Case._
Toises. Eng. ft.
After the eruption of 1794 this edge became 400
(426 Eng.) feet lower than the Rocca del Palo;
therefore if we estimate the latter at 625 toises
(3996 English feet) 559 3574
Gay-Lussac, Leopold von Buch, and Humboldt,
1805, barometric 534 3414
Humboldt, 1822, barometric 546 3491
C. _Height of the cone of scoriæ inside the crater, which fell in on
the 22d of October, 1822._
Toises. Eng. ft.
Lord Minto, barometric 650 4156
Brioschi, trigonometric, according to different
combinations either 636 4066
Or 641 4098
Probable final result for the height of the above-mentioned cone of
scoriæ 646 toises, or 4130 English feet.
D. _Punta Nasone, highest summit of the Somma._
Toises. Eng. ft.
Schuckburgh, 1794, barometric, probably computed
by his own formula 584 3734
Humboldt, 1822, barometric, Laplace’s formula 586 3747
E. _Plain of the Atrio del Cavallo._
Toises. Eng. ft.
Humboldt, 1822, barometric 403 2577
F. _Foot of the cone of ashes._
Toises. Eng. ft.
Gay-Lussac, Leopold von Buch, and Humboldt,
1805, barometric 370 2366
Humboldt, 1822, barometric 388 2481
G. _Hermitage del Salvatore._
Toises. Eng. ft.
Gay-Lussac, Leopold von Buch, and Humboldt,
1805, barometric 300 1918
Lord Minto, 1822, barometric 307.9 1969
Humboldt, 1822, barometric repeated 308.7 1974
Part of my measurements have been printed in Monticelli’s Storia de’
fenomeni del Vesuvio, avvenuti negli anni 1821-1823, p. 115; but the
neglected correction for the height of the mercury in the cistern
has somewhat disfigured the results as there published. When it is
remembered that the results given in the above table were obtained
with barometers of very different constructions, at various hours of
the day, with winds from very different quarters, and on the unequally
heated declivity of a volcano, in a locality in which the decrease of
atmospheric temperature differs greatly from that which is supposed in
our barometric formulæ,--the agreement will be found to be as great as
could be expected, and quite satisfactory.
My measurements in 1822, at the time of the Congress of Verona, when
I accompanied the late King of Prussia to Naples, were made with
more care and under more favourable circumstances than those of 1805.
Differences of height are besides always to be preferred to absolute
heights, and these show that since 1794 the difference between the
heights of the edges of the crater at the Rocca del Palo and on the
side towards Bosco Tre Case has continued almost the same. I found
it in 1805 exactly 69 toises (441 English feet), and in 1822 almost
82 toises (524 English feet). A distinguished geologist, Mr Poulett
Scrope, found 74 toises (473 English feet), although the absolute
heights which he assigns to the two sides of the crater appear to be
rather too small. So little variation in a period of twenty-eight
years, in which there were such violent commotions in the interior of
the crater, is certainly a striking phænomenon.
The height attained by cones of scoriæ rising from the floor of the
crater of Vesuvius is also deserving of particular attention. In 1776
Schuckburgh found such a cone 615 toises, or 3932 English feet, above
the surface of the Mediterranean: according to the measurements of Lord
Minto, (a very accurate observer,) the cone of scoriæ which fell in
on the 22d of October, 1822, even attained the height of 650 toises,
or 4156 English feet. On both occasions, therefore, the height of the
cones of scoriæ in the crater surpassed that of the highest part of the
margin of the crater. When we compare together the measurements of the
Rocca del Palo from 1773 to 1822, we are almost involuntarily led to
entertain the bold conjecture that the north margin of the crater has
been gradually upraised by subterranean forces. The accordance of the
three measurements between 1773 and 1805 is almost as striking as that
of those taken from 1816 to 1822. In the latter period we cannot doubt
the height being from about 621 to 629 toises (3970 to 4022 English
feet). Are the measurements made from thirty to forty years earlier,
which gave only 606 to 609 toises (3875 to 3894 English feet), less
certain? At some future day, after longer periods shall have elapsed,
it will be possible to decide what is due to errors of measurement, and
what to an actual rise in the margin of the crater. There cannot be in
this case any accumulation of loose materials from above. If the solid
trachyte-like lava beds of the Rocca del Palo really become higher, we
must assume them to be upheaved from below by volcanic forces.
My learned and indefatigable friend Oltmanns has placed all the details
of the above measurements before the public, accompanied by a careful
critical examination of them, in the Abhandl. der königl. Akademie der
Wissenschaften zu Berlin, 1822-1823, S. 3-20. May this investigation be
the means of inducing geologists frequently to examine hypsometrically
this low and most easily accessible (except Stromboli) of the European
volcanos, so that in the course of centuries there may be obtained a
frequently checked and accurate account of its periods of development!
[39] p. 235.--“_Where the pressure is less._”
Compare Leopold von Buch on the Peak of Teneriffe in his Physikalische
Beschreibung der canarischen Inseln, 1825, S. 213; and in the
Abhandlungen der königl. Akademie zu Berlin, 1820-1821, S. 99.
[40] p. 289--“_Waters of springs rising from different depths._”
Compare Arago in the Annuaire du Bureau des Longitudes pour 1835, p.
234. The increase of temperature is in our latitudes 1° of Reaumur
(2°.25 of a degree of Fahrenheit) for every 113 Parisian feet (120.5
English feet), or 1° Fah. to 53.5 English feet nearly. In the Artesian
boring at New Salzwerk (Oeynhausen’s Bad), not far from Minden, which
is the greatest known depth below the level of the sea, the temperature
of the water at 2094-1/2 Parisian feet (2232-1/4 Eng.) is fully 26°.2
Reaumur, or 91° Fahr.; while the mean temperature of the air above may
be taken at 7°.7 Reaumur, or 49°.2 Fahr. It is very remarkable that in
the third century Saint Patricius, Bishop of Pertusa, was led by seeing
the hot springs near Carthage to a very just view respecting the cause
of such an increase of heat. (Acta S. Patricii, p. 555, ed. Ruinart;
Kosmos, Bd. i. S. 231,--English Edition, Vol. i. p. 211.)
THE
VITAL FORCE;
OR,
THE RHODIAN GENIUS.
[FIRST PRINTED IN 1795.]
The Syracusans, like the Athenians, had their Pœcile, in which
representations of gods and heroes, the works of Grecian and Italian
art, adorned the halls, glowing with varied colours. The people
resorted thither continually; the young warriors to contemplate the
exploits of their ancestors, the artists to study the works of the
great masters. Among the numerous paintings which the active zeal of
the Syracusans had collected from the mother country, there was one
which, for a century past, had particularly attracted the attention
of spectators. Sometimes the Olympian Jove, Cecrops the founder of
cities, and the heroic courage of Harmodius and Aristogiton, would
want admirers, while men pressed in crowded ranks around the picture
of which we speak. Whence this preference? Was it a rescued work of
Apelles, or of the school of Callimachus? No; it possessed indeed grace
and beauty; but yet neither in the blending of the colours, nor in the
character and style of the entire picture, could it be compared with
many other paintings in the Pœcile.
The multitude (comprehending therein many classes of society), often
regard with astonishment and admiration what they do not comprehend:
this picture had occupied its place for a hundred years; but though
Syracuse contained within the narrow limits enclosed by its walls more
of the genius of art than the whole of the remainder of sea-surrounded
Sicily, no one had yet divined the hidden meaning of the design. It was
even uncertain to what temple the painting had originally belonged,
for it had been rescued from a shipwrecked vessel, which was only
conjectured from the merchandise it contained to have come from Rhodes.
On the foreground of the picture youths and maidens formed a closely
crowded group. They were without clothing and well formed, but at the
same time did not exhibit the more noble and graceful proportions
admired in the statues of Praxiteles and Alcamenes. Their robust limbs,
shewing the traces of laborious efforts, and the purely terrestrial
expression of their desires and sorrows, seemed to take from them every
thing of a diviner character, and to chain them exclusively to their
earthly habitation. Their hair was simply ornamented with leaves and
field-flowers. Their arms were outstretched towards each other, as
if to indicate their desire of union, but their troubled looks were
turned towards a Genius who, surrounded by bright light, hovered in
the midst. A butterfly was placed on his shoulder, and in his hand he
held on high a lighted torch. The contours of his form were soft and
child-like, but his glance was animated by celestial fire: he looked
down as a master upon the youths and maidens at his feet. Nothing else
that was characteristic could be discovered in the picture. Some
persons thought they could make out at its foot the letters ζ and ς,
from whence (as antiquaries were then no less bold in their conjectures
than they now are), they took occasion to infer, in a somewhat forced
manner, the name of Zenodorus; thus attributing the work to a painter
of the same name as the artist who at a later period cast the Colossus
of Rhodes.
The “Rhodian Genius,” however,--for such was the name given to the
picture,--did not want for commentators and interpreters in Syracuse.
Amateurs of the arts, and especially the younger amongst them, on
returning from a short visit to Corinth or Athens, would have thought
it equivalent to renouncing all pretensions to connoisseurship if
they had not been provided with some new explanation. Some regarded
the Genius as the personification of Spiritual Love, forbidding the
enjoyment of sensual pleasures; others said it was the assertion of the
empire of Reason over Desire: the wiser among the critics were silent,
and presuming some high though yet undiscovered meaning, examined
meanwhile with pleasure the simple composition of the picture.
Still, however, the question remained unsolved. The picture had been
copied with various additions and sent to Greece, but not the least
light had been thrown on its origin; when at length, at the season
of the early rising of the Pleiades, and soon after the reopening
of the navigation of the Egean Sea, ships from Rhodes entered the
port of Syracuse, bearing a precious collection of statues, altars,
candelabras, and paintings, which Dionysius’s love of art had caused
to be brought together from different parts of Greece. Among the
paintings was one which was immediately recognised as the companion
or pendent of the Rhodian Genius: the dimensions were the same, and
the colouring similar, but in a better state of preservation: the
Genius was still the central figure, but the butterfly was no longer
on his shoulder; his head was drooping, and his torch extinguished
and inverted. The youths and maidens pressing around him had met
and embraced; their glance, no longer subdued or sad, announced, on
the contrary, emancipation from restraint, and the fulfilment of
long-cherished desires.
The Syracusan antiquaries were already seeking to modify the
explanations they had previously proposed, so as to adapt them to
the newly-arrived picture, when Dionysius commanded the latter to be
carried to the house of Epicharmus, a philosopher of the Pythagorean
school, who dwelt in a remote part of Syracuse called Tyche. Epicharmus
rarely presented himself at the court of Dionysius, for although the
latter was fond of calling around him the most distinguished men from
all the Greek colonial cities, yet the philosopher found that the
proximity of princes takes even from men of the greatest intellectual
power part of their spirit and their freedom. He devoted himself
unceasingly to the study of natural things, their forces or powers, the
origin of animals and plants, and the harmonious laws in accordance
with which the heavenly bodies, as well as the grains of hail and the
flakes of snow, assume their distinctive forms. Oppressed with age,
and unable to proceed far without assistance, he caused himself to be
conducted daily to the Pœcile, and thence to the entrance of the port,
where, as he said, his eyes received the image of the boundless and
the infinite which his spirit ever strove in vain to apprehend. He
lived honoured alike by the tyrant, whose presence he avoided, and by
the lower classes of the people, whom he met gladly, and often with
friendly help.
Exhausted with fatigue, he was reposing on his couch, when the
newly-arrived picture was brought to him by the command of Dionysius.
Care had been taken to bring, at the same time, a faithful copy of the
“Rhodian Genius,” and the philosopher desired the two paintings to be
placed side by side before him. After having remained for some time
with his eyes fixed upon them, and absorbed in thought, he called his
scholars together, and spoke to them in the following terms, in a voice
which was not without emotion:--
“Withdraw the curtain from the window, that I may enjoy once more
the view of the fair earth animated with living beings. During sixty
years I have reflected on the internal motive powers of nature, and
on the differences of substances: to-day for the first time the
picture of the Rhodian Genius leads me to see more clearly that which
I had before only obscurely divined. As living beings are impelled by
natural desires to salutary and fruitful union, so the raw materials
of inorganic nature are moved by similar impulses. Even in the reign
of primeval night, in the darkness of chaos, elementary principles or
substances sought or shunned each other in obedience to indwelling
dispositions of amity or enmity. Thus the fire of heaven follows metal,
iron obeys the attraction of the loadstone, amber rubbed takes up
light substances, earth mixes with earth, salt collects together from
the water of the sea, and the acid moisture of the Stypteria (στυπτηρια
υγρα), as well as the flocculent salt Trichitis, love the clay of
Melos. In inanimate nature all things hasten to unite with each other
according to their particular laws. Hence no terrestrial element (and
who would dare to include light among the number of such elements?) is
to be found anywhere in its pure and primitive simple state. Each as
soon as formed tends to enter into new combinations, and the art of man
is needed to disjoin and present in a separated state substances which
you would seek in vain in the interior of the earth, and in the fluid
oceans of air or water. In dead inorganic matter, entire inactivity and
repose reign so long as the bonds of affinity continue undissolved, so
long as no third substance comes to join itself to the others. But even
then, the action and disturbance produced are soon again succeeded by
unfruitful repose.
“It is otherwise, however, when the same substances are brought
together in the bodies of plants and animals. In these the vital force
or power reigns supreme, and regardless of the mutual amity or enmity
of the atoms recognised by Democritus, commands the union of substances
which in inanimate nature shun each other, and separates those which
are ever seeking to enter into combination.
“Now come nearer to me, my friends; look with me on the first of
the pictures before us, and recognise in the Rhodian Genius, in the
expression of youthful energy, in the butterfly on his shoulder,
and in the commanding glance of his eye, the symbol of vital force
animating each individual germ of the organic creation. At his feet are
the earthy elements desiring to mix and unite, conformably to their
particular tendencies. The Genius, holding aloft his lighted torch with
commanding gesture, controls and constrains them, without regard to
their ancient rights, to obey his laws.
“Now view with me the new picture which the tyrant has sent to me
for explanation: turn your eyes from the image of life to that of
death. The butterfly has left its former place and soars upwards; the
extinguished torch is reversed, the head of the youth has sunk: the
spirit has fled to other spheres, and the vital force is dead. Now the
youths and maidens joyfully join hands, the earthy substances resume
their ancient rights: they are freed from the chains that bound them,
and follow impetuously after long restraint the impulse to union.--Thus
inert matter, animated awhile by vital force, passes through an
innumerable diversity of forms, and perhaps in the same substance which
once enshrined the spirit of Pythagoras, a poor worm may have enjoyed a
momentary existence.
“Go, Polycles, and tell Dionysius what thou hast heard;--and you my
friends, Euryphamos, Lysis, and Scopas, come nearer to me and support
me; I feel that in my weakened frame the enfeebled vital power will
not long hold in subjection the earthly substances which reclaim their
ancient liberty. Lead me once again to the Pœcile, and thence to the
sea shore; soon you will collect my ashes.”
NOTE.
I have noticed in the Preface to the Second and Third Editions (S.
xiii., p. xii. English Trans.) the subject of the republication here
of the preceding pages, which were first printed in Schiller’s Horen
(Jahrg. 1795, St. 5, S. 90-96). They contain the development of a
physiological idea clothed in a semi-mythical garb. In the Latin
“Aphorisms from the Chemical Physiology of Plants” appended to my
“Subterranean Flora,” in 1793,--I had defined the “vital force” as
“the unknown cause which prevents the elements from following their
original affinities.” The first of my aphorisms were as follows:--Rerum
naturam si totam consideres, magnum atque durabile, quod inter elementa
intercedit, discrimen perspicies, quorum altera affinitatum legibus
obtemperantia, altera, vinculis solutis, varie juncta apparent. Quod
quidem discrimen in elementis ipsis eorumque indole neutiquam positum,
quum ex sola distributione singulorum petendum esse videatur. Materiam
segnem, brutam, inanimam eam vocamus, cujus stamina secundum leges
chymicæ affinitatis mixta sunt. Animata atque organica ea potissimum
corpora appellamus, quæ, licet in novas mutari formas perpetuo tendant,
vi interna quadam continentur, quominus priscam sibique insitam formam
relinquant.
“Vim internam, quæ chymicæ affinitatis vincula resolvit, atque obstat,
quominus elementa corporum libere conjungantur, vitalem vocamus. Itaque
nullum certius mortis criterium putredine datur, qua primæ partes vel
stamina rerum, antiquis juribus revocatis, affinitatum legibus parent.
Corporum inanimorum nulla putredo esse potest.” (Vide Aphorismi ex
doctrina Physiologiæ chemicæ Plantarum, in Humboldt, Flora Fribergensis
subterranea, 1793, p. 133-136).
I have placed in the mouth of Epicharmus the above propositions,
which were disapproved by the acute Vicq d’Azyr, in his Traité
d’Anatomie et de Physiologie, T. i. p. 5, but are now entertained by
many distinguished persons among my friends. Reflection and continued
study in the domains of physiology and chemistry have deeply shaken
my earlier belief in a peculiar so-called vital force. In 1797, at
the close of my work entitled “Versuche über die gereizte Muskel und
Nervenfaser, nebst Vermuthungen über den chemischen Process des Lebens
in der Thier und Pflanzenwelt” (Bd. ii. S. 430-436), I already declared
that I by no means regarded the existence of such peculiar vital forces
as demonstrated. Since that time I have no longer called peculiar
forces what may possibly only be the operation of the concurrent action
of the several long-known substances and their material forces. We may,
however deduce from the chemical relations of the elements a safer
definition of animate and inanimate substances, than the criteria which
are taken from voluntary motion, from the circulation of fluids within
solids, from internal appropriation, and from the fibrous arrangements
of the elements. I term that an animated substance “of which the parts
being separated by external agency alter their state of composition
after the separation, all other and external relations continuing
the same.” This definition is merely the enunciation of a fact. The
equilibrium of the elements in animated or organic matter is preserved
by their being parts of a whole. One organ determines another, one
gives to another its temperature and tone or disposition, in all which,
these, and no other, affinities are operative. Thus in organised beings
all is reciprocally means and end. The rapidity with which organic
parts, separated from a complete living organism, change their slate of
combination, differs greatly, according to the degree of their original
dependence, and to the nature of the substance. Blood of animals, which
varies much in the different classes, suffers change sooner than the
juices of plants. Funguses generally decay sooner than leaves of trees,
and muscle more easily than the cutis.
Bones, the elementary structure of which has been very recently
recognised, hair of animals, wood in plants or trees, the feathery
appendages of seeds of plants (Pappus), are not inorganic or without
life; but even in life they approximate to the state in which they are
found after their separation from the rest of the organism. The higher
the degree of vitality or susceptibility of an animated substance,
the more rapidly does organic change in its composition ensue after
separation. “The aggregate total of the cells is an organism, and the
organism lives so long as the parts are active in subservience to
the whole. In opposition to lifeless or inorganic, organic nature
_appears_ to be self-determining.” (Henle, Allgemeine Anatomie, 1841,
S. 216-219). The difficulty of satisfactorily referring the vital
phenomena of organic life to physical and chemical laws, consists
chiefly (almost as in the question of predicting meteorological
processes in the atmosphere), in the complication of the phænomena,
and in the multiplicity of simultaneously acting forces and of the
conditions of their activity.