Re­pub­lic and af­ter­wards of the king­dom of Hol­land. When, in 1810, this was unit­ed with the French em­pire, Am­ster­dam was rec­og­nized of­fi­cial­ly as the third town of the em­pire, rank­ing next af­ter Paris and Rome.

See J. ter Gouw, Geschiedeniss van Am­ster­dam (3 vols., Am­ster­dam, 1879-1881), a full his­to­ry with doc­uments.

AM­STER­DAM (NEW AM­STER­DAM), an un­in­hab­it­ed and al­most in­ac­ces­si­ble is­land in the In­di­an Ocean, in 37 deg. 47′ S., and 77 deg. 34′ E., about 60 m. N. of St Paul Is­land, and near­ly mid­way be­tween the Cape of Good Hope and Tas­ma­nia. It is an ex­tinct vol­cano, ris­ing 2989 ft. from the sea. It was dis­cov­ered by An­tho­ny van Diemen in 1633, and an­nexed by France in 1893. It may have been sight­ed by the com­pan­ions of Mag­el­lan re­turn­ing to Eu­rope in 1522, and by a Dutch ves­sel, the “Zee­wolf,” in 1617. In 1871 the British frigate “Megaera” was wrecked here, and most of the 400 per­sons on board had to re­main up­wards of three months on the is­land. The Mem­oires of a French­man, Cap­tain Fran­cois Per­on (Paris, 1824), who was ma­rooned three years on the is­land (1792-1795), are of much in­ter­est.

AM­STER­DAM, a city of Mont­gomery coun­ty, New York, U.S.A., on the north bank of the Mo­hawk riv­er, about 33 m. N.W. of Al­bany. Pop. (1890) 17,336; (1900) 20,929, of whom 5575 were for­eign-​born; (1910) 31,267. It is served by the New York Cen­tral & Hud­son Riv­er and the West Shore rail­ways, and by the Erie Canal. Hills on both sides of the riv­er com­mand fine views of the Mo­hawk Val­ley. Am­ster­dam has two hos­pi­tals, a free pub­lic li­brary and St Mary’s In­sti­tute (Ro­man Catholic). Man­ufac­tur­ing is the most im­por­tant in­dus­try, and car­pets and rugs, hosiery and knit goods are the most im­por­tant prod­ucts. In 1905 the city’s fac­to­ry prod­ucts were val­ued at $15,007,276 (an in­crease of 41% over their val­ue in 1900); car­pets and rugs be­ing val­ued at $5,667,742, and hosiery and knit goods (in the man­ufac­ture of which Am­ster­dam ranked third among the cities of the coun­try) at $4,667,022, or 3.4% of the to­tal prod­uct of the Unit­ed States. Among the oth­er man­ufac­tures are brush­es, brooms, but­tons, silk gloves, pa­per box­es, elec­tri­cal sup­plies, dye­ing ma­chines, cigars, and wag­on and car­riage springs. Am­ster­dam was set­tled about 1775, and was called Veed­er­sburg un­til 1804, when its present name was adopt­ed. It was in­cor­po­rat­ed as a vil­lage in 1830, and was char­tered as a city in 1885.

AMUCK, RUN­NING (or more prop­er­ly AMOK), the na­tive term for the homi­ci­dal ma­nia which at­tacks Malays. A Malay will sud­den­ly and ap­par­ent­ly with­out rea­son rush in­to the street armed with a kris or oth­er weapon, and slash and cut at ev­ery­body he meets till he is killed. These fren­zies were for­mer­ly re­gard­ed as due to sud­den in­san­ity. It is now, how­ev­er, cer­tain that the typ­ical amok is the re­sult of cir­cum­stances, such as do­mes­tic jeal­ousy or gam­bling loss­es, which ren­der a Malay des­per­ate and weary of his life. It is, in fact, the Malay equiv­alent of sui­cide. “The act of run­ning amuck is prob­ably due to caus­es over which the cul­prit has some amount of con­trol, as the cus­tom has now died out in the British pos­ses­sions in the penin­su­la, the of­fend­ers prob­ably ob­ject­ing to be­ing caught and tried in cold blood” (W. W. Skeat).

Though so in­ti­mate­ly as­so­ci­at­ed with the Malay there is some ground for be­liev­ing the word to have an In­di­an ori­gin, and the act is cer­tain­ly far from un­known in In­di­an his­to­ry. Some no­table cas­es have oc­curred among the Ra­jputs. Thus, in 1634, the el­dest son of the ra­ja of Jodh­pur ran amuck at the court of Shah Ja­han, fail­ing in his at­tack on the em­per­or, but killing five of his of­fi­cials. Dur­ing the 18th cen­tu­ry, again, at Hy­der­abad (Sind), two en­voys, sent by the Jodh­pur chief in re­gard to a quar­rel be­tween the two states, stabbed the prince and twen­ty-​six of his suite be­fore they them­selves fell.

In Mal­abar there were cer­tain pro­fes­sion­al as­sas­sins known to old trav­ellers as Amouchi or Amu­co. The near­est mod­ern equiv­alent to these words would seem to be the Malay­al­im Amar-​khan, “a war­rior” (from amar, “fight”). The Malay­al­im term chaver ap­plied to these ruf­fi­ans meant lit­er­al­ly those “who de­vote them­selves to death.” In Mal­abar was a cus­tom by which the zamor­in or king of Cali­cut had to cut his throat in pub­lic when he had reigned twelve years. In the 17th cen­tu­ry a vari­ation in his fate was made. He had to take his seat, af­ter a great feast last­ing twelve days, at a na­tion­al as­sem­bly, sur­round­ed by his armed suite, and it was law­ful for any­one to at­tack him, and if he suc­ceed­ed in killing him the mur­der­er him­self be­came zamor­in (see Alex. Hamil­ton, “A new Ac­count of the East In­dies,” in Pinker­ton’s Voy­ages and Trav­els, vi­ii. 374). In 1600 thir­ty would-​be as­sas­sins were killed in their at­tempts. These men were called Amar-​khan, and it has been sug­gest­ed that their ac­tion was “run­ning amuck” in the true Malay sense. An­oth­er pro­posed deriva­tion for amouchi is San­skrit amok­shya, “that can­not be loosed,” sug­gest­ing that the mur­der­er was bound by a vow, an ex­pla­na­tion more than once ad­vanced for the Malay amuck; but amok­shya in such a sense is un­known in Malay­al­im.

See Sir F. A. Swet­ten­ham, Malay Sketch­es (1895); H. Clif­ford, Stud­ies in Brown Hu­man­ity (1898).

AMULET (Late Lat. amule­tum, ori­gin un­known; false­ly con­nect­ed with the Arab. hi­malah, a cord used to sus­pend a small Ko­ran from the neck), a charm, gen­er­al­ly, but not in­vari­ably, hung from the neck, to pro­tect the wear­er against witchcraft, sick­ness, ac­ci­dents, &c. Amulets have been of many dif­fer­ent kinds, and formed of dif­fer­ent sub­stances,–stones, met­als, and strips of parch­ment be­ing the most com­mon, with or with­out char­ac­ters or leg­ends en­graved or writ­ten on them. Gems have of­ten been em­ployed and great­ly prized, serv­ing for or­na­ments as well as for charms. Cer­tain herbs, too, and an­imal prepa­ra­tions have been used in the same way. In set­ting them apart to their use as amulets, great pre­cau­tions have been tak­en that fit­ting times be se­lect­ed, stel­lar and oth­er mag­ic in­flu­ences pro­pi­tious, and ev­ery­thing avoid­ed that might be sup­posed to de­stroy or weak­en the force of the charm. From the ear­li­est ages the Ori­en­tal races have had a firm be­lief in the preva­lence of oc­cult evil in­flu­ences, and a su­per­sti­tious trust in amulets and sim­ilar preser­va­tives against them. There are ref­er­ences to, and ap­par­ent­ly cor­rec­tives of, these cus­toms in the Mo­sa­ic in­junc­tions to bind por­tions of the law up­on the hand and as frontlets be­tween the eyes, as well as write them up­on the door-​posts and the gates; but, among the lat­er Jews es­pe­cial­ly, the orig­inal de­sign and mean­ing of these us­ages were lost sight of; and though it has been said that the phy­lac­ter­ies were not strict­ly amulets, there is no doubt that they were held in su­per­sti­tious re­gard. Amulets were much used by the an­cient Egyp­tians, and al­so among the Greeks and Ro­mans. We find traces of them too in the ear­ly Chris­tian church, in the em­phat­ic protests of Chrysos­tom, Au­gus­tine and oth­ers against them. The fish was a favourite sym­bol on these charms, from the word ichthus be­ing the ini­tials of ‘Iesous Chris­tos Theou uios sot­er. A firm faith in amulets still pre­vails wide­ly among Asi­at­ic na­tions. Tal­is­man, al­so from the Ara­bic, is a word of sim­ilar mean­ing and use, but some dis­tin­guish it as im­port­ing a more pow­er­ful charm. A tal­is­man, whose “virtues are still ap­plied to for stop­ping blood and in cas­es of ca­nine mad­ness,” fig­ures promi­nent­ly in, and gives name to, one of Sir Wal­ter Scott’s nov­els.

See al­so Arpe, De Prodigi­is Nat­urae et Ar­tis Operibus Tal­is­man­es et Amule­ta dic­tis (Ham­burg, 1717); Ewele, Ue­ber Amulete (1827); and Koop’s Palaeo­graph­ica Crit­ica, vols. iii. and iv. (1829).

AMUR (known al­so as the Sakhalin-​ula.) a riv­er of east­ern Asia, formed by the con­flu­ence of the Ar­gun and the Shil­ka, at Ust-​Stryel­ka, in 53 deg. 19′ N. lat. and 120 deg. 30′ E. long. Both these rivers come from the south-​west: the Ar­gun, or Kerulen as it is called above Lake Ku­lun (Dalai-​nor), through which it flows about half way be­tween its source and Ust-​Stryel­ka, ris­es in 49 deg. N. lat. and 109 deg. E. long.; the Shil­ka is formed by the union of the Onon and the In­go­da, both of which have their sources a lit­tle far­ther north-​east than the Kerulen (Ar­gun). The Amur prop­er flows at first in a south-​east­er­ly di­rec­tion for about 800 m., as far as long. 132′ E., sep­arat­ing Manchuria from the Amur gov­ern­ment; it then turns to the north-​east, cuts its way through the Lit­tle Khin­gan moun­tains in a gorge 2000 ft. wide and 140 m. long, and af­ter a to­tal course of over 1700 m. dis­charges in­to the Sea of Okhot­sk, op­po­site to the is­land of Sakhalin. It is es­ti­mat­ed to drain an area of 772,000 sq. m. Its prin­ci­pal trib­utaries from the south are the Sun­gari, which the Chi­nese con­sid­er to be the true head-​riv­er of the Amur, and the Usuri; from the north it re­ceives the Oldoi, Zeya, Bu­reya, Kur, Gorin and Am­gun. As the mouth is choked with sand­banks, goods are dis­em­barked at Mari­in­sk and car­ried by train (9 m.) to Alexan­drovsk at the head of the Gulf of Tar­tary. Nav­iga­tion on the riv­er is open from April to ear­ly in Novem­ber.

See T. W. Atkin­son, Trav­els in the Re­gion of the Amoor (1860); Collins, Ex­plo­ration of the Amoor (ed. 1864) and Voy­age down the Amoor (1866); An­dree, Das Amurge­bi­et (ed. 1876); and Grum- Gr­shi­may­lo, Ac­counit of the Amur (Rus­sian, 1894).

AMUR, a gov­ern­ment of East Siberia, stretch­ing from the Stanovoi (Yablonoi) moun­tains south­wards to the left bank of the Amur riv­er. It in­cludes the basins of the Oldoi, Zeya and Bu­reya, left-​bank trib­utaries of the riv­er Amur, and has the gov­ern­ments of Trans­baikalia on the W., Irkut­sk and Yakut­sk on the N., the Mar­itime province on the E., and Manchuria on the S.W. and S. Area, 172,848 sq. m. Im­mense dis­tricts are quite un­in­hab­it­ed. All the north-​west­ern part is oc­cu­pied by a high plateau, bor­dered by the Great Khin­gan range, whose ex­act po­si­tion in the re­gion is not yet def­inite­ly set­tled. Next comes a belt of fer­tile plateaus bound­ed on the east by the Lit­tle Khin­gan, or Dusse-​alin, a pic­turesque well-​wood­ed range, which stretch­es in a north-​east­er­ly di­rec­tion from Kirin across Manchuria, is pierced by the Amur, and con­tin­ues on its left bank, sep­arat­ing the Bu­reya from the Am­gun. To the east of it stretch­es in the same di­rec­tion a strip of marshy low­lands. In the ranges which rise above the high plateau in the north-​west, in the vicin­ity of the Stanovoi wa­ter­shed, gold mines of great rich­ness are worked. Coal of in­fe­ri­or qual­ity is known to ex­ist on the Oldoi, Zeya and Bu­reya. The Rus­sians are rep­re­sent­ed by the Amur Cos­sacks, whose vil­lages, e.g. Al­bazin, Ku­mara, Eka­teri­no-​Nikol­sk and Mikhai­lo-​Se­men­ovsk, are strung at in­ter­vals of 17 to 20 m. along the whole course of the riv­er; by peas­ant im­mi­grants, chiefly non­con­formists, who are the wealth­iest part of the pop­ula­tion; and by a float­ing pop­ula­tion of gold min­ers. No­madic Tun­gus (Oro­chons), Mane­gres and Golds hunt and fish along the rivers. Steam­ers ply reg­ular­ly along the Amur for 6 1/2 months, from Kha­harovsk to Stryeten­sk, on the Shil­ka ter­mi­nus of the Trans-​Siberi­an rail­way; but on­ly light steam­ers with 2 to 3 ft. draught can nav­igate the up­per Amur and Shil­ka. In the win­ter the frozen riv­er is the usu­al high­way. Rough roads and bri­dle-​paths on­ly are found in the in­te­ri­or. The great en­gi­neer­ing dif­fi­cul­ties in build­ing a rail­way along the Amur in­duced the Rus­sian gov­ern­ment to ob­tain from Chi­na per­mis­sion to build a rail­way through Manchuria, but the project for a rail­way from Khabarovsk to Stryeten­sk re­ceived im­pe­ri­al sanc­tion in the sum­mer of 1906. The Amur gov­ern­ment has a con­ti­nen­tal cli­mate, the year­ly av­er­age at Blagovyeshchen­sk (50 deg. N. lat.) be­ing 30 deg. Fahr. (Jan­uary, 17 deg. ; Ju­ly, 70 deg. ). It ben­efits from the in­flu­ence of the mon­soons. Cold north-​west winds pre­vail from Oc­to­ber to March, while in Ju­ly and Au­gust tor­ren­tial rains fall, re­sult­ing in a sud­den and very con­sid­er­able rise in the Amur and its right-​bank trib­utaries. The on­ly town is Blagovyeshchen­sk, but the cen­tre of the ad­min­is­tra­tion is Khabarovsk in the Mar­itime province. The set­tled pop­ula­tion in 1897 was 119,909, of whom 31,515 lived in towns.

The gov­er­nor-​gen­er­al­ship of Amur in­cludes this gov­ern­ment and the Mar­itime province, the to­tal area be­ing 888,830 sq. m., and the to­tal pop­ula­tion in 1897, 339,127. This re­gion be­came known to the Rus­sians in 1639. In 1649-1651 a par­ty of Cos­sacks, un­der Khabarov, built a fort at Al­bazin on the Amur riv­er, but in 1689 they with­drew in favour of the Chi­nese. From 1847 on­wards they once more turned their at­ten­tion to this re­gion, and be­gan to make set­tle­ments, es­pe­cial­ly af­ter 1854, when a pow­er­ful flotil­la sailed from Ust-​Stryel­ka down to the mouth of the riv­er. Four years lat­er Chi­na ced­ed to Rus­sia the whole left bank of the Amur, and al­so the right bank be­low the con­flu­ence of the Us­suri, and in 1860 all the ter­ri­to­ry be­tween the Us­suri and the East­ern Sea. (P. A. K.)

AMYG­DALIN (from the Gr. amug­dale, al­mond), C20H27NO11, a glu­co­side iso­lat­ed from bit­ter al­monds by H. E. Ro­bi­quet and A. F. Boutron-​Char­lard in 1830, and sub­se­quent­ly in­ves­ti­gat­ed by Liebig and Wohler, and oth­ers. It is ex­tract­ed from al­mond cake by boil­ing al­co­hol; on evap­ora­tion of the so­lu­tion and the ad­di­tion of ether, amyg­dalin is pre­cip­itat­ed as white minute crys­tals. Sul­phuric acid de­com­pos­es it in­to d-​glu­cose, ben­zalde­hyde and prus­sic acid; while hy­drochlo­ric acid gives man­del­ic acid, d-​glu­cose and am­mo­nia. The de­com­po­si­tion in­duced by en­zymes may oc­cur in two ways. Mal­tase par­tial­ly de­com­pos­es it, giv­ing d-​glu­cose and man­del­ic ni­trile glu­co­side, C6H5CH(CN)O.C6H11O5; this com­pound is iso­mer­ic with sam­bun­igrin, a glu­co­side found by E. E. Bourquelot and Dan­jou in the berries of the com­mon el­der, Sam­bu­cus ni­gra. Emulsin, on the oth­er hand, de­com­pos­es it in­to ben­zalde­hyde, prus­sic acid, and two molecules of glu­cose; this en­zyme oc­curs in the bit­ter al­mond, and con­se­quent­ly the seeds in­vari­ably con­tain free prus­sic acid and ben­zalde­hyde. An “amor­phous amyg­dalin” is said to oc­cur in the cher­ry-​lau­rel. Close­ly re­lat­ed to these glu­co­sides is dhur­rin, C14H17O7N, iso­lat­ed by W. Dun­stan and T. A. Hen­ry from the com­mon sorghum or “great mil­let,” Sorghum vul­gare; this sub­stance is de­com­posed by emulsin or hy­drochlo­ric acid in­to d-​glu­cose, prus­sic acid, and p-​hy­drox­yben­zalde­hyde.

AMYG­DALOID, a term mean­ing “al­mond-​shaped,” used in anato­my and ge­ol­ogy.

AMYL AL­CO­HOLS (C5H11OH). Eight amyl al­co­hols are known: nor­mal amyl al­co­hol CH3.(CH2)4.OH, isobutyl carbinol or isoamyl al­co­hol (CH3)2.CH.CH2.CH2OH, ac­tive amyl al­co­hol (CH3)(C2H5):CH.CH2OH, ter­tiary butyl carbinol (CH3)3C.CH2OH, di­ethyl carbinol (C2H5)2CH.OH, methyl (n) propyl carbinol (CH3.CH2.CH2)(CH3):CH:OH, methyl iso­propyl carbinol (CH3)2:CH(CH3):CHOH, and dimethyl ethyl carbinol (CH3)2.(C2H5).:C.OH. Of these al­co­hols, the first four are pri­ma­ry, the last one a ter­tiary, the oth­er three sec­ondary al­co­hols; three of them, viz. ac­tive amyl al­co­hol, methyl (n) propyl carbinol, and methyl iso­propyl carbinol, con­tain an asym­met­ric car­bon atom and can con­se­quent­ly each ex­ist in two op­ti­cal­ly ac­tive, and one op­ti­cal­ly in­ac­tive form.

The most im­por­tant is isobutyl carbinol, this be­ing the chief con­stituent of fer­men­ta­tion amyl al­co­hol, and con­se­quent­ly a con­stituent of fusel (q.v.) oil. It may be sep­arat­ed from fusel oil by shak­ing with strong brine so­lu­tion, sep­arat­ing the oily lay­er from the brine lay­er and dis­till­ing it, the por­tion boil­ing be­tween 125 deg. and 140 deg. C. be­ing col­lect­ed. For fur­ther pu­rifi­ca­tion it may be shak­en with hot milk of lime, the oily lay­er sep­arat­ed, dried with cal­ci­um chlo­ride and frac­tion­at­ed, the frac­tion boil­ing be­tween 128 deg. and 132 deg. C. on­ly be­ing col­lect­ed. It may be syn­thet­ical­ly pre­pared from isobutyl al­co­hol by con­ver­sion in­to iso­valeryl-​alde­hyde, which is sub­se­quent­ly re­duced to isobutyl carbinol by means of sodi­um amal­gam.

It is a colour­less liq­uid of spe­cif­ic grav­ity 0.8248 (0 deg. C.), boil­ing at 131.6 deg. C., slight­ly sol­uble in wa­ter, eas­ily sol­uble in al­co­hol, ether, chlo­ro­form and ben­zene. It pos­sess­es a char­ac­ter­is­tic strong smell and a sharp burn­ing taste. When per­fect­ly pure, it is not a poi­son, al­though the im­pure prod­uct is. On pass­ing its vapour through a red-​hot tube, it un­der­goes de­com­po­si­tion with pro­duc­tion of acety­lene, ethy­lene, propy­lene, &c. It is ox­idized by chromic acid mix­ture to iso­valeryl-​alde­hyde; and it forms crys­talline ad­di­tion com­pounds with cal­ci­um and stan­nic chlo­rides.

The oth­er amyl al­co­hols may be ob­tained syn­thet­ical­ly. Of these, ter­tiary butyl carbinol has been the most dif­fi­cult to ob­tain, its syn­the­sis hav­ing on­ly been ac­com­plished in 1891, by L. Tissier (Comptes Ren­dus, 1891, 112, p. 1065) by the re­duc­tion of a mix­ture of trimethyl acetic acid and trimethy­lacetyl chlo­ride with sodi­um amal­gam. It is a sol­id which melts at 48 deg. -50 deg. C. and boils at 112.3 deg. C.

AMYL NI­TRITE (isoamyl ni­trite), C5H11.ONO, a liq­uid pre­pared by pass­ing ni­trous fumes (from starch and con­cen­trat­ed ni­tric acid) in­to warm isoamyl al­co­hol; or by dis­till­ing a mix­ture of 26 parts of potas­si­um ni­trite in 15 parts of wa­ter with 30 parts of isoamyl al­co­hol in 30 parts of sul­phuric acid (Re­nard, Jahresb., 1874, p. 352). It is a yel­low-​coloured liq­uid of spe­cif­ic grav­ity 0.877, boil­ing at about 95 deg. -96 deg. C. It has a char­ac­ter­is­tic pen­etrat­ing odour, and pro­duces marked ef­fects on the sys­tem when its vapour is in­haled. It is in­sol­uble in wa­ter, but dis­solves read­ily in al­co­hol, ether, glacial acetic acid, chlo­ro­form and ben­zene. On heat­ing with methyl al­co­hol it is con­vert­ed in­to isoamyl al­co­hol, methyl ni­trite be­ing pro­duced at the same time; a sim­ilar re­ac­tion takes place with ethyl al­co­hol, but the change is less com­plete. It is read­ily de­com­posed by nascent hy­dro­gen, with the for­ma­tion of am­mo­nia and isoamyl al­co­hol; and on hy­drol­ysis with caus­tic potash it forms potas­si­um ni­trite and isoamyl al­co­hol. When the liq­uid is dropped on to fused caus­tic potash, it forms potas­si­um valer­ate. Amyl ni­trite finds ap­pli­ca­tion in medicine, and in the prepa­ra­tion of an­hy­drous di­azo­ni­um salts (E. Kno­eve­nagel, Berichte, 1890, 23, p. 2094).

AMY­MONE, in an­cient Greek leg­end, daugh­ter of Danaus. With her sis­ters, she had been sent to look for wa­ter, the dis­trict of Ar­gos be­ing then parched through the anger of Po­sei­don. Amy­mone hav­ing thrown her spear at a stag, missed it, but hit a satyr asleep in the brake. The satyr pur­sued her, and she called for help on Po­sei­don, who ap­peared, and for love of her beau­ty caused a spring to well up, which re­ceived her name. Aeschy­lus wrote a satyric dra­ma on the sub­ject. By the god Amy­mone be­came the moth­er of Nau­plius, the wreck­er. Her meet­ing with Po­sei­don at the spring is fre­quent­ly rep­re­sent­ed on an­cient coins and gems.

Apol­lodor­us ii. 1, 4; Hy­gi­nus, Fab. 169; Prop­er­tius ii. 26.

AMYN­TAS I., king of Mace­do­nia (c. 540-498 B.C.), was a trib­utary vas­sal of Dar­ius Hys­taspes. With him the his­to­ry of Mace­do­nia may be said to be­gin. He was the first of its rulers to have re­la­tions with oth­er coun­tries; he en­tered in­to an al­liance with the Pei­sis­trati­dae, and when Hip­pias was driv­en out of Athens he of­fered him the ter­ri­to­ry of An­the­mus on the Ther­ma­ic Gulf, with the ob­ject of turn­ing the Greek par­ty feuds to his own ad­van­tage (Herodotus v. 17, 94; Justin vii. 2; Thucy­dides ii. 100; Pau­sa­nias ix. 40). See MACE­DO­NIAN EM­PIRE.

AMYN­TAS II. (or III.), son of Ar­rhi­daeus, great-​grand­son of Alexan­der I., king of Mace­do­nia from 393 (or 389) to 369 B.C. He came to the throne af­ter the ten years of con­fu­sion which fol­lowed the death of Archelaus, the pa­tron of art and lit­er­ature, and showed the same taste for Greek cul­ture and its rep­re­sen­ta­tives. But he had many en­emies at home; in 383 he was driv­en out by the Il­lyr­ians, but in the fol­low­ing year, with the aid of the Thes­salians, he re­cov­ered his king­dom. He con­clud­ed a treaty with the Spar­tans, who as­sist­ed him to re­duce Olyn­thus (379). He al­so en­tered in­to a league with Ja­son of Pher­ae, and as­sid­uous­ly cul­ti­vat­ed the friend­ship of Athens. By his wife, Eu­ry­dice, he had three sons, the youngest of whom was the fa­mous Philip of Mace­don.

Diodor­us xiv. 89, xv. 19, 60; Xenophon, Hel­leni­ca, v. 2; Justin vii. 4.

AMY­OT, JACQUES (1513-1593), French writ­er, was born of poor par­ents, at Melun, on the 30th of Oc­to­ber 1513. He found his way to the uni­ver­si­ty of Paris, where he sup­port­ed him­self by serv­ing some of the rich­er stu­dents. He was nine­teen when he be­came M.A. at Paris, and lat­er he grad­uat­ed doc­tor of civ­il law at Bourges. Through Jacques Colure (or Col­in), ab­bot of St Am­brose in Bourges, he ob­tained a tu­tor­ship in the fam­ily of a sec­re­tary of state. By the sec­re­tary he was rec­om­mend­ed to Mar­guerite de Val­ois, and through her in­flu­ence was made pro­fes­sor of Greek and Latin at Bourges. Here he trans­lat­ed Theagene et Char­iclee from He­liodor­us (1547 fol.), for which he was re­ward­ed by Fran­cis I. with the abbey of Bel­lozane. He was thus en­abled to go to Italy to study the Vat­ican text of Plutarch, on the trans­la­tion on whose Lives (1559; 1565) he had been some time en­gaged. On the way he turned aside on a mis­sion to the coun­cil of Trent. Re­turn­ing home, he was ap­point­ed tu­tor to the sons of Hen­ry II., by one of whom (Charles IX.) he was af­ter­wards made grand al­moner (1561) and by the oth­er (Hen­ry III.) was ap­point­ed, in spite of his ple­beian ori­gin, com­man­der of the or­der of the Holy Ghost. Pius I. pro­mot­ed him to the bish­opric of Aux­erre, and here he con­tin­ued to live in com­par­ative qui­et, re­pair­ing his cathe­dral and per­fect­ing his trans­la­tions, for the rest of his days, though trou­bled to­wards the close by the in­sub­or­di­na­tion and re­volts of his cler­gy. He was a de­vout and con­sci­en­tious church­man, and had the courage to stand by his prin­ci­ples. It is said that he ad­vised the chap­lain of Hen­ry III. to refuse ab­so­lu­tion to the king af­ter the mur­der of the Guise princes. He was, nev­er­the­less, sus­pect­ed of ap­prov­ing the crime. His house was plun­dered, and he was com­pelled to leave Aux­erre for some time. He died on the 6th of Febru­ary 1593, be­queath­ing, it is said, 1200 crowns to the hos­pi­tal at Or­leans for the twelve “de­niers” he re­ceived there when “poor and naked” on his way to Paris. He trans­lat­ed sev­en books of Diodor­us (1554), the Daph­nis et Chloe of Longus (1559) and the Opera Moralia of Plutarch (1572). His vig­or­ous and id­iomat­ic ver­sion of Plutarch, Vies des hommes il­lus­tres, was trans­lat­ed in­to En­glish by Sir Thomas North, and sup­plied Shake­speare with ma­te­ri­als for his Ro­man plays. Mon­taigne said of him,“I give the palm to Jacques Amy­ot over all our French writ­ers, not on­ly for the sim­plic­ity and pu­ri­ty of his lan­guage in which he sur­pass­es all oth­ers, nor for his con­stan­cy to so long an un­der­tak­ing, nor for his pro­found learn­ing . . . but I am grate­ful to him es­pe­cial­ly for his wis­dom in choos­ing so valu­able a work.” It was in­deed to Plutarch that Amy­ot de­vot­ed his at­ten­tion. His oth­er trans­la­tions were sub­sidiary. The ver­sion of Diodor­us he did not pub­lish, al­though the manuscript had been dis­cov­ered by him­self. Amy­ot took great pains to find and in­ter­pret cor­rect­ly the best au­thor­ities, but the in­ter­est of his books to-​day lies in the style. His trans­la­tion reads like an orig­inal work. The per­son­al method of Plutarch ap­pealed to a gen­er­ation ad­dict­ed to mem­oirs and in­ca­pable of any gen­er­al the­ory of his­to­ry. Amy­ot’s book, there­fore, ob­tained an im­mense pop­ular­ity, and ex­er­cised great in­flu­ence over suc­ces­sive gen­er­ations of French writ­ers.

There is a good edi­tion of the works of Amy­ot from the firm of Di­dot (25 vols., 1818-1821) . See al­so Augn­ste de Blig­nieres, Es­sai sur Amy­ot et les tra­duc­teurs fran­cais au xvie siecle (Paris, 1851).

AMYRAUT, MOSES (1596-1664), al­so known as AMYRAL­DUS, French Protes­tant the­olo­gian and meta­physi­cian, was born at Bour­gueil, in the val­ley of An­jou, in 1306. His fa­ther was a lawyer, and, de­sign­ing Moses for his own pro­fes­sion, sent him on the com­ple­tion of his study of the hu­man­ities at Or­leans to the uni­ver­si­ty of Poitiers. Here he took the de­gree of li­cen­ti­ate (B.A.) of laws. On his way home from the uni­ver­si­ty he passed through Saumur, and, hav­ing vis­it­ed the pas­tor of the Protes­tant church there, was in­tro­duced by him to Philippe de Mor­nay, gov­er­nor of the city. Struck with young Amyraut’s abil­ity and cul­ture, they both urged him to change from law to the­ol­ogy. His fa­ther ad­vised him to re­vise his philo­log­ical and philo­soph­ical stud­ies, and read over Calvin’s In­sti­tu­tions, be­fore fi­nal­ly de­ter­min­ing. He did so, and de­cid­ed for the­ol­ogy. He there­upon re­moved to Saumur–des­tined to be for ev­er as­so­ci­at­ed with his name–and stud­ied un­der J. Cameron, who ul­ti­mate­ly re­gard­ed him as his great­est schol­ar. He had a bril­liant course, and was in due time li­censed as a min­is­ter of the French Protes­tant Church. The con­tem­po­rary civ­il wars and ex­cite­ments hin­dered his ad­vance­ment. His first church was in St Aig­nan, in the province of Maine. There he re­mained two years. The em­inent the­olo­gian, Jean Daille, be­ing then re­moved to Paris, ad­vised the church at Saumur to se­cure Amyraut as his suc­ces­sor, prais­ing him “as above him­self.” The uni­ver­si­ty of Saumur at the same time had fixed its eyes on him as pro­fes­sor of the­ol­ogy. The great church­es of Paris and Rouen al­so con­tend­ed for him, and to win him sent their deputies to the provin­cial syn­od of An­jou. Amyraut had left the choice to the syn­od. He was ap­point­ed to Saumur in 1633, and to the pro­fes­sor’s chair along with the pas­torate. On the oc­ca­sion of his in­au­gu­ra­tion he main­tained for the­sis De Sac­er­do­tio Christi. His co-​pro­fes­sors were Louis Cap­pel and Jo­sue de la Place, who al­so were Cameron’s pupils. Very beau­ti­ful was the life­long friend­ship of these three re­mark­able men, who col­lab­orat­ed in the The­ses Salmuriens­es, a col­lec­tion of the­ses pro­pound­ed by can­di­dates in the­ol­ogy pref­aced by the in­au­gu­ral ad­dress­es of the three pro­fes­sors. Full of en­er­gy, Amyraut very speed­ily gave to French Protes­tantism a new force. In 1631 he pub­lished his Traite des re­li­gions, a book that still lives; and from this year on­ward he was a fore­most man in the church. Cho­sen to rep­re­sent the provin­cial syn­od of An­jou, Touraine and Maine at the na­tion­al syn­od held in 1631 at Char­en­ton, he was ap­point­ed as or­ator to present to the king “The Copy of their Com­plaints and Grievances for the In­frac­tions and Vi­ola­tions of the Edict of Nantes.” Pre­vi­ous deputies had ad­dressed the king on their bend­ed knees, where­as the rep­re­sen­ta­tives of the Catholics had been per­mit­ted to stand. Amyraut con­sent­ed to be or­ator on­ly if the as­sem­bly au­tho­rized him to stand. There was in­tense re­sis­tance. Car­di­nal Riche­lieu him­self, pre­ced­ed by less­er dig­ni­taries, con­de­scend­ed to vis­it Amyraut pri­vate­ly, to per­suade him to kneel; but Amyraut held res­olute­ly to his point and car­ried it. His “ora­tion” on this oc­ca­sion, which was im­me­di­ate­ly pub­lished in the French Mer­cury, re­mains a strik­ing land­mark in the his­to­ry of French Protes­tantism. Dur­ing his ab­sence on this mat­ter the as­sem­bly de­bat­ed “Whether the Luther­ans who de­sired it, might be ad­mit­ted in­to com­mu­nion with the Re­formed Church­es of France at the Lord’s Ta­ble.” It was de­cid­ed in the af­fir­ma­tive pre­vi­ous to his re­turn; but he ap­proved with as­ton­ish­ing elo­quence, and there­after was ev­er in the front rank in main­tain­ing in­ter­com­mu­ni­ca­tion be­tween all church­es hold­ing the main doc­trines of the Ref­or­ma­tion. P. Bayle re­counts the ti­tle-​pages of no few­er than thir­ty-​two books of which Amyraut was the au­thor. These show that he took part in all the great con­tro­ver­sies on pre­des­ti­na­tion and Armini­an­ism which then so ag­itat­ed and ha­rassed all Eu­rope. Sub­stan­tial­ly he held fast the Calvin­ism of his pre­cep­tor Cameron; but, like Richard Bax­ter in Eng­land, by his breadth and char­ity he ex­posed him­self to all man­ner of mis­con­struc­tion. In 1634 he pub­lished his Traite de la pre­des­ti­na­tion, in which he tried to mit­igate the harsh fea­tures of pre­des­ti­na­tion by his “Uni­ver­sal­is­mus hy­po­theti­cus.” God, he taught, pre­des­tines all men to hap­pi­ness on con­di­tion of their hav­ing faith. This gave rise to a charge of heresy, of which he was ac­quit­ted at the na­tion­al syn­od held at Alen­con in 1637, and presid­ed over by Ben­jamin Bas­nage (1580-1652). The charge was brought up again at the na­tion­al syn­od of Char­en­ton in 1644, when he was again ac­quit­ted. A third at­tack at the syn­od of Loudun in 1659 met with no bet­ter suc­cess. The uni­ver­si­ty of Saumur be­came the uni­ver­si­ty of French Protes­tantism. Amyraut had as many as a hun­dred stu­dents in at­ten­dance up­on his pr­elec­tions. An­oth­er his­toric part filled by Amyraut was in the ne­go­ti­ations orig­inat­ed by Pierre le Gouz de la Berchere (1600-1653), first pres­ident of the par­lement of Greno­ble, when ex­iled to Saumur, for a rec­on­cil­ia­tion and re­union of the Catholics of France with the French Protes­tants. Very large were the con­ces­sions made by Riche­lieu in his per­son­al in­ter­views with Amyraut; but, as with the Worces­ter House ne­go­ti­ations in Eng­land be­tween the Church of Eng­land and non­con­formists, they in­evitably fell through. On all sides the states­man­ship and elo­quence of Amyraut were con­ced­ed. His De l’el­eva­tion de la foy et de l’abaisse­ment de la rai­son en la cre­ance des mys­teres de la re­li­gion (1641) gave him ear­ly a high place as a meta­physi­cian. Ex­clu­sive of his con­tro­ver­sial writ­ings, he left be­hind him a very vo­lu­mi­nous se­ries of prac­ti­cal evan­gel­ical books, which have long re­mained the fire­side favourites of the peas­antry of French Protes­tantism. Amongst these are Es­tat Jes fi­de­les apres la mort; Sur l’orai­son do­mini­cale; Du merite des oeu­vres; Traite de la jus­ti­fi­ca­tion; and para­phras­es of books of the Old and New Tes­ta­ment. His clos­ing years were weak­ened by a se­vere fall he met with in 1657. He died on the 18th of Jan­uary 1664.

See Edm. Saigey, Moses Amyraut, sa vie et ses ecrits (1849); Alex. Schweiz­er in Tub. the­ol. Jahrbb., 1852, pp. 41 ff. 155 ff., Protes­tant. Cen­tral-​Dog­men (1854 ff.), ii. 225 ff., and in Her­zog-​Hauck, Realen­cyk­lopadie; Bayle, s.v.; Biog. Univ., s.v.; John Quick’s Syn­od. in Gall. Re­form. pp. 352-357; Ibid. MS. Icones Sacrae Gal­li­canae: Life of Cameron.

ANA, a Latin neuter plu­ral ter­mi­na­tion ap­pro­pri­at­ed to var­ious col­lec­tions of the ob­ser­va­tions and crit­icisms of em­inent men, de­liv­ered in con­ver­sa­tion and record­ed by their friends, or dis­cov­ered among their pa­pers af­ter their de­cease. Though the term Ana is of com­par­ative­ly mod­ern ori­gin, the in­tro­duc­tion of this species of com­po­si­tion is not of re­cent date. It ap­pears, from d’Her­be­lot’s Bib­lio­theque Ori­en­tale, that from the ear­li­est pe­ri­ods the East­ern na­tions were in the habit of pre­serv­ing the max­ims of their sages. From them the prac­tice passed to the Greeks and Ro­mans. Pla­to and Xenophon trea­sured up and record­ed the say­ings of their mas­ter Socrates; and Ar­ri­an, in the con­clud­ing books of his Enchirid­ion, now lost, col­lect­ed the ca­su­al ob­ser­va­tions of Epicte­tus. The nu­mer­ous apoph­thegms scat­tered in Plutarch, Dio­genes Laer­tius and oth­er writ­ers, show that it was cus­tom­ary in Greece to pre­serve the col­lo­qui­al­ly ex­pressed ideas of il­lus­tri­ous men. It ap­pears that Julius Cae­sar com­piled a book of apoph­thegms, in which he re­lat­ed the bons mots of Ci­cero; and Quin­til­ian in­forms us that a freed­man of that cel­ebrat­ed wit and or­ator com­posed three books of a work en­ti­tled De Jo­cis Ci­cero­nis. We are told by Sue­to­nius that Caius Melis­sus, orig­inal­ly the slave but af­ter­wards the freed­man and li­brar­ian of Mae­ce­nas, col­lect­ed the say­ings of his mas­ter; and Aulus Gel­lius has filled his Noctes At­ti­cae with anec­dotes which he heard from the em­inent schol­ars and crit­ics whose so­ci­ety he fre­quent­ed in Rome.

But though ves­tiges of Ana may be traced in the clas­si­cal ages, it is on­ly in mod­ern times that they have come to be re­gard­ed as con­sti­tut­ing a dis­tinct species of com­po­si­tion, com­pris­ing lit­er­ary anec­dotes, crit­ical re­flex­ions, and his­tor­ical in­ci­dents, min­gled with the de­tail of bons mots and lu­di­crous tales. The term Ana seems to have been ap­plied to such col­lec­tions as far back as the be­gin­ning of the 15th cen­tu­ry. Francesco Bar­baro, in a let­ter to Pog­gio, says that the in­for­ma­tion and anec­dotes which Pog­gio and Bar­tolom­meo of Mon­tepul­ciano had picked up dur­ing a lit­er­ary ex­cur­sion through Ger­many will be called Ana: “Que­mad­mod­um mala ab Ap­pio e Clau­dia gente Ap­pi­ana, et pi­ra a Mallio Malliana cog­nom­ina­ta sunt, sic haec lit­er­arum quae ves­tra ope et opera Ger­ma­nia in Ital­iam def­er­en­tur, ali­quan­do et Pog­giana et Mon­tepoli­tiana vo­cabun­tur.”

Pog­gio Brac­ci­oli­ni, to whom this let­ter is ad­dressed, and to whom the world is in­debt­ed for the preser­va­tion of so many clas­si­cal re­mains, is the first em­inent per­son of mod­ern times whose jests and opin­ions have been trans­mit­ted to pos­ter­ity. Pog­gio was sec­re­tary to five suc­ces­sive popes. Dur­ing the pon­tif­icate of Mar­tin V., who was cho­sen in 1417, Pog­gio and oth­er mem­bers of the Ro­man chancery were in the habit of as­sem­bling in a com­mon hall ad­join­ing the Vat­ican, in or­der to con­verse freely on all sub­jects. Be­ing more stu­dious of wit than of truth, they termed this apart­ment Bug­giale, a word which Pog­gio him­self in­ter­prets Men­da­cio­rum Of­fic­ina. Here Pog­gio and his friends dis­cussed the news and scan­dal of the day; com­mu­ni­cat­ed en­ter­tain­ing anec­dotes; at­tacked what they did not ap­prove (and they ap­proved of lit­tle); and in­dulged in the ut­most lat­itude of satir­ic re­mark, not spar­ing even the pope and car­di­nals. The jests and sto­ries which oc­curred in these un­re­strained con­ver­sa­tions were col­lect­ed by Pog­gio, and formed the chief ma­te­ri­als of his Face­ti­ae, first print­ed, ac­cord­ing to de Bu­re, in 1470. This col­lec­tion, which forms a prin­ci­pal part of the Pog­giana, is chiefly valu­able as record­ing in­ter­est­ing anec­dotes of em­inent men of the 14th and 15th cen­turies. It al­so con­tains a num­ber of quib­bles or jeux de mots, and a still greater num­ber of face­ti­ae, idle and li­cen­tious sto­ries. These Face­ti­ae form, up­on the whole, the most amus­ing and in­ter­est­ing part of the Pog­giana print­ed at Am­ster­dam in 1720; but this col­lec­tion al­so com­pre­hends ad­di­tion­al anec­dotes of Pog­gio’s life, and a few ex­tracts from his graver com­po­si­tions.

Though Pog­gio was the first per­son whose re­marks and bons mots were col­lect­ed un­der the name of Ana, the Scalig­er­ana, which con­tains the opin­ions of Joseph Scaliger, was the first worked pub­lished un­der that ap­pel­la­tion, and ac­cord­ing­ly may be re­gard­ed as hav­ing led the way to that class of pub­li­ca­tions. There are two col­lec­tions of Scalig­er­ana–the Pri­ma and Se­cun­da. The first was com­piled by a physi­cian named Fran­cois Ver­tu­nien, sieur de Lavau, who at­tend­ed a fam­ily with whom Joseph Scaliger resid­ed. He, in con­se­quence, had fre­quent op­por­tu­ni­ties of meet­ing the cel­ebrat­ed crit­ic, and was in the cus­tom of com­mit­ting to writ­ing the ob­ser­va­tions which dropped from him in the course of con­ver­sa­tion, to which he oc­ca­sion­al­ly added re­marks of his own. This col­lec­tion, which was chiefly Latin, re­mained in manuscript many years af­ter the death of the com­pil­er. It was at length pur­chased by M. de Si­gogne, who pub­lished it in 1669, un­der the ti­tle of Pri­ma Scalig­er­ana, nusquam an­te­hac edi­ta, call­ing it pri­ma in or­der to pre­serve its claim of pri­or­ity over an­oth­er Scalig­er­ana, which, though pub­lished three years be­fore, had been more re­cent­ly com­piled. This sec­ond work, known as Se­cun­da Scalig­er­ana, was col­lect­ed by two broth­ers of the name of Vas­san, stu­dents of the uni­ver­si­ty of Lei­den, of which Scaliger was one of the pro­fes­sors. Be­ing par­tic­ular­ly rec­om­mend­ed to Scaliger, they were re­ceived in his house, and en­joyed his con­ver­sa­tion. Writ­ing down what they had heard, par­tic­ular­ly on his­tor­ical and crit­ical sub­jects, they soon made up a large manuscript vol­ume, in which, how­ev­er, there was nei­ther con­nex­ion nor ar­range­ment of any de­scrip­tion. Af­ter pass­ing through var­ious hands this manuscript came in­to the pos­ses­sion of M. Daille, who for his own use ar­ranged in al­pha­bet­ical or­der the ar­ti­cles which it con­tained. Isaac Vos­sius, ob­tain­ing the manuscript in loan from M. Daille, tran­scribed it, and af­ter­wards pub­lished it at the Hague, un­der the ti­tle of Scalig­er­ana, sive Ex­cerp­ta ex Ore Josephi Scaligeri. This edi­tion was full of in­ac­cu­ra­cies and blun­ders, and a more cor­rect im­pres­sion was af­ter­wards pub­lished by M. Daille, with a pref­ace com­plain­ing of the use that Vos­sius had made of the manuscript, which he de­clares was nev­er in­tend­ed for pub­li­ca­tion, and was not of a na­ture to be giv­en to the world. In­deed, most lit­er­ary men in that age con­ceived that the Scalig­er­ana, par­tic­ular­ly the sec­ond, de­tract­ed con­sid­er­ably from the rep­uta­tion of the great schol­ar. Joseph Scaliger, with more ex­ten­sive eru­di­tion, but, as some think, less ge­nius than his fa­ther Julius Cae­sar Scaliger, had in­her­it­ed his van­ity and dog­mat­ical spir­it. Con­vers­ing with two young stu­dents, he would prob­ably be but lit­tle cau­tious in the opin­ions he ex­pressed, as his lit­er­ary er­rors could not be de­tect­ed or ex­posed. Un­for­tu­nate­ly the blind ad­mi­ra­tion of his pupils led them to re­gard his opin­ions as the re­spons­es of an or­acle, and his most un­mer­it­ed cen­sures as just con­dem­na­tions. The Scalig­er­ana, ac­cord­ing­ly, con­tains many false­hoods, with much un­wor­thy per­son­al abuse of the most dis­tin­guished char­ac­ters of the age.

In im­ita­tion of the Scalig­er­ana, a prodi­gious num­ber of sim­ilar works ap­peared in France to­wards the end of the 17th and be­gin­ning of the 18th cen­tu­ry. At first these col­lec­tions were con­fined to what had fall­en from em­inent men in con­ver­sa­tion; but they were af­ter­wards made to em­brace frag­ments found among their pa­pers, and even pas­sages ex­tract­ed from their works and cor­re­spon­dence. Of those which mere­ly record the con­ver­sa­tions of em­inent men, the best known and most valu­able is the Mena­giana. Gilles Menage was a per­son of good sense, of var­ious and ex­ten­sive in­for­ma­tion and of a most com­mu­nica­tive dis­po­si­tion. A col­lec­tion of his oral opin­ions was pub­lished in 1693, soon af­ter his death; and this col­lec­tion, which was en­ti­tled Mena­giana, was af­ter­wards cor­rect­ed and en­larged by Bernard de la Mon­noye, in an edi­tion pub­lished by him in 1715.

The Per­ro­ni­ana, which ex­hibits the opin­ions of Car­di­nal du Per­ron, was com­piled from his con­ver­sa­tion by C. Dupuy, and pub­lished by Vos­sius in 1666, by the same con­trivance which put him in pos­ses­sion of the Scalig­er­ana. The Thua­na, or ob­ser­va­tions of the pres­ident de Thou, have usu­al­ly been pub­lished along with the Per­ro­ni­ana, but first ap­peared in 1669.

The Vale­siana is a col­lec­tion of the lit­er­ary opin­ions of the his­to­ri­og­ra­pher Adrien de Val­ois, pub­lished by his son. M. de Val­ois was a great stu­dent of his­to­ry, and the Vale­siana ac­cord­ing­ly com­pre­hends many valu­able his­tor­ical ob­ser­va­tions, par­tic­ular­ly on the works of du Cange.

The Furete­ri­ana (1696) con­tains the bone mots of An­toine Furetiere, the Aca­demi­cian, the sto­ries which he was in the habit of telling, and a num­ber of anec­dotes and re­marks found in his pa­pers af­ter his de­cease.

The chevraeana (1697), so called from Ur­bain Chevreau, is more schol­ar­ly than most works of a sim­ilar de­scrip­tion, and prob­ably more ac­cu­rate, as it dif­fers from the Ana prop­er, of which the works de­scribed above are in­stances, in hav­ing been pub­lished dur­ing the life of the au­thor and re­vised by him­self.

Par­rhasiana (1699-1701) is the work of Jean le Clerc, a pro­fes­sor of Am­ster­dam, who be­stowed this ap­pel­la­tion on his mis­cel­la­neous pro­duc­tions with the view of dis­cussing var­ious top­ics of phi­los­ophy and pol­itics with more free­dom than he could have em­ployed un­der his own name.

The Hue­tiana con­tains the de­tached thoughts and crit­icisms of P. D. Huet. bish­op of Avranch­es, which he him­self com­mit­ted to writ­ing when he was far ad­vanced in life. Huet was born in 1630, and in 1712 he was at­tacked by a mal­ady which im­paired his mem­ory, and ren­dered him in­ca­pable of the sus­tained at­ten­tion nec­es­sary for the com­ple­tion of a long or la­bo­ri­ous work. In this sit­ua­tion he em­ployed him­self in putting his de­tached ob­ser­va­tions on pa­per. These were pub­lished by the Abbe d’Olivet the year af­ter his death (1722).

The Casaubo­ni­ana presents us with the mis­cel­la­neous ob­ser­va­tions, chiefly philo­log­ical, of the cel­ebrat­ed Isaac Casaubon. Dur­ing the course of a long life that em­inent com­men­ta­tor was in the dai­ly prac­tice of com­mit­ting to pa­per any­thing re­mark­able which he heard in con­ver­sa­tion with his friends, es­pe­cial­ly if it bore on the stud­ies in which he was en­gaged. He al­so made an­no­ta­tions from day to day on the works he read, with which he con­nect­ed his judg­ments con­cern­ing the au­thors and their writ­ings. This com­pi­la­tion was styled Ephemerides. His Ad­ver­saria, and ma­te­ri­als amassed for a refu­ta­tion of the Ec­cle­si­as­ti­cal An­nals of Ba­ro­nius, were be­queathed by his son Mer­ic Casaubon to the Bodleian Li­brary at Ox­ford. These were shown to J. C. Wolf dur­ing a vis­it which he paid to that uni­ver­si­ty; and hav­ing been tran­scribed by him, were pub­lished in 1710 un­der the ti­tle of Casaubo­ni­ana.

Be­sides the above a great many works un­der the ti­tle of Ana ap­peared in France about the same pe­ri­od. Thus, the opin­ions and con­ver­sa­tion of Char­pen­tier, Colome­sius and St Evre­mond were record­ed in the Car­pen­te­ri­ana, Colome­siana and St Evre­mo­ni­ana; and those of Segrais in the Segraisiana,–a col­lec­tion formed by a per­son sta­tioned be­hind the tapestry in a house where Segrais was ac­cus­tomed to vis­it, of which Voltaire de­clared, “que de tous les Ana c’est celui qui merite le plus d’etre mis au rang des men­songes im­primes, et surtout des men­songes in­sipi­des.” The Ana, in­deed, from the pop­ular­ity which they now en­joyed, were com­piled in such num­bers and with so lit­tle care that they be­came al­most prover­bial for in­ac­cu­ra­cy.

In 1743 the Abbe d’Olivet spoke in­dig­nant­ly of “ces ana, dont le nom­bre se mul­ti­ple im­pune­ment tous les jours a la honte de notre siecle.” About the mid­dle of the 18th cen­tu­ry, too, they were some­times made the ve­hi­cles of rev­olu­tion­ary and hereti­cal opin­ions. Thus the evil nat­ural­ly be­gan to cure it­self, and by a re­ac­tion the French Ana sank in pub­lic es­teem as much be­low their in­trin­sic val­ue as they had for­mer­ly been ex­alt­ed above it.

Of the ex­am­ples Eng­land has pro­duced of this species of com­po­si­tion, per­haps the most in­ter­est­ing is the Walpo­liana, a tran­script of the lit­er­ary con­ver­sa­tion of Ho­race Walpole, earl of Or­ford. Most oth­er works which in Eng­land have been pub­lished un­der the name of Ana, as Ba­co­ni­ana, At­ter­buryana, &c., are rather ex­tracts from the writ­ings and cor­re­spon­dence of em­inent men than memo­ri­als of their con­ver­sa­tion.

There are some works which, though they do not bear the ti­tle, be­long more strict­ly to the class of Ana than many of the col­lec­tions which are known un­der that ap­pel­la­tion. Such are the Melanges d’his­toire et de lit­ter­ature, pub­lished un­der the name of Vi­gneul Mar­ville, though the work of a Bene­dic­tine, d’Ar­gonne; and the Lo­co­rum Com­mu­ni­um Col­lectanea, ex Lec­tion­ibus Philip­pi Melanchtho­nis,–a work of con­sid­er­able rep­uta­tion on ac­count of its the­olog­ical learn­ing, and the in­for­ma­tion it com­mu­ni­cates con­cern­ing the ear­ly state of the Re­formed Church. But of those pro­duc­tions which be­long to the class, though they do not bear the name, of Ana, the most cel­ebrat­ed are the Col­lo­quia Men­salia of Luther and Selden’s Ta­ble-​Talk. The for­mer, which com­pre­hends the con­ver­sa­tion of Luther with his friends and coad­ju­tors in the great work of the Ref­or­ma­tion, was first pub­lished in 1566. Cap­tain H. Bell, who trans­lat­ed it in­to En­glish in the time of the Com­mon­wealth, in­forms us that, an edict hav­ing been pro­mul­gat­ed com­mand­ing the works of Luther to be de­stroyed, it was for some time sup­posed that all the copies of the Col­lo­quia Men­salia had been burned; but in 1626, on the foun­da­tion of a house be­ing re­moved, a print­ed copy was found ly­ing in a deep hole and wrapped up in a linen cloth. The book, trans­lat­ed by Bell, and again by the younger Ha­zlitt in 1847, was orig­inal­ly col­lect­ed by Dr An­ton Lauter­bach (1502-1569) “out of the holy mouth of Luther.” It con­sists chiefly of ob­ser­va­tions and dis­cus­sions on idol­atry, au­ric­ular con­fes­sion, the mass, ex­com­mu­ni­ca­tion, cler­ical ju­ris­dic­tion, gen­er­al coun­cils, and all the points ag­itat­ed by the re­formed church in those ear­ly pe­ri­ods. The Ta­ble-​Talk of Selden con­tains a more gen­uine and undis­guised ex­pres­sion of the sen­ti­ments of that em­inent man than we find in his more stud­ied pro­duc­tions. It was pub­lished af­ter his death by Richard Mil­ward, his amanu­en­sis, who af­firms that for twen­ty years he en­joyed the op­por­tu­ni­ty of dai­ly hear­ing his dis­course, and made it his prac­tice faith­ful­ly to com­mit to writ­ing “the ex­cel­lent things that usu­al­ly fell from him.”

The most re­mark­able col­lec­tion of Ana in the En­glish lan­guage–and, in­deed, in any lan­guage–is to be found in a work which does not cor­re­spond to the nor­mal type ei­ther in name or in form. In his Life of Samuel John­son, LL.D., Boswell re­lates that to his re­mark, a pro­pos of French lit­er­ature, “Their Ana are good,” John­son replied, “A few of them are good; but we have one book of that kind bet­ter than any of them–Selden’s Ta­ble-​Talk.” Boswell’s own work, how­ev­er, is in­com­pa­ra­bly su­pe­ri­or to all.

J. C. Wolf has giv­en a his­to­ry of the Ana in a pre­lim­inary dis­course to his edi­tion of the Casaubo­ni­ana, pub­lished in 1710. In the Reper­toire de bib­li­ogra­phies spe­ciales, curieuses, et in­struc­tives, by Peignot, there is a No­tice bib­li­ographique of these col­lec­tions; but many of the books there enu­mer­at­ed con­sist of mere ex­tracts from the writ­ings of pop­ular au­thors.

AN­ABAP­TISTS (“re-​bap­tiz­ers,” from Gr. ana and bap­ti­zo), a name giv­en by their en­emies to var­ious sects which on the oc­ca­sion of Luther’s re­volt from Ro­man­ism de­nied the va­lid­ity of in­fant bap­tism, and there­fore bap­tized those whom they quite log­ical­ly re­gard­ed as not hav­ing re­ceived any Chris­tian ini­ti­ation at all.

On the 27th of De­cem­ber 1521 three “prophets” ap­peared in Wit­ten­berg from Zwick­au, Thomas Mun­zer, Nico­las Storch and Mark Thomas Stub­ner. Luther’s re­form was not thor­ough enough for them. He pro­fessed to rest all up­on Scrip­ture, yet ac­cept­ed from the Baby­lon of Rome a bap­tism nei­ther scrip­tural nor prim­itive, nor ful­fill­ing the chief con­di­tions of ad­mis­sion in­to a vis­ible broth­er­hood of saints, to wit, re­pen­tance, faith, spir­itu­al il­lu­mi­na­tion and free sur­ren­der of self to Christ. Melanchthon, pow­er­less against the en­thu­si­asts with whom his co-​re­former Carl­stadt sym­pa­thized, ap­pealed to Luther, still con­cealed in the Wart­burg. He had writ­ten to the Waldens­es that it is bet­ter not to bap­tize at all than to bap­tize lit­tle chil­dren; now he was cau­tious, would not con­demn the new prophe­cy off-​hand; but ad­vised Melanchthon to treat them gen­tly and to prove their spir­its, less they be of God. There was con­fu­sion in Wit­ten­berg, where schools and uni­ver­si­ty sid­ed with the “prophets” and were closed. Hence the charge that An­abap­tists were en­emies of learn­ing, which is suf­fi­cient­ly re­but­ted by the fact that the first Ger­man trans­la­tion of the He­brew prophets was made and print­ed by two of them, Het­zer and Denk, in 1527. The first lead­ers of the move­ment in Zurich–Grebel, Manz, Blau­rock, Hub­maier–were men learned in Greek, Latin and He­brew. On the 6th of March Luther re­turned, in­ter­viewed the prophets, scorned their “spir­its,” for­bade them the city, and had their ad­her­ents eject­ed from Zwick­au and Er­furt. De­nied ac­cess to the church­es, the lat­ter preached and cel­ebrat­ed the sacra­ment in pri­vate hous­es. Driv­en from the cities they swarmed over the coun­try­side. Com­pelled to leave Zwick­au, Mun­zer vis­it­ed Bo­hemia, resid­ed two years at Allt­st­edt in Thuringia, and in 1524 spent some time in Switzer­land. Dur­ing this pe­ri­od he pro­claimed his rev­olu­tion­ary doc­trines in re­li­gion and pol­itics with grow­ing ve­he­mence, and, so far as the low­er or­ders were con­cerned, with grow­ing suc­cess. The cri­sis came in the so-​called Peas­ants’ War in South Ger­many in 1525. In its ori­gin a re­volt against feu­dal op­pres­sion, it be­came, un­der the lead­er­ship of Mun­zer, a war against all con­sti­tut­ed au­thor­ities, and an at­tempt to es­tab­lish by force his ide­al Chris­tian com­mon­wealth, with ab­so­lute equal­ity and the com­mu­ni­ty of goods. The to­tal de­feat of the in­sur­gents at Franken­hausen (May 15, 1525), fol­lowed as it was by the ex­ecu­tion of Mun­zer and sev­er­al oth­er lead­ers, proved on­ly a tem­po­rary check to the An­abap­tist move­ment. Here and there through­out Ger­many, Switzer­land and the Nether­lands there were zeal­ous pro­pa­gan­dists, through whose teach­ing many were pre­pared to fol­low as soon as an­oth­er lead­er should arise. A sec­ond and more de­ter­mined at­tempt to es­tab­lish a theoc­ra­cy was made at Mun­ster, in West­phalia (1532-1535). Here the sect had gained con­sid­er­able in­flu­ence, through the ad­he­sion of Roth­mann, the Luther­an pas­tor, and sev­er­al promi­nent cit­izens; and the lead­ers, Jo­hann Matthys­zoon or Matthiesen, a bak­er of Haar­lem, and Jo­hann Bock­holdt, a tai­lor of Lei­den, had lit­tle dif­fi­cul­ty in ob­tain­ing pos­ses­sion of the town and de­pos­ing the mag­is­trates. Vig­or­ous prepa­ra­tions were at once made, not on­ly to hold what had been gained, but to pro­ceed from Mun­ster as a cen­tre to the con­quest of the world. The town be­ing be­sieged by Fran­cis of Waldeck, its ex­pelled bish­op (April 1534), Matthiesen, who was first in com­mand, made a sal­ly with on­ly thir­ty fol­low­ers, un­der the fa­nat­ical idea that he was a sec­ond Gideon, and was cut off with his en­tire band. Bock­holdt, bet­ter known in his­to­ry as John of Lei­den, was now supreme. Giv­ing him­self out as the suc­ces­sor of David, he claimed roy­al hon­ours and ab­so­lute pow­er in the new “Zion.” He jus­ti­fied the most ar­bi­trary and ex­trav­agant mea­sures by the au­thor­ity of vi­sions from heav­en, as oth­ers have done in sim­ilar cir­cum­stances. With this pre­tend­ed sanc­tion he le­gal­ized polygamy, and him­self took four wives, one of whom he be­head­ed with his own hand in the mar­ket-​place in a fit of fren­zy. As a nat­ural con­se­quence of such li­cence, Mun­ster was for twelve months a scene of un­bri­dled profli­ga­cy. Af­ter an ob­sti­nate re­sis­tance the town was tak­en by the be­siegers on the 24th of June 1535, and in Jan­uary 1536 Bock­holdt and some of his more promi­nent fol­low­ers, af­ter be­ing cru­el­ly tor­tured, were ex­ecut­ed in the mar­ket-​place. The out­break at Mun­ster was the cri­sis of the An­abap­tist move­ment. It nev­er again had the op­por­tu­ni­ty of as­sum­ing po­lit­ical im­por­tance, the civ­il pow­ers nat­ural­ly adopt­ing the most strin­gent mea­sures to sup­press an ag­ita­tion whose avowed ob­ject was to sup­press them. It is dif­fi­cult to trace the sub­se­quent his­to­ry of the sect as a re­li­gious body. The fact that, af­ter the Mun­ster in­sur­rec­tion the very name An­abap­tist was pro­scribed in Eu­rope, is a source of twofold con­fu­sion. The en­forced adop­tion of new names makes it easy to lose the his­tor­ical iden­ti­ty of many who re­al­ly be­longed to the Mun­ster An­abap­tists, and, on the oth­er hand, has led to the clas­si­fi­ca­tion of many with the Mun­ster sect who had no re­al con­nex­ion with it. The lat­ter mis­take, it is to be not­ed, has been much more com­mon than the for­mer. The Men­non­ites, for ex­am­ple, have been iden­ti­fied with the ear­li­er An­abap­tists, on the ground that they in­clud­ed among their num­ber many of the fa­nat­ics of Mun­ster. But the con­ti­nu­ity of a sect is to be traced in its prin­ci­ples, and not in its ad­her­ents, and it must be re­mem­bered that Men­no and his fol­low­ers ex­press­ly re­pu­di­at­ed the dis­tinc­tive doc­trines of the Mun­ster An­abap­tists. They have nev­er aimed at any so­cial or po­lit­ical rev­olu­tion, and have been as re­mark­able for so­bri­ety of con­duct as the Mun­ster sect was for its fa­nati­cism (see MEN­NON­ITES.) In En­glish his­to­ry fre­quent ref­er­ence is made to the An­abap­tists dur­ing the 16th and 17th cen­turies, but there is no ev­idence that any con­sid­er­able num­ber of na­tive En­glish­men ev­er adopt­ed the prin­ci­ples of the Mun­ster sect. Many of the fol­low­ers of Mun­zer and Bock­holdt seem to have fled from per­se­cu­tion in Ger­many and the Nether­lands to be sub­ject­ed to a per­se­cu­tion scarce­ly less se­vere in Eng­land. The mildest mea­sure adopt­ed to­wards these refugees was ban­ish­ment from the king­dom, and a large num­ber suf­fered at the stake. It was eas­ier to burn An­abap­tists than to re­fute their ar­gu­ments, and con­tem­po­rary writ­ers were struck with the in­tre­pid­ity and num­ber of their mar­tyrs. Thus Stanis­laus Ho­sius (1504-1579), a Pol­ish car­di­nal and bish­op of Warmie, wrote (Opera, Venice, 1573, p. 202):–

“They are far read­ier than fol­low­ers of Luther and Zwingli to meet death, and bear the harsh­est tor­tures for their faith. For they run to suf­fer pun­ish­ments, no mat­ter how hor­ri­ble, as if to a ban­quet; so that if you take that as a test ei­ther of the truth of doc­trine or of their cer­ti­tude of grace, you would eas­ily con­clude that in no oth­er sect is to be found a faith so true or grace so cer­tain. But as Paul wrote: “Even if I give my body to to be burned and have not char­ity, it avails me naught. But he has not char­ity who di­vides the uni­ty. . . . He can­not be a mar­tyr who is not in the Church.”

The ex­cess­es of John of Lei­den, the Brigham Young of that age, cast an un­just stig­ma on the Bap­tists, of whom the vast ma­jor­ity were good, qui­et peo­ple who mere­ly car­ried out in, prac­tice the ear­ly Chris­tian ide­als of which their per­se­cu­tors prat­ed. They have been reck­oned an ex­treme left wing of the Ref­or­ma­tion, be­cause for a time they fol­lowed Luther and Zwingli. Yet their Chris­tol­ogy and neg­ative at­ti­tude to­wards the state rather in­di­cate, as in the case of Wick­lif, Hus and the Frat­icel­li, an affin­ity to the Cathari and oth­er me­dieval sects. But this af­fil­ia­tion is hard to es­tab­lish. The ear­li­est An­abap­tists of Zurich al­lowed that the Pi­car­di or Walden­sians had, in con­trast with Rome and the Re­form­ers, truth on their side, yet did not claim to be in their suc­ces­sion; nor can it be shown that their adult bap­tism de­rived from any of the old­er Bap­tist sects, which un­doubt­ed­ly lin­gered in parts of Eu­rope. Lat­er on Her­mann Schyn claimed de­scent for the peace­ful Bap­tists from the Walden­sians, who cer­tain­ly, as the records of the Flem­ish in­qui­si­tion, col­lect­ed by P. Fred­er­icq, prove, were wide-​spread dur­ing the 15th cen­tu­ry over north France and Flan­ders. It would ap­pear from the way in which An­abap­tism sprang up ev­ery­where in­de­pen­dent­ly, as if more than one an­cient sect took in and through it a new lease of life. Ritschl dis­cerned in it the leav­en of the Frat­icel­li or Fran­cis­can Ter­tiaries. In Moravia, if what Alex. Rost re­lat­ed be true, name­ly that they called them­selves Apos­toli­ci, and went bare­foot­ed heal­ing the sick, they must have at least ab­sorbed in­to them­selves a sect of whom we hear in the 12th cen­tu­ry in the north of Eu­rope as de­fer­ring bap­tism to the age of 30, and re­ject­ing oaths, prayers for the dead, relics and in­vo­ca­tion of saints. The Mora­vian An­abap­tists, says Rost, went bare-​foot­ed, washed each oth­er’s feet (like the Frat­icel­li), had all goods in com­mon, worked ev­ery­one at a hand­icraft, had a spir­itu­al fa­ther who prayed with them ev­ery morn­ing and taught them, dressed in black and had long graces be­fore and af­ter meals. Zeil­er al­so in his Ger­man Itinerary (1618) de­scribes their way of life. The Lord’s Sup­per, or bread-​break­ing, was a com­mem­ora­tion of the Pas­sion, held once a year. They sat at long ta­bles, the el­ders read the words of in­sti­tu­tion and prayed, and passed a loaf round from which each broke off a bit and ate, the wine be­ing hand­ed round in flagons. Chil­dren in their colonies were sep­arat­ed from the par­ents, and lived in the school, each hav­ing his bed and blan­ket. They were taught read­ing, writ­ing and sum­ming, clean­li­ness, truth­ful­ness and in­dus­try, and the girls mar­ried the men cho­sen for them. In the fol­low­ing points An­abap­tists re­sem­bled the me­dieval dis­senters:–(1) They taught that Je­sus did not take the flesh from his moth­er, but ei­ther brought his body from heav­en or had one made for him by the Word. Some even said that he passed through his moth­er, as wa­ter through a pipe, in­to the world. In pic­tures and sculp­tures of the 15th cen­tu­ry and ear­li­er, we of­ten find rep­re­sent­ed this idea, orig­inat­ed by Mar­cion in the 2nd cen­tu­ry. The An­abap­tists were ac­cused of deny­ing the In­car­na­tion of Christ: they did, but not in the sense that he was not di­vine; they rather de­nied him to be hu­man. (2) They con­demned oaths, and al­so the ref­er­ence of dis­putes be­tween be­liev­ers to law-​courts. (3) The be­liev­er must not bear arms or of­fer forcible re­sis­tance to wrong­do­ers, nor wield the sword. No Chris­tian has the jus glad­ii. (4) Civ­il gov­ern­ment be­longs to the world, is Cae­sar. The be­liev­er who be­longs to God’s king­dom must not fill any of­fice, nor hold any rank un­der gov­ern­ment, which is to be pas­sive­ly obeyed. (5) Sin­ners or un­faith­ful ones are to be ex­com­mu­ni­cat­ed, and ex­clud­ed from the sacra­ments and from in­ter­course with be­liev­ers un­less they re­pent, ac­cord­ing to Matt. xvi­ii. 15 seq. But no force is to be used to­wards them.

Some sects call­ing them­selves Spir­ituales or Per­fec­ti al­so held that the bap­tized can­not sin, a very an­cient tenet.

They seem to have pre­served among them the prim­itive man­ual called the Teach­ing of the Apos­tles, for Bish­op Long­land in Eng­land con­demned an An­abap­tist for re­peat­ing one of its max­ims “that alms should not be giv­en be­fore they did sweat in a man’s hand.” This was be­tween 1518 and 1521.

On the 12th of April 1549, cer­tain Lon­don An­abap­tists brought be­fore a com­mis­sion of bish­ops as­sert­ed7–

“That a man re­gen­er­ate could not sin; that though the out­ward man sinned, the in­ward man sinned not; that there was no Trin­ity of Per­sons; that Christ was on­ly a holy prophet and not at all God; that all we had by Christ was that he taught us the way to heav­en; that he took no flesh of the Vir­gin, and that the bap­tism of in­fants was not prof­itable.”

The An­abap­tists were great read­ers of Rev­ela­tion and of the Epis­tle of James, the lat­ter per­haps by way of coun­ter­act­ing Luther’s one-​sid­ed teach­ing of jus­ti­fi­ca­tion by faith alone. Luther fee­bly re­ject­ed this scrip­ture as “a right strawy epis­tle.” En­glish An­abap­tists of­ten knew it by heart. Ex­ces­sive read­ing of Rev­ela­tion seems to have been the chief cause of the aber­ra­tions of the Mun­ster fa­nat­ics.

In Poland and Hol­land cer­tain of the Bap­tists de­nied the Trin­ity, hence the say­ing that a Socini­an was a learned Bap­tist (see SOCI­NUS.) With these Men­no and his fol­low­ers re­fused to hold com­mu­nion.

One of the most no­table fea­tures of the ear­ly An­abap­tists is that they re­gard­ed any true re­li­gious re­form as in­volv­ing so­cial ame­lio­ra­tion. The so­cial­ism of the 16th cen­tu­ry was nec­es­sar­ily Chris­tian and An­abap­tist. Lutheranism was more at­trac­tive to grand-​ducal pa­tri­ots and well-​to-​do burghers than to the poor and op­pressed and dis­in­her­it­ed. The Luther­ans and Zwinglians nev­er con­vert­ed the An­abap­tists. Those who yield­ed to stress of per­se­cu­tion fell back in­to Pa­pal­ism and went to swell the tide of the Catholic re­ac­tion.

AU­THOR­ITIES.–Fus­sli, Kirchen- und Ket­zer­his­to­rie der mit­tlern Zeit (con­tains Bullinger); Zwinglius, In catabap­tis­tarum strophas elenchus (1527) (Opera iii. 351); Bullinger, Der Wieder­taaf­sr Ur­sprung (1560); Giesel­er, Ec­cle­si­as­ti­cal His­to­ry, En­gl. tr. v. 344; Span­heim, De orig­ine An­abapt. (Lugd. 1643); Ranke’s His­to­ry of the, Ref­or­ma­tion; Melanchthon, Die His­toric von Th. Muntzer (1525) (in Luthers Werke, ed. Walch, xvi. 199); Stro­bel, Leben Th. Muntzers (1795); C. A. Cor­nelius, Die nieder­lan­dis­chen Wieder­taufer, in pub­li­ca­tions of Bavar­ian Acade­my (1869); J. G. Walch, Hist. u. the­olog. Ein­leitung (Je­na, 1733); Mosheim, Ec­cle­si­as­ti­cal His­to­ry; Ger­bert, Gesch. d. Strassb. Sek­ten­be­we­gung (Strass­burg, 1889); W. Moeller, His­to­ry of the Chris­tian Church, tr. by Freese, 1900; Jos. v. Beck, Die Geschichts­buch­er der Wieder­taufer in Os­terr.-Ung. (Wien, 1883), (Fontes re­rum Aus­tr. II. xli­ii., a valu­able his­to­ry of the sect from their own ear­ly doc­uments); Ritschl, Geschichte des Pietismus, vol. i. (Bonn, 1880); Loserth, B. Hub­maier und die An­fange der Wieder­taufer in Mahren (Brunn, 1893); Kolde, in Kirchengesch. Stu­di­en (Leipzig, 1888); Kessler, Sab­ba­ta; Leen­dertz and Zur Lin­den, M.. Hof­mann (Haar­lem, 1883-1885); Er­bkam, Gesch. der prot. Sek­ten der Re­form. (1848); Jus­tus Me­nius, Der Wei­der­taufer Lehre (Wit­ten­berg, 1534); Jo­hann Clop­pen­burg and Fred. Span­heim, Gan­grae­na the­olo­giae An­abap­tis­ti­cae (Franek­erd, 1656); Balthasar Ly­dius, Walden­sia, id est con­ser­va­tio ve­rae Ec­cle­si­ae (Rot­ter­dam, 1616); Her­man Schyn, His­to­ri­ae Men­non­itarum (Am­ster­dam, 1729); John. Henr. Ot­tius, An­nales An­abap­tis­ti­ci (Basileae. 1772); Karl Rem­bert, Die Wieder­taufer in Her­zog­tum Julich (Mun­ster, 1873); Uni­ver­sal Lex­icon, art. “Wieder­taufer” (Leipzig. 1748); Tiel­mann Janssen van Bracht, Mar­ty­rolo­gia Men­non­itarum (Haar­lem. 1615-1631); John. Gastii, Trac­tat. de An­abapt. Ex­or­dio (Basel, 1545); Jehring, His­to­ry of the Bap­tists; Auss Bundt, or hymns writ­ten by and of the Bap­tist mar­tyrs from 1526-1620, first print­ed with­out date or place, reprint­ed Basel, 1838. (F. C. C.)

AN­ABA­SIS (an­aba­sis, a march up coun­try), the ti­tle giv­en by Xenophon (q.v.) to his nar­ra­tive of the ex­pe­di­tion of Cyrus the younger against his broth­er, Ar­tax­erx­es of Per­sia, 401 B.C., and adopt­ed by Ar­ri­an for his his­to­ry of the ex­pe­di­tion of Alexan­der the Great.

AN­ABOLISM (Gr. ana, up, bole, a throw), the bi­olog­ical term for the build­ing up in an or­gan­ism of more com­plex from sim­pler sub­stances, con­struc­tive metabolism. (See PHYS­IOL­OGY.)

ANACHAR­SIS, a Scythi­an philoso­pher, who lived about 600 B.C. He was the son of Gnu­rus, chief of a no­madic tribe of the Eu­xine shores, and a Greek wom­an. In­struct­ed in the Greek lan­guage by his moth­er, he pre­vailed up­on the king to en­trust him with an em­bassy to Athens about 589 B.C. He be­came ac­quaint­ed with Solon, from whom he rapid­ly ac­quired a knowl­edge of the wis­dom and learn­ing of Greece, and by whose in­flu­ence he was in­tro­duced to the prin­ci­pal per­sons in Athens. He was the first stranger who re­ceived the priv­ileges of cit­izen­ship. He was reck­oned one of the Sev­en Sages, and it is said that he was ini­ti­at­ed in­to the Eleusini­an mys­ter­ies. Af­ter he had resid­ed sev­er­al years at Athens, he trav­elled through dif­fer­ent coun­tries in quest of knowl­edge, and re­turned home filled with the de­sire of in­struct­ing his coun­try­men in the laws and the re­li­gion of the Greeks. Ac­cord­ing to Herodotus he was killed by his broth­er Saulius while he was per­form­ing sac­ri­fice to the god­dess Cy­bele. It was he who com­pared laws to spi­ders’ webs, which catch small flies and al­low big­ger ones to es­cape. His sim­ple and forcible mode of ex­press­ing him­self gave birth to the prover­bial ex­pres­sion “Scythi­an elo­quence,” but his epi­grams are as unau­then­tic as the let­ters which are of­ten at­tribut­ed to him. Ac­cord­ing to Stra­bo he was the first to in­vent an an­chor with two flukes. Barthele­my bor­rows his name as the ti­tle for his Anachar­sis en Grece.

Herodotus iv. 76; Lu­cian, Scytha; Ci­cero, Tusc. Disp. v. 32; Diog. Laert. i. 101.

ANACHRO­NISM (from ana, back, and chronos, time), a ne­glect or fal­si­fi­ca­tion, whether wil­ful or un­de­signed, of chrono­log­ical re­la­tion. Its com­mon­est use re­stricts it to the ante-​dat­ing of events, cir­cum­stances or cus­toms; in oth­er words, to the in­tro­duc­tion, es­pe­cial­ly in works of imag­ina­tion that rest on a his­tor­ical ba­sis, of de­tails bor­rowed from a lat­er age. Anachro­nisms may be com­mit­ted in many ways, orig­inat­ing, for in­stance, in dis­re­gard of the dif­fer­ent modes of life and thought that char­ac­ter­ize dif­fer­ent pe­ri­ods, or in ig­no­rance of the progress of the arts and sci­ences and the oth­er as­cer­tained facts of his­to­ry, and may vary from glar­ing in­con­sis­ten­cy to scarce­ly per­cep­ti­ble mis­rep­re­sen­ta­tion. Much of the thought en­ter­tained about the past is so de­fi­cient in his­tor­ical per­spec­tive as to be lit­tle bet­ter than a con­tin­uous anachro­nism. It is on­ly since the close of the 18th cen­tu­ry that this kind of un­truth­ful­ness has jarred on the gen­er­al in­tel­li­gence. Anachro­nisms abound in the works of Raphael and Shake­speare, as well as in those of the mean­est daubers and play­wrights of ear­li­er times. In par­tic­ular, the artists, on the stage and on the can­vas, in sto­ry and in song, as­sim­ilat­ed their drama­tis per­son­ae to their own na­tion­al­ity and their own time. The Vir­gin was rep­re­sent­ed here as an Ital­ian con­tad­ina, and there as a Flem­ish frow; Alexan­der the Great ap­peared on the French stage in the full cos­tume of Louis XIV. down to the time of Voltaire; and in Eng­land the con­tem­po­raries of Ad­di­son could be­hold, with­out any sus­pi­cion of bur­lesque,

“Cato’s long wig, flow­er’d gown, and lac­quer’d chair.”

Mod­ern re­al­ism, the progress of ar­chae­olog­ical re­search, and the more sci­en­tif­ic spir­it of his­to­ry, have made an anachro­nism an of­fence, where our an­ces­tors saw none.

ANA­CO­LUTHON (Gr. for “not fol­low­ing on”), a gram­mat­ical term, giv­en to a de­fec­tive­ly con­struct­ed sen­tence which does not run on as a con­tin­uous whole; this may oc­cur ei­ther, in a text, by some cor­rup­tion, or, in the case of a writ­er or speak­er, sim­ply through his for­get­ting the way in which he start­ed. In the case of a man who is full of his sub­ject, or who is car­ried along by the pas­sion of the mo­ment, such in­con­se­quents are very apt to oc­cur. Of Niebuhr it is told that his oral lec­tures con­sist­ed al­most en­tire­ly of ana­co­luth­ic con­struc­tions. To this kind of li­cence some lan­guages, as Greek and En­glish, read­ily lend them­selves; while the gram­mat­ical rigid­ity of oth­ers, as Latin and French, ad­mits of it but spar­ing­ly. In Herodotus, Thucy­dides, Aeschy­lus, Pin­dar and Pla­to, abun­dant spec­imens are to be found; and the same is true of the writ­ers of the Eliz­abethan age in En­glish. The fol­low­ing is an ex­am­ple:–“And he charged him to tell no man; but go show thy­self,” &c. (Luke v. 14).

ANA­CON­DA, a city and the coun­ty-​seat of Deer Lodge coun­ty, Mon­tana, U.S.A., sit­uat­ed in the moun­tains on the W. side of Deer Lodge Val­ley, in the S.W. part of the state, about 26 m. N.W. of Butte, and at an al­ti­tude of about 5300 ft. Pop. (1890) 3075; (1900) 9453, of whom 3478 were for­eign-​born; (1910, cen­sus) 10,134. It is con­nect­ed with Butte by the Butte, Ana­con­da & Pa­cif­ic rail­road. Among its pub­lic build­ings are the coun­ty court-​house and the Hearst free pub­lic li­brary (1898). In­dus­tri­al­ly, Ana­con­da is es­sen­tial­ly a smelt­ing camp for the cop­per ores from the Butte mines, prob­ably the largest cop­per- smelter in the world be­ing lo­cat­ed here; the prin­ci­pal cop­per-​mine at Butte–one of the most fa­mous cop­per-​mines in the world–is called the Ana­con­da. In 1905 the cap­ital in­vest­ed in man­ufac­tur­ing was $13,728,456, and the fac­to­ry prod­uct was val­ued at $28,581,530. Elec­tric pow­er gen­er­at­ed at the He­le­na Pow­er Trans­mis­sion Com­pa­ny’s plant on the Mis­souri riv­er, 18 m. from He­le­na, comes to Ana­con­da over 110 m. of wire at 70,000 volt­age. Ana­con­da is to a large de­gree the mar­ket and trad­ing-​place of the Big Hole Basin cat­tle coun­try in the north-​west­ern part of Beaver­head coun­ty; with Wis­dom, in the Big Hole Basin, it was con­nect­ed in 1905 by a 65 m. tele­phone line. Ana­con­da was first set­tled in 1884 and was char­tered as a city in 1888.

ANA­CON­DA, an aquat­ic boa, in­hab­it­ing the swamps and rivers of the dense forests of trop­ical South Amer­ica. It is the largest of all mod­ern snakes, said to at­tain over 30 ft. in length. The Eu­nectes mur­inus (for­mer­ly called Boa mu­ri­na) dif­fers from Boa by the snout be­ing cov­ered with shields in­stead of small scales, the in­ner of the three nasal shields be­ing in con­tact with that of the oth­er side. The gen­er­al colour is dark olive-​brown, with large oval black spots ar­ranged in two al­ter­nat­ing rows along the back, and with small­er white-​eyed spots along the sides. The bel­ly is whitish, spot­ted with black. The ana­con­da com­bines an ar­bo­re­al with an aquat­ic life, and feeds chiefly up­on birds and mam­mals, most­ly dur­ing the night. It lies sub­merged in the wa­ter, with on­ly a small part of its head above the sur­face, wait­ing for any suit­able prey, or it es­tab­lish­es it­self up­on the branch­es of a tree which over­hangs the wa­ter or the track of game. Be­ing em­inent­ly aquat­ic this snake is viviparous. It is the on­ly large boa which is de­cid­ed­ly ill-​tem­pered.

ANACRE­ON, Greek lyric po­et, was born about 560 B.C., at Teos, an Io­ni­an city on the coast of Asia Mi­nor. Lit­tle is known of his life, ex­cept a few scat­tered no­tices, not in all cas­es cer­tain­ly au­then­tic. He prob­ably shared the vol­un­tary ex­ile of the mass of his fel­low-​towns­men, who, when Cyrus the Great was be­sieg­ing the Greek cities of Asia (545), rather than sur­ren­der their city to his gen­er­al Harpa­gus, sailed to Ab­dera in Thrace, where they found­ed a colony. Anacre­on seems to have tak­en part in the fight­ing, in which, on his own ad­mis­sion, he did not dis­tin­guish him­self, but, like Al­caeus and Ho­race, threw away his shield and fled. From Thrace he re­moved to the court of Poly­crates of Samos, one of the best of those old “tyrants”’ who by no means de­served the name in its worst sense. He is said to have act­ed as tu­tor to Poly­crates; that he en­joyed the tyrant’s con­fi­dence we learn on the au­thor­ity of Herodotus (iii. 121), who rep­re­sents the po­et as sit­ting in the roy­al cham­ber when au­di­ence was giv­en to the Per­sian her­ald. In re­turn for his favour and pro­tec­tion, Anacre­on wrote many com­pli­men­ta­ry odes up­on his pa­tron. Like his fel­low-​lyrist, Ho­race, who was one of his great ad­mir­ers, and in many re­spects of a kin­dred spir­it, Anacre­on seems to have been made for the so­ci­ety of courts. On the death of Poly­crates, Hip­parchus, who was then in pow­er at Athens and in­her­it­ed the lit­er­ary tastes of his fa­ther Pei­si­stra­tus, sent a spe­cial em­bassy to fetch the pop­ular po­et to Athens in a gal­ley of fifty oars. Here he be­came ac­quaint­ed with the po­et Si­monides, and oth­er mem­bers of the bril­liant cir­cle which had gath­ered round Hip­parchus. When this cir­cle was bro­ken up by the as­sas­si­na­tion of Hip­parchus, Anacre­on seems to have re­turned to his na­tive town of Teos, where, ac­cord­ing to a met­ri­cal epi­taph as­cribed to his friend Si­monides, he died and was buried. Ac­cord­ing to oth­ers, be­fore re­turn­ing to Teos, he ac­com­pa­nied Si­monides to the court of Echecrates, a Thes­salian dy­nast of the house of the Aleuadae. Lu­cian men­tions Anacre­on amongst his in­stances of the longevi­ty of em­inent men, as hav­ing com­plet­ed eighty-​five years. If an anec­dote giv­en by Pliny (Nat. Hist. vii. 7) is to be trust­ed, he was choked at last by a grape-​stone, but the sto­ry has an air of myth­ical adap­ta­tion to the po­et’s habits, which makes it some­what apoc­ryphal. Anacre­on was for a long time pop­ular at Athens, where his stat­ue was to be seen on the Acrop­olis, to­geth­er with that of his friend Xan­thip­pus, the fa­ther of Per­icles. On sev­er­al coins of Teos he is rep­re­sent­ed, hold­ing a lyre in his hand, some­times sit­ting, some­times stand­ing. A mar­ble stat­ue found in 1835 in the Sabine dis­trict, and now in the Vil­la Borgh­ese, is said to rep­re­sent Anacre­on. Anacre­on had a rep­uta­tion as a com­pos­er of hymns, as well as of those bac­cha­na­lian and am­ato­ry lyrics which are com­mon­ly as­so­ci­at­ed with his name. Two short hymns to Artemis and Diony­sus, con­sist­ing of eight and eleven lines re­spec­tive­ly, stand first amongst his few undis­put­ed re­mains, as print­ed by re­cent ed­itors. But pa­gan hymns, es­pe­cial­ly when ad­dressed to such deities as Aphrodite, Eros and Diony­sus, are not so very un­like what we call “Anacre­on­tic” po­et­ry as to make the con­trast of style as great as the word might seem to im­ply. The tone of Anacre­on’s lyric ef­fu­sions has prob­ably led to an un­just es­ti­mate, by both an­cients and mod­erns, of the po­et’s per­son­al char­ac­ter. The “triple wor­ship” of the Mus­es, Wine and Love, as­cribed to him as his re­li­gion in an old Greek epi­gram (An­thol. iii. 25, 51), may have been as pure­ly pro­fes­sion­al in the two last cas­es as in the first, and his pri­vate char­ac­ter on such points was prob­ably nei­ther much bet­ter nor worse than that of his con­tem­po­raries. Athenaeus re­marks acute­ly that he seems at least to have been sober when he wrote; and he him­self strong­ly re­pu­di­ates, as Ho­race does, the bru­tal char­ac­ter­is­tics of in­tox­ica­tion as fit on­ly for bar­bar­ians and Scythi­ans (Fr. 64). Of the five books of lyri­cal pieces by Anacre­on which Suidas and Athenaeus men­tion as ex­tant in their time, we have now but the mer­est frag­ments, col­lect­ed from the ci­ta­tions of lat­er writ­ers. Those grace­ful lit­tle po­ems (most of them first print­ed from the MSS. by Hen­ry Stephens in 1554), which long passed among the learned for the songs of Anacre­on, and which are well-​known to many En­glish read­ers in the trans­la­tions of Cow­ley and Moore, are re­al­ly of much lat­er date, though pos­si­bly here and there gen­uine frag­ments of the po­et are in­clud­ed. Mod­ern crit­ics, how­ev­er, re­gard the en­tire col­lec­tion as im­ita­tions be­long­ing to dif­fer­ent pe­ri­ods–the old­est prob­ably to Alexan­dri­an times, the most re­cent to the last days of pa­gan­ism. They will al­ways re­tain a cer­tain pop­ular­ity from their light­ness and el­egance, and some of them are fair copies of Anacre­on’s style, which would lend it­self read­ily enough to a clever im­ita­tor. A strong ar­gu­ment against their gen­uine­ness lies in the fact that the pe­cu­liar forms of the Ion­ic Greek, in which Anacre­on wrote, are not to be found in these re­put­ed odes, while the frag­ments of his po­ems quot­ed by an­cient writ­ers are full of Ion­icisms. Again, on­ly one of the quo­ta­tions from Anacre­on in an­cient writ­ers is to be found in these po­ems, which fur­ther con­tain no ref­er­ences to con­tem­po­raries, where­as Stra­bo (xiv. p. 638) ex­press­ly states that Anacre­on’s po­ems in­clud­ed nu­mer­ous al­lu­sions to Poly­crates. The char­ac­ter of Love as a mis­chievous lit­tle boy is quite dif­fer­ent from that giv­en by Anacre­on, who de­scribes him as “strik­ing with a mighty axe, like a smith,” and is more akin to the con­cep­tions of lat­er lit­er­ature.

The best edi­tion of the gen­uine frag­ments of Anacre­on, as well as of the Anacre­on­tea, is by Bergk (Po­et­ae lyri­ci grae­ci, 1882). He in­cludes in an ap­pendix a sim­ilar col­lec­tion of im­ita­tions from the Anec­do­ta grae­ca of P. Ma­tran­ga (1850), which had their ori­gin in the be­gin­ning of the mid­dle ages, and re­sem­ble the Chris­tian anacre­on­tics of Sophro­nius.

ANACRE­ON­TICS (from the name of the Greek po­et Anacre­on), the ti­tle giv­en to short lyri­cal pieces, of an easy kind, deal­ing with love and wine. The En­glish word ap­pears to have been first used in 1656 by Abra­ham Cow­ley, who called a sec­tion of his po­ems “anacre­on­tiques,” be­cause they were para­phrased out of the so-​called writ­ings of Anacre­on in­to a fa­mil­iar mea­sure which was sup­posed to rep­re­sent the me­tre of the Greek. Half a cen­tu­ry lat­er, when the form had been much cul­ti­vat­ed, John Phillips (1631-1706) laid down the ar­bi­trary rule that an anacre­on­tic line “con­sists of sev­en syl­la­bles, with­out be­ing tied to any cer­tain law of quan­ti­ty.” In the 18th cen­tu­ry, the an­ti­quary William Oldys (1696-1761) was the au­thor of a lit­tle piece which is the per­fect type of an anacre­on­tic: this be­gins:–

“Busy, cu­ri­ous, thirsty fly, Drink with me, and drink as I; Freely wel­come to my cup, Could’st thou sip and sip it up. Make the most of life you may; Life is short and wears away.”

In 1800 Tom Moore pub­lished a col­lec­tion of erot­ic anacre­on­tics which are al­so typ­ical in form; Moore speaks of the ne­ces­si­ty of catch­ing “the care­less fa­cil­ity with which Anacre­on ap­pears to have tri­fled,” as a rea­son why anacre­on­tics are of­ten tame and worth­less. He dwells, more­over, on the ab­sur­di­ty of writ­ing “pi­ous anacre­on­tics,” a feat, how­ev­er, which was per­formed by sev­er­al of the Greek Chris­tian po­ets, and in par­tic­ular by Gre­go­ry of Nazianzus and John of Dam­as­cus. (E. G.)

ANADY­OMENE (’Anaduoene), an ep­ithet of Aphrodite (Venus), ex­pres­sive of her hav­ing sprung from the foam of the sea. In a fa­mous pic­ture by Apelles she was rep­re­sent­ed un­der this ti­tle as if just emerged from the sea and in the act of wring­ing her tress­es. This paint­ing was ex­ecut­ed for the tem­ple of As­cle­pius at Cos, from which it was tak­en to Rome by Au­gus­tus in part pay­ment of trib­ute, and set up in the tem­ple of Cae­sar. In the time of Nero, ow­ing to its di­lap­idat­ed con­di­tion, it was re­placed by a copy made by the painter Dorotheus (Pliny, Nat. Hist. xxxv. 36). There are sev­er­al epi­grams on it in the Greek an­thol­ogy.

ANADYR, (1) a gulf, and (2) a riv­er, in the ex­treme N.E. of Siberia, in the Mar­itime Province. The gulf ex­tends from Cape Chukchi on the north to Cape Navarin on the south, form­ing part of the Bering Sea. The riv­er, tak­ing its rise in the Stanovoi moun­tains as the Ivash­ki or Ivach­no, about 67 deg. N. lat. and 173 deg. E. long., flows through the Chukchi coun­try, at first south-​west and then east, and en­ters the Gulf of Anadyr af­ter a course of about 500 m. The coun­try through which it pass­es is thin­ly pop­ulat­ed, bar­ren and des­olate. For nine months of the year the ground is cov­ered with snow. Rein­deer, up­on which the in­hab­itants sub­sist, are found in con­sid­er­able num­bers.

ANAEMIA (from Gr. an-, pri­va­tive, and aima, blood), lit­er­al­ly “want of blood,” a word used as a gener­ic term for var­ious forms of dis­ease char­ac­ter­ized by a de­fec­tive con­sti­tu­tion of the blood. For dif­fer­ent types of anaemia see the ar­ti­cle BLOOD, sec­tion Pathol­ogy.

ANAES­THE­SIA and ANAES­THET­ICS (Gr. anais­the­sia, from an-, pri­va­tive, and ais­the­sis, sen­sa­tion), terms used in medicine to de­scribe a state of lo­cal or gen­er­al in­sen­si­bil­ity to ex­ter­nal im­pres­sions, and the sub­stances used for in­duc­ing this state. In dis­eases of the brain or spinal cord anaes­the­sia is an oc­ca­sion­al symp­tom, but in such cas­es it is usu­al­ly lim­it­ed in ex­tent, in­volv­ing a limb or a def­inite area of the body’s sur­face. Com­plete anaes­the­sia oc­curs in a state of catalep­sy or trance– con­di­tions as­so­ci­at­ed with no def­inite le­sion of the ner­vous sys­tem.

The ar­ti­fi­cial in­duc­tion of anaes­the­sia has come to oc­cu­py a fore­most place in mod­ern medicine, but there is abun­dant ev­idence to show that it is a prac­tice of great an­tiq­ui­ty. Be­sides the men­tion by Homer of the anaes­thet­ic ef­fects of ne­penthe, and the ref­er­ence by Herodotus to the prac­tice of the Scythi­ans of in­hal­ing the vapours of a cer­tain kind of hemp to pro­duce in­tox­ica­tion, the em­ploy­ment of anaes­thet­ics in surgery by the use of man­drago­ra is par­tic­ular­ly al­lud­ed to by Dioscorides and Pliny. It al­so ap­pears, from an old Chi­nese manuscript laid be­fore the French Acade­my by Stanis­las Julien, that a physi­cian named Hoa-​tho, who lived in the 3rd cen­tu­ry, gave his pa­tients a prepa­ra­tion of hemp, where­by they were ren­dered in­sen­si­ble dur­ing the per­for­mance of sur­gi­cal op­er­ations. Man­drago­ra was ex­ten­sive­ly used as an anaes­thet­ic by Hugo de Luc­ca, who prac­tised in the 13th cen­tu­ry. The so­porif­ic ef­fects of man­drake are al­lud­ed to by Shake­speare, who al­so makes fre­quent men­tion of anaes­thetiz­ing draughts, the com­po­si­tion of which is not spec­ified.

In the Med­ical Gazette, vol. xii. p. 515, Dr Sylvester, quot­ing from a Ger­man work by Meiss­ner, pub­lished in 1782, men­tions the case of Au­gus­tus, king of Poland, who un­der­went am­pu­ta­tion while ren­dered in­sen­si­ble by a nar­cot­ic. But the prac­tice of anaes­the­sia nev­er be­came gen­er­al, and sur­geons ap­pear to have usu­al­ly re­gard­ed it with dis­favour. When, to­wards the close of the 18th cen­tu­ry, the dis­cov­er­ies of Priest­ley gave an im­pe­tus to chem­ical re­search, the prop­er­ties of gas­es and vapours be­gan to be more close­ly in­ves­ti­gat­ed, and the be­lief was then en­ter­tained that many of them would be­come of great medic­inal val­ue. In 1800, Sir Humphry Davy, ex­per­iment­ing on ni­trous ox­ide (the so-​called “laugh­ing gas”), dis­cov­ered its anaes­thet­ic prop­er­ties, and de­scribed the ef­fects it had on him­self when in­haled with the view of re­liev­ing lo­cal pain. He sug­gest­ed its em­ploy­ment in surgery in the fol­low­ing words:–“As ni­trous ox­ide, in its ex­ten­sive op­er­ation, seems ca­pa­ble of de­stroy­ing phys­ical pain, it may prob­ably be used with ad­van­tage in sur­gi­cal op­er­ations in which no great ef­fu­sion of blood takes place.” His sug­ges­tion, how­ev­er, re­mained un­heed­ed for near­ly half a cen­tu­ry. The in­hala­tion of sul­phuric ether for the re­lief of asth­ma and oth­er lung af­fec­tions had been em­ployed by Dr Pear­son of Birm­ing­ham as ear­ly as 1785; and in 1805 Dr J. C. War­ren of Boston, U.S.A., used this treat­ment in the lat­er stages of pul­monary con­sump­tion.

In 1818 Fara­day showed that the in­hala­tion of the vapour of ether pro­duced anaes­thet­ic ef­fects sim­ilar to those of ni­trous ox­ide; and this prop­er­ty of ether was al­so shown by the Amer­ican physi­cians, John D. God­man (1822), James Jack­son (1833), Wood and Bache (1834).

These ob­ser­va­tions, how­ev­er, ap­pear to have been re­gard­ed in the light of mere sci­en­tif­ic cu­riosi­ties and sub­jects for lec­ture- room ex­per­iment, rather than as facts ca­pa­ble of be­ing ap­plied prac­ti­cal­ly in the treat­ment of dis­ease, till De­cem­ber 1844, when Dr Ho­race Wells, a den­tist of Hart­ford, Con­necti­cut, un­der­went in his own per­son the op­er­ation of tooth-​ex­trac­tion while ren­dered in­sen­si­ble by ni­trous ox­ide. Sat­is­fied, from fur­ther ex­pe­ri­ence, that teeth could be ex­tract­ed in this way with­out pain, Dr Wells pro­posed to es­tab­lish the prac­tice of pain­less den­tistry un­der the in­flu­ence of the gas; but in con­se­quence of an un­for­tu­nate fail­ure in an ex­per­iment at Boston he aban­doned the project. On the 30th of Septem­ber 1846 Dr W. T. G. Mor­ton, a den­tist of Boston, em­ployed the vapour of ether to pro­cure gen­er­al anaes­the­sia in a case of tooth-​ex­trac­tion, and there­after ad­min­is­tered it in cas­es re­quir­ing sur­gi­cal op­er­ation with com­plete suc­cess. This great achieve­ment marked a new era in surgery. Op­er­ations were per­formed in Amer­ica in nu­mer­ous in­stances un­der ether in­hala­tion, the re­sult be­ing on­ly to es­tab­lish more firm­ly its val­ue as a suc­cess­ful anaes­thet­ic. The news of the dis­cov­ery reached Eng­land on the 17th of De­cem­ber 1840. On the 19th of De­cem­ber Mr Robin­son, a den­tist in Lon­don, and on the 21st Robert Lis­ton, the em­inent sur­geon, op­er­at­ed on pa­tients anaes­thetized by ether; and the prac­tice soon be­came gen­er­al both in Great Britain and on the con­ti­nent.

Sir James Simp­son was the first to ap­ply anaes­the­sia by ether to mid­wifery prac­tice; this he did in 1847, and found that the pains of labour could be abol­ished with­out in­ter­fer­ence with uter­ine con­trac­tions or in­jury to the child. On the 8th of March 1847 M. J. P. Flourens read a pa­per be­fore the Academie des Sci­ences on the ef­fect of chlo­ro­form on the low­er an­imals, but no no­tice was tak­en of what has since proved to be a dis­cov­ery of epoch-​mak­ing im­por­tance. In Novem­ber of the same year Simp­son an­nounced his dis­cov­ery of the anaes­thet­ic prop­er­ties of chlo­ro­form, the tri­al of which had been sug­gest­ed to him by Waldie, a chemist of Liv­er­pool. As the re­sult, chlo­ro­form came to be wide­ly used in­stead of ether, though it was found by sev­er­al ca­su­al­ties that it was not the ab­so­lute­ly safe anaes­thet­ic that had at first been hoped. It, how­ev­er, re­mained the drug that was chiefly used till Dr J. T. Clover (1825-1882) of Lon­don in­tro­duced his reg­ulat­ing ether-​in­haler in 1876, em­body­ing a new prin­ci­ple–that of lim­it­ing the quan­ti­ty of air dur­ing ether­iza­tion and reg­ulat­ing the strength of the vapour.

Dur­ing the in­ter­ven­ing pe­ri­od, as the re­sults of the labours of John Snow, Sir Ben­jamin Ward Richard­son, Thomas Nun­nely, and Colton amongst oth­ers, sev­er­al drugs were found to pos­sess anaes­thet­ic prop­er­ties. Of these one, ethyl chlo­ride, which was speed­ily giv­en up, has come in­to de­served promi­nence at the present time; and an­oth­er, ni­trous ox­ide, which had been lost sight of since Wells’s fail­ure at Boston, was rein­tro­duced, and it be­came and has re­mained the most pop­ular anaes­thet­ic in den­tal prac­tice.

Since 1876 no new drugs have been in­tro­duced; the progress has been in the di­rec­tion of im­prove­ments in the tech­nique of anaes­theti­za­tion. The most im­por­tant of these is the ad­min­is­tra­tion of oxy­gen with ni­trous ox­ide, re­sult­ing from the recog­ni­tion of the fact that this drug does not owe its anaes­thet­ic prop­er­ties to par­tial as­phyx­ia, as was thought till the con­trary was shown by Ed­mund An­drews of Chica­go in 1868. It was not till twen­ty years lat­er that this knowl­edge was put to prac­ti­cal use, when F. W. Hewett in­tro­duced his reg­ulat­ing stop­cock, which en­abled the anaes­thetist to ex­hib­it the ni­trous ox­ide and oxy­gen in such pro­por­tions as were de­mand­ed by the pa­tient’s con­di­tion. At the present time the anaes­thet­ics in com­mon use are the fol­low­ing:–

(1) Ni­trous ox­ide gas, or laugh­ing gas, N2O. This is a colour­less, odour­less gas, which for con­ve­nience is car­ried about in liq­uid form in iron cylin­ders. When about to be used, it is al­lowed to es­cape in­to a large rub­ber bag, con­nect­ed with a close­ly- fit­ting face-​piece, which cov­ers up the nose and mouth, and al­lows of in­spi­ra­tion on­ly from the bag of gas, ex­pi­ra­tion be­ing in­to the air. When thus giv­en the pa­tient is ex­posed to a cer­tain de­gree of as­phyx­ia. This as­phyx­ia is not on­ly not nec­es­sary but is harm­ful, and may be ob­vi­at­ed by giv­ing oxy­gen in small amounts si­mul­ta­ne­ous­ly by means of Hewett’s reg­ulat­ing stop­cock. This drug is used chiefly for den­tal op­er­ations, and for mi­nor surgery where ab­so­lute mus­cu­lar re­lax­ation is not re­quired. When mixed with oxy­gen, it can he giv­en if nec­es­sary for an hour or longer. It has an in­duc­tion pe­ri­od of a few breaths on­ly, and the re­cov­ery is as a rule un­ac­com­pa­nied by ex­cite­ment or nau­sea. It is al­so used as a pre­lim­inary to ether; the gas is giv­en till un­con­scious­ness is reached, the un­pleas­ant taste of the ether be­ing thus avoid­ed and the in­duc­tion pe­ri­od short­ened. The mor­tal­ity from ni­trous ox­ide is small, and from the gas and oxy­gen in ex­pert hands nil.

(2) Ethyl chlo­ride, C2H5Cl, a colour­less liq­uid of a pleas­ant odour, boil­ing at 12.5 deg. C. It is used in the same class of op­er­ations as the last anaes­thet­ic. It is best giv­en in an ap­pa­ra­tus that con­sists of a mask close­ly adapt­ed to the face, and a rub­ber bag of small ca­pac­ity, with which is con­nect­ed the bot­tle con­tain­ing the ethyl chlo­ride. The vapour sup­plied from the bot­tle is breathed back­wards and for­wards from the bag, fresh air be­ing ad­mit­ted in small quan­ti­ties on­ly. The pe­ri­od of in­duc­tion is short­er than in the case of ni­trous ox­ide, the pa­tient los­ing con­scious­ness in two or three breaths; the stage of re­cov­ery is not so uni­form­ly pleas­ant, headache, nau­sea and vom­it­ing oc­cur­ring not in­fre­quent­ly. It is dif­fi­cult at present to es­ti­mate the mor­tal­ity, as it has on­ly re­cent­ly come in­to gen­er­al use, but it seems to oc­cu­py an in­ter­me­di­ate po­si­tion be­tween ether and chlo­ro­form.

(3) Ether, or ethyl ox­ide, (C2H5)2O, a colour­less, volatile liq­uid, boil­ing at 36.5 deg. C. It has a pun­gent odour. It is best ad­min­is­tered, as in the case of ethyl chlo­ride, by lim­it­ing the amount of air dur­ing in­hala­tion. The in­duc­tion is much slow­er than in the case of the last two drugs, and it is ac­com­pa­nied by a feel­ing of suf­fo­ca­tion, ow­ing to the pun­gent odour of the ether. On that ac­count the anaes­thet­ic is best start­ed with ni­trous ox­ide or ethyl chlo­ride. The re­cov­ery is al­ways marked by some nau­sea and very fre­quent­ly by vom­it­ing. The mor­tal­ity is small dur­ing the ac­tu­al op­er­ation, but fa­tal­ities from res­pi­ra­to­ry com­pli­ca­tions lat­er on are not un­com­mon.

(4) Chlo­ro­form, CHCl3, a colour­less liq­uid of a pen­etrat­ing odour, boil­ing at 63 deg. C. It is ad­min­is­tered in such a way as to en­sure the free ad­mix­ture of air. To se­cure this the face-​piece must be loose­ly-​fit­ting, and the strength of the vapour so grad­ual­ly in­creased that the pa­tient is nev­er in­con­ve­nienced or im­pelled to hold the breath. The in­duc­tion is slow, oc­cu­py­ing two or more min­utes, but it is not at all un­pleas­ant; nau­sea and vom­it­ing dur­ing re­cov­ery are rar­er than in the case of ether, but if they do oc­cur they last longer. The mor­tal­ity on the ta­ble is about 1 in 2500.

The ques­tion as to which is the bet­ter anaes­thet­ic, ether or chlo­ro­form, for long op­er­ations, is a moot point. In the hands of an ex­pe­ri­enced anaes­thetist there is prob­ably noth­ing to choose as re­gards safe­ty, and the anaes­thet­ic ad­van­tages of the lat­ter are in­con­testable. In the hands of the less-​ex­pe­ri­enced anaes­thetist, ether is the more suit­able drug. At the ex­tremes of life, chlo­ro­form is well tak­en, as it is al­so by wom­en in labour, and it is in­di­cat­ed where there has been re­cent in­flam­ma­tion of the air pas­sages. In op­er­ations, too, about the mouth, chlo­ro­form must be the drug used, as a close­ly-​fit­ting mask is ob­vi­ous­ly im­pos­si­ble.

The in­tro­duc­tion by in­hala­tion of any of the above drugs in­to the or­gan­ism pro­duces an anaes­the­sia, the de­gree of which at any mo­ment varies di­rect­ly as the amount or ten­sion of the vapour in the blood, and there­fore al­so as the ten­sion of the vapour in the in­spired air. The or­gan­ism in this case may be com­pared to an elec­tric lamp, of which the volt­age is, say 100; a cur­rent of any less volt­age will on­ly pro­duce a red heat, how­ev­er many am­peres are forced through; with the volt­age at 100 the fil­ament will be white hot, at over 100 the fil­ament will fuse. So with these drugs: with the vapour at a low ten­sion a cer­tain low depth of anaes­the­sia is ob­tained; if the ad­min­is­tra­tor in­creas­es the ten­sion, true sur­gi­cal anaes­the­sia is pro­duced; if he in­creas­es it again, the fil­ament fus­es and the pa­tient dies. This is the prin­ci­ple which guides the anaes­thetist; it is the qual­ity of the vapour that de­cides the depth of the anaes­the­sia, not the quan­ti­ty. An in­fi­nite quan­ti­ty of chlo­ro­form may be ab­sorbed with im­puni­ty if the ten­sion be low, but a few drops will kill if the ten­sion be high. For prac­ti­cal pur­pos­es four de­grees of anaes­the­sia are de­scribed, through which a pa­tient pass­es from un­con­scious­ness to (in the last re­sort) death:–

(1) A state of dis­or­dered con­scious­ness, with anal­ge­sia; the pa­tient’s ideas are con­fused, the spe­cial sens­es are dis­turbed, and though the ap­pli­ca­tion of stim­uli to the skin caus­es no men­tal im­pres­sion, yet in re­sponse to them there may be what look like pur­pose­ful move­ments.

(2) In the sec­ond stage there is com­plete loss of con­scious­ness; and though the re­flex­es per­sist, the move­ments in re­sponse to the stim­uli are pur­pose­less. The mus­cles gen­er­al­ly act strong­ly.

(3) The stage of sur­gi­cal anaes­the­sia; there is a gen­er­al mus­cu­lar re­lax­ation, with the loss of many of the re­flex­es, i.e. an op­er­ation may be per­formed with­out evok­ing any move­ment on the part of the pa­tient, while the vi­tal re­flex­es and the vi­tal cen­tres in the medul­la are still ac­tive, and the heart mus­cle is not paral­ysed.

(4) Fi­nal­ly, the stage of paral­ysis of the medul­la, when the res­pi­ra­to­ry and cir­cu­la­to­ry cen­tres are paral­ysed, and the heart mus­cle it­self is poi­soned and death en­sues.

The aim of the anaes­thetist is to keep the pa­tient in the third de­gree of anaes­the­sia, thus avoid­ing the move­ments of the sec­ond and the dan­gers of the fourth; he there­fore keeps the pa­tient un­der close ob­ser­va­tion, and by watch­ing the res­pi­ra­tion, pulse and fa­cial as­pect, is able to judge the con­di­tion of the res­pi­ra­tion and cir­cu­la­tion. He has a fur­ther guide in the lid- re­flex, i.e. the move­ment of the eye­lid when the globe is touched; this and the size of the pupil tell him to what ex­tent the cen­tral ner­vous sys­tem is de­pressed and com­plete the in­for­ma­tion he re­quires.

It will have been ob­served that the ad­min­is­tra­tion of the above drugs is by in­hala­tion, and has to be con­tin­ued through­out the op­er­ation, the rea­son be­ing that all the drugs are as rapid­ly ex­cret­ed as they are ab­sorbed, es­pe­cial­ly by the lungs, and there­fore no oth­er method would be of any avail. That there are drugs which are suf­fi­cient­ly slow­ly elim­inat­ed to al­low of an op­er­ation be­ing per­formed be­tween the mo­ment of in­duc­tion and that of re­cov­ery, can­not be doubt­ed, and their dis­cov­ery and use can on­ly be a mat­ter of time. Even at the present time there is one, ure­thane, which, if in­ject­ed with a hy­po­der­mic nee­dle, soon pro­duces a pro­found gen­er­al anaes­the­sia. It has on­ly been used on the low­er an­imals, as its de­press­ing ef­fect on the res­pi­ra­to­ry cen­tre con­tra-​in­di­cates its use in hu­man be­ings.

Lo­cal Anaes­the­sia.–Much at­ten­tion has re­cent­ly been de­vot­ed to the dis­cov­ery of meth­ods by which the in­sen­si­bil­ity may be con­fined to the area of op­er­ation and the loss of con­scious­ness avoid­ed. Such a pro­ce­dure has been com­mon for many years for small op­er­ations, but it is on­ly late­ly that it has been suc­cess­ful­ly ap­plied to the sev­er­er ones. It is very doubt­ful whether lo­cal anaes­the­sia will ev­er re­place gen­er­al in the lat­ter class. Though the pre­lim­inary star­va­tion is avoid­ed, and the pa­tient has the shock of op­er­ation alone to re­cov­er from, with­out the car­diac de­pres­sion re­sult­ing from the anaes­thet­ic dur­ing the op­er­ation, the pa­tient, un­less of a very ap­athet­ic tem­per­ament, is in that state of se­vere ner­vous strain, when any un­ex­pect­ed move­ment or re­mark, or sight of a soiled in­stru­ment, may pro­duce an alarm­ing or fa­tal syn­cope. The ear­li­est lo­cal anaes­thet­ic was cold, pro­duced by a mix­ture of ice and salt. In place of this cum­ber­some method, the skin is now frozen by means of a fine spray of ether or ethyl chlo­ride di­rect­ed up­on it. The spray­ing is dis­con­tin­ued when the skin be­comes white, and it is then al­lowed to re­gain its colour. The mo­ment this oc­curs the in­ci­sion is made and will be quite pain­less. The re­cov­ery, like that from any oth­er frost-​bite, is very painful, and the time dur­ing which an op­er­ation can be done is very short; con­se­quent­ly this method has been very large­ly su­per­seded by the use of drugs. The drugs chiefly used are co­caine and its deriva­tives. Co­caine has by far the high­est anaes­thet­ic prop­er­ties; it is, how­ev­er, in cer­tain in­di­vid­uals a most pow­er­ful car­diac de­pres­sant and has caused nu­mer­ous fa­tal­ities, and fur­ther, it can­not be ster­il­ized by heat, as it un­der­goes de­com­po­si­tion. Eu­caine has now large­ly tak­en its place, though its anaes­thet­ic prop­er­ties are less; it is, how­ev­er, less tox­ic, and can be ster­il­ized by heat. In com­bi­na­tion with these drugs there is usu­al­ly giv­en some of the ex­tract of the suprarenal body of the sheep; this sub­stance in­creas­es and pro­longs the anaes­thet­ic ef­fect by con­strict­ing the blood-​ves­sels, the re­sult of which is to re­duce the haem­or­rhage, and al­so to pre­vent the too rapid ab­sorp­tion of the drug in­to the gen­er­al sys­tem, con­fin­ing it to the area of op­er­ation.

The chief meth­ods of bring­ing about lo­cal anaes­the­sia are as fol­lows:–

(1) Paint­ing or spray­ing a so­lu­tion of the drugs on to the area on which it is pro­posed to op­er­ate.

(2) In­jec­tion by means of a nee­dle of the so­lu­tion in­to the skin and the deep­er struc­tures.

(3) Spinal anal­ge­sia. The method of in­duc­ing anal­ge­sia by in­ject­ing so­lu­tions in­to the sheath sur­round­ing the spinal cord was de­vised by Bier in 1898, and for the pur­pose he em­ployed a so­lu­tion of co­caine. It was found, how­ev­er, that there was con­sid­er­able dan­ger with this drug, so the method was not adopt­ed to any great ex­tent, un­til Fourneau dis­cov­ered sto­vaine in 1904.

The prin­ci­ple in­volved in spinal anaes­the­sia is this: that a sub­stance in so­lu­tion is in­ject­ed in­to the sac con­tain­ing the spinal cord in the lum­bar re­gion. The spinal cord as such ends at the lev­el of the first lum­bar ver­te­bra in a leash of nerves termed the cau­da equina. When giv­ing an in­jec­tion there is lit­tle dan­ger of in­jur­ing these nerves be­cause in this sit­ua­tion there is a space filled with flu­id be­tween the wall of the sac and the nerves. The sub­stances in­ject­ed, by virtue of their spe­cif­ic ac­tion on ner­vous tis­sues, cause loss of painful sen­sa­tions in the low­er limbs and for a vari­able dis­tance up the trunk. It has been found that the spe­cif­ic grav­ity of the so­lu­tion in­ject­ed has some in­flu­ence on the height to which the anal­ge­sia will ex­tend up the trunk, and this dis­tance can al­so be con­trolled by al­ter­ing the po­si­tion of the pa­tient. The canal in which the cord is sit­uat­ed is not a straight tube, but is curved back­wards in the sacral and up­per dor­sal re­gions, and for­wards in the low­er dor­sal and lum­bar re­gions. There­fore with the pa­tient ly­ing on his back, any so­lu­tion in­ject­ed that has a greater spe­cif­ic grav­ity than that of the cere­brospinal flu­id which bathes the cord, tends to grav­itate to­wards the sacral and up­per dor­sal re­gions; and, con­verse­ly, any so­lu­tion of low­er spe­cif­ic grav­ity than that of the cere­brospinal flu­id tends to rise and pro­duce anal­ge­sia at a still high­er lev­el. In this way the sit­ua­tion of the flu­id pro­duc­ing anal­ge­sia can be con­trolled to some ex­tent. It has been found that a very se­ri­ous dan­ger ex­ists if the so­lu­tion pass­es up to the brain, or even if it pass­es high­er than the sixth cer­vi­cal nerve. It is im­por­tant that the os­mot­ic pres­sure of the so­lu­tions em­ployed should be as near­ly as pos­si­ble that of the cere­brospinal flu­id, that is to say, the near­er the so­lu­tion is iso­ton­ic with the cere­brospinal flu­id, the bet­ter will be the anal­ge­sia, and the less will be the harm­ful ef­fects. At present it has not been found pos­si­ble to sep­arate in any of the sub­stances em­ployed the radi­cle which pro­duces mo­tor ef­fects from that which blocks the ad­vent of sen­so­ry stim­uli. Al­though both ef­fects last on­ly a short time there seems to be a cer­tain risk due to the tem­po­rary mus­cu­lar paral­ysis, and in a pa­tient with a ten­den­cy to bron­chi­tis this is a mat­ter of con­sid­er­able mo­ment.

The flu­id is in­ject­ed in the fol­low­ing man­ner. A punc­ture is made with a spe­cial tro­car and can­ula in the lum­bar re­gion be­tween the sec­ond and third or third and fourth lum­bar spines. The sheath of the sac hav­ing been en­tered, as is ev­idenced by the loss of re­sis­tance to the point of the tro­car, and by the fact that cere­brospinal flu­id es­capes when the tro­car is with­drawn, the dose of the flu­id se­lect­ed is in­ject­ed through the can­ula, which is then with­drawn. An im­por­tant point is that the op­er­ation must be ab­so­lute­ly asep­tic; great care is tak­en to ster­il­ize thor­ough­ly the in­stru­ments, site of op­er­ation and flu­id used. The pa­tient is placed in that po­si­tion which will yield the best and safest anal­ge­sia for the op­er­ation; it is es­sen­tial, how­ev­er, that the pa­tient’s head be raised well above the lev­el of the spine. The in­jec­tion is fol­lowed very quick­ly, gen­er­al­ly with­in three to five min­utes, by the pro­duc­tion of anal­ge­sia, which lasts for a pe­ri­od vary­ing from half an hour to two hours. Var­ious sub­stances have been used for the in­jec­tion, of which the fol­low­ing are the chief –tropa­co­caine, sto­vaine, novo­caine, co­caine, eu­caine and alypin. All of these have been com­bined with adrenalin hy­drochlo­ride with a view to lim­it­ing their ac­tion in one de­gree or an­oth­er; and al­so with oth­er in­ert sub­stances in such quan­ti­ty as will pro­duce iso­ton­ic so­lu­tions of rel­ative­ly high spe­cif­ic grav­ity.

The points in favour of this method of pro­duc­ing anal­ge­sia are as fol­lows: (a) The pa­tient is not ren­dered un­con­scious, and is of­ten able to as­sist at his own op­er­ation, such as by cough­ing or mov­ing his limbs in any way as may be de­sired. (b) There are no trou­ble­some af­ter-​ef­fects, such as nau­sea, vom­it­ing and thirst. (c) The for­ma­tion of haematoma is less fre­quent. (d) Sur­gi­cal shock is con­sid­er­ably less­ened, es­pe­cial­ly in such op­er­ations as am­pu­ta­tions and se­vere ab­dom­inal emer­gen­cies. (e) The risk at­tend­ing a gen­er­al anaes­thet­ic is avoid­ed.

The dis­ad­van­tages at present at­tend­ing the method are: (a) A se­vere form of headache may some­times fol­low, but this has seemed to de­pend on the kind of flu­id in­ject­ed, and in the re­cent cas­es has not been so fre­quent as in the ear­ly ones. (b) The paral­ysis of mus­cles. In a very few cas­es this has been per­ma­nent. The tem­po­rary paral­ysis of the mus­cles of res­pi­ra­tion is apt to be a se­ri­ous mat­ter. (c) Oc­ca­sion­al­ly in­con­ti­nence of urine and fae­ces oc­curs; this, how­ev­er, has not been per­ma­nent ex­cept in a few of the ear­li­er cas­es. (d) The un­cer­tain­ty of the method, so that the anal­ge­sia is not al­ways as com­plete as is de­sir­able. (e) The anal­ge­sia for safe­ty must be lim­it­ed to a line be­low the lev­el of the sec­ond rib in front. (f) The use of the Tren­de­len­burgh po­si­tion is im­pos­si­ble, or in­deed the use of any po­si­tion which in­volves low­er­ing the pa­tient’s head.

It would ap­pear that the method un­doubt­ed­ly has its us­es, and that it will take its place in surgery and find its prop­er lev­el. A large amount of work is be­ing done on the sub­ject, with a view of de­ter­min­ing the lim­ita­tions and pos­si­bil­ities of the method, the best kind of sub­stance to use and the prop­er dose to em­ploy.

Fi­nal­ly, a large num­ber of op­er­ations have been per­formed un­der a lo­cal anaes­the­sia pro­duced by hyp­no­tism (q.v.), but this is a method that can on­ly be used on se­lect­ed cas­es. (H. C. C.)

ANAG­NIA [mod. Anag­ni; pop. (1901) 10,059], an an­cient town of the Her­ni­ci, sit­uat­ed on a hill (1558 ft.) above the val­ley of the Tre­rus and the Via Lab­icana (the post-​sta­tion 3 m. be­low the town, from which a branch road as­cend­ed to it, was Com­pi­tum Anagn­inum, which was 40 m. E.S.E. of Rome: see T. Ash­by, in Pa­pers of the British School at Rome, i. 215). In 1880 a pre-​Aryan grave was found be­tween the town and the riv­er, with a skele­ton paint­ed red, stone im­ple­ments and a bronze dag­ger. Af­ter the Ital­ian im­mi­gra­tion, its po­si­tion in a fer­tile dis­trict soon gave it im­por­tance, and it be­came the seat of the as­sem­bly of the Her­ni­can towns. In the War of 306 B.C. it was con­quered by Q. Mar­cius Tremu­lus and lost its in­de­pen­dence. Its in­hab­itants had cer­tain­ly ac­quired Ro­man cit­izen­ship be­fore the So­cial War and it con­tin­ued to be a mu­nicip­ium through­out the Ro­man pe­ri­od. It was be­sieged by the Sara­cens in 877, but in the 11th cen­tu­ry was a place of con­sid­er­able im­por­tance, the Con­ti and Gae­tani be­ing the chief fam­ilies; Pope Boni­face VI­II., a mem­ber of the lat­ter, was there made pris­on­er in 1303. The an­cient city walls are in some points still ex­ist­ing, in oth­ers they have been much re­stored; they are built of rect­an­gu­lar blocks of porous lime­stone about 1 1/2ft. high. On the north of the town they are es­pe­cial­ly well-​pre­served, and at one point the area with­in them is slight­ly ex­tend­ed by a ter­race sup­port­ed by three lofty pil­lars. With­in the city there are no an­cient re­mains, ex­cept some mas­sive sub­struc­tion walls which sup­port­ed build­ings on the hill­side. The present town still pre­serves in parts its me­dieval as­pect. The cathe­dral, con­struct­ed in 1074 at the sum­mit of the hill, is ex­ter­nal­ly plain; it has a fine Goth­ic in­te­ri­or, some­what spoilt by restora­tion, with a good Cos­mati pave­ment, and a canopy and paschal can­dle­stick in the same style. The crypt con­tains fres­coes of the 13th cen­tu­ry, and in the trea­sury are valu­able vest­ments. Low­er down is the Palaz­zo Civi­co, be­long­ing to the 11th or ear­ly 12th cen­tu­ry, which is sup­port­ed on arch­es of a sin­gle span, un­der which the road pass­es. Its pos­te­ri­or fa­cade is fine. Pope Adri­an IV. (Nicholas Break­speare) died here, and there is a chapel of St Thomas Beck­et in the crypt of the cathe­dral.

See L. Pig­ori­ni, in Bul­let­ti­no di Palet­nolo­gia Ital­iana (1880, 8 seq.); J. Ku­lakows­ki, in At­ti del Con­gres­so In­ter­nazionale di Scien­ze Storiche (Rome, 1904), v. 673 seq. (T. As.)

ANA­GRAM (Gr. ana, back, and grafein, to write), the re­sult of trans­pos­ing the let­ters of a word or words in such a man­ner as to pro­duce oth­er words that pos­sess mean­ing. The con­struc­tion of ana­grams is an amuse­ment of great an­tiq­ui­ty, its in­ven­tion be­ing as­cribed with­out au­thor­ity to the Jews, prob­ably be­cause the lat­er He­brew writ­ers, par­tic­ular­ly the Kab­bal­ists, were fond of it, as­sert­ing that “se­cret mys­ter­ies are wo­ven in the num­bers of let­ters.” Ana­grams were known to the Greeks and al­so to the Ro­mans, al­though the known Latin ex­am­ples of words of more than one syl­la­ble are near­ly all im­per­fect. They were pop­ular through­out Eu­rope dur­ing the mid­dle ages and lat­er, par­tic­ular­ly in France, where a cer­tain Thomas Bil­lon was ap­point­ed “ana­gram­ma­tist to the king” by Louis XI­II. W. Cam­den (Re­mains, 7th ed., 1674) de­fines “Ana­gram­ma­tisme” as “a dis­so­lu­tion of a name tru­ly writ­ten in­to his let­ters, as his el­ements, and a new con­nec­tion of it by ar­ti­fi­cial trans­po­si­tion, with­out ad­di­tion, sub­trac­tion or change of any let­ter, in­to dif­fer­ent words, mak­ing some per­fect sence ap­plyable to the per­son named.” Dry­den dis­dain­ful­ly called the pas­time the “tor­tur­ing of one poor word ten thou­sand ways,” but many men and wom­en of note have found amuse­ment in it. A well-​known ana­gram is the change of Ave Maria, gra­tia ple­na, Domi­nus tecum in­to Vir­go ser­ena, pia, mun­da et im­mac­ula­ta. Among oth­ers are the ana­gram­mat­ic an­swer to Pi­late’s ques­tion, “Quid est ver­itas”–name­ly, “Est vir qui adest”; and the trans­po­si­tion of “Ho­ra­tio Nel­son” in­to “Hon­or est a Ni­lo”; and of “Flo­rence Nightin­gale” in­to “Flit on, cheer­ing an­gel.” James I.’s courtiers dis­cov­ered in “James Stu­art” “A just mas­ter,” and con­vert­ed “Charles James Stu­art” in­to “Claimes Arthur’s seat.” “Eleanor Au­de­ley,” wife of Sir John Davies, is said to have been brought be­fore the High Com­mis­sion in 1634 for ex­trav­agances, stim­ulat­ed by the dis­cov­ery that her name could be trans­posed to “Re­veale, O Daniel,” and to have been laughed out of court by an­oth­er ana­gram sub­mit­ted by the dean of the Arch­es, “Dame Eleanor Davies,” “Nev­er soe mad a ladie.” There must be few names that could fur­nish so many ana­grams as that of “Au­gus­tus de Mor­gan,” who tells that a friend had con­struct­ed about 800 on his name, spec­imens of which are giv­en in his Bud­get of Para­dox­es, P. 82. The pseudonyms adopt­ed by au­thors are of­ten trans­posed forms, more or less ex­act, of their names; thus “Calv­inus” be­comes “Al­cui­nus”; “Fran­cois Ra­belais,” “Al­cofribas Nasi­er”; “Bryan Waller Proc­tor,” “Bar­ry Corn­wall, po­et”; “Hen­ry Rogers,” “R. E. H. Greyson,” &c. It is to be not­ed that the last two are im­pure ana­grams, an “r” be­ing left out in both cas­es. “Tel­liamed,” a sim­ple re­ver­sal, is the ti­tle of a well known work by “De Mail­let.” The most re­mark­able pseudonym of this class is the name “Voltaire,” which the cel­ebrat­ed philoso­pher as­sumed in­stead of his fam­ily name, “Fran­cois Marie Arou­et,” and which is now gen­er­al­ly al­lowed to be an ana­gram of “Arou­et, l.j.,” that is, Arou­et the younger. Per­haps the on­ly prac­ti­cal use to which ana­grams have been turned is to be found in the trans­po­si­tions in which some of the as­tronomers of the 17th cen­tu­ry em­bod­ied their dis­cov­er­ies with the de­sign ap­par­ent­ly of avoid­ing the risk that, while they were en­gaged in fur­ther ver­ifi­ca­tion, the cred­it of what they had found out might be claimed by oth­ers. Thus Galileo an­nounced his dis­cov­ery that Venus had phas­es like the moon in the form, “Haec im­matu­ra a me jam feustra le­gun­tur–oy,” that is, “Cyn­thi­ae fig­uras aem­ulatur Mater Amo­rum.”

An­oth­er species of ana­gram, called “palin­drome” (Cr. palin, back, and dro­mos, run­ning), is a word or sen­tence which may be read back­wards as well as for­wards, let­ter by let­ter, while pre­serv­ing the same mean­ing; for ex­am­ple, the words “An­na,” “noon,” “tenet,” or the sen­tence with which Adam is hu­mor­ous­ly sup­posed to have greet­ed Eve: “Madam, I’m Adam!”

A still more com­pli­cat­ed va­ri­ety is the “lo­gogram” (Gr. lo­gos, word), a ver­si­fied puz­zle con­tain­ing sev­er­al words de­rived from re­com­bin­ing the let­ters of the orig­inal word, the dif­fi­cul­ty ly­ing in the fact that syn­onyms of the de­rived words may be used. Thus, if the orig­inal word be “cur­tain,” the word “dog” may be used in­stead of “cur.”

ANAH, or `ANA, a town on the Eu­phrates, about mid-​way be­tween the Gulf of Alexan­dret­ta and the Per­sian Gulf. It is called Hanat in a Baby­lo­ni­an let­ter (about 2200 B.C.), and An-​at by the scribe of As­sur-​nasir-​pal (879 B.C.), ‘Anatho (Isidore Charax), Anatha (Am­mi­anus Mar­celli­nus) by Greek and Latin writ­ers in the ear­ly Chris­tian cen­turies, `ANA (some­times, as if plu­ral, `Anat) by Ara­bic writ­ers. The name has been con­nect­ed with that of the de­ity Anat. Whilst `Ana has thus re­tained its name for forty-​one cen­turies the site is var­ious­ly de­scribed. Most ear­ly writ­ers con­cur in plac­ing it on an is­land; so As­sur­nasir-​pal, Isidore, Am­mi­anus Mar­celli­nus, Ibn Ser­api­on, al- Is­takri, Ab­ulfe­da and al-​Kara­mani. Am­mi­anus (lib. 24, c. 2) calls it a mu­ni­men­tum, Theo­phy­lac­tus Simo­cat­ta (iv. 10, v. 1, 2) to ‘Anathon frou­ri­on, Zosimus (iii. 14) a frou­ri­on, opp. Fathu­sai, which may be the Beth(th)ina of Ptole­my (v. 19).1 Leon­hart Rau­wolff, in A.D. 1574, found it “di­vid­ed . . . in­to two towns,” the one “Turk­ish,” “so sur­round­ed by the riv­er, that you can­not go in­to it but by boats,” the oth­er, much larg­er, on the Ara­bi­an side of the riv­er.2 G. A. Olivi­er in the be­gin­ning of the 19th cen­tu­ry de­scribes it as a long street (5 or 6 m. long), par­al­lel to the right bank of the Eu­phrates–some 100 yards from the wa­ter’s edge and 300 to 400 paces from the rocky bar­ri­er of the Ara­bi­an desert–with, over against its low­er part, an is­land bear­ing at its north end the ru­ins of a fortress (p. 451).

This south­ern­most town of Mesopotamia prop­er (Gezi­ra) must have shared the che­quered his­to­ry of that land (see MESOPOTAMIA.) Of `Ana’s for­tunes un­der the ear­ly Baby­lo­ni­an em­pire the records have not yet been un­earthed; but in a let­ter dat­ing from the third mil­len­ni­um B.C., six men of Hanat (Ha-​na-​atK1) are men­tioned in a state­ment as to cer­tain dis­tur­bances which had oc­curred in the sphere of the Baby­lo­ni­an Res­ident of Suhi, which would in­clude the dis­trict of `Ana. How `Ana fared at the hands of the Mi­tan­ni and oth­ers is un­known. The sug­ges­tion that Amenophis (Amen­hotep) I. (16th cen­tu­ry B.C.) refers to it is im­prob­able; but we seem to be jus­ti­fied in hold­ing `Ana to be the town “in the mid­dle of the Eu­phrates” op­po­site (ina put) to which As­sur-​nasir-​pal halt­ed in his cam­paign of 879 B.C. The sup­posed ref­er­ence to `Ana in the speech put in­to the mouth of Sen­nacherib’s mes­sen­gers to Hezeki­ah (2 Kings xix. 13, Is. xxxvii. 13) is ex­ceed­ing­ly im­prob­able. The town may be men­tioned, how­ev­er, in four 7th cen­tu­ry doc­uments edit­ed by C. H. W. Johns.3 It was at’Ana that the em­per­or Ju­lian met the first op­po­si­tion on his dis­as­trous ex­pe­di­tion against Per­sia (363), when he got pos­ses­sion of the place and trans­port­ed the peo­ple; and there that Ziyad and Shureih with the ad­vanced guard of `Ali’s army were re­fused pas­sage across the Eu­phrates (36/657) to join `Ali in Mesopotamia (Tabari i. 3261). Lat­er `Ana was the place of ex­ile of the caliph Qaim (al-​qaim bi-​amr-​il­lah) when Ba­sisiri was in pow­er (450/1058.) In the 14th cen­tu­ry `Ana was the seat of a Catholi­cos, pri­mate of the Per­sians (Marin Sanu­to). In 1610 Del­la Valle found a Scot, George Stra­chan, res­ident at `Ana (to study Ara­bic) as physi­cian to the amir (i. 671-681). In 1835 the steam­er “Tigris” of the En­glish Eu­phrates ex­pe­di­tion went down in a hur­ri­cane just above `Ana, near where Ju­lian’s force had suf­fered from a sim­ilar storm. Del­la Valle de­scribed `Ana as the chief Arab town on the Eu­phrates, an im­por­tance which it owes to its po­si­tion on one of the routes from the west to Bag­dad; Tex­eira said that the pow­er of its amir ex­tend­ed to Palmyra (ear­ly 17th cen­tu­ry); but Olivi­er found the rul­ing prince with on­ly twen­ty-​five men in his ser­vice, the town be­com­ing more de­pop­ulat­ed ev­ery day from lack of pro­tec­tion from the Arabs of the desert. Von Op­pen­heim (1893) re­port­ed that Turk­ish troops hav­ing been re­cent­ly sta­tioned at the place, it had no longer to pay black­mail (huwwa) to the Arabs. F. R. Ches­ney re­port­ed some 1800 hous­es, 2 mosques and 16 wa­ter-​wheels; W. F. Ainsworth (1835) re­port­ed the Arabs as in­hab­it­ing the N.W. part of the town, the Chris­tians the cen­tre, and the Jews the S.E.; Del­la Valle (1610) found some sun-​wor­ship­pers still there.

Mod­ern `Ana lies from W. to E. on the right bank along a bend of the riv­er just be­fore it turns S. to­wards Hit, and presents an at­trac­tive ap­pear­ance. It ex­tends, chiefly as a sin­gle street, for sev­er­al miles along a nar­row strip of land be­tween the riv­er and a ridge of rocky hills. The hous­es are sep­arat­ed from one an­oth­er by fruit gar­dens. `Ana marks the bound­ary be­tween the olive (N.) and the date (S.). Arab po­ets cel­ebrat­ed its wine (Yuqut, iii. 593 f.), and Mus­tau­fi (8/14th cen­tu­ry) tells of the fame of its palm-​groves. In the riv­er, fac­ing the town, is a suc­ces­sion of equal­ly pro­duc­tive is­lands. The most east­er­ly con­tains the ru­ins of the old cas­tle, whilst the re­mains of the an­cient Anatho ex­tend from this is­land for about 2 m. down the left bank. Coarse cloth is al­most the on­ly man­ufac­ture.

BIB­LI­OG­RA­PHY.–in ad­di­tion to the au­thor­ities cit­ed above may be men­tioned: G. A. Olivi­er, Voy­age dans l’em­pire oth­oman, &c., iii. 450-459 (1807); Carl Rit­ter, Erd­kunde von Asien, vii. b., pp. 716- 726 (1844); W. F. Ainsworth, Eu­phrates Ex­pe­di­tion, i. 401-418 (1888). For a map see sheet 5 of the at­las ac­com­pa­ny­ing Ches­ney’s work. (H. W. H.)

1 Steph. Byz. (sub Tur­os) says that Ar­ri­an calls Anatha Tur­os.

2 Tex­eira (1610) says that “An­na” lay on both banks of the riv­er, and so Del­la Valle (i. 671).

3 Ass. Deeds and Doc. nos. 23, 168, 228, 385.The char­ac­ters used are DIS TU, which may mean Ana-​tu.

ANA­HEIM, a city of Or­ange coun­ty, Cal­ifor­nia, U.S.A., about 14 m. S.E. of Los An­ge­les, about 12 m. from the Pa­cif­ic Ocean, and about 3 m. from the San­ta Ana riv­er. (1900) 1456; (1910) 2628. It is served by the Atchi­son, Tope­ka & San­ta Fe, and the South­ern Pa­cif­ic rail­ways. It lies in a fine fruit re­gion, in which or­anges, lemons, apri­cots, grapes and wal­nuts are raised. The plain on which it is laid out, now fer­tile and well-​wa­tered, was orig­inal­ly an arid waste. Wa­ter for ir­ri­ga­tion is ob­tained from the San­ta Ana riv­er, about 15 m. above the near­est point along the riv­er to the city. The city it­self has an area of on­ly 1 1/2 sq. m., and in 1908 the pop­ula­tion of the dis­trict, in­clud­ing that of the city, was es­ti­mat­ed at 5000. The prin­ci­pal man­ufac­tures are dried and canned fruits, wine, beer, and agri­cul­tur­al im­ple­ments. Ana­heim is of par­tic­ular in­ter­est as the ear­li­est of var­ious set­tle­ments in south­ern Cal­ifor­nia in which co-​op­er­ation has made pos­si­ble the es­tab­lish­ment of in­ten­sive fruit cul­ture in se­mi-​desert re­gions. In 1857 fifty Ger­mans (most­ly me­chan­ics) or­ga­nized in San Fran­cis­co the Los An­ge­les Vine­yard As­so­ci­ation and bought 1165 acres of land here which could be ir­ri­gat­ed from the San­ta Ana riv­er; each mem­ber took pos­ses­sion of a 20 acre share on­ly when grad­ual im­prove­ment had made ev­ery­thing ready for oc­cu­pan­cy and the tracts had been dis­tribut­ed by lot, with bonus­es or re­bates to equal­ize them in val­ue to the draw­ers. This end­ed the co-​op­er­ative fea­ture of the en­ter­prise, which was nev­er com­mu­nis­tic ex­cept that its ir­ri­gat­ing canal re­mained com­mon prop­er­ty. The set­tle­ment was un­in­ter­rupt­ed­ly suc­cess­ful, and was in­flu­en­tial as a pi­oneer ex­per­iment. Ana­heim was in­cor­po­rat­ed as a town in 1870; this in­cor­po­ra­tion was re­voked in 1872; in 1878 the town was in­cor­po­rat­ed again; and in 1888 Ana­heim re­ceived a city char­ter.

ANAHUAC, a ge­ograph­ical dis­trict of Mex­ico, lim­it­ed by the tra­di­tion­al and vague­ly de­fined bound­aries of an an­cient In­di­an em­pire or con­fed­er­ation of that name pre­vi­ous to the Span­ish con­quest. The word is said to sig­ni­fy “coun­try by the wa­ters” in the old Aztec lan­guage; hence the the­ory that Anahuac was lo­cat­ed on the sea coast. One of the the­ories re­lat­ing to the lo­ca­tion of Anahuac de­scribes it as all the plateau re­gion of Mex­ico, with an area equal to three-​fourths of the re­pub­lic, and ex­tend­ing be­tween the east­ern and west­ern coast ranges from Rio Grande to the isth­mus of Tehuan­te­pec. A more ex­act de­scrip­tion, how­ev­er, lim­its it to the great plateau val­ley in which the city of Mex­ico is lo­cat­ed, be­tween 18 deg. 40′ and 20 deg. 30′ N. lat., about 200 m. long by 75 m. wide, with an av­er­age el­eva­tion of 7500 ft., and a mean tem­per­ature of 62 deg. . The ac­cept­ed mean­ing of the name fits this re­gion as well as any on the sea coast, as the lakes of this val­ley for­mer­ly cov­ered one-​tenth of its area. The ex­is­tence of the name in south­ern Utah, Unit­ed States, and on the gulf coast of Mex­ico, has giv­en rise to the­ories of oth­er lo­ca­tions and wider bounds for the old In­di­an em­pire.

ANAL­CITE, a com­mon­ly oc­cur­ring min­er­al of the ze­olite group. It crys­tal­lizes in the cu­bic sys­tem, the com­mon form be­ing the icosite­tra­he­dron (211), ei­ther alone (fig. 1) or in com­bi­na­tion with the cube (100); some­times the faces of the cube pre­dom­inate in size, and its cor­ners are each re­placed by three small tri­an­gu­lar faces rep­re­sent­ing the icosite­tra­he­dron (fig. 2). Al­though cu­bic in form, anal­cite usu­al­ly shows fee­ble dou­ble re­frac­tion, and is thus op­ti­cal­ly anoma­lous. This fea­ture of anal­cite has been much stud­ied, Sir David Brew­ster in 1826 be­ing the ear­li­est in­ves­ti­ga­tor. Crys­tals of anal­cite are of­ten per­fect­ly colour­less and trans­par­ent with a bril­liant glassy lus­tre, but some are opaque and white or pink­ish-​white. The hard­ness of the min­er­al is 5 to 5 1/2, and its spe­cif­ic grav­ity is 2.25. Chem­ical­ly, anal­cite is a hy­drat­ed sodi­um and alu­mini­um sil­icate, NaAl­Si2O6 + H2O; small amounts of the sodi­um be­ing some­times re­placed by cal­ci­um or by potas­si­um. The wa­ter of crys­tal­liza­tion is read­ily ex­pelled by heat, with mod­ifi­ca­tion of the op­ti­cal char­ac­ters of the crys­tals. Be­fore the blow­pipe the min­er­al read­ily fus­es with in­tu­mes­cence to a colour­less glass. It is de­com­posed by acids with sep­ara­tion of gelati­nous sil­ica.

FIG. 1. FIG. 2.

Anal­cite usu­al­ly oc­curs, as­so­ci­at­ed with oth­er ze­olitic min­er­als, lin­ing amyg­daloidal cav­ities in ba­sic vol­canic rocks such as basalt and mela­phyre, and es­pe­cial­ly in such as have un­der­gone al­ter­ation by weath­er­ing; the Ter­tiary basalts of the north of Ire­land fre­quent­ly con­tain cav­ities lined with small bril­liant crys­tals of anal­cite. Larg­er crys­tals of the same kind are found in the basalt of the Cy­clo­pean Is­lands (Scogli de’ Ci­clopi or Faraglioni) N.E. of Cata­nia, Sici­ly. Large opaque crys­tals of the pink­ish-​white colour are found in cav­ities in mela­phyre at the Seiss­er Alpe near Schlern in south­ern Tirol. In all such cas­es the min­er­al is clear­ly of sec­ondary ori­gin, but of late years an­oth­er mode of oc­cur­rence has been rec­og­nized, anal­cite hav­ing been found as a pri­ma­ry con­stituent of cer­tain ig­neous rocks such as monchiq­uite and some basalts. The ir­reg­ular grains, of which it has the form, had pre­vi­ous­ly been mis­tak­en for glass.

Ow­ing to the fact that anal­cite of­ten crys­tal­lizes in cubes, it was long known as cu­bic ze­olite or as cuboite. The name now in use was pro­posed in 1797 in the form anal­cime, by R. J. Hauy, in al­lu­sion to the weak (analkis) elec­tri­fi­ca­tion of the min­er­al pro­duced by fric­tion. Eu­thal­lite is a com­pact, green­ish anal­cite, pro­duced by the al­ter­ation of elae­olite at var­ious lo­cal­ities in the Lange­sund-​fjord in south­ern Nor­way. Eudnophite, from the same re­gion, was orig­inal­ly de­scribed as an or­thorhom­bic min­er­al di­mor­phous with anal­cite, but has since been found to be iden­ti­cal with it. Cluthalite, from the Clyde (Clutha) val­ley, is an al­tered form of the min­er­al. (L. J. S.)

ANAL­OGY (Gr. analo­gia, pro­por­tion), a term sig­ni­fy­ing, (1) in gen­er­al, re­sem­blance which falls short of ab­so­lute sim­ilar­ity or iden­ti­ty. Thus by anal­ogy, the word “loud,” orig­inal­ly ap­plied to sounds, is used of gar­ments which ob­trude them­selves on the at­ten­tion; all metaphor is thus a kind of anal­ogy. (2) Eu­clid used the term for pro­por­tion­ate equal­ity; but in math­emat­ics it is now ob­so­lete ex­cept in the phrase, “Napi­er’s Analo­gies” in spher­ical trigonom­etry (see NAPI­ER, JOHN.) (3) In gram­mar, it sig­ni­fies sim­ilar­ity in the dom­inant char­ac­ter­is­tics of a lan­guage, deriva­tion, or­thog­ra­phy and so on. (4) In log­ic, it is used of ar­gu­ments by in­fer­ence from re­sem­blances be­tween known par­tic­ulars to oth­er par­tic­ulars which are not ob­served. Un­der the name of “ex­am­ple” (pa­radeigma) the pro­cess is ex­plained by Aris­to­tle (Pri­or Anal. ii. 4) as an in­fer­ence which dif­fers from in­duc­tion (q.v.) in havin­ga par­tic­ular, not a gen­er­al, con­clu­sion; i.e. if A is demon­stra­bly like B in cer­tain re­spects, it may be as­sumed to be like it in an­oth­er, though the lat­ter is not demon­strat­ed. Kant and his fol­low­ers state the dis­tinc­tion oth­er­wise, i.e. in­duc­tion ar­gues from the pos­ses­sion of an at­tribute by many mem­bers of a class that all mem­bers of the class pos­sess it, while anal­ogy ar­gues that, be­cause A has some of B’s qual­ities, it must have them all (cf. Sir Wm. Hamil­ton, Lec­tures on Log­ic, ii. 165-174, for a slight mod­ifi­ca­tion of this view). J. S. Mill very prop­er­ly re­jects this ar­ti­fi­cial dis­tinc­tion, which is in prac­tice no dis­tinc­tion at all; he re­gards in­duc­tion and anal­ogy as gener­ical­ly the same, though dif­fer­ing in the demon­stra­tive va­lid­ity of their ev­idence, i.e. in­duc­tion pro­ceeds on the ba­sis of sci­en­tif­ic, causal con­nex­ion, while anal­ogy, in ab­sence of proof, tem­porar­ily ac­cepts a prob­able hy­poth­esis. In this sense, anal­ogy may ob­vi­ous­ly have a uni­ver­sal con­clu­sion. This type of in­fer­ence is of the great­est val­ue in phys­ical sci­ence, which has fre­quent­ly and quite le­git­imate­ly used such con­clu­sions un­til a neg­ative in­stance has dis­proved or fur­ther ev­idence con­firmed them (for a list of typ­ical cas­es see T. Fowler’s edi­tion of Ba­con’s Nov. Org. Aph. ii. 27 note). The val­ue of such in­fer­ences de­pends on the na­ture of the re­sem­blances on which they are based and on that of the dif­fer­ences which they dis­re­gard. If the re­sem­blances are small and unim­por­tant and the dif­fer­ences great and fun­da­men­tal, the ar­gu­ment is known as “False Anal­ogy.” The sub­ject is dealt with in Fran­cis Ba­con’s Novum Or­ganum, es­pe­cial­ly ii. 27 (see T. H. Fowler’s notes) un­der the head of In­stan­ti­ae con­formes sive pro­por­tion­atae. Strict­ly the ar­gu­ment by anal­ogy is based on sim­ilar­ity of re­la­tions be­tween things, not on the sim­ilar­ity of things, though it is, in gen­er­al, ex­tend­ed to cov­er the lat­ter. See works on Log­ic, e.g. J. S. Mill, T. H. Fowler, W. S. Jevons. For But­ler’s Anal­ogy and its method see BUT­LER, JOSEPH.

The term was used in a spe­cial sense by Kant in his phrase, “Analo­gies of Ex­pe­ri­ence,” the third and most im­por­tant group in his clas­si­fi­ca­tion of the a pri­ori el­ements of knowl­edge. By it he un­der­stood the fun­da­men­tal laws of pure nat­ural sci­ence un­der the three heads, sub­stan­tial­ity, causal­ity, reci­procity (see F. Paulsen, I. Kant, Eng. trans. 1902, pp. 188 ff.).

ANAL­YSIS (Gr. ana and luein, to break up in­to parts), in gen­er­al, the res­olu­tion of a whole in­to its com­po­nent el­ements; op­posed to syn­the­sis, the com­bin­ing of sep­arate el­ements or mi­nor wholes in­to an in­clu­sive uni­ty. It dif­fers from mere “dis­in­te­gra­tion’, in pro­ceed­ing on a def­inite sci­en­tif­ic plan. In gram­mar, anal­ysis is the break­ing up of a sen­tence in­to sub­ject, pred­icate, ob­ject, &c. (an ex­er­cise in­tro­duced in­to En­glish schools by J. D. Morell about 1852); so the anal­ysis of a book or a lec­ture is a syn­op­sis of the main points. The chief tech­ni­cal us­es of the word, which re­tains prac­ti­cal­ly the same mean­ing in all the sci­ences, are in (1) phi­los­ophy, (2) math­emat­ics, (3) chem­istry.

(1) Log­ical anal­ysis is the pro­cess of ex­am­in­ing in­to the con­no­ta­tion of a con­cept or idea, and sep­arat­ing the at­tributes from the whole and each oth­er. It, there­fore, does not in­crease knowl­edge, but mere­ly clar­ifies and tests it. In this sense Kant dis­tin­guished an an­alyt­ic from a syn­thet­ic judg­ment, as one in which the pred­icate is in­volved in the essence of the sub­ject. Such judg­ments are al­so known as ver­bal, as op­posed to re­al or am­plia­tive judg­ments. The pro­cess­es of syn­the­sis and anal­ysis though for­mal­ly con­tra­dic­to­ry are prac­ti­cal­ly sup­ple­men­tary; thus to anal­yse the con­no­ta­tion is to syn­the­size the de­no­ta­tion of a term, and vice ver­sa; the pro­cess of knowl­edge in­volves the two meth­ods, anal­ysis be­ing the cor­rec­tive of syn­thet­ic em­piri­cism. In a wider sense the whole of for­mal log­ic is pre­cise­ly the anal­ysis of the laws of thought. An­alyt­ical psy­chol­ogy is dis­tin­guished from ge­net­ic and em­pir­ical psy­chol­ogy inas­much as it pro­ceeds by the method of in­tro­spec­tive in­ves­ti­ga­tion of men­tal phe­nom­ena in­stead of by phys­io­log­ical or psy­cho-​phys­ical ex­per­iment. For the re­la­tion be­tween anal­ysis and syn­the­sis on the one hand, and de­duc­tion and in­duc­tion on the oth­er, see IN­DUC­TION.

(2) In math­emat­ics, anal­ysis has two dis­tinct mean­ings, con­ve­nient­ly termed an­cient and mod­ern. An­cient anal­ysis, as de­scribed by Pap­pus, re­lat­ed chiefly to ge­omet­ri­cal prob­lems, and is the method of rea­son­ing from the so­lu­tion, as tak­en for grant­ed, to con­se­quences which are known to be true, where­as syn­the­sis rea­sons from known da­ta to the so­lu­tion. (See GE­OM­ETRY.)

Mod­ern anal­ysis is prac­ti­cal­ly co­eval with Descartes, the founder of “an­alyt­ical ge­om­etry,” al­though the cal­cu­lus of gen­er­al quan­ti­ties had pre­vi­ous­ly been termed anal­ysis. Many math­emat­ical sub­jects are now in­clud­ed un­der this name, and are treat­ed in the fol­low­ing ar­ti­cles:–GE­OM­ETRY, AN­ALYT­ICAL; IN­FINITES­IMAL CAL­CU­LUS; DIF­FER­EN­TIAL EQUA­TION; VARI­ATIONS, CAL­CU­LUS OF; CURVE; SUR­FACE; FUNC­TION; SPHER­ICAL HAR­MON­ICS; SE­RIES; FOURI­ER’S SE­RIES; GROUPS, THE­ORY OF; PROB­ABIL­ITY.

(3) In Chem­istry, the word anal­ysis was in­tro­duced by Robert Boyle to de­note the de­ter­mi­na­tion of the com­po­si­tion of sub­stances. (See CHEM­ISTRY, An­alyt­ical.)

AN­ALYST, in mod­ern times, a per­son pro­fes­sion­al­ly skilled in chem­ical anal­ysis. He may be called up­on, in the dis­charge of his pro­fes­sion, to anal­yse a wide range of sub­stances. Apart from pri­vate prac­ti­tion­ers and those en­gaged in large man­ufac­tur­ing con­cerns, an­alysts em­ployed by pub­lic bod­ies are termed pub­lic an­alysts. In most large man­ufac­tur­ing es­tab­lish­ments there is usu­al­ly a staff of an­alysts, whose du­ty it is pri­mar­ily to ex­er­cise con­stant watch­ful­ness over the pro­cess­es of man­ufac­ture, to test the pu­ri­ty of the sub­stances used, as well as that of the fi­nal prod­ucts. The ser­vices of an­alysts are con­stant­ly re­quired in ju­di­cial en­quiries, some­times in pure­ly crim­inal cas­es, some­times in civ­il pro­ceed­ings, such as of­fences against the cus­toms or ex­cise or un­der the var­ious British Food and Drugs Acts. In the case of crim­inal pro­ceed­ings, the ser­vices of the of­fi­cial an­alyst at­tached to the British Home Of­fice are em­ployed. The in­land rev­enue de­part­ment has a lab­ora­to­ry at Som­er­set House, with a staff of an­alysts, who are en­gaged in analysing for ex­cise and oth­er pur­pos­es. Un­der the Fer­til­iz­ers and Feed­ing Stuffs Act 1893, the Board of Agri­cul­ture em­ploys an agri­cul­tur­al chemist, whose du­ty is the anal­ysis of fer­til­iz­ers and feed­ing stuffs.

A “pub­lic an­alyst” is an an­alyst ap­point­ed by a lo­cal au­thor­ity for the pur­pos­es of the Sale of Food and Drugs Acts. He must be pos­sessed of com­pe­tent med­ical, chem­ical and mi­cro­scop­ical knowl­edge to anal­yse all ar­ti­cles of food and drink (see ADUL­TER­ATION).

AN­ALYT­IC (the ad­jec­tive of “anal­ysis”’ q.v.), ac­cord­ing with, or con­sist­ing in, the method of sep­arat­ing a whole in­to its parts, the op­po­site of syn­thet­ic. For an­alyt­ic chem­istry, an­alyt­ic lan­guage, &c., see the ar­ti­cles un­der the noun-​head­ings. The ti­tle of ana­lu­ti­ka or An­alyt­ics was giv­en by Aris­to­tle to his trea­tis­es on log­ic.

ANA­MALAI HILLS, a range of moun­tains in south­ern In­dia, in the Coim­bat­ore dis­trict of Madras, ly­ing be­tween 10 deg. 13′ and 10 deg. 31′ N. lat., and be­tween 76 deg. 52′ and 77 deg. 23′ E. long., form­ing a por­tion of the West­ern Ghats, af­ter this range has been bro­ken by the Pal­ghat Pass, south of the Nil­giris. They re­al­ly con­sist of a for­est-​clad and grassy table­land, with sum­mits ris­ing about 8000 ft.; the Anaimu­di moun­tain, which is the high­est in south­ern In­dia, hav­ing an al­ti­tude of 8850 ft. Their ge­olog­ical for­ma­tion is meta­mor­phic gneiss, veined with felspar and quartz, and in­ter­spersed with red­dish por­phyrite. The low­er slopes yield valu­able teak and oth­er tim­ber; and some land has been tak­en up for cof­fee plant­ing. The on­ly in­hab­itants are a few wild tribes who live by hunt­ing and col­lect­ing jun­gle pro­duce.

ANAMOR­PHO­SIS (a Gr. word, de­rived from ana, back, and mor­pe, form: the sec­ond o in the Greek is long, but in En­glish the Pro­nun­ci­ation varies), a de­for­ma­tion or dis­tor­tion of ap­pear­ance; in draw­ing, the rep­re­sen­ta­tion of an ob­ject as seen, for in­stance, al­tered by re­flex­ion in a mir­ror; in botany, e.g. in the case of fun­gi or lichens, an ab­nor­mal change giv­ing the ap­pear­ance of a dif­fer­ent species.

`ANAN BEN DAVID, a Per­sian Jew of the 8th cen­tu­ry, and founder with­in Ju­daism of the sect of Qaraites (Karaites) which set it­self in op­po­si­tion to the rab­binic tra­di­tion. `Anan was an un­suc­cess­ful can­di­date for the dig­ni­ty of Ex­ilarch, and thus his op­po­si­tion to the rab­ban­ite Jews was po­lit­ical as well as the­olog­ical. His se­ces­sion oc­curred at a mo­ment when the time was ripe for a re­ac­tion against rab­bin­ism, and `Anan be­came the ral­ly­ing point for many op­po­nents of tra­di­tion. (See QARAITES.)

ANAN­DA, one of the prin­ci­pal dis­ci­ples of the Bud­dha (q.v..) He has been called the beloved dis­ci­ple of the Bud­dhist sto­ry. He was the first cousin of the Bud­dha, and was de­vot­ed­ly at­tached to him. Anan­da en­tered the Or­der in the sec­ond year of the Bud­dha’s min­istry, and be­came one of his per­son­al at­ten­dants, ac­com­pa­ny­ing him on most of his wan­der­ings and be­ing the in­ter­locu­tor in many of the record­ed di­alogues. He is the sub­ject of a spe­cial pan­egyric de­liv­ered by the Bud­dha just be­fore his death (Book of the Great De­cease, v. 38); but it is the pan­egyric of an un­selfish man, kind­ly, thought­ful for oth­ers and pop­ular; not of the in­tel­lec­tu­al man, versed in the the­ory and prac­tice of the Bud­dhist sys­tem of self-​cul­ture. So in the long list of the dis­ci­ples giv­en in the Angut­tara (i. xiv.) where each of them is de­clared to be the chief in some gift, Anan­da is men­tioned five times (which is more of­ten than any oth­er), but it is as chief in con­duct and in ser­vice to oth­ers and in pow­er of mem­ory, not in any of the in­tel­lec­tu­al pow­ers so high­ly prized in the com­mu­ni­ty. This ex­plains why he had not at­tained to ara­hat­ship; and in the ear­li­est ac­count of the con­vo­ca­tion said to have been held by five hun­dred of the prin­ci­pal dis­ci­ples im­me­di­ate­ly af­ter the Bud­dha’s death, he was the on­ly one who was not an ara­hat (Cullavagga, book xi.). In lat­er ac­counts this in­ci­dent is ex­plained away. Thir­ty-​three vers­es as­cribed to Anan­da are pre­served in a col­lec­tion of lyrics by the prin­ci­pal male and fe­male mem­bers of the or­der (Thera Gatha, 1017-1050). They show a gen­tle and rev­er­ent but sim­ple spir­it. (T. W. R. D.)

ANA­NIAS, the Gr. form of Hana­ni­ah, or Ana­ni­ah, a name oc­cur­ring sev­er­al times in the Old Tes­ta­ment and Apoc­rypha (Neh. iii. 23, 1 Ch. xxv. 23, Tob. v. 12. &c.), and three times in the New Tes­ta­ment. Spe­cial men­tion need be made on­ly of the bear­ers of the name in the New Tes­ta­ment. (1) A mem­ber of the first Chris­tian com­mu­ni­ty, who, with his wife Sap­phi­ra, was mirac­ulous­ly pun­ished by Pe­ter with sud­den death for hypocrisy and false­hood (Acts v. 1-10; cf. Josh. vii. 1 ff.). (2) A dis­ci­ple at Dam­as­cus who fig­ures in the sto­ry of the con­ver­sion and bap­tism of Paul (Acts ix. 10-17, xxh. 12-16.) (3) Son of Nede­baios (Jos. Ant. xx. 5. 2), a high priest who presid­ed dur­ing the tri­al of Paul at Jerusalem and Cae­sarea (Acts xxi­ii. 2, xxiv. 1-5). He of­fi­ci­at­ed as high priest from about A.D. 47 to 59. Quadra­tus, gov­er­nor of Syr­ia, ac­cused him of be­ing re­spon­si­ble for acts of vi­olence. He was sent to Rome for tri­al (A.D. 52), but was ac­quit­ted by the em­per­or Claudius. Be­ing a friend of the Ro­mans, he was mur­dered by the peo­ple at the be­gin­ning of the Jew­ish war.

ANAN­TA­PUR, a town and dis­trict of In­dia, in the Madras pres­iden­cy. The town has a sta­tion on the Madras rail­way, 62 m. S.E. from Bel­lary. Pop. (1901) 7938.

The dis­trict of Anan­ta­pur was con­sti­tut­ed in 1882 out of the un­wieldy dis­trict of Bel­lary. It has an area of 5557 sq. m., and in its north­ern and cen­tral por­tions is a high plateau, gen­er­al­ly un­du­lat­ing, with large gran­ite rocks or low hill ranges ris­ing here and there above its sur­face. In the south­ern por­tion of the dis­trict the sur­face is more hilly, the plateau there ris­ing to 2600 ft. above the sea. There is a re­mark­able fortress rock at Gooty, 2171 ft. above the sea, and a sim­ilar but larg­er rock at Penukon­da, with an el­eva­tion equal to that of Ban­ga­lore, about 3100 ft. Gooty fortress was a stronghold of the Mahrat­tas, but was tak­en from them by Hy­der Ali. In 1789 it was ced­ed by Tip­poo to the nizam, and in 1800 the nizam ced­ed the dis­trict of Anan­ta­pur with oth­ers to the British in pay­ment for a sub­sidiary British force. The pop­ula­tion in 1901 was 788,254, show­ing an in­crease of 8% in the decade. The prin­ci­pal crops are mil­let, rice, oth­er food grains, pulse, oil seeds and cot­ton. There are sev­er­al steam fac­to­ries for press­ing cot­ton. Two rail­ways tra­verse the dis­trict.

ANA­PA, a sea­port town of Rus­sia, in the gov­ern­ment of Kuban, on the N. coast of the Black Sea, 45 m. S.E. from the Strait of Yenikale or Kerch, giv­ing ac­cess to the Sea of Azov. It was orig­inal­ly built in 1781 as a fron­tier fortress of the Turks against Rus­sia. Three times cap­tured by the Rus­sians, in 1791, 1807 and 1828, and twice re­stored by them, in 1792 and 1812, it was fi­nal­ly left in their hands by the treaty of Adri­anople in 1829. Dur­ing the Crimean War its for­ti­fi­ca­tions were de­stroyed (1855) by the Rus­sians them­selves. Pop. (1897) 6676.

ANA­PAEST (from Gr. ana­pais­tos, re­versed), a met­ri­cal foot con­sist­ing of three syl­la­bles, the first two short and the third long and ac­cent­ed; so called as the re­verse of a dactyl, which has the first a long syl­la­ble, fol­lowed by two short ones. An ana­paes­tic verse is one which on­ly con­tains, or is most­ly made up of, ana­paes­tic feet.

AN­AR­CHISM (from the Gr. an-, and arche, con­trary to au­thor­ity), the name giv­en to a prin­ci­ple or the­ory of life and con­duct un­der which so­ci­ety is con­ceived with­out gov­ern­ment –har­mo­ny in such a so­ci­ety be­ing ob­tained, not by sub­mis­sion to law, or by obe­di­ence to any au­thor­ity, but by free agree­ments con­clud­ed be­tween the var­ious groups, ter­ri­to­ri­al and pro­fes­sion­al, freely con­sti­tut­ed for the sake of pro­duc­tion and con­sump­tion, as al­so for the sat­is­fac­tion of the in­fi­nite va­ri­ety of needs and as­pi­ra­tions of a civ­ilized be­ing. In a so­ci­ety de­vel­oped on these lines, the vol­un­tary as­so­ci­ations which al­ready now be­gin to cov­er all the fields of hu­man ac­tiv­ity would take a still greater ex­ten­sion so as to sub­sti­tute them­selves for the state in all its func­tions. They would rep­re­sent an in­ter­wo­ven net­work, com­posed of an in­fi­nite va­ri­ety of groups and fed­er­ations of all sizes and de­grees, lo­cal, re­gion­al, na­tion­al and in­ter­na­tion­al– tem­po­rary or more or less per­ma­nent–for all pos­si­ble pur­pos­es: pro­duc­tion, con­sump­tion and ex­change, com­mu­ni­ca­tions, san­itary ar­range­ments, ed­uca­tion, mu­tu­al pro­tec­tion, de­fence of the ter­ri­to­ry, and so on; and, on the oth­er side, for the sat­is­fac­tion of an ev­er-​in­creas­ing num­ber of sci­en­tif­ic, artis­tic, lit­er­ary and so­cia­ble needs. More­over, such a so­ci­ety would rep­re­sent noth­ing im­mutable. On the con­trary–as is seen in or­gan­ic life at large–har­mo­ny would (it is con­tend­ed) re­sult from an ev­er-​chang­ing ad­just­ment and read­just­ment of equi­lib­ri­um be­tween the mul­ti­tudes of forces and in­flu­ences, and this ad­just­ment would be the eas­ier to ob­tain as none of the forces would en­joy a spe­cial pro­tec­tion from the state.

If, it is con­tend­ed, so­ci­ety were or­ga­nized on these prin­ci­ples, man would not be lim­it­ed in the free ex­er­cise of his pow­ers in pro­duc­tive work by a cap­ital­ist monopoly, main­tained by the state; nor would he be lim­it­ed in the ex­er­cise of his will by a fear of pun­ish­ment, or by obe­di­ence to­wards in­di­vid­uals or meta­phys­ical en­ti­ties, which both lead to de­pres­sion of ini­tia­tive and ser­vil­ity of mind. He would be guid­ed in his ac­tions by his own un­der­stand­ing, which nec­es­sar­ily would bear the im­pres­sion of a free ac­tion and re­ac­tion be­tween his own self and the eth­ical con­cep­tions of his sur­round­ings. Man would thus be en­abled to ob­tain the full de­vel­op­ment of all his fac­ul­ties, in­tel­lec­tu­al, artis­tic and moral, with­out be­ing ham­pered by over­work for the mo­nop­olists, or by the ser­vil­ity and in­er­tia of mind of the great num­ber. He would thus be able to reach full in­di­vid­ual­iza­tion, which is not pos­si­ble ei­ther un­der the present sys­tem of in­di­vid­ual­ism, or un­der any sys­tem of state- so­cial­ism in the so-​called Volk­staat (pop­ular state).

The An­ar­chist writ­ers con­sid­er, more­over, that their con­cep­tion is not a Utopia, con­struct­ed on the a pri­ori method, af­ter a few desider­ata have been tak­en as pos­tu­lates. It is de­rived, they main­tain, from an anal­ysis of ten­den­cies that are at work al­ready, even though state so­cial­ism may find a tem­po­rary favour with the re­form­ers. The progress of mod­ern tech­nics, which won­der­ful­ly sim­pli­fies the pro­duc­tion of all the nec­es­saries of life; the grow­ing spir­it of in­de­pen­dence, and the rapid spread of free ini­tia­tive and free un­der­stand­ing in all branch­es of ac­tiv­ity–in­clud­ing those which for­mer­ly were con­sid­ered as the prop­er at­tri­bu­tion of church and state–are steadi­ly re­in­forc­ing the no-​gov­ern­ment ten­den­cy.

As to their eco­nom­ical con­cep­tions, the An­ar­chists, in com­mon with all So­cial­ists, of whom they con­sti­tute the left wing, main­tain that the now pre­vail­ing sys­tem of pri­vate own­er­ship in land, and our cap­ital­ist pro­duc­tion for the sake of prof­its, rep­re­sent a monopoly which runs against both the prin­ci­ples of jus­tice and the dic­tates of util­ity. They are the main ob­sta­cle which pre­vents the suc­cess­es of mod­ern tech­nics from be­ing brought in­to the ser­vice of all, so as to pro­duce gen­er­al well-​be­ing. The An­ar­chists con­sid­er the wage-​sys­tem and cap­ital­ist pro­duc­tion al­to­geth­er as an ob­sta­cle to progress. But they point out al­so that the state was, and con­tin­ues to be, the chief in­stru­ment for per­mit­ting the few to mo­nop­olize the land, and the cap­ital­ists to ap­pro­pri­ate for them­selves a quite dis­pro­por­tion­ate share of the year­ly ac­cu­mu­lat­ed sur­plus of pro­duc­tion. Con­se­quent­ly, while com­bat­ing the present mo­nop­oliza­tion of land, and cap­ital­ism al­to­geth­er, the An­ar­chists com­bat with the same en­er­gy the state, as the main sup­port of that sys­tem. Not this or that spe­cial form, but the state al­to­geth­er, whether it be a monar­chy or even a re­pub­lic gov­erned by means of the ref­er­en­dum.

The state or­ga­ni­za­tion, hav­ing al­ways been, both in an­cient and mod­ern his­to­ry (Mace­do­nian em­pire, Ro­man em­pire, mod­ern Eu­ro­pean states grown up on the ru­ins of the au­tonomous cities), the in­stru­ment for es­tab­lish­ing mo­nop­olies in favour of the rul­ing mi­nori­ties, can­not be made to work for the de­struc­tion of these mo­nop­olies. The An­ar­chists con­sid­er, there­fore, that to hand over to the state all the main sources of eco­nom­ical life–the land, the mines, the rail­ways, bank­ing, in­sur­ance, and so on–as al­so the man­age­ment of all the main branch­es of in­dus­try, in ad­di­tion to all the func­tions al­ready ac­cu­mu­lat­ed in its hands (ed­uca­tion, state-​sup­port­ed re­li­gions, de­fence of the ter­ri­to­ry, &c.), would mean to cre­ate a new in­stru­ment of tyran­ny. State cap­ital­ism would on­ly in­crease the pow­ers of bu­reau­cra­cy and cap­ital­ism. True progress lies in the di­rec­tion of de­cen­tral­iza­tion, both ter­ri­to­ri­al and func­tion­al, in the de­vel­op­ment of the spir­it of lo­cal and per­son­al ini­tia­tive, and of free fed­er­ation from the sim­ple to the com­pound, in lieu of the present hi­er­ar­chy from the cen­tre to the pe­riph­ery.

In com­mon with most So­cial­ists, the An­ar­chists rec­og­nize that, like all evo­lu­tion in na­ture, the slow evo­lu­tion of so­ci­ety is fol­lowed from time to time by pe­ri­ods of ac­cel­er­at­ed evo­lu­tion which are called rev­olu­tions; and they think that the era of rev­olu­tions is not yet closed. Pe­ri­ods of rapid changes will fol­low the pe­ri­ods of slow evo­lu­tion, and these pe­ri­ods must be tak­en ad­van­tage of–not for in­creas­ing and widen­ing the pow­ers of the state, but for re­duc­ing them, through the or­ga­ni­za­tion in ev­ery town­ship or com­mune of the lo­cal groups of pro­duc­ers and con­sumers, as al­so the re­gion­al, and even­tu­al­ly the in­ter­na­tion­al, fed­er­ations of these groups.

In virtue of the above prin­ci­ples the An­ar­chists refuse to be par­ty to the present state or­ga­ni­za­tion and to sup­port it by in­fus­ing fresh blood in­to it. They do not seek to con­sti­tute, and in­vite the work­ing men not to con­sti­tute, po­lit­ical par­ties in the par­lia­ments. Ac­cord­ing­ly, since the foun­da­tion of the In­ter­na­tion­al Work­ing Men’s As­so­ci­ation in 1864-1866, they have en­deav­oured to pro­mote their ideas di­rect­ly amongst the labour or­ga­ni­za­tions and to in­duce those unions to a di­rect strug­gle against cap­ital, with­out plac­ing their faith in par­lia­men­tary leg­is­la­tion.

The His­tor­ical De­vel­op­ment of An­ar­chism.–The con­cep­tion of so­ci­ety just sketched, and the ten­den­cy which is its dy­nam­ic ex­pres­sion, have al­ways ex­ist­ed in mankind, in op­po­si­tion to the gov­ern­ing hi­er­ar­chic con­cep­tion and ten­den­cy–now the one and now the oth­er tak­ing the up­per hand at dif­fer­ent pe­ri­ods of his­to­ry. To the for­mer ten­den­cy we owe the evo­lu­tion, by the mass­es them­selves, of those in­sti­tu­tions–the clan, the vil­lage com­mu­ni­ty, the gild, the free me­dieval city–by means of which the mass­es re­sist­ed the en­croach­ments of the con­querors and the pow­er-​seek­ing mi­nori­ties. The same ten­den­cy as­sert­ed it­self with great en­er­gy in the great re­li­gious move­ments of me­dieval times, es­pe­cial­ly in the ear­ly move­ments of the re­form and its fore­run­ners. At the same time it ev­ident­ly found its ex­pres­sion in the writ­ings of some thinkers, since the times of Lao-​tsze, al­though, ow­ing to its non-​scholas­tic and pop­ular ori­gin, it ob­vi­ous­ly found less sym­pa­thy among the schol­ars than the op­posed ten­den­cy.

As has been point­ed out by Prof. Adler in his Geschichte der Sozial­is­mus und Kom­mu­nis­mus, Aris­tip­pus (b. c. 430 B.C.), one of the founders of the Cyre­na­ic school, al­ready taught that the wise must not give up their lib­er­ty to the state, and in re­ply to a ques­tion by Socrates he said that he did not de­sire to be­long ei­ther to the gov­ern­ing or the gov­erned class. Such an at­ti­tude, how­ev­er, seems to have been dic­tat­ed mere­ly by an Epi­cure­an at­ti­tude to­wards the life of the mass­es.

The best ex­po­nent of An­ar­chist phi­los­ophy in an­cient Greece was Zeno (342-267 or 270 B.C.), from Crete, the founder of the Sto­ic phi­los­ophy, who dis­tinct­ly op­posed his con­cep­tion of a free com­mu­ni­ty with­out gov­ern­ment to the state-​Utopia of Pla­to. He re­pu­di­at­ed the om­nipo­tence of the state, its in­ter­ven­tion and reg­imen­ta­tion, and pro­claimed the sovereign­ty of the moral law of the in­di­vid­ual–re­mark­ing al­ready that, while the nec­es­sary in­stinct of self-​preser­va­tion leads man to ego­tism, na­ture has sup­plied a cor­rec­tive to it by pro­vid­ing man with an­oth­er in­stinct–that of so­cia­bil­ity. When men are rea­son­able enough to fol­low their nat­ural in­stincts, they will unite across the fron­tiers and con­sti­tute the Cos­mos. They will have no need of law-​courts or po­lice, will have no tem­ples and no pub­lic wor­ship, and use no mon­ey–free gifts tak­ing the place of the ex­changes. Un­for­tu­nate­ly, the writ­ings of Zeno have not reached us and are on­ly known through frag­men­tary quo­ta­tions. How­ev­er, the fact that his very word­ing is sim­ilar to the word­ing now in use, shows how deeply is laid the ten­den­cy of hu­man na­ture of which he was the mouth-​piece.

In me­dieval times we find the same views on the state ex­pressed by the il­lus­tri­ous bish­op of Al­ba, Mar­co Giro­lamo Vi­da, in his first di­alogue De dig­ni­tate reipub­li­cae (Ferd. Cav­al­li, in Mem. dell’ Is­ti­tu­to Vene­to, xi­ii.; Dr E. Nys, Re­search­es in the His­to­ry of Eco­nomics.) But it is es­pe­cial­ly in sev­er­al ear­ly Chris­tian move­ments, be­gin­ning with the 9th cen­tu­ry in Ar­me­nia, and in the preach­ings of the ear­ly Hus­sites, par­tic­ular­ly Cho­jec­ki, and the ear­ly An­abap­tists, es­pe­cial­ly Hans Denk (cf. Keller, Ein Apos­tel der Wieder­taufer), that one finds the same ideas forcibly ex­pressed–spe­cial stress be­ing laid of course on their moral as­pects.

Ra­belais and Fenelon, in their Utopias, have al­so ex­pressed sim­ilar ideas, and they were al­so cur­rent in the 18th cen­tu­ry amongst the French En­cy­clopaedists, as may be con­clud­ed from sep­arate ex­pres­sions oc­ca­sion­al­ly met with in the writ­ings of Rousseau, from Diderot’s Pref­ace to the Voy­age of Bougainville, and so on. How­ev­er, in all prob­abil­ity such ideas could not be de­vel­oped then, ow­ing to the rig­or­ous cen­sor­ship of the Ro­man Catholic Church.

These ideas found their ex­pres­sion lat­er dur­ing the great French Rev­olu­tion. While the Ja­cobins did all in their pow­er to cen­tral­ize ev­ery­thing in the hands of the gov­ern­ment, it ap­pears now, from re­cent­ly pub­lished doc­uments, that the mass­es of the peo­ple, in their mu­nic­ipal­ities and “sec­tions,” ac­com­plished a con­sid­er­able con­struc­tive work. They ap­pro­pri­at­ed for them­selves the elec­tion of the judges, the or­ga­ni­za­tion of sup­plies and equip­ment for the army, as al­so for the large cities, work for the un­em­ployed, the man­age­ment of char­ities, and so on. They even tried to es­tab­lish a di­rect cor­re­spon­dence be­tween the 36,000 com­munes of France through the in­ter­me­di­ary of a spe­cial board, out­side the Na­tion­al As­sem­bly (cf. Sigis­mund Lacroix, Actes de la com­mune de Paris.)

It was God­win, in his En­quiry con­cern­ing Po­lit­ical Jus­tice (2 vols., 1793), who was the first to for­mu­late the po­lit­ical and eco­nom­ical con­cep­tions of An­ar­chism, even though he did not give that name to the ideas de­vel­oped in his re­mark­able work. Laws, he wrote, are not a prod­uct of the wis­dom of our an­ces­tors: they are the prod­uct of their pas­sions, their timid­ity, their jeal­ousies and their am­bi­tion. The rem­edy they of­fer is worse than the evils they pre­tend to cure. If and on­ly if all laws and courts were abol­ished, and the de­ci­sions in the aris­ing con­tests were left to rea­son­able men cho­sen for that pur­pose, re­al jus­tice would grad­ual­ly be evolved. As to the state, God­win frankly claimed its abo­li­tion. A so­ci­ety, he wrote, can per­fect­ly well ex­ist with­out any gov­ern­ment: on­ly the com­mu­ni­ties should be small and per­fect­ly au­tonomous. Speak­ing of prop­er­ty, he stat­ed that the rights of ev­ery one “to ev­ery sub­stance ca­pa­ble of con­tribut­ing to the ben­efit of a hu­man be­ing” must be reg­ulat­ed by jus­tice alone: the sub­stance must go “to him who most wants it.” His con­clu­sion was Com­mu­nism. God­win, how­ev­er, had not the courage to main­tain his opin­ions. He en­tire­ly rewrote lat­er on his chap­ter on prop­er­ty and mit­igat­ed his Com­mu­nist views in the sec­ond edi­tion of Po­lit­ical Jus­tice (8vo, 1796).

Proud­hon was the first to use, in 1840 (Qu’est-​ce que la pro­pri­ete? first mem­oir), the name of An­ar­chy with ap­pli­ca­tion to the no-​gov­ern­ment state of so­ci­ety. The name of “An­ar­chists” had been freely ap­plied dur­ing the French Rev­olu­tion by the Girondists to those rev­olu­tion­ar­ies who did not con­sid­er that the task of the Rev­olu­tion was ac­com­plished with the over­throw of Louis XVI., and in­sist­ed up­on a se­ries of eco­nom­ical mea­sures be­ing tak­en (the abo­li­tion of feu­dal rights with­out re­demp­tion, the re­turn to the vil­lage com­mu­ni­ties of the com­mu­nal lands en­closed since 1669, the lim­ita­tion of land­ed prop­er­ty to 120 acres, pro­gres­sive in­come-​tax, the na­tion­al or­ga­ni­za­tion of ex­changes on a just val­ue ba­sis, which al­ready re­ceived a be­gin­ning of prac­ti­cal re­al­iza­tion, and so on).

Now Proud­hon ad­vo­cat­ed a so­ci­ety with­out gov­ern­ment, and used the word An­ar­chy to de­scribe it. Proud­hon re­pu­di­at­ed, as is known, all schemes of Com­mu­nism, ac­cord­ing to which mankind would be driv­en in­to com­mu­nis­tic monas­ter­ies or bar­racks, as al­so all the schemes of state or state-​aid­ed So­cial­ism which were ad­vo­cat­ed by Louis Blanc and the Col­lec­tivists. When he pro­claimed in his first mem­oir on prop­er­ty that “Prop­er­ty is theft,” he meant on­ly prop­er­ty in its present, Ro­man-​law, sense of “right of use and abuse”; in prop­er­ty-​rights, on the oth­er hand, un­der­stood in the lim­it­ed sense of pos­ses­sion, he saw the best pro­tec­tion against the en­croach­ments of the state. At the same time he did not want vi­olent­ly to dis­pos­sess the present own­ers of land, dwelling-​hous­es, mines, fac­to­ries and so on. He pre­ferred to at­tain the same end by ren­der­ing cap­ital in­ca­pable of earn­ing in­ter­est; and this he pro­posed to ob­tain by means of a na­tion­al bank, based on the mu­tu­al con­fi­dence of all those who are en­gaged in pro­duc­tion, who would agree to ex­change among them­selves their pro­duces at cost-​val­ue, by means of labour cheques rep­re­sent­ing the hours of labour re­quired to pro­duce ev­ery giv­en com­mod­ity. Un­der such a sys­tem, which Proud­hon de­scribed as “Mutuel­lisme,” all the ex­changes of ser­vices would be strict­ly equiv­alent. Be­sides, such a bank would be en­abled to lend mon­ey with­out in­ter­est, levy­ing on­ly some­thing like 1%, or even less, for cov­er­ing the cost of ad­min­is­tra­tion. Ev­ery one be­ing thus en­abled to bor­row the mon­ey that would be re­quired to buy a house, no­body would agree to pay any more a year­ly rent for the use of it. A gen­er­al “so­cial liq­ui­da­tion” would thus be ren­dered easy, with­out vi­olent ex­pro­pri­ation. The same ap­plied to mines, rail­ways, fac­to­ries and so on.

In a so­ci­ety of this type the state would be use­less. The chief re­la­tions be­tween cit­izens would be based on free agree­ment and reg­ulat­ed by mere ac­count keep­ing. The con­tests might be set­tled by ar­bi­tra­tion. A pen­etrat­ing crit­icism of the state and all pos­si­ble forms of gov­ern­ment, and a deep in­sight in­to all eco­nom­ic prob­lems, were well-​known char­ac­ter­is­tics of Proud­hon’s work.

It is worth notic­ing that French mu­tu­al­ism had its pre­cur­sor in Eng­land, in William Thomp­son, who be­gan by mu­tu­al­ism be­fore he be­came a Com­mu­nist, and in his fol­low­ers John Gray (A Lec­ture on Hu­man Hap­pi­ness, 1825; The So­cial Sys­tem, 1831) and J. F. Bray (Labour’s Wrongs and Labour’s Rem­edy, 1839). It had al­so its pre­cur­sor in Amer­ica. Josi­ah War­ren, who was born in 1708 (cf. W. Bailie, Josi­ah War­ren, the First Amer­ican An­ar­chist, Boston, 1900), and be­longed to Owen’s “New Har­mo­ny,” con­sid­ered that the fail­ure of this en­ter­prise was chiefly due to the sup­pres­sion of in­di­vid­ual­ity and the lack of ini­tia­tive and re­spon­si­bil­ity. These de­fects, he taught, were in­her­ent to ev­ery scheme based up­on au­thor­ity and the com­mu­ni­ty of goods. He ad­vo­cat­ed, there­fore, com­plete in­di­vid­ual lib­er­ty. In 1827 he opened in Cincin­nati a lit­tle coun­try store which was the first “Eq­ui­ty Store,” and which the peo­ple called “Time Store,” be­cause it was based on labour be­ing ex­changed hour for hour in all sorts of pro­duce. “Cost–the lim­it of price,” and con­se­quent­ly “no in­ter­est,” was the mot­to of his store, and lat­er on of his “Eq­ui­ty Vil­lage,” near New York, which was still in ex­is­tence in 1865. Mr Kei­th’s “House of Eq­ui­ty” at Boston, found­ed in 1855, is al­so wor­thy of no­tice.

While the eco­nom­ical, and es­pe­cial­ly the mu­tu­al-​bank­ing, ideas of Proud­hon found sup­port­ers and even a prac­ti­cal ap­pli­ca­tion in the Unit­ed States, his po­lit­ical con­cep­tion of An­ar­chy found but lit­tle echo in France, where the Chris­tian So­cial­ism of Lamen­nais and the Fouri­erists, and the State So­cial­ism of Louis Blanc and the fol­low­ers of Saint-​Si­mon, were dom­inat­ing. These ideas found, how­ev­er, some tem­po­rary sup­port among the left-​wing Hegelians in Ger­many, Moses Hess in 1843, and Karl Grun in 1845, who ad­vo­cat­ed An­ar­chism. Be­sides, the au­thor­itar­ian Com­mu­nism of Wil­helm Weitling hav­ing giv­en ori­gin to op­po­si­tion amongst the Swiss work­ing men, Wil­helm Marr gave ex­pres­sion to it in the ‘for­ties.

On the oth­er side, In­di­vid­ual­ist An­ar­chism found, al­so in Ger­many, its fullest ex­pres­sion in Max Stirn­er (Kas­par Schmidt), whose re­mark­able works (Der Einzige und sein Eigen­thum and ar­ti­cles con­tribut­ed to the Rheinis­che Zeitung) re­mained quite over­looked un­til they were brought in­to promi­nence by John Hen­ry Mack­ay.

Prof. V. Basch, in a very able in­tro­duc­tion to his in­ter­est­ing book, L’In­di­vid­ual­isme an­ar­chiste: Max Stirn­er (1904), has shown how the de­vel­op­ment of the Ger­man phi­los­ophy from Kant to Hegel, and “the ab­so­lute” of Schelling and the Geist of Hegel, nec­es­sar­ily pro­voked, when the an­ti-​Hegelian re­volt be­gan, the preach­ing of the same “ab­so­lute” in the camp of the rebels. This was done by Stirn­er, who ad­vo­cat­ed, not on­ly a com­plete re­volt against the state and against the servi­tude which au­thor­itar­ian Com­mu­nism would im­pose up­on men, but al­so the full lib­er­ation of the in­di­vid­ual from all so­cial and moral bonds–the re­ha­bil­ita­tion of the “I,” the suprema­cy of the in­di­vid­ual, com­plete “a-​moral­ism,” and the “as­so­ci­ation of the ego­tists.” The fi­nal con­clu­sion of that sort of In­di­vid­ual An­ar­chism has been in­di­cat­ed by Prof. Basch. It main­tains that the aim of all su­pe­ri­or civ­iliza­tion is, not to per­mit all mem­bers of the com­mu­ni­ty to de­vel­op in a nor­mal way, but to per­mit cer­tain bet­ter en­dowed in­di­vid­uals “ful­ly to de­vel­op,” even at the cost of the hap­pi­ness and the very ex­is­tence of the mass of mankind. It is thus a re­turn to­wards the most com­mon in­di­vid­ual­ism, ad­vo­cat­ed by all the would-​be su­pe­ri­or mi­nori­ties, to which in­deed man owes in his his­to­ry pre­cise­ly the state and the rest, which these in­di­vid­ual­ists com­bat. Their in­di­vid­ual­ism goes so far as to end in a nega­tion of their own start­ing-​point,–to say noth­ing of the im­pos­si­bil­ity for the in­di­vid­ual to at­tain a re­al­ly full de­vel­op­ment in the con­di­tions of op­pres­sion of the mass­es by the “beau­ti­ful aris­toc­ra­cies.” His de­vel­op­ment would re­main uni-​lat­er­al. This is why this di­rec­tion of thought, notwith­stand­ing its un­doubt­ed­ly cor­rect and use­ful ad­vo­ca­cy of the full de­vel­op­ment of each in­di­vid­ual­ity, finds a hear­ing on­ly in lim­it­ed artis­tic and lit­er­ary cir­cles.

An­ar­chism in the In­ter­na­tion­al Work­ing Men’s As­so­ci­ation.–A gen­er­al de­pres­sion in the pro­pa­gan­da of all frac­tions of So­cial­ism fol­lowed, as is known, af­ter the de­feat of the up­ris­ing of the Paris work­ing men in June 1848 and the fall of the Re­pub­lic. All the So­cial­ist press was gagged dur­ing the re­ac­tion pe­ri­od, which last­ed ful­ly twen­ty years. Nev­er­the­less, even An­ar­chist thought be­gan to make some progress, name­ly in the writ­ings of Bel­le­gar­rique (Coeur­deroy), and es­pe­cial­ly Joseph De­jacque (Les Laza­reennes, L’Hu­man­isphere, an An­ar­chist-​Com­mu­nist Utopia, late­ly dis­cov­ered and reprint­ed). The So­cial­ist move­ment re­vived on­ly af­ter 1864, when some French work­ing men, all “mu­tu­al­ists,” meet­ing in Lon­don dur­ing the Uni­ver­sal Ex­hi­bi­tion with En­glish fol­low­ers of Robert Owen, found­ed the In­ter­na­tion­al Work­ing Men’s As­so­ci­ation. This as­so­ci­ation de­vel­oped very rapid­ly and adopt­ed a pol­icy of di­rect eco­nom­ical strug­gle against cap­ital­ism, with­out in­ter­fer­ing in the po­lit­ical par­lia­men­tary ag­ita­tion, and this pol­icy was fol­lowed un­til 1871. How­ev­er, af­ter the Fran­co-​Ger­man War, when the In­ter­na­tion­al As­so­ci­ation was pro­hib­it­ed in France af­ter the up­ris­ing of the Com­mune, the Ger­man work­ing men, who had re­ceived man­hood suf­frage for elec­tions to the new­ly con­sti­tut­ed im­pe­ri­al par­lia­ment, in­sist­ed up­on mod­ify­ing the tac­tics of the In­ter­na­tion­al, and be­gan to build up a So­cial-​Demo­crat­ic po­lit­ical par­ty. This soon led to a di­vi­sion in the Work­ing Men’s As­so­ci­ation, and the Latin fed­er­ations, Span­ish, Ital­ian, Bel­gian and Juras­sic (France could not be rep­re­sent­ed), con­sti­tut­ed among them­selves a Fed­er­al union which broke en­tire­ly with the Marx­ist gen­er­al coun­cil of the In­ter­na­tion­al. With­in these fed­er­ations de­vel­oped now what may be de­scribed as mod­ern An­ar­chism. Af­ter the names of “Fed­er­al­ists” and “An­ti-​au­thor­itar­ians” had been used for some time by these fed­er­ations the name of “An­ar­chists,” which their ad­ver­saries in­sist­ed up­on ap­ply­ing to them, pre­vailed, and fi­nal­ly it was revin­di­cat­ed.

Bakunin (q.v.) soon be­came the lead­ing spir­it among these Latin fed­er­ations for the de­vel­op­ment of the prin­ci­ples of An­ar­chism, which he did in a num­ber of writ­ings, pam­phlets and let­ters. He de­mand­ed the com­plete abo­li­tion of the state, which–he wrote–is a prod­uct of re­li­gion, be­longs to a low­er state of civ­iliza­tion, rep­re­sents the nega­tion of lib­er­ty, and spoils even that which it un­der­takes to do for the sake of gen­er­al well-​be­ing. The state was an his­tor­ical­ly nec­es­sary evil, but its com­plete ex­tinc­tion will be, soon­er or lat­er, equal­ly nec­es­sary. Re­pu­di­at­ing all leg­is­la­tion, even when is­su­ing from uni­ver­sal suf­frage, Bakunin claimed for each na­tion, each re­gion and each com­mune, full au­ton­omy, so long as it is not a men­ace to its neigh­bours, and full in­de­pen­dence for the in­di­vid­ual, adding that one be­comes re­al­ly free on­ly when, and in pro­por­tion as, all oth­ers are free. Free fed­er­ations of the com­munes would con­sti­tute free na­tions.

As to his eco­nom­ical con­cep­tions, Bakunin de­scribed him­self, in com­mon with his Fed­er­al­ist com­rades of the In­ter­na­tion­al (Ce­sar De Paepe, James Guil­laume Schwitzguebel), a “Col­lec­tivist An­ar­chist”–not in the sense of Vi­dal and Pec­queur in the ‘for­ties, or of their mod­ern So­cial-​Demo­crat­ic fol­low­ers, but to ex­press a state of things in which all nec­es­saries for pro­duc­tion are owned in com­mon by the Labour groups and the free com­munes, while the ways of ret­ri­bu­tion of labour, Com­mu­nist or oth­er­wise, would be set­tled by each group for it­self. So­cial rev­olu­tion, the near ap­proach of which was fore­told at that time by all So­cial­ists, would be the means of bring­ing in­to life the new con­di­tions.

The Juras­sic, the Span­ish, and the Ital­ian fed­er­ations and sec­tions of the In­ter­na­tion­al Work­ing Men’s As­so­ci­ation, as al­so the French, the Ger­man and the Amer­ican An­ar­chist groups, were for the next years the chief cen­tres of An­ar­chist thought and pro­pa­gan­da. They re­frained from any par­tic­ipa­tion in par­lia­men­tary pol­itics, and al­ways kept in close con­tact with the Labour or­ga­ni­za­tions. How­ev­er, in the sec­ond half of the ‘eight­ies and the ear­ly ‘nineties of the 19th cen­tu­ry, when the in­flu­ence of the An­ar­chists be­gan to be felt in strikes, in the 1st of May demon­stra­tions, where they pro­mot­ed the idea of a gen­er­al strike for an eight hours’ day, and in the an­ti-​mil­itarist pro­pa­gan­da in the army, vi­olent pros­ecu­tions were di­rect­ed against them, es­pe­cial­ly in the Latin coun­tries (in­clud­ing phys­ical tor­ture in the Barcelona Cas­tle) and the Unit­ed States (the ex­ecu­tion of five Chica­go An­ar­chists in 1887). Against these pros­ecu­tions the An­ar­chists re­tal­iat­ed by acts of vi­olence which in their turn were fol­lowed by more ex­ecu­tions from above, and new acts of re­venge from be­low. This cre­at­ed in the gen­er­al pub­lic the im­pres­sion that vi­olence is the sub­stance of An­ar­chism, a view re­pu­di­at­ed by its sup­port­ers, who hold that in re­al­ity vi­olence is re­sort­ed to by all par­ties in pro­por­tion as their open ac­tion is ob­struct­ed by re­pres­sion, and ex­cep­tion­al laws ren­der them out­laws. (Cf. An­ar­chism and Out­rage, by C. M. Wil­son, and Re­port of the Span­ish Atroc­ities Com­mit­tee, in “Free­dom Pam­phlets”; A Con­cise His­to­ry of the Great Tri­al of the Chica­go An­ar­chists, by Dy­er Lum (New York, 1886); The Chica­go Mar­tyrs: Speech­es, &c.).1

An­ar­chism con­tin­ued to de­vel­op, part­ly in the di­rec­tion of Proud­ho­ni­an “Mutuel­lisme,” but chiefly as Com­mu­nist- An­ar­chism, to which a third di­rec­tion, Chris­tian-​An­ar­chism, was added by Leo Tol­stoy, and a fourth, which might be as­cribed as lit­er­ary-​An­ar­chism, be­gan amongst some promi­nent mod­ern writ­ers.

The ideas of Proud­hon, es­pe­cial­ly as re­gards mu­tu­al bank­ing, cor­re­spond­ing with those of Josi­ah War­ren, found a con­sid­er­able fol­low­ing in the Unit­ed States, cre­at­ing quite a school, of which the main writ­ers are Stephen Pearl An­drews, William Grene, Lysander Spoon­er (who be­gan to write in 1850, and whose un­fin­ished work, Nat­ural Law, was full of promise), and sev­er­al oth­ers, whose names will be found in Dr Net­tlan’s Bib­li­ogra­phie de l’an­ar­chie.

A promi­nent po­si­tion among the In­di­vid­ual­ist An­ar­chists in Amer­ica has been oc­cu­pied by Ben­jamin R. Tuck­er, whose jour­nal Lib­er­ty was start­ed in 1881 and whose con­cep­tions are a com­bi­na­tion of those of Proud­hon with those of Her­bert Spencer. Start­ing from the state­ment that An­ar­chists are ego­tists, strict­ly speak­ing, and that ev­ery group of in­di­vid­uals, be it a se­cret league of a few per­sons, or the Congress of the Unit­ed States, has the right to op­press all mankind, pro­vid­ed it has the pow­er to do so, that equal lib­er­ty for all and ab­so­lute equal­ity ought to be the law, and “mind ev­ery one your own busi­ness” is the unique moral law of An­ar­chism, Tuck­er goes on to prove that a gen­er­al and thor­ough ap­pli­ca­tion of these prin­ci­ples would be ben­efi­cial and would of­fer no dan­ger, be­cause the pow­ers of ev­ery in­di­vid­ual would be lim­it­ed by the ex­er­cise of the equal rights of all oth­ers.

He fur­ther in­di­cat­ed (fol­low­ing H. Spencer) the dif­fer­ence which ex­ists be­tween the en­croach­ment on some­body’s rights and re­sis­tance to such an en­croach­ment; be­tween dom­ina­tion and de­fence: the for­mer be­ing equal­ly con­demnable, whether it be en­croach­ment of a crim­inal up­on an in­di­vid­ual, or the en­croach­ment of one up­on all oth­ers, or of all oth­ers up­on one; while re­sis­tance to en­croach­ment is de­fen­si­ble and nec­es­sary. For their self-​de­fence, both the cit­izen and the group have the right to any vi­olence, in­clud­ing cap­ital pun­ish­ment. Vi­olence is al­so jus­ti­fied for en­forc­ing the du­ty of keep­ing an agree­ment. Tuck­er thus fol­lows Spencer, and, like him, opens (in the present writ­er’s opin­ion) the way for re­con­sti­tut­ing un­der the head­ing of “de­fence” all the func­tions of the state. His crit­icism of the present state is very search­ing, and his de­fence of the rights of the in­di­vid­ual very pow­er­ful. As re­gards his eco­nom­ical views B. R. Tuck­er fol­lows Proud­hon.

The In­di­vid­ual­ist An­ar­chism of the Amer­ican Proud­ho­ni­ans finds, how­ev­er, but lit­tle sym­pa­thy amongst the work­ing mass­es. Those who pro­fess it–they are chiefly “in­tel­lec­tu­als”–soon re­al­ize that the in­di­vid­ual­iza­tion they so high­ly praise is not at­tain­able by in­di­vid­ual ef­forts, and ei­ther aban­don the ranks of the An­ar­chists, and are driv­en in­to the Lib­er­al in­di­vid­ual­ism of the clas­si­cal economists, or they re­tire in­to a sort of Epi­cure­an a-​moral­ism, or su­per-​man-​the­ory, sim­ilar to that of Stirn­er and Ni­et­zsche. The great bulk of the An­ar­chist work­ing men pre­fer the An­ar­chist-​Com­mu­nist ideas which have grad­ual­ly evolved out of the An­ar­chist Col­lec­tivism of the In­ter­na­tion­al Work­ing Men’s As­so­ci­ation. To this di­rec­tion be­long–to name on­ly the bet­ter known ex­po­nents of An­ar­chism–Elisee Reclus, Jean Grave, Se­bastien Fau­re, Emile Pouget in France; En­ri­co Malat­es­ta and Cov­el­li in Italy; R. Mel­la, A. Loren­zo, and the most­ly un­known au­thors of many ex­cel­lent man­ifestos in Spain; John Most amongst the Ger­mans; Spies, Par­sons and their fol­low­ers in the Unit­ed States, and so on; while Domela Nieuwen­huis oc­cu­pies an in­ter­me­di­ate po­si­tion in Hol­land. The chief An­ar­chist pa­pers which have been pub­lished since 1880 al­so be­long to that di­rec­tion; while a num­ber of An­ar­chists of this di­rec­tion have joined the so-​called Syn­di­cal­ist move­ment–the French name for the non-​po­lit­ical Labour move­ment, de­vot­ed to di­rect strug­gle with cap­ital­ism, which has late­ly be­come so promi­nent in Eu­rope.

As one of the An­ar­chist-​Com­mu­nist di­rec­tion, the present writ­er for many years en­deav­oured to de­vel­op the fol­low­ing ideas: to show the in­ti­mate, log­ical con­nex­ion which ex­ists be­tween the mod­ern phi­los­ophy of nat­ural sci­ences and an­ar­chism; to put An­ar­chism on a sci­en­tif­ic ba­sis by the study of the ten­den­cies that are ap­par­ent now in so­ci­ety and may in­di­cate its fur­ther evo­lu­tion; and to work out the ba­sis of An­ar­chist ethics. As re­gards the sub­stance of An­ar­chism it­self, it was Kropotkin’s aim to prove that Com­mu­nism–at least par­tial–has more chances of be­ing es­tab­lished than Col­lec­tivism, es­pe­cial­ly in com­munes tak­ing the lead, and that Free, or An­ar­chist- Com­mu­nism is the on­ly form of Com­mu­nism that has any chance of be­ing ac­cept­ed in civ­ilized so­ci­eties; Com­mu­nism and An­ar­chy are there­fore two terms of evo­lu­tion which com­plete each oth­er, the one ren­der­ing the oth­er pos­si­ble and ac­cept­able. He has tried, more­over, to in­di­cate how, dur­ing a rev­olu­tion­ary pe­ri­od, a large city–if its in­hab­itants have ac­cept­ed the idea–could or­ga­nize it­self on the lines of Free Com­mu­nism; the city guar­an­tee­ing to ev­ery in­hab­itant dwelling, food and cloth­ing to an ex­tent cor­re­spond­ing to the com­fort now avail­able to the mid­dle class­es on­ly, in ex­change for a half-​day’s, or a five-​hours’ work; and how all those things which would be con­sid­ered as lux­uries might be ob­tained by ev­ery one if he joins for the oth­er half of the day all sorts of free as­so­ci­ations pur­su­ing all pos­si­ble aims–ed­uca­tion­al, lit­er­ary, sci­en­tif­ic, artis­tic, sports and so on. In or­der to prove the first of these as­ser­tions he has anal­ysed the pos­si­bil­ities of agri­cul­ture and in­dus­tri­al work, both be­ing com­bined with brain work. And in or­der to elu­ci­date the main fac­tors of hu­man evo­lu­tion, he has anal­ysed the part played in his­to­ry by the pop­ular con­struc­tive agen­cies of mu­tu­al aid and the his­tor­ical role of the state.

With­out nam­ing him­self an An­ar­chist, Leo Tol­stoy, like his pre­de­ces­sors in the pop­ular re­li­gious move­ments of the 15th and 16th cen­turies, Cho­jec­ki, Denk and many oth­ers, took the An­ar­chist po­si­tion as re­gards the state and prop­er­ty rights, de­duc­ing his con­clu­sions from the gen­er­al spir­it of the teach­ings of the Christ and from the nec­es­sary dic­tates of rea­son. With all the might of his tal­ent he made (es­pe­cial­ly in The King­dom of God in Your­selves) a pow­er­ful crit­icism of the church, the state and law al­to­geth­er, and es­pe­cial­ly of the present prop­er­ty laws. He de­scribes the state as the dom­ina­tion of the wicked ones, sup­port­ed by bru­tal force. Rob­bers, he says, are far less dan­ger­ous than a well-​or­ga­nized gov­ern­ment. He makes a search­ing crit­icism of the prej­udices which are cur­rent now con­cern­ing the ben­efits con­ferred up­on men by the church, the state and the ex­ist­ing dis­tri­bu­tion of prop­er­ty, and from the teach­ings of the Christ he de­duces the rule of non-​re­sis­tance and the ab­so­lute con­dem­na­tion of all wars. His re­li­gious ar­gu­ments are, how­ev­er, so well com­bined with ar­gu­ments bor­rowed from a dis­pas­sion­ate ob­ser­va­tion of the present evils, that the an­ar­chist por­tions of his works ap­peal to the re­li­gious and the non-​re­li­gious read­er alike.

It would be im­pos­si­ble to rep­re­sent here, in a short sketch, the pen­etra­tion, on the one hand, of An­ar­chist ideas in­to mod­ern lit­er­ature, and the in­flu­ence, on the oth­er hand, which the lib­er­tar­ian ideas of the best comtem­po­rary writ­ers have ex­er­cised up­on the de­vel­op­ment of An­ar­chism. One ought to con­sult the ten big vol­umes of the Sup­ple­ment lit­teraire to the pa­per La re­volte and lat­er the Temps nou­veaux, which con­tain re­pro­duc­tions from the works of hun­dreds of mod­ern au­thors ex­press­ing An­ar­chist ideas, in or­der to re­al­ize how close­ly An­ar­chism is con­nect­ed with all the in­tel­lec­tu­al move­ment of our own times. J. S. Mill’s Lib­er­ty, Spencer’s In­di­vid­ual ver­sus The State, Marc Guyau’s Moral­ity with­out Obli­ga­tion or Sanc­tion, and Fouillee’s La morale, l’art et la re­li­gion, the works of Mul­tat­uli (E. Douwes Dekker), Richard Wag­ner’s Art and Rev­olu­tion, the works of Ni­et­zsche, Emer­son, W. Lloyd Gar­ri­son, Thore­au, Alexan­der Herzen, Ed­ward Car­pen­ter and so on; and in the do­main of fic­tion, the dra­mas of Ib­sen, the po­et­ry of Walt Whit­man, Tol­stoy’s War and Peace, Zo­la’s Paris and Le tra­vail, the lat­est works of Merezhkovsky, and an in­fin­ity of works of less known au­thors,–are full of ideas which show how close­ly An­ar­chism is in­ter­wo­ven with the work that is go­ing on in mod­ern thought in the same di­rec­tion of en­fran­chise­ment of man from the bonds of the state as well as from those of cap­ital­ism.

BIB­LI­OG­RA­PHY.–William God­win, An En­quiry con­cern­ing Po­lit­ical Jus­tice and its In­flu­ence on Gen­er­al Virtue and Hap­pi­ness, 1st edi­tion, 2 vols. (1793). Mu­tu­al­ism:–John Gray, A Lec­ture on Hu­man Hap­pi­ness (1825); The So­cial Sys­tem, a Trea­tise on the Prin­ci­ples of Ex­change (1831); Proud­hon, Qu’est-​ce que la pro­pri­ete 11er mem­oire (1840) (Eng. trans. by B. Tuck­er); Idee gen­erale sur la rev­olu­tion (1851);. Con­fes­sion d’un rev­olu­tion­naire (1849); Con­tra­dic­tions economiques (1846); Josi­ah War­ren, Prac­ti­ca­ble De­tails of Eq­ui­table Com­merce (New York, 1852); True Civ­ilizal­tion (Boston, 1863); Stephen Pearl An­drews, The Sci­ence of So­ci­ety (1851); Cost, the Lim­it of Price; Moses Hess, “Sozial­is­mus und Com­mu­nis­mus, Philoso­phie der That” (on Her­wegh’s Ein-​und-​Zwanzip Bo­gen aus der Schweiz, 1843); Karl Grun, Die soziale Be­we­gung in Frankre­ich und Bel­gien (1845); W. Marr, Das junge Deutsch­land (1845). An­ar­chist In­di­vid­ual­ism:–Max Stirn­er (J. K. Schmidt), Der Einzige und sein Eigen­thum (1845) (Fr. trans., 1900); J. H. Mack­ay, Max Stirn­er, sein Leben und sein Werk (1898): V. Basch, L’In­di­vid­ual­isme an­ar­chists (1904). Tran­si­tion pe­ri­od:–J. De­jacque, Les Laza­reennes rj85I); Le Lib­er­taire, week­ly, New York, 1858–1861, con­tain­ing An­ar­chist Col­lec­tivism of the In­ter­na­tion­al:–The pa­pers Egalite, Pro­gres (Lo­cle), Sol­idaritet; James Guil­laume, Idees sur l’or­gan­isa­tion se­ciale (1876); Bul­letin de la .fed­er­ation jurassi­enne (1872-1879); A. Schwitzguebel, OEu­vres; Paul Brousse, Le Suf­frage uni­versel (1874); L’Etat a Ver­sailles et dans l’as­so­ci­ation in­ter­na­tionale (1874); news­pa­per L’Avant-​garde (sup­pressed 1878); Arthur Arnould, L’Etat et la rev­olu­tion (1877); His­toire pop­ulaire de la com­mune (3 vols., 1878); Ce­sar de Paepe, in Rive gauche and La lib­erte (1867-1883). Many oth­ers are in the Comptes ren­dus of the con­gress­es of the In­ter­na­tion­al Work­ing Men’s As­so­ci­ation. All these ideas, con­ceived as a whole, may be found in Bakunin’s Fed­er­al­isme, so­cial­isme et an­ti-​the­ol­ogisme, pub­lished first in por­tions un­der the names of L’Em­pire knouto-​ger­manique, Dieu et l’etat, The State-​Idea and An­ar­chy (Rus­sian), and on­ly now re­pro­duced in full in his OEu­vres (Paris, 1905 and seq.); Sozialpoli­tis­ch­er Briefwech­sel (1894); Statuts de l’al­liance in­ter­na­tionale (1868); Propo­si­tion mo­tivee au comite cen­tral de la ligue de la paix et de la ll­berte (1868.) The fa­mous Rev­olu­tion­ary Cat­echism at­tribut­ed to Bakunin, was not his work. Bi­ogra­phie von Michael Bakunin, by Dr M. Net­tlan, 3 large vols., con­tains mass­es of let­ters, &c. (hec­tographed in 50 copies; in all chief li­braries).

MOD­ERN AN­AR­CHISM.–The best sources are the col­lec­tions of news­pa­pers which, al­though com­pelled some­times to change their names, were run for con­sid­er­able lengths of time and are ap­pear­ing still: J. Most, Frei­heit, since 1878; Le Re­volte–La Re­volte–Temps nou­veaux, since 1878; Domela Nieuwen­huis, Recht voor Allen, since 1878; Free­dom, since 1886; Le Lib­er­taire; Pouget’s Pere Pe­suard; Reveil-​Risveg­lio; see Net­tlan’s Bib­li­ogra­phie. These pa­pers and a great num­ber of pam­phlets are in­dis­pens­able for those who in­tend to know an­ar­chism, as the works pub­lished in book form are not nu­mer­ous. Of the lat­ter on­ly a few will be men­tioned:–Elisee Reclus, Evo­lu­tion and Rev­olu­tion, many edi­tions in all lan­guages; “An­ar­chy by an An­ar­chist,” in Con­temp. Re­view (May, 1884); The Ide­al and Youth (1895); Jean Grave, La So­ci­ete au lende­main de la rev­olu­tion, many edi­tions since 1882; La So­ci­ete mourante et l’an­ar­chie (1893); L’Au­tonomie selon la sci­ence (1882); La So­ci­ete fu­ture (1895); L’An­ar­chie, son but, ses moyens; Se­bastien Fau­re, La Douleur uni­verselle (1892); A. Ha­mon, Les Hemmes et les the­ories de l’an­ar­chie (1893); Psy­cholo­gie de l’an­ar­chiste-​so­cial­iste (1895); En­ri­co Malat­es­ta, Fra Con­ta­di­ni, transl. in all lan­guages–Eng. trans. A Talk about An­ar­chist Com­mu­nism, in “Free­dom Pam­phlets” (1891); An­ar­chy (do. 1892); Au cafe; and many oth­er Ital­ian pam­phlets, as al­so sev­er­al pa­pers start­ed at var­ious times in Italy un­der dif­fer­ent names: F. S. Mer­li­no, So­cial­is­mo o Me­nop­olis­mo (1887). Pam­phlets, re­views and pa­pers by P. Gori, L. Moli­nari, E. Cov­el­li, &c. The man­ifestos of the Span­ish Fed­er­ations con­tain ex­cel­lent ex­po­si­tions of An­ar­chism; cf. al­so many books, pam­phlets and pa­pers by J. Llu­nas y Pu­jals, J. Ser­ra­no y Oteiza, Ri­car­do Mel­la, A. Loren­zo, &c. John Most, the pa­per Frei­heit, of which a few ar­ti­cles on­ly have been reprint­ed as pam­phlets in the In­ter­na­tionale Bib­lio­thek (“The Deis­tic Pesti­lence,” “The Beast of Prop­er­ty” in En­glish); Mem­oiren, 3 fas­ci­cules. F. Domela Nieuwen­huis, Le So­cial­isme en dan­ger (1895); C. Mala­to, Philoso­phie de l’an­ar­chie (1890); Char­lotte Wil­son, An­ar­chism (“Fabi­an Tracts,” 4); An­ar­chism and Vi­olence (“Free­dom Pam­phlets”); Al­bert Par­sons, An­ar­chism, its Phi­los­ophy and Sci­en­tif­ic Ba­sis (Chica­go, 1888); The Chica­go Mar­tyrs: Speech­es in Court; P. Kropotkin, Paroles d’un re­volte (1884); Con­quest of Bread (1906) (1st French ed. in 1890); An­ar­chist Moral­ity; An­ar­chy, its Phi­los­ophy and Ide­als; An­ar­chist Com­mu­nism; The State, its His­toric Role; and oth­er “Free­dom Pam­phlets”; Fields, Fac­to­ries and Work­shops (5th pop­ular edi­tion, 1807); Mu­tu­al Aid: a Fac­tor of Evo­lu­tion (1904). Mod­ern In­di­vid­ual­ist An­ar­chists:–B. Tuck­er, the pa­per Lib­er­ty (1892 sqq.); In­stead of a Book, by one too busy to write one (Boston, 1893); Dy­er Lum, So­cial Prob­lems (1883); Lysander Spoon­er, Nat­ural Law, or the Sci­ence of Jus­tice (Boston, 1891). Re­li­gious An­ar­chists:–Leo Tol­stoy, The King­dom of God in Your­selves; My Faith; Con­fes­sion; &c.

The best work on An­ar­chism, and in fact the on­ly one writ­ten with full knowl­edge of the An­ar­chist lit­er­ature, and quite fair­ly, is by a Ger­man judge Dr Paul Eltzbach­er, An­ar­chis­mus (transl. in all chief Eu­ro­pean lan­guages, ex­cept En­glish). Prof. Adler’s ar­ti­cle “An­ar­chis­mus” in Con­rad’s Hand­worter­buch der Staatswis­senschaften, vol. i., is less ac­cu­rate for mod­ern times than for the ear­li­er pe­ri­ods. G. v. Zenker, Der An­ar­chis­mus (1895); and Prof. Ed­mund Bernatzik, “Der An­ar­chis­mus,” in Schmoller’s Jahrbuch, may al­so be men­tioned–the re­main­der be­ing writ­ten with ab­so­lute want of knowl­edge of the sub­ject.

A most im­por­tant work is the rea­soned Bib­li­ogra­phie de l’an­ar­chie, by Dr M. Net­tlan (Brus­sels, 1897, 8vo, 294 ff.), writ­ten with a full knowl­edge of the sub­ject and its im­mense lit­er­ature. (P. A. K.)

1 It is imoor­tant to re­mem­ber that the term “An­ar­chist’, is in­evitably rather loose­ly used in pub­lic, in con­nex­ion with the au­thors of a cer­tain class of mur­der­ous out­rages, and that the same loose­ness of def­ini­tion of­ten ap­plies to the pro­fes­sions of “An­ar­chism” made by such per­sons. As stat­ed above, a philo­soph­ic An­ar­chist would re­pu­di­ate the con­nex­ion. And the gen­er­al pub­lic view which re­gards An­ar­chist doc­trines in­dis­crim­inate­ly is to that ex­tent a con­fu­sion of terms. But the fol­low­ing re­sume of the chief mod­ern so-​called “An­ar­chist” in­ci­dents is ap­pend­ed for con­ve­nience in stat­ing the facts un­der the head­ing where a read­er would ex­pect to find them.

Be­tween 1852 and 1886, in France, Prince Kropotkin, Louise Michel and oth­ers were im­pris­oned. In Eng­land, Most, one of the Ger­man An­ar­chist lead­ers, found­ed Die Frei­heit, and, for de­fend­ing in it the as­sas­si­na­tion of Alexan­der II. at St Pe­ters­burg, was sen­tenced to eigh­teen months’ im­pris­on­ment with hard labour. Af­ter this he moved to the Unit­ed States, and re-​es­tab­lished his pa­per there in New York, in May 1886. Dur­ing this pe­ri­od there were sev­er­al An­ar­chist con­gress­es in the Unit­ed States. In one at Al­bany, in 1878, the rev­olu­tion­ary el­ement, led by Jus­tus Schwab, broke away from the oth­ers; at Al­leghe­ny City, in 1879, again there was a rup­ture be­tween the peace­ful and the rev­olu­tion­ary sec­tions. The Voice of the Peo­ple at St Louis, the Ar­beit­er Zeitung at Chica­go, and the An­ar­chist at Boston, were the or­gans of the rev­olu­tion­ary el­ement. In 1883, at Pitts­burg, a congress of twen­ty-​eight del­egates, rep­re­sent­ing twen­ty-​two towns, drew up an ad­dress to the work­ing men of Amer­ica. The pro­gramme it pro­posed was as fol­lows:–

First, De­struc­tion of the ex­ist­ing class rule by all means, i.e. en­er­get­ic, re­lent­less, rev­olu­tion­ary and in­ter­na­tion­al ac­tion.

Sec­ond, Es­tab­lish­ment of a free so­ci­ety, based up­on co-​op­er­ative or­ga­ni­za­tion of pro­duc­tion.

Third, Free ex­change of equiv­alent prod­ucts by and be­tween the pro­duc­tive or­ga­ni­za­tions, with­out com­merce and prof­it-​mon­gery.

Fourth, Or­ga­ni­za­tion of ed­uca­tion on a sec­ular, sci­en­tif­ic and equal ba­sis for both sex­es.

Fifth, Equal rights for all, with­out dis­tinc­tion of sex or race. the au­tonomous (in­de­pen­dent) com­munes and as­so­ci­ations, rest­ing on a fed­er­al­is­tic ba­sis.

This, to­geth­er with an ap­peal to the work­ing men to or­ga­nize, was pub­lished in Chica­go, Novem­ber 1883, by a lo­cal com­mit­tee of four, rep­re­sent­ing French, Bo­hemi­an, Ger­man and En­glish sec­tions, the head of the last be­ing Au­gust Spies, who was hanged in 1887 for par­tic­ipa­tion in the Hay­mar­ket af­fair in Chica­go, 4th May 1886. This af­fair was the cul­mi­na­tion of a se­ries of en­coun­ters be­tween the Chica­go work­ing men and the po­lice, which had cov­ered sev­er­al years. The meet­ing of 4th May was called by Spies and oth­ers to protest against the ac­tion of the po­lice, by whom sev­er­al work­ing men had been killed in col­li­sions grow­ing out of the ef­forts to in­tro­duce the eight hours’ day. The may­or of the city at­tend­ed the meet­ing, but, find­ing it peace­ful, went home. The meet­ing was sub­se­quent­ly en­tered by the po­lice and com­mand­ed to dis­perse. A bomb was thrown, sev­er­al po­lice­men be­ing killed and a num­ber wound­ed. For this crime eight men were tried in one pan­el and con­demned, sev­en–Spies, Par­sons, En­gel, Fis­ch­er, Field­en, Schwab, and Ling–to death, and one–Neebe–to im­pris­on­ment for fif­teen years. The sen­tences on Field­en and Schwab were com­mut­ed by Gov­er­nor Ogles­by to im­pris­on­ment for life, on the rec­om­men­da­tion of the pre­sid­ing judge and the pros­ecut­ing at­tor­ney. Ling com­mit­ted sui­cide in jail, and Spies, Par­sons, En­gel and Fis­ch­er were hanged, 11th Novem­ber 1887. On 26th June 1893 an un­con­di­tion­al par­don was grant­ed the sur­vivors, Field­en, Schwab and Neebe, by Gov­er­nor Alt­geld. The rea­sons for the par­don were stat­ed by the gov­er­nor to be that, up­on an ex­am­ina­tion of the records he found that the ju­ry had not been drawn in the usu­al man­ner, but by a spe­cial bailiff, who made his own se­lec­tion and had sum­moned a “prej­udiced ju­ry”; that the “state had nev­er dis­cov­ered who it was that threw ihe bomb which killed the po­lice­men, and the ev­idence does not show any con­nex­ion what­ev­er be­tween the de­fen­dants and the man who did throw it,” . . . or that this man “ev­er heard or read a word com­ing from the de­fen­dants, and con­se­quent­ly fails to show that he act­ed on any ad­vice giv­en by them.” Judge Gary, the judge at the tri­al, pub­lished a de­fence of its pro­ce­dure in the Cen­tu­ry Mag­azine, vol. xxi­ii p. 803.

A num­ber of out­breaks in lat­er years were at­tribut­ed to the pro­pa­gan­da of re­form by rev­olu­tion, like those in Spain and France in 1892, in which Rava­chol was a promi­nent fig­ure. In 1893 a bomb was ex­plod­ed in the French Cham­ber of Deputies by Vail­lant. The spir­it of these men is well il­lus­trat­ed by the re­ply which Vail­lant made to the judge who re­proached him for en­dan­ger­ing the lives of in­no­cent men and wom­en: “There can be no in­no­cent bour­geois.” In 1894 there was an ex­plo­sion in a Parisian cafe, and an­oth­er in a the­atre at Barcelona. For the lat­ter out­rage six men were ex­ecut­ed. Pres­ident Carnot of the French Re­pub­lic was as­sas­si­nat­ed by an Ital­ian at Lyons in the same year. The em­press Eliz­abeth of Aus­tria was as­sas­si­nat­ed in Septem­ber 1898. These events, all as­so­ci­at­ed by the pub­lic with “An­ar­chism,” led to the pas­sage by the Uni­ied States Congress of a law, in 1894, to keep out for­eign An­ar­chists, and to de­port any who might be found in the coun­try, and al­so to the as­sem­blage of an in­ter­na­tion­al con­fer­ence in Rome, in 1898, to agree up­on some plan for deal­ing with these rev­olu­tion­ists. It was pro­posed that their of­fences should no longer be classed as po­lit­ical, but as com­mon-​law crimes, and be made sub­ject to ex­tra­di­tion. The sup­pres­sion of the rev­olu­tion­ary press and the in­ter­na­tion­al co-​op­er­ation of the po­lice were al­so sug­gest­ed. The re­sults of the con­fer­ence were not, how­ev­er, pub­lished; and the ques­tion of how to deal with the cam­paign against so­ci­ety fell for a while in­to abeyance. The at­tempt made by the youth Sipi­do on the (then) prince of Wales at Brus­sels in 1900 re­called at­ten­tion to the sub­ject. The ac­quit­tal of Sipi­do, and the fail­ure of the Bel­gian gov­ern­ment to see that jus­tice was done in an af­fair of such in­ter­na­tion­al im­por­tance, ex­cit­ed con­sid­er­able feel­ing in Eng­land, and was the oc­ca­sion of a strong­ly-​word­ed note from the British to the Bel­gian gov­ern­ment. The mur­der of King Hum­bert of Italy in Ju­ly 1900 re­newed the out­cry against Ital­ian An­ar­chists. Even greater hor­ror and in­dig­na­tion were ex­cit­ed by the as­sas­si­na­tion of Pres­ident McKin­ley by Czol­go­scz on the 6th of Septem­ber 1901, at Buf­fa­lo, U.S.A. And a par­tic­ular­ly das­tard­ly at­tempt was made to blow up the young king and queen of Spain on their wed­ding-​day in 1906. (ED. E.B.)

ANAS­TA­SIUS, the name of four popes. ANAS­TA­SIUS I., pope from 399-401. He it was who con­demned the writ­ings of Ori­gen short­ly af­ter their trans­la­tion in­to Latin.

ANAS­TA­SIUS II., pope from 496-498. He lived in the time of the schism of Acacius of Con­stantino­ple. He showed some ten­den­cy to­wards con­cil­ia­tion, and thus brought up­on him­self the live­ly re­proach­es of the au­thor of the Liber pon­tif­icalis. On the strength of this tra­di­tion, Dante has placed this pope in hell.

ANAS­TA­SIUS III., pope from 911-913, was a Ro­man by birth. Prac­ti­cal­ly noth­ing is record­ed of him, his pon­tif­icate falling in the pe­ri­od when Rome was in the pow­er of the Ro­man no­bles.

ANAS­TA­SIUS IV. was pope from 1153 to 1154. He was a Ro­man named Con­rad, son of Bene­dic­tus, and at the time of his elec­tion, on the 9th of Ju­ly 1153, was car­di­nal bish­op of Sabi­na. He had tak­en part in the dou­ble elec­tion of 1130, had been one of the most de­ter­mined op­po­nents of Ana­cle­tus II. and, when In­no­cent II. fled to France, had been left be­hind as his vicar in Italy. Dur­ing his short pon­tif­icate, how­ev­er, he played the part of a peace­mak­er; he came to terms with the em­per­or Fred­er­ick I. in the vexed ques­tion of the ap­point­ment to the see of Magde­burg and closed the long quar­rel, which had raged through four pon­tif­icates, about the ap­point­ment of William Fitzher­bert (d. 1154)–com­mon­ly known as St William of York–to the see of York, by send­ing him the pal­li­um, in spite of the con­tin­ued op­po­si­tion of the pow­er­ful Cis­ter­cian or­der. Anas­ta­sius died on the 3rd of De­cem­ber 1154, and was suc­ceed­ed by Car­di­nal Nicholas of Al­bano as Adri­an IV.

ANAS­TA­SIUS I. (c. 430-518), Ro­man em­per­or, was born at Dyrrhachi­um not lat­er than A.D. 430. At the time of the death of Zeno (491), Anas­ta­sius, a palace of­fi­cial (silen­tiar­ius), held a very high char­ac­ter, and was raised to the throne of the Ro­man em­pire of the East, through the choice of Ari­adne, Zeno’s wid­ow, who mar­ried him short­ly af­ter his ac­ces­sion. His reign, though af­ter­wards dis­turbed by for­eign and in­tes­tine wars and re­li­gious dis­trac­tions, com­menced aus­pi­cious­ly. He gained the pop­ular favour by a ju­di­cious re­mis­sion of tax­ation, and dis­played great vigour and en­er­gy in ad­min­is­ter­ing the af­fairs of the em­pire. The prin­ci­pal wars in which Anas­ta­sius was en­gaged were those known as the Isauri­an and the Per­sian. The for­mer (492-496) was stirred up by the sup­port­ers of Long­inus, the broth­er of Zeno. The vic­to­ry of Cotyaeum in 493 “broke the back” of the re­volt, but a gueril­la war­fare con­tin­ued in the Isauri­an moun­tains for some years longer. In the war with Per­sia (502-505), Theo­dosiopo­lis and Ami­da were cap­tured by the en­emy, but the Per­sian provinces al­so suf­fered severe­ly and the Ro­mans re­cov­ered Ami­da. Both ad­ver­saries were ex­haust­ed when peace was made (506) on the ba­sis of sta­tus quo. Anas­ta­sius af­ter­wards built the strong fortress of Daras to hold Nis­ibis in check. The Balkan provinces were dev­as­tat­ed by in­va­sions of Slavs and Bul­gar­ians; to pro­tect Con­stantino­ple and its vicin­ity against them he built the “Anas­tasian wall,” ex­tend­ing from the Pro­pon­tis to the Eu­xine. The em­per­or was a con­vinced Mono­physite, but his ec­cle­si­as­ti­cal pol­icy was mod­er­ate; he en­deav­oured to main­tain the prin­ci­ple of the Henotikon of Zeno and the peace of the church. It was the un­com­pro­mis­ing at­ti­tude of the or­tho­dox ex­trem­ists, and the re­bel­lious demon­stra­tions of the Byzan­tine pop­ulace, that drove him in 512 to aban­don this pol­icy and adopt a mono­physitic pro­gramme. His con­se­quent un­pop­ular­ity in the Eu­ro­pean provinces was uti­lized by an am­bi­tious man, named Vi­tal­ian, to or­ga­nize a dan­ger­ous re­bel­lion, in which he was as­sist­ed by a horde of “Huns” (514-515); it was fi­nal­ly sup­pressed by a naval vic­to­ry won by the gen­er­al Mar­inus. The fi­nan­cial pol­icy of Anas­ta­sius was so pru­dent and eco­nom­ical that it gained him a rep­uta­tion for avarice and con­tribut­ed to his un­pop­ular­ity. He died in 518.

AU­THOR­ITIES.–Sources: Joshua the Stylite, Chron­icle, ed. Wright, with En­glish trans­la­tion, Cam­bridge, 1882; Mar­celli­nus, Chron­icle; Zachari­ah of Myti­lene, Chron­icle (Eng. trans. by Hamil­ton and Brooks, Lon­don, 1899); Eva­grius, Ec­cle­si­as­ti­cal His­to­ry; John Ly­dus, De Mag­is­trat­ibus; John Malalas, Chron­icle. Mod­ern works: Gib­bon, De­cline and Fall, vol. iv. (ed. Bury); Bury, Lat­er Ro­man Em­pire, vol. i.

ANAS­TA­SIUS II. (d. 721), Ro­man em­per­or in the East, whose orig­inal name was Artemius, was raised to the throne of Con­stantino­ple by the voice of the sen­ate and peo­ple in A.D. 713, on the de­po­si­tion of Philip­pi­cus, whom he had served in the ca­pac­ity of sec­re­tary. The em­pire was threat­ened by the Sara­cens both by land and sea, and Anas­ta­sius sent an army un­der Leo the Isauri­an, af­ter­wards em­per­or, to de­fend Syr­ia; adopt­ed wise and res­olute mea­sures for the de­fence of his cap­ital; at­tempt­ed to re­or­ga­nize the dis­ci­pline of the army; and equipped and despatched to Rhodes a formidable naval force, with or­ders not on­ly to re­sist the ap­proach of the en­emy, but to de­stroy their naval stores. The troops of the Op­sikian province, re­sent­ing the em­per­or’s strict mea­sures, mu­tinied, slew the ad­mi­ral, and pro­claimed Theo­do­sius, a per­son of low ex­trac­tion, em­per­or. Af­ter a six months’ siege, Con­stantino­ple was tak­en by Theo­do­sius; and Anas­ta­sius, who had fled to Nicaea, was com­pelled to sub­mit to the new em­per­or, and, re­tir­ing to Thes­sa­loni­ca, be­came a monk (716). In 721 he head­ed a re­volt against Leo, who had suc­ceed­ed Theo­do­sius, and re­ceiv­ing a con­sid­er­able amount of sup­port, laid siege to Con­stantino­ple; but the en­ter­prise failed, and Anas­ta­sius, falling in­to Leo’s hands, was put to death by his or­ders.

AU­THOR­ITIES.–Sources: Theo­phanes, Chron­icle: Nicepho­rus Pa­tri­arch­es, Bre­viar­ium. Mod­ern works: Gib­bon, De­cline and Fall, vol. v. (ed. Bury); Bury, Lat­er Ro­man Em­pire, vol. ii.

ANAS­TO­MO­SIS (a Greek word in which the sec­ond o is long, from anas­to­moun, to fur­nish with a mouth or out­let), the in­ter­com­mu­ni­ca­tion be­tween two ves­sels; a word used in veg­etable and an­imal anato­my for the com­mu­ni­ca­tion be­tween chan­nels (ar­ter­ies and veins) con­tain­ing flu­id, and al­so for the cross­ing be­tween the veins or branch­es of leaves, trees, in­sect-​wings or riv­er-​con­nex­ions, and by anal­ogy in art-​de­sign.

ANATASE, one of the three min­er­al forms of ti­ta­ni­um diox­ide. It is al­ways found as small, iso­lat­ed and sharply de­vel­oped crys­tals, and like ru­tile, a more com­mon­ly oc­cur­ring mod­ifi­ca­tion of ti­ta­ni­um diox­ide, it crys­tal­lizes in the tetrag­onal sys­tem; but, al­though the de­gree of sym­me­try is the same for both, there is no re­la­tion be­tween the in­ter­fa­cial an­gles of the two min­er­als, ex­cept, of course, in the prism-​zone of 45 deg. and 90 deg. . The com­mon pyra­mid {111} (fig. 1) of anatase,1 par­al­lel to the faces of which there are per­fect cleav­ages, has an an­gle over the po­lar edge of 82 deg. 9′, the cor­re­spond­ing an­gle (111): (111) of ru­tile be­ing 56 deg. 52 1/2′. It was on ac­count of this steep­er pyra­mid of anatase that the min­er­al was named, by R. J. Hauy in 1801, from the Gr. anata­sis, “ex­ten­sion,” the ver­ti­cal ax­is of the crys­tals be­ing longer than in ru­tile. There are al­so im­por­tant dif­fer­ences be­tween the phys­ical char­ac­ters of anatase and ru­tile; the for­mer is not quite so hard (H= 5 1/2-6) or dense (sp. gr. = 3.9); it is op­ti­cal­ly neg­ative, ru­tile be­ing pos­itive; and its lus­tre is even more strong­ly adaman­tine or metal­lic-​adaman­tine than that of ru­tile.

Two types or habits of anatase crys­tals may be dis­tin­guished. The com­mon­er oc­curs as sim­ple acute dou­ble pyra­mids {111} (fig. 1) with an in­di­go-​blue to black colour and steely lus­tre. Crys­tals of this kind are abun­dant at Le Bourg d’Oisans in Dauphine, where they are as­so­ci­at­ed with rock-​crys­tal, felspar and ax­inite in crevices in gran­ite and mi­ca-​schist. Sim­ilar crys­tals, but of mi­cro­scop­ic size, are wide­ly dis­tribut­ed in sed­imen­ta­ry rocks, such as sand­stones, clays and slates, from which they may be sep­arat­ed by wash­ing away the lighter con­stituents of the pow­dered rock. Crys­tals of the sec­ond type have nu­mer­ous pyra­mi­dal faces de­vel­oped, and they are usu­al­ly flat­ter or some­times pris­mat­ic in habit (fig. 2); the colour is hon­ey-​yel­low to

FIG. 1. FIG. 2.

brown. Such crys­tals close­ly re­sem­ble xeno­tine in ap­pear­ance and, in­deed, were for a long time sup­posed to be­long to this species, the spe­cial name wis­er­ine be­ing ap­plied to them. They oc­cur at­tached to the walls of crevices in the gneiss­es of the Alps, the Bin­nen­thal near Brieg in can­ton Valais, Switzer­land, be­ing a well-​known lo­cal­ity.

When strong­ly heat­ed, anatase is con­vert­ed in­to ru­tile, chang­ing in spe­cif­ic grav­ity to 4.1; nat­ural­ly oc­cur­ring pseu­do­morphs of ru­tile af­ter anatase are al­so known. Crys­tals of anatase have been ar­ti­fi­cial­ly pre­pared by sev­er­al meth­ods; for in­stance, by the in­ter­ac­tion of steam and ti­ta­ni­um chlo­ride or flu­oride.

An­oth­er name com­mon­ly in use for this min­er­al is oc­ta­hedrite, a name which, in­deed, is ear­li­er than anatase, and giv­en be­cause of the com­mon (acute) oc­ta­he­dral habit of the crys­tals. Oth­er names, now ob­so­lete, are oisan­ite and dauphi­nite, from the well-​known French lo­cal­ity. (L. J. S.)

1 For the no­ta­tion see CRYS­TAL­LOG­RA­PHY.

ANATH­EMA (from Gr. anatithenai, to lift up), lit­er­al­ly an of­fer­ing, a thing set aside. The clas­si­cal Greek form anath­ema (Lat. anath­ema) was the tech­ni­cal term for a gift (cf. donar­ium, obla­tio) made to a god ei­ther in grat­itude or with a view to pro­pi­ti­ation. Thus at Athens the Thes­mo­th­etae (per­haps all the ar­chons) made a vow that, should they break any law, they would ded­icate a life-​size gilt stat­ue in the tem­ple at Del­phi. Sim­ilar­ly, of spoils tak­en in war, a part, gen­er­al­ly a tenth, was ded­icat­ed to the god of the city (e.g. to Athena); to this class prob­ably be­long the tro­phies erect­ed by the vic­tors on the field of bat­tle; some­times a cap­tured ship was placed up­on a hill as an of­fer­ing to Po­sei­don (Nep­tune). Per­sons who had re­cov­ered from an ill­ness of­fered anath­ema­ta in the tem­ples of As­cle­pius (Aes­cu­lapius); those who had es­caped from ship­wreck of­fered their clothes, or, if these had been lost, a lock of hair, to Nep­tune (Hor. Odes, i. 5. 13; Virg. Aeneid, xii. 768). The lat­ter of­fer­ing was very com­mon­ly made by young men and girls, es­pe­cial­ly young brides. Works of art of all kinds and the im­ple­ments of a crafts­man giv­ing up his work were like­wise ded­icat­ed. Such presents were far more com­mon, as al­so more valu­able, among the Greeks than among the Ro­mans. Sim­ilar prac­tices were preva­lent, to an ex­tent hard­ly re­al­ized, among the Chris­tians up to the mid­dle ages and even lat­er. Just as the an­cients hung their of­fer­ings on trees, tem­ple columns and the im­ages of the gods, so of­fer­ings were made to the Cross, to the Vir­gin Mary and on al­tars gen­er­al­ly.

In the form anath­ema, the word is used in the Sep­tu­agint, the New Tes­ta­ment and ec­cle­si­as­ti­cal writ­ers as the equiv­alent of the He­brew herem, which is com­mon­ly trans­lat­ed “ac­cursed thing” (A.V.) or “de­vot­ed thing” (R.V.; cf. the Ro­man de­vo­tio.) In He­brew the root h-​r-​m means to “set apart,” “de­vote to Yah­weh,” for de­struc­tion; but in Ara­bic it means sim­ply to sep­arate or se­clude (cf. “harem”). The idea of de­struc­tion or perdi­tion is thus a sec­ondary mean­ing of the Word, which grad­ual­ly lost its pri­ma­ry sense of con­se­cra­tion. In the New Tes­ta­ment, though it is used in the sense of “of­fer­ing” (Luke xxi. 5), it gen­er­al­ly sig­ni­fies “sep­arat­ed” from the church, i.e. “ac­cursed” (cf. Gal. i. 8 ff.; 1 Cor. xvi. 22), and it be­came the reg­ular for­mu­la of ex­com­mu­ni­ca­tion from the time of the coun­cil of Chal­cedon in 451, es­pe­cial­ly against heretics, e.g. in the canons of the coun­cil of Trent and those of the Vat­ican coun­cil of 1870. See EX­COM­MU­NI­CA­TION; PENANCE. The ex­pres­sion maranatha (“the Lord cometh”), which fol­lows anath­ema in 1 Cor. xvi. 22, is of­ten er­ro­neous­ly quot­ed as though it were an am­pli­fi­ca­tion of the curse.

ANA­TOLI, JA­COB (c. 1194-1256), He­brew trans­la­tor from the Ara­bic. He was in­vit­ed to Naples by the en­light­ened ruler Fred­er­ick II., and un­der this roy­al pa­tron­age and in as­so­ci­ation with Michael Scot, made Ara­bic learn­ing ac­ces­si­ble to West­ern read­ers. Among his most im­por­tant ser­vices were trans­la­tions of works by Aver­roes.

ANA­TO­LIA (Gr. ana­tole, sun­rise, i.e. east­ern land), in an­cient ge­og­ra­phy, the coun­try east of the Aegean, i.e. Asia Mi­nor. It was the name of one of the three themes (provinces) in­to which Phry­gia was di­vid­ed in the mil­itary re­or­ga­ni­za­tion of the East Ro­man em­pire. It is now used (by the Turks in the form (Anadoli) to de­note a di­vi­sion of the Turk­ish em­pire, prac­ti­cal­ly co­in­ci­dent with Asia Mi­nor (q.v..)

ANATO­MY (Gr. anatome, from ana-​tem­nein, to cut up), lit­er­al­ly dis­sec­tion or cut­ting asun­der, a term al­ways used to de­note the study of the struc­ture of liv­ing things; thus there is an­imal anato­my (zooto­my) and veg­etable anato­my (phy­to­to­my). An­imal anato­my may in­clude the study of the struc­ture of dif­fer­ent an­imals, when it is called com­par­ative anato­my or an­imal mor­phol­ogy, or it may be lim­it­ed to one an­imal on­ly, in which case it is spo­ken of as spe­cial anato­my. From a util­itar­ian point of view the study of Man is the most im­por­tant di­vi­sion of spe­cial anato­my, and this hu­man anato­my may be ap­proached from dif­fer­ent points of view. From that of the med­ical man it con­sists of a knowl­edge of the ex­act form, po­si­tion, size and re­la­tion­ship of the var­ious struc­tures of the hu­man body in health, and to this study the term de­scrip­tive or to­po­graph­ical hu­man anato­my is giv­en, though it is of­ten, less hap­pi­ly, spo­ken of as An­thro­po­to­my. An ac­cu­rate knowl­edge of all the de­tails of the hu­man body takes years of pa­tient ob­ser­va­tion to gain and is pos­sessed by on­ly a few. So in­tri­cate is man’s body that on­ly a small num­ber of pro­fes­sion­al hu­man anatomists are com­plete mas­ters of all its de­tails, and most of them spe­cial­ize on cer­tain parts, such as the brain, vis­cera, &c.; con­tent­ing them­selves with a good work­ing knowl­edge of the rest. To­po­graph­ical anato­my must be learned by each per­son for him­self by the re­peat­ed dis­sec­tion and in­spec­tion of the dead hu­man body. It is no more a sci­ence than a pi­lot’s knowl­edge is, and, like that knowl­edge, must be ex­act and avail­able in mo­ments of emer­gen­cy.

From the mor­pho­log­ical point of view, how­ev­er, hu­man anato­my is a sci­en­tif­ic and fas­ci­nat­ing study, hav­ing for its ob­ject the dis­cov­ery of the caus­es which have brought about the ex­ist­ing struc­ture of Man, and need­ing a knowl­edge of the al­lied sci­ences of em­bry­ol­ogy or on­toge­ny, phy­loge­ny and his­tol­ogy.

Patho­log­ical or mor­bid anato­my is the study of dis­eased or­gans, while sec­tions of nor­mal anato­my, ap­plied to var­ious pur­pos­es, re­ceive spe­cial names such as med­ical, sur­gi­cal, gy­nae­co­log­ical, artis­tic and su­per­fi­cial anato­my. The com­par­ison of the anato­my of dif­fer­ent races of mankind is part of the sci­ence of phys­ical an­thro­pol­ogy or an­thro­po­log­ical anato­my. In the present edi­tion of this work the sub­ject of anato­my is treat­ed sys­tem­at­ical­ly rather than to­po­graph­ical­ly. Each anatom­ical ar­ti­cle con­tains first a de­scrip­tion of the struc­tures of an or­gan or sys­tem (such as nerves, ar­ter­ies, heart, &c.), as it is found in Man; and this is fol­lowed by an ac­count of the de­vel­op­ment or em­bry­ol­ogy and com­par­ative anato­my or mor­phol­ogy, as far as ver­te­brate an­imals are con­cerned; but on­ly those parts of the low­er an­imals which are of in­ter­est in ex­plain­ing Man’s struc­ture are here dealt with. The ar­ti­cles have a twofold pur­pose; first, to give enough de­tails of man’s struc­ture to make the ar­ti­cles on phys­iol­ogy, surgery, medicine and pathol­ogy in­tel­li­gi­ble; and, sec­ond­ly, to give the non-​ex­pert in­quir­er, or the work­er in some oth­er branch of sci­ence, the chief the­ories on which the mod­ern sci­en­tif­ic ground­work of anato­my is built.

The fol­low­ing sep­arate anatom­ical ar­ti­cles will be found un­der their own head­ings:–

Al­imen­ta­ry canal. Ner­vous sys­tem. Ar­ter­ies. Nerve. Brain. Ol­fac­to­ry sys­tem. Coelom and serous mem­branes. Phar­ynx. Con­nec­tive tis­sues. Pan­creas. Di­aphragm. Pla­cen­ta. Duct­less glands. Re­pro­duc­tive sys­tem. Ear. Res­pi­ra­to­ry sys­tem. Ep­ithe­lial, en­dothe­lial and Scalp. glan­du­lar tis­sues. Skele­ton. Eye. Skin and Ex­oskele­ton. Heart. Skull. Joints. Spinal cord. Liv­er. Teeth. Lym­phat­ic sys­tem. Tongue. Mam­ma­ry gland. Uri­nary sys­tem. Mouth and sali­vary glands. Vas­cu­lar sys­tem. Mus­cu­lar sys­tem. Veins.

HIS­TO­RY OF ANATO­MY1 In trac­ing the his­to­ry of the ori­gin of anato­my, it may be just­ly said that more learn­ing than judg­ment has been dis­played. Some writ­ers claim for it the high­est an­tiq­ui­ty, and pre­tend to find its first rudi­ments al­ter­nate­ly in the an­imal sac­ri­fices of the shep­herd kings, the Jews and oth­er an­cient na­tions, and in the art of em­balm­ing as prac­tised by the Egyp­tian priests.2 Even the de­scrip­tions of wounds in the Il­iad have been sup­posed ad­equate to prove that in the time of Homer mankind had dis­tinct no­tions of the struc­ture of the hu­man body. Of the first it may be said that the rude in­for­ma­tion ob­tained by the slaugh­ter of an­imals for sac­ri­fice does not im­ply pro­found anatom­ical knowl­edge; and those who ad­duce the sec­ond as ev­idence are de­ceived by the lan­guage of the po­et of the Tro­jan War, which, dis­tin­guish­ing cer­tain parts by their or­di­nary Greek ep­ithets, as af­ter­wards used by Hip­pocrates, Galen and all anatomists, has been rather too eas­ily sup­posed to prove that the po­et had stud­ied sys­tem­at­ical­ly the struc­ture of the hu­man frame.

Hip­pocrates.

With not much greater jus­tice has the cul­ti­va­tion of anatom­ical knowl­edge been as­cribed to Hip­pocrates, who, be­cause he is uni­ver­sal­ly al­lowed to be the fa­ther of medicine, has al­so been thought to be the cre­ator of the sci­ence of anato­my. Of the sev­en in­di­vid­uals of the fam­ily of the Her­aclei­dae who bore this cel­ebrat­ed name, the sec­ond, who was the son of Her­aclides and Phenari­ta, and grand­son of the first Hip­pocrates, was in­deed dis­tin­guished as a physi­cian of great ob­ser­va­tion and ex­pe­ri­ence, and the first who ap­pre­ci­at­ed the val­ue of study­ing ac­cu­rate­ly the phe­nom­ena, ef­fects and ter­mi­na­tions of dis­ease. It does not ap­pear, how­ev­er, notwith­stand­ing the vague and gen­er­al pan­egyrics of J. Ri­olan, Bartholin, D. le Clerc, and A. Por­tal, that the anatom­ical knowl­edge of this il­lus­tri­ous per­son was ei­ther ac­cu­rate or pro­found. Of the works as­cribed to Hip­pocrates, five on­ly are gen­uine. Most of them were writ­ten ei­ther by sub­se­quent au­thors of the same name, or by one or oth­er of the nu­mer­ous im­pos­tors who took ad­van­tage of the zeal­ous mu­nif­icence of the Ptolemies, by fab­ri­cat­ing works un­der that il­lus­tri­ous name. Of the few which are gen­uine, there is none ex­press­ly de­vot­ed to anato­my; and of his knowl­edge on this sub­ject the on­ly proofs are to be found in the ex­po­si­tion of his phys­io­log­ical opin­ions, and his med­ical or sur­gi­cal in­struc­tions. From these it ap­pears that Hip­pocrates had some ac­cu­rate no­tions on os­te­ol­ogy, but that of the struc­ture of the hu­man body in gen­er­al his ideas were at once su­per­fi­cial and er­ro­neous. In his book on in­juries of the head, and in that on frac­tures, he shows that he knew the su­tures of the cra­ni­um and the rel­ative sit­ua­tion of the bones, and that he had some no­tion of the shape of the bones in gen­er­al and of their mu­tu­al con­nex­ions. Of the mus­cles, of the soft parts in gen­er­al, and of the in­ter­nal or­gans, his ideas are con­fused, in­dis­tinct and er­ro­neous. The term fleps he seems, in im­ita­tion of the col­lo­qui­al Greek, to have used gen­er­al­ly to sig­ni­fy a blood-​ves­sel, with­out be­ing aware of the dis­tinc­tion of vein and artery; and the term ar­te­ria, or air-​hold­er, is re­strict­ed to the wind­pipe. He ap­pears to have been un­aware of the ex­is­tence of the ner­vous chords; and the term nerve is used by him, as by Gre­cian au­thors in gen­er­al, to sig­ni­fy a sinew or ten­don. On oth­er points his views are so much com­bined with pe­cu­liar phys­io­log­ical doc­trines, that it is im­pos­si­ble to as­sign them the char­ac­ter of anatom­ical facts; and even the works in which these doc­trines are con­tained are with lit­tle prob­abil­ity to be as­cribed to the sec­ond Hip­pocrates. If, how­ev­er, we over­look this dif­fi­cul­ty, and ad­mit what is con­tained in the gen­uine Hip­po­crat­ic writ­ings to rep­re­sent at least the sum of knowl­edge pos­sessed by Hip­pocrates and his im­me­di­ate de­scen­dants, we find that he rep­re­sents the brain as a gland, from which ex­udes a vis­cid flu­id; that the heart is mus­cu­lar and of pyra­mi­dal shape, and has two ven­tri­cles sep­arat­ed by a par­ti­tion, the foun­tains of life–and two au­ri­cles, re­cep­ta­cles of air; that the lungs con­sist of five ash-​coloured lobes, the sub­stance of which is cel­lu­lar and spongy, nat­ural­ly dry, but re­freshed by the air; and that the kid­neys are glands, but pos­sess an at­trac­tive fac­ul­ty, by virtue of which the mois­ture of the drink is sep­arat­ed and de­scends in­to the blad­der. He dis­tin­guish­es the bow­els in­to colon and rec­tum (o

***Many er­rors here*** The knowl­edge pos­sessed by the sec­ond Eip­pochrates was trans­mit­ted in var­ious de­grees of pu­ri­ty to the de­scen­dants and pupils, chei­fly of the fam­ilys of the Eerach­lei­dae, who suc­ceed­ed him. Sev­er­al of these, with feel­ings of grate­ful af­fec­tion, ap­pear to have stud­ied to pre­serve the writ­ten mem­or­py of his in­struc­tions, and in this man­ner to have con­tribut­ed to form part of that col­lec­tion of trea­tis­es which have long been known to hee learned world un­der the gen­er­al name of the Hip­po­crat­ic writ­ings. Though com­posed, like the gen­uine re­mains of the physi­cian of Cos, in the Io­ni­an di­alect, all of them dif­fer from these in be­ing more dif­fuse in style, more elab­orate in form, and in study­ing to in­vest their anatom­ical and med­ical mat­ter with the fan­ci­ful or­na­ments of the Pla­ton­ic phi­los­ophy. Hip­pocrates had the mer­it of ear­ly rec­og­niz­ing the val­ue of facts apart from opin­ions, and of those facts es­pe­cial­ly which lead to gen­er­al re­sults; and in the few gen­uine writ­ings which are now ex­tant it is easy to per­ceive that he has re­course to the sim­plest lan­guage, ex­press­es him­self in terms which, though short and pithy, are al­ways pre­cise and per­spic­uous, and is averse to the in­tro­duc­tion of philo­soph­ical dog­mas. Of the greater part of the writ­ings col­lect­ed un­der his name, on the con­trary the gen­er­al char­ac­ter is ver­bose­ness, pro­lix­ity and a great ten­den­cy to spec­ula­tive opin­ions. For these rea­sons, as well as for oth­ers de­rived from in­ter­nal ev­idence, while the Apho­risms, the Epi­demics and the works above men­tioned, bear dis­tinct marks of be­ing the gen­uine re­mains of Hip­pocrates, it is im­pos­si­ble to re­gard the book Peri fu­sios an­thro­pou as en­tire­ly the com­po­si­tion of that physi­cian; and it ap­pears more rea­son­able to view it as the work of some one of the nu­mer­ous dis­ci­ples to whom the au­thor had com­mu­ni­cat­ed the re­sults of his ob­ser­va­tion, which they un­wise­ly at­tempt­ed to com­bine with the phi­los­ophy of the Pla­ton­ic school and their own mys­te­ri­ous opin­ions.

Poly­bus.

Among those who aimed at this dis­tinc­tion, the most for­tu­nate in the preser­va­tion of his name is Poly­bus, the son-​in-​law of the physi­cian of Cos. This per­son, who must not be con­found­ed with the monarch of Corinth, im­mor­tal­ized by Sopho­cles in the trag­ic sto­ry of Oedi­pus, is rep­re­sent­ed as a recluse, sev­ered from the world and its en­joy­ments, and de­vot­ing him­self to the study of anato­my and phys­iol­ogy, and to the com­po­si­tion of works on these sub­jects. To him has been as­cribed the whole of the book on the Na­ture of the Child and most of that On Man; both phys­io­log­ical trea­tis­es in­ter­spersed with anatom­ical sketch­es. His anatom­ical in­for­ma­tion, with which we are spe­cial­ly con­cerned, ap­pears to have been rude and in­ac­cu­rate, like that of his pre­cep­tor. He rep­re­sents the large ves­sels of the body as con­sist­ing of four pairs; the first pro­ceed­ing from the head by the back of the neck and spinal cord to the hips, low­er ex­trem­ities and out­er an­kle; the sec­ond, con­sist­ing of the jugu­lar ves­sels (ai sfag­itides), pro­ceed­ing to the loins, thighs, hams and in­ner an­kle; the third pro­ceed­ing from the tem­ples by the neck to the scapu­la and lungs, and thence by mu­tu­al in­ter­cross­ings to the spleen and left kid­ney, and the liv­er and right kid­ney, and fi­nal­ly to the rec­tum; and the fourth from the fore-​part of the neck to the up­per ex­trem­ities, the fore-​part of the trunk, and the or­gans of gen­er­ation.

This spec­imen of the anatom­ical knowl­edge of one of the most il­lus­tri­ous of the Hip­po­crat­ic dis­ci­ples dif­fers not es­sen­tial­ly from that of Syen­nesis, the physi­cian of Cyprus, and Dio­genes, the philoso­pher of Apol­lo­nia, two au­thors for the preser­va­tion of whose opin­ions we are in­debt­ed to Aris­to­tle. They may be ad­mit­ted as rep­re­sent­ing the state of anatom­ical knowl­edge among the most en­light­ened men at that time, and they on­ly show how rude and er­ro­neous were their ideas on the struc­ture of the an­imal body. It may in­deed, with­out in­jus­tice, be said that the anato­my of the Hip­po­crat­ic school is not on­ly er­ro­neous, but fan­ci­ful and imag­inary in of­ten sub­sti­tut­ing mere sup­po­si­tion and as­ser­tion for what ought to be mat­ter of fact. From this cen­sure it is im­pos­si­ble to ex­empt even the name of Pla­to him­self, for whom some no­tices in the Timaeus on the struc­ture of the an­imal body, as taught by Hip­pocrates and Poly­bus, have pro­cured a place in the his­to­ry of the sci­ence.

Aris­to­tle.

Amidst the gen­er­al ob­scu­ri­ty in which the ear­ly his­to­ry of anato­my is in­volved, on­ly two lead­ing facts may be ad­mit­ted with cer­tain­ty. The first is, that pre­vi­ous to the time of Aris­to­tle there was no ac­cu­rate knowl­edge of anato­my; and the sec­ond, that all that was known was de­rived from the dis­sec­tion of the low­er an­imals on­ly. By the ap­pear­ance of Aris­to­tle this species of knowl­edge, which was hith­er­to ac­quired in a desul­to­ry and ir­reg­ular man­ner, be­gan to be cul­ti­vat­ed sys­tem­at­ical­ly and with a def­inite ob­ject; and among the ser­vices which the philoso­pher of Sta­gi­ra ren­dered to mankind, one of the great­est and most sub­stan­tial is, that he was the founder of Com­par­ative Anato­my, and was the first to ap­ply its facts to the elu­ci­da­tion of zo­ol­ogy. The works of this ar­dent and orig­inal nat­ural­ist show that his zootom­ical knowl­edge was ex­ten­sive and of­ten ac­cu­rate; and from sev­er­al of his de­scrip­tions it is im­pos­si­ble to doubt that they were de­rived from fre­quent per­son­al dis­sec­tion. Aris­to­tle, who was born 384 years be­fore the Chris­tian era, or in the first year of the 99th Olympiad, was at the age of thir­ty-​nine re­quest­ed by Philip to un­der­take the ed­uca­tion of his son Alexan­der. Dur­ing this pe­ri­od it is said he com­posed sev­er­al works on anato­my, which, how­ev­er, are now lost. The mil­itary ex­pe­di­tion of his roy­al pupil in­to Asia, by lay­ing open the an­imal stores of that vast and lit­tle-​known con­ti­nent, fur­nished Aris­to­tle with the means of ex­tend­ing his knowl­edge, not on­ly of the an­imal tribes, but of their struc­ture, and of com­mu­ni­cat­ing more ac­cu­rate and dis­tinct no­tions than were yet ac­ces­si­ble to the world. A sum of 800 tal­ents, and the con­cur­rent aid of nu­mer­ous in­tel­li­gent as­sis­tants in Greece and Asia, were in­tend­ed to fa­cil­itate his re­search­es in com­pos­ing a sys­tem of zo­olog­ical knowl­edge; but it has been ob­served that the num­ber of in­stances in which he was thus com­pelled to trust to the tes­ti­mo­ny of oth­er ob­servers led him to com­mit er­rors in de­scrip­tion which per­son­al ob­ser­va­tion might have en­abled him to avoid.

The first three books of the His­to­ry of An­imals, a trea­tise con­sist­ing of ten books, and the four books on the Parts of An­imals, con­sti­tute the great mon­ument of the Aris­totelian Anato­my. From these we find that Aris­to­tle was the first who cor­rect­ed the er­ro­neous state­ments of Poly­bus, Syen­nesis and Dio­genes re­gard­ing the blood-​ves­sels, which they made, as we have seen, to arise from the head and brain. These he rep­re­sents to be two in num­ber, placed be­fore the spinal col­umn, the larg­er on the right, the small­er on the left, which, he al­so re­marks, is by some called aor­ta (aorte), the first time we ob­serve that this ep­ithet oc­curs in the his­to­ry. Both he rep­re­sents to arise from the heart, the larg­er from the largest up­per cav­ity, the small­er or aor­ta from the mid­dle cav­ity, but in a dif­fer­ent man­ner and form­ing a nar­row­er canal. He al­so dis­tin­guish­es the thick, firm and more tendi­nous struc­ture of the aor­ta from the thin and mem­bra­nous struc­ture of vein. In de­scrib­ing the dis­tri­bu­tion of the lat­ter, how­ev­er, he con­founds the ve­na ca­va and pul­monary artery, and, as might be ex­pect­ed, he con­founds the ram­ifi­ca­tions of the for­mer with those of the ar­te­ri­al tubes in gen­er­al. While he rep­re­sents the lung to be lib­er­al­ly sup­plied with blood, he de­scribes the brain as an or­gan al­most des­ti­tute of this flu­id. His ac­count of the dis­tri­bu­tion of the aor­ta is won­der­ful­ly cor­rect. Though he does not no­tice the coeli­ac, and re­marks that the aor­ta sends no di­rect branch­es to the liv­er and spleen, he had ob­served the mesen­ter­ic, the re­nal and the com­mon il­iac ar­ter­ies. It is nev­er­the­less sin­gu­lar that though he re­marks par­tic­ular­ly that the re­nal branch­es of the aor­ta go to the sub­stance and not the pelvis (koil­ia) of the kid­ney, he ap­pears to mis­take the ureters for branch­es of the aor­ta. Of the nerves (neu­ra) he ap­pears to have the most con­fused no­tions. Mak­ing them arise from the heart, which he says has nerves (ten­dons) in its largest cav­ity, he rep­re­sents the aor­ta to be a ner­vous or tendi­nous vein (neu­roder fleps.) By and by, af­ter­wards say­ing that all the ar­tic­ulat­ed bones are con­nect­ed by nerves, he makes them the same as lig­aments.

He dis­tin­guish­es the wind­pipe or air-​hold­er (ar­te­ria) from the oe­soph­agus, be­cause it is placed be­fore the lat­ter, be­cause food or drink pass­ing in­to it caus­es dis­tress­ing cough and suf­fo­ca­tion, and be­cause there is no pas­sage from the lung to the stom­ach. He knew the sit­ua­tion and use of the epiglot­tis, seems to have had some in­dis­tinct no­tions of the lar­ynx, rep­re­sents the wind­pipe to be nec­es­sary to con­vey air to and from the lungs, and ap­pears to have a tol­er­able un­der­stand­ing of the struc­ture of the lungs. He re­peat­ed­ly rep­re­sents the heart, the shape and site of which he de­scribes ac­cu­rate­ly, to be the ori­gin of the blood-​ves­sels, in op­po­si­tion to those who made them de­scend from the head; yet, though he rep­re­sents it as full of blood and the source and foun­tain of that flu­id, and even speaks of the blood flow­ing from the heart to the veins, and thence to ev­ery part of the body, he says noth­ing of the cir­cu­lar mo­tion of the blood. The di­aphragm he dis­tin­guish­es by the name di­azoma, and up­ozoma. With the liv­er and spleen, and the whole al­imen­ta­ry canal, he seems well ac­quaint­ed. The sev­er­al parts of the quadru­ple stom­ach of the ru­mi­nat­ing an­imals are dis­tin­guished and named; and he even traces the re­la­tions be­tween the teeth and the sev­er­al forms of stom­ach, and the length or brevi­ty, the sim­plic­ity or com­pli­ca­tion of the in­testi­nal tube. Up­on the same prin­ci­ples dis­tin­guish­es the je­junum (e nestis), or the emp­ty por­tion of the small in­testines in an­imals (to en­teron lep­ton), the cae­cum (tu­flon ti kai ogkodes), the colon (to kolon), and the sig­moid flex­ure (stenoteron kai elig­menon.) The mod­ern ep­ithet of rec­tum is the lit­er­al trans­la­tion of his de­scrip­tion of the straight progress (eu­thu) of the bow­el to the anus (prok­tos.) He knew the nasal cav­ities and the pas­sage from the tym­pa­nal cav­ity of the ear to the palate, af­ter­wards de­scribed by B. Eu­stachius. He dis­tin­guish­es as “partes sim­ilares” those struc­tures, such as bone, car­ti­lage, ves­sels, sinews, blood, lymph, fat, flesh, which, not con­fined to one lo­cal­ity, but dis­tribut­ed through­out the body gen­er­al­ly, we now term the tis­sues or tex­tures, whilst he ap­plies the term “partes dis­sim­ilares” to the re­gions of the head, neck, trunk and ex­trem­ities.

Next to Aris­to­tle oc­cur the names of Dio­cles of Carys­tus and Praxago­ras of Cos, the last of the fam­ily of the As­cle­pi­adae. The lat­ter is re­mark­able for be­ing the first who dis­tin­guished the ar­ter­ies from the veins, and the au­thor of the opin­ion that the for­mer were air-​ves­sels.

Alexan­dri­an school.

Hith­er­to anatom­ical in­quiry was con­fined to the ex­am­ina­tion of the bod­ies of brute an­imals. We have, in­deed, no tes­ti­mo­ny of the hu­man body be­ing sub­mit­ted to ex­am­ina­tion pre­vi­ous to the time of Era­si­stra­tus and Herophilus; and it is vain to look for au­then­tic facts on this point be­fore the foun­da­tion of the Ptole­ma­ic dy­nasty of sovereigns in Egypt. This event, which, as is gen­er­al­ly known, suc­ceed­ed the death of Alexan­der, 320 years be­fore the Chris­tian era, col­lect­ed in­to one spot the scat­tered em­bers of lit­er­ature and sci­ence, which were be­gin­ning to lan­guish in Greece un­der a weak and dis­tract­ed gov­ern­ment and an un­set­tled state of so­ci­ety. The chil­dren of her di­vid­ed states, whom do­mes­tic dis­cord and the un­cer­tain­ties of war ren­dered un­hap­py at home, wan­dered in­to Egypt, and found, un­der the fos­ter­ing hand of the Alexan­dri­an monar­chs, the means of cul­ti­vat­ing the sci­ences, and re­pay­ing with in­ter­est to the coun­try of Thoth and Osiris the ben­efits which had been con­ferred on the in­fan­cy of Greece by Thales and Pythago­ras. Alexan­dria be­came in this man­ner the repos­ito­ry of all the learn­ing and knowl­edge of the civ­ilized world; and while oth­er na­tions were sink­ing un­der the ef­fects of in­ter­nal an­imosi­ties and mu­tu­al dis­sen­sions, or rav­aging the earth with the evils of war, the Egyp­tian Greeks kept alive the sa­cred flame of sci­ence, and pre­served mankind from re­laps­ing in­to their orig­inal bar­barism. These hap­py ef­fects are to be as­cribed in an em­inent de­gree to the en­light­ened gov­ern­ment and lib­er­al opin­ions of Ptole­my Sot­er, and his im­me­di­ate suc­ces­sors Philadel­phus and Eu­er­getes. The two lat­ter princes, whose au­thor­ity was equalled on­ly by the zeal with which they pa­tron­ized sci­ence and its pro­fes­sors, were the first who en­abled physi­cians to dis­sect the hu­man body, and pre­vent­ed the prej­udices of ig­no­rance and su­per­sti­tion from com­pro­mis­ing the wel­fare of the hu­man race. To this hap­py cir­cum­stance Herophilus and Era­si­stra­tus are in­debt­ed for the dis­tinc­tion of be­ing known to pos­ter­ity as the first anatomists who dis­sect­ed and de­scribed the parts of the hu­man body. Both these physi­cians flour­ished un­der Ptole­my Sot­er, and prob­ably Ptole­my Philadel­phus, and were in­deed the prin­ci­pal sup­ports of what has been named in med­ical his­to­ry the Alexan­dri­an School, to which their rep­uta­tion seems to have at­tract­ed nu­mer­ous pupils. But though the con­cur­rent tes­ti­mo­ny of an­tiq­ui­ty as­signs to these physi­cians the mer­it of dis­sect­ing the hu­man body, time, which wages end­less war with the van­ity and am­bi­tion of man, has dealt hard­ly with the mon­uments of their labours. As the works of nei­ther have been pre­served, great un­cer­tain­ty pre­vails as to the re­spec­tive mer­its of these an­cient anatomists; and all that is now known of their anatom­ical re­search­es is ob­tained from the oc­ca­sion­al no­tices of Galen, Orib­asius and some oth­er writ­ers.

Era­si­stra­tus.

From these it ap­pears that Era­si­stra­tus rec­og­nized the valves of the heart. and dis­tin­guished them by the names of tri­cus­pid and sig­moid; that he stud­ied par­tic­ular­ly the shape and struc­ture of the brain, and its di­vi­sions, and cav­ities, and mem­branes, and likened the con­vo­lu­tions to the folds of the je­junum; that he first formed a dis­tinct idea of the na­ture of the nerves, which he made is­sue from the brain; and that he dis­cov­ered lym­phat­ic ves­sels in the mesen­tery, first in brute an­imals, and af­ter­wards, it is said, in man. He ap­pears al­so to have dis­tin­guished the nerves in­to those of sen­sa­tion and those of mo­tion.

Herophilus.

Of Herophilus it is said that he had ex­ten­sive anatom­ical knowl­edge, ac­quired by dis­sect­ing not on­ly brutes but hu­man bod­ies. Of these he prob­ably dis­sect­ed more than any of his pre­de­ces­sors or con­tem­po­raries. De­vot­ed to the as­sid­uous cul­ti­va­tion of anato­my, he ap­pears, to have stud­ied with par­tic­ular at­ten­tion those parts which were least un­der­stood. He rec­og­nized the na­ture of the pul­monary artery, which he de­nom­inates ar­te­ri­ous vein; he knew the ves­sels of the mesen­tery, and showed that they did not go to the ve­na por­tae, but to cer­tain glan­du­lar bod­ies; and he first ap­plied the name of twelve-​inch or duo­de­num (do­dekadak­tu­los) to that part of the al­imen­ta­ry canal which is next to the stom­ach. Like Era­si­stra­tus, he ap­pears to have stud­ied care­ful­ly the con­fig­ura­tion of the brain; and though, like him, he dis­tin­guish­es the nerves in­to those of sen­sa­tion and those of vol­un­tary mo­tion, he adds to them the lig­aments and ten­dons. A tol­er­able de­scrip­tion of the liv­er by this anatomist is pre­served in the writ­ings of Galen. He first ap­plied the name of choroid or vas­cu­lar mem­brane to that which is found in the cere­bral ven­tri­cles; he knew the straight ve­nous si­nus which still bears his name; and to him the lin­ear fur­row at the bot­tom of the fourth ven­tri­cle is in­debt­ed for its name of cala­mus scrip­to­rius.

The celebri­ty of these two great anatomists ap­pears to have thrown in­to the shade for a long pe­ri­od the names of all oth­er in­quir­ers; for, among their nu­mer­ous and rather cel­ebrat­ed suc­ces­sor