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Project Management: A Managerial Approach, 9 th edition Instructor’s Resource Guide
Chapter 7
Budgeting: Estimating Costs and Risks
CHAPTER OVERVIEW
Overview – This chapter describes the process of estimating and then assembling the
project budget. The budget is an important part of the planning process as it describes
the plan for allocating project resources. Once the budget is set, it is used as part of the
project control mechanism during execution.
7.1 Estimating Project Budgets – The budgeting process involves the forecasting of the
level and type of resources needed to complete the project. Many organizations will
have well worn (and reasonably accurate) methods for creating the initial project
estimate based on past experience. It is important to remember, however, that
because every project is unique the estimating process always has some level of
uncertainty associate with it. The PM must understand the organization’s accounting
practices to the extent that they are imposed on the project budgeting and control
process.
• Top-Down Budgeting – This is the technique of developing a budget by
comparing this project to past ones using the judgment and experience of top
and middle management. Typically an overall budget is assigned to the project to
be distributed to the individual tasks. If the projects being used for comparison
are similar enough, this process can result in a fairly accurate total number. The
process of distributing the total can create a lot of conflict among the
management team.
• Bottom-Up Budgeting – This is the process of developing budgets by asking the
people who will perform the individual tasks for their estimates. These individual
numbers are then rolled up to a summary for presentation to management. It’s
important in this process to follow a good WBS to ensure that no tasks are
overlooked. Unfortunately, this process can lead to game playing when
individuals pad their estimates in anticipation of management cuts.
• Work Element Costing – Using the bottom-up estimates, costs can be applied t o
each WBS element. These are typically calculated by taking the labor hour
estimate and “dollarizing” it using appropriate labor and overhead rates. To be
accurate, the estimator needs to understand the relationship between the labor
estimate and the actual number of hours that will be charged to the project
because of personal time and inefficiencies. A similar process must be used if
machine time or other resources are charged to the project.
• An Iterative Budgeting Process – Negotiation-in-Action – Typically the budgeting
process requires some negotiation between the subordinate, who develops the
WBS plans for the tasks for which he is responsible, and the supervisor who
reviews these plans. This is a time-consuming process. At the same time the PM
is negotiating with the several subordinates responsible for the pieces of the
PM’s WBS. It is worth emphasizing that ethics is just as important in negotiations
within an organization as in negotiations between an organization and an outside
party.
• Comments on the Budget Request Process – The bottom-up process differs from
the departmental budgeting process many organizations use. The primary
difference is that the departmental process typically comes with guidelines (either
formal or informal) on how much budget change is considerably acceptable.
• Cost Category Budgeting vs. Project/Activity Budgeting – Organizations may
budget and collect cost by functional activity. This makes it very difficult to
monitor project costs when they are distributed among a variety of different
organizational units. Project budgeting on the other hand collects project cost
using the WBS. This allows the PM to monitor cost in a manner that supports
overall project objectives.
7.2 Improving the Process of Cost Estimation – Estimates by nature are always wrong.
It’s important to build contingencies into the process or to account for uncertainty in
some other way. One way to do this is to use the PERT process of developing likely,
optimistic, and pessimistic estimates. In addition, the PM must understand whether
overhead cost is part of the estimate or not.
• Learning Curves – Studies and common sense have shown that as people
repeat a task they get better at it. This idea is formalized in the concept of the
learning curve, which states that each time the output doubles the worker hours
per unit decrease to a fixed percentage of their previous value. This effect is
important because the estimator must determine the impact learning had on past
projects (and their rates) and predict its impact on the one being estimated.
• A Special Case of Learning – Technological Shock – Projects that involve new
technologies or processes are very difficult to estimate because past
performance is not a useful guide. This is true not only because the rates are not
applicable, but because there is typically a lengthy startup process before steady
state performance is achieved.
• Other Factors – A number of other factors influence the project budget:
i) Changes in resource costs due to factors like inflation
ii) Waste and spoilage
iii) The fact that people, as resources are not freely interchangeable with each
other. The project may require five people, but if they are not the right people,
the number available is irrelevant.
iv) Projects cannot be put back on schedule by adding an infinite number of
resources. For intellectual projects like software development, the addition of
more people may actually slow the project down. Even for more mundane
tasks like painting a building there is a limit as to how many people can be
added to the project with benefit.
• On Making Better Estimates – Data can be collected on the quality of project
estimates by using statistical techniques. The estimate is compared to the actual,
and statistics like the Mean Absolute Ratio (MAR) and the Tracking Signal can
be calculated. These are all used to detect bias or nonrandom error in the
estimate.
7.3 Risk Estimation – Project aspects such as duration of activities, amount of resources
to utilize, value estimation etc., are very uncertain in a typical project. It is important
to manage this ambiguity to allow the project manager to make better decisions
when the situation arises. This is done through risk estimation and analysis, a
technique that describes uncertainty in a way, that it becomes possible, although
with a few reasonable assumptions, to make project activity decisions in an insightful
manner.
• General Simulation Analysis – A very useful tool to evaluate projects in
conceptual stage is simulation combined with sensitivity analysis. A through
estimation of the various tasks is made and the uncertainty associated with each
task is included. Simulation runs then show the likelihood of realizing various
levels of costs and benefits. Investigation of the model may also expose the
major sources of uncertainty.
TEACHING TIPS
Estimating and budgeting are dry subjects. Students who actually have to perform this
process on real projects, however, will be very interested in practical guidance beyond
the scope of this chapter. Here are some tips based on my experience.
The estimating process has to be defined in writing in advance of preparing the estimate.
The definition needs to include:
• Key project parameters and assumptions.
• Rules for how to allocate cost among different categories to ensure everything is
covered and nothing is duplicated. This is necessary even if there is a WBS, as
different people will interpret it differently.
• A sound method for identifying each “official” version of the estimate. It will
change and it’s easy to get confused as to what the current issued version is
versus the current working version.
• An airtight method of documenting the data and assumptions that serves as a
backup for each element of the estimate. The sound logic used during
development will quickly be forgotten. A year later someone will ask about a
number and nobody will know.
The estimating process for the next project must be considered in the collection of actual
data from the current project. This is particularly true if any kind of rate-based estimate is
used. As silly as it sounds, people discover that during a project they did not collect the
data necessary to develop or update rates. This discovery is usually made during the
estimating process for the next project when it is too late.
An excellent source of very practical advice on the estimating process is the NASA Cost
Estimating Handbook, available on the web at: http://ceh.nasa.gov/
This scenario can be a complex one to evaluate financially. Visualize a scenario where a
patient’s stay generates sufficient revenue to cover the variable costs associated with
the stay. Once variable costs have been met, the remaining revenue can be used to
offset fixed costs. Once the level of utilization has covered the fixed costs, the hospital
begins to make a profit. However, suppose that the patient does not pay enough
revenue to cover the variable costs associated with the treatment received, any level of
hospital utilization will create a loss of profit.
Question 3: How did changing from a line item pay plan to an episode plan allow
comparisons and save costs?
The pay-per-episode plan establishes a standard cost that can be easily audited. In a
pay-by-line-item plan, it is much more difficult to detect and disallow inappropriate
additions to the bill being issued by the hospital. The hospital has an incentive to add
line items to help offset its fixed expenditures, so that it can recognize an operating
profit.
Rather than demoting the manager, Emanon could have issued warnings to the
purchasing official to avoid such issues in the future. Also, they could have penalized the
official monetarily in proportion to the penalty paid by the corporation. Another option
could have been to affect his yearly appraisal.
Question 3: What should Emanon do now?
Emanon now knows that the reason behind losing the competition was the increased
expected material costs. It should now work with its purchasing department to bring the
cost down to what is required and ensure that multiple checks are performed at different
levels of the purchasing department, so that the costs estimated are as close to actual
costs as possible with a minimal overhead for unexpected circumstances.
can help increase the emotional investment of stakeholders for adhering to the
cost baseline.
d) Bottom-up budgeting can help train managers to understand important
dimensions of project success. For example, junior managers will learn more
about how resource consumption will affect profitability and future cash flows.
3) Senior management should check to ensure that all major cost elements have been
included in the bottom-up budget.
Question 10: How does a risk analysis operate? How does a manager interpret the
results?
To perform risk analysis, a manager makes certain assumptions about the parameters
and variables associated with a project decision. This is then checked with the risk
profile or the uncertainty that is present with these variables. This helps in the estimation
of risk profiles or probability distributions of the outcomes of the decisions. Generally a
project involves multiple parameters and variables and thus simulation is preferred over
tedious analytical methods. This simulation/analytical process reveals the distribution of
various outcomes and this risk profile is used to assess the value of the decision along
with various other factors.
Question 11: Discuss ways in which to keep budget planning from becoming a
game.
Refer to Section 7.1 in the text. This is a tough issue which should be able to generate
an interesting class discussion. The process is a “game” when the participants perceive
it as a zero sum game with management decisions made in an arbitrary and capricious
manner. Management can try a few things to defuse the situation such as:
1) Use open and honest discussions about resource allocation decisions that are
based upon principles of shared interest and collegial management.
2) Refrain from mandating across-the-board budget cuts when faced with cost
containment problems.
3) Use the four dimensions of project success to foster rational and consistent
resource allocation decisions in a manner that links project management
strategies to overall business success.
Question 12: List some of the pitfalls in cost estimating. What steps can a
manager take to correct cost overruns?
Refer to Sections 7.1 and 7.2 in the text.
1) Uncertainty: By nature projects are unique; therefore, any estimate made beforehand
about project outcomes is uncertain. Estimates are just that; they are always wrong.
2) Assumptions: An assumption is the answer to a question that is otherwise unknown
or too expensive to get a timely answer. There is nothing wrong with assumptions;
they are a part of the game in creating estimates in the face of uncertainty. One
danger with assumptions is that they present an opportunity for biases to be
embedded in the project. One particularly dangerous assumption is that the data
from past projects can be blindly applied to the estimates for new projects. If the new
project is different enough in process or product, old data can only be used with a
grain of salt. It’s important to keep in mind that using old data uncritically can make
the estimate too high as well as too low.
3) Learning Curves: Experience can influence productivity. The estimator may need to
consider the effects of experience using techniques such as the learning curve.
4) Bad Data: Data about past performance may have been captured incorrectly and/or
reported inaccurately. The estimator should validate the accuracy of historical data
with respect to representing what the data should represent.
5) Missing Scope: The most accurate estimate will be fatally flawed, if it does not
account for all the work the project has to do. This could be due to a poor estimating
process or uncertainty about the actual work scope.
Before managers can correct cost overruns, they must detect them. This means that
there has to be a detailed plan that is measured on a regular basis. When overruns are
detected, the manager needs to evaluate the root cause with the help of the team.
Corrective action may include reducing staff, reducing scope, or increasing the budget.
Question 13: Why do consulting firms frequently subsidize some projects? Is this
ethical?
Refer to Section 7.2 in the text. It’s ethical for companies to take a deliberate loss on a
project for several reasons:
• The company is investing in a new business area.
• The company is sharing costs with a partner in support of a future big win-win
situation. For example this might be undercharging on a project supporting
another company’s proposal preparation.
• The project represents a charitable donation.
• The company would otherwise have no work at all, but wishes to retain its staff.
It is unethical for a company to knowingly underbid a contract with the intent of making
the money back through later changes. The U.S Government has named this practice as
“defective pricing” and goes to great length to prevent it and punish the perpetrators.
Question 14: What steps can be taken to make controlling costs easier? Can these
steps also be used to control other project parameters, such as scope?
In order to control costs, it is essential to have a project plan that is organized according
to the way the project actually will be managed. To develop such a plan, use the WBS to
decompose project deliverables from the scope statement into sets of deliverable-
oriented work packages linked to cost centers in the project’s budget. By linking the
control mechanisms to the work packages, the manager will have a much better chance
of detecting overruns when something can still be done about them. This is also true for
other parameters such as schedule and progress (performance). As painful as it sounds,
it is better to measure cost, schedule, and progress more frequently than less. The
longer it takes to detect a variance, the bigger it will be and the harder to correct.
Question 15: Which budgeting method is likely to be used with which type of
organizational structure?
Refer to Section 7.1 in the text. Functional organizations will tend to prefer activity-
oriented budgets. Project based organizations would prefer to have program-oriented
budgets. In these two forms, the vertical hierarchy is the driving factor behind budgeting
tendencies. However, the matrix form may exhibit tendencies toward using both types of
budgets. The weak matrix form would be expected to exhibit functional preferences,
while the strong matrix (project matrix) would tend to exhibit project preferences more
predominately.
Question 16: What are some potential problems with the top-down and bottom-up
budgeting processes? What are some ways of dealing with these potential
problems?
Question 18: Would any of the conflict resolution methods described in the
previous chapter be useful in the budget planning process? Which?
Refer to the answer of Question 16 in this book and to Chapter 6 in the textbook. The
technique used during conflict resolution (budget planning process) will be contingent
upon the situation. Confrontation (interdisciplinary problem-solving) would be the
preferred approach for this author. However, compromises may be appropriate in
scenarios where both parties have equal power and an acceptable outcome can be
attained. The other conflict resolution strategies should see infrequent use during
budgeting processes. For example:
1) Avoidance: The project is an operating necessity and the process being fixed
produces benefits that far exceed the execution costs of the project. Failure is not
an option. Consider the project initiated when the Apollo 13 astronauts had to
abort the planned lunar landing and return to Earth.
2) Withdrawal: The budget issue is unimportant to one of the stakeholders. For
example, a contractor, as a conscious strategy to invest in maintaining a client
relationship, may absorb a minor scope change. Such decisions would be based
on the total lifecycle value of the relationship rather than the costs associated
with a single scope change transaction.
3) Forcing: In cases where cost constraints (market pressures) could jeopardize
business survival, unless preferred approaches of the performing organization
are modified, forcing budgets on a single project may be an appropriate albeit
risky response necessary to get the job done.
Question 19: How does the fact that capital costs vary with different factors
complicate the budgeting process?
Refer to Section 7.1 in the text. Cash flows for capital costs are managed differently than
the cash flows for operating costs. Each industry may use different assumptions and
procedures as to how capital costs should be treated in budgets. Moreover, since capital
costs are associated with future business capacity, they have a greater degree of
uncertainty than the operating expenses consumed in a single business period. To end
this discussion, since capital costs are accumulated in bulk, the allocation of their usage
to activities in a budget may be significantly influenced by external variables such as
changes in market supply and demand.
Question 22: The chapter describes the problems of budgeting for S-shaped and
J-shaped life-cycle projects. What might be the budgeting characteristics of a
project with a straight line life cycle?
The chapter emphasizes the danger of simple across the board budget cuts for projects
with exponential or right half of a U-shaped life cycle. If the budget is cut by 10%, a
major portion of the benefit is lost. For these life cycle curves, however, further cuts have
less impact than the first. With an S-shaped curve the loss of benefit increases with each
cut. For a linear curve, a 10% cut in budget would cause a 10% loss in benefit, and each
subsequent cut would have proportionately the same amount of benefit loss.
Question 23: Interpret the columns of data in Figure 7-11. Does the $14,744 value
mean that the project is expected to return only this amount of discounted
money?
The columns in Figure 7-11 summarizes the results of the simulation data based on
these trial runs performed. The $14,744 value doesn’t indicate the exact value of the
project. Rather, it indicates the mean value based on the simulations runs in this
analysis.
Question 24: How would you find the probability in Figure 7-10 of an NPV of over
$25,000?
To find the probability of an NPV greater than $25,000 (in Figure 7-10), you would enter
“25,000” in the box in the lower left corner of the screen. The probability would then be
displayed in the “Certainty” box situated in the middle of the screen.
Question 25: Does the spread of the data in Table 7-4 appear realistic? Reconsider
Table 7-4 to explain why the simulated outcome in Figure 7-11 is so much less
than the value originally obtained in Table 7-3.
The spread of data in Table 7-4 is realistic given the nature of the PERT estimates
(pessimistic, most likely, and optimistic). This method provides a range of likelihoods
based on different scenarios. The simulated outcome in Figure 7-11 is lesser than the
value originally obtained in Table 7-3 because of the inclusion of the lower “minimum
inflow” column in Table 7-4. This reduces the overall values because it decreases the
estimates.
PROBLEMS
Problem 1: Using the cost estimation template and Actuals in Figure 7-5, compare
the model in the figure with the following estimates derived from a multiplicative
model. Base your comparison on the mean bias, the MAR, and the tracking signal.
Comment.
Period: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
Tracking
Period Estimate Actual (A(t)/F(t))-1 |(A(t)/F(t))-1| MAR Signal
1 179 163 -0.08939 0.08939
2 217 240 0.105991 0.105991 0.10 0.17
3 91 67 -0.26374 0.26374 0.15 -1.61
4 51 78 0.529412 0.529412 0.25 1.14
5 76 71 -0.06579 0.06579 0.21 1.03
6 438 423 -0.03425 0.03425 0.18 1.00
7 64 49 -0.23438 0.23438 0.19 -0.28
8 170 157 -0.07647 0.07647 0.17 -0.74
Total -0.129
Again, the bias has reduced considerably and changed sign but the MAR is somewhat
greater. Hence, the Tracking Signal is substantially smaller and shows an acceptable
level of bias on the part of this estimator.
Problem 3: In Problem 2, assume that the inflows are uncertain but normally
distributed with standard deviations of $1000, $1500, $2000, and $3500,
respectively. Find the mean forecast NPV using Crystal Ball®. What is the
probability the actual NPV will be positive?
To convert this spreadsheet to a Monte Carlo simulation, Crystal Ball® will be assigned
to generate cash flow values following a normal distribution.
FOOTNOTES:
[99] An Address given at the Centenary Celebration of his Birth held
in Cromarty on 22nd August, 1902.
[100] See ante, p. 128.
[101] The passage has been cited on p. 128.
IX
Science in Education[102]
When the history of Education during the nineteenth century comes
to be written, one of its most striking features will be presented by
the rise and growth of Science in the general educational
arrangements of every civilised country. At the beginning of the
century our schools and colleges were still following, with
comparatively little change, the methods and subjects of tuition that
had been in use from the time of the Middle Ages. But the
extraordinary development of the physical and natural sciences,
which has done so much to alter the ordinary conditions of life, has
powerfully affected also our system of public instruction. The
medieval circle of studies has been widely recognised not to supply
all the mental training needed in the ampler range of modern
requirement. Science has, step by step, gained a footing in the
strongholds of the older learning. Not without vehement struggle,
however, has she been able to intrench herself there. Even now,
although her ultimate victory is assured, the warfare is by no means
at an end. The jealousy of the older régime and the strenuous, if
sometimes blatant, belligerency of the reformers have not yet been
pacified; and, from time to time, within our public schools and
universities, there may still be heard the growls of opposition and
the shouts of conflict. But these sounds are growing fainter. Even the
most conservative don hardly ventures nowadays openly to
denounce science and all her works. Grudgingly, it may be, but yet
perforce, he has to admit the teaching of modern science to a place
among the subjects which the university embraces, and in which it
grants degrees. In our public schools a 'modern side' has been
introduced, and even on the classical side an increasing share of the
curriculum is devoted to oral and practical teaching in science. New
colleges have been founded in the more important centres of
population, for the purpose, more particularly, of enabling the
community to obtain a thorough education in modern science.
The mainspring of this remarkable educational revolution has,
doubtless, been the earnest conviction that the older learning was
no longer adequate in the changed and changing conditions of our
time; that vast new fields of knowledge, opened up by the increased
study of nature, ought to be included in any scheme of instruction
intended to fit men for the struggle of modern life, and that in this
newer knowledge much might be found to minister to the highest
ends of education. Nevertheless, it must be admitted that utilitarian
considerations have not been wholly absent from the minds of the
reformers. Science has many and far-reaching practical applications.
It has called into existence many new trades and professions, and
has greatly modified many of those of older date. In a thousand
varied ways it has come into the ordinary affairs of every-day life. Its
cultivation has brought innumerable material benefits; its neglect
would obviously entail many serious industrial disadvantages, and
could not fail to leave us behind in the commercial progress of the
nations of the globe. So much have these considerations pressed
upon the attention of the public in recent years that, besides all the
other educational machinery to which I have referred, technical
schools have been established in many towns for the purpose of
teaching the theory as well as the practice of various arts and
industries, and making artisans understand the nature of the
processes with which their trades are concerned.
That this educational transformation, which has been advancing
during the century, has resulted in great benefit to the community at
large can hardly be denied. Besides the obvious material gains, there
has been a widening of the whole range and methods of our
teaching; the old subjects are better, because more scientifically,
taught, and the new subjects enlist the attention and sympathy of
large classes of pupils whom the earlier studies only languidly
interested. Nevertheless, it is incumbent on those who have
advocated and carried out this change to ask themselves whether it
has brought with it no drawbacks. They may be sure that no such
extensive reform could possibly be introduced without defects
appearing in it somewhere. And it is well to look these defects in the
face, and, as far as may be possible, remove them. In considering
how I might best discharge the duty with which I have been
honoured of addressing the students of Mason College this evening,
I have thought that it might not be inappropriate if, as a
representative of science, I were to venture to point out some of the
drawbacks as well as the advantages of the position which science
has attained in our educational system.
At the outset no impartial onlooker can fail to notice that the natural
reaction against the dominance of the older learning has tended to
induce an undervaluing of the benefits which that learning afforded
and can still bestow. In this College, indeed, and in other institutions
more specially designed for instruction in science, provision has also
been made for the teaching of Latin, Greek, and the more important
modern languages and literatures. But in such institutions, these
subjects usually hold only a subordinate place. It can hardly be
denied that generally throughout the country, even although the
literary side of education still maintains its pre-eminence in our
public schools and universities, it is losing ground, and that every
year it occupies less of the attention of students of science. The
range of studies which the science examinations demand is always
widening, while the academic period within which these studies must
be crowded undergoes no extension. Those students, therefore,
who, whether from necessity or choice, have taken their college
education in science, naturally experience no little difficulty in finding
time for the absolutely essential subjects required for their degrees.
Well may they declare that it is hopeless for them to attempt to
engage in anything more, and especially in anything that will not tell
directly on their places in the final class-lists. With the best will in
the world, and with even, sometimes, a bent for literary pursuits,
they may believe themselves compelled to devote their whole time
and energies to the multifarious exactions of their science
curriculum.
Such a result of our latest reformation in education may be
unavoidable, but it is surely matter for regret. A training in science
and scientific methods, admirable as it is in so many ways, fails to
supply those humanising influences which the older learning can so
well impart. For the moral stimulus that comes from an association
with all that is noblest and best in the literatures of the past, for the
culture and taste that spring from prolonged contact with the
highest models of literary expression, for the widening of our
sympathies and the vivifying of our imagination by the study of
history and philosophy, the teaching of science has no proper
equivalents.
Men who have completed their formal education with little or no help
from the older learning may be pardoned should they be apt to
despise such help and to believe that they can very well dispense
with it in the race of life. My first earnest advice to the science
students of this College is, not to entertain this belief and to refuse
to act on it. Be assured that, in your future career whatever it may
be, you will find in literature a source of solace and refreshment, of
strength and encouragement, such as no department of science can
give you. There will come times, even to the most enthusiastic
among you, when scientific work, in spite of its absorbing interest,
grows to be a weariness. At such times as these you will appreciate
the value of the literary culture you may have received at school or
college. Cherish the literary tastes you have acquired, and devote
yourself sedulously to the further cultivation of them during such
intervals of leisure as you may be able to secure.
Over and above the pleasure which communion with the best books
will bring with it, two reasons of a more utilitarian kind may be given
to science students why they should seek this communion. Men who
have been too exclusively trained in science, or are too much
absorbed in its pursuit, are not always the most agreeable members
of society. They are apt to be somewhat angular and professional,
contributing little that is interesting to general conversation, save
when they get a chance of introducing their own science and its
doings. Perhaps the greatest bore I ever met was a man of science,
whose mind and training were so wholly mathematical and physical
that he seemed unable to look at the simplest subject save in its
physical relations, about which he would discourse till he had long
exhausted the patience of the auditor whom he detained. There is
no more efficacious remedy for this tendency to what is popularly
known as 'shop' than the breadth and culture of mind that spring
from wide reading in ancient and modern literature.
The other reason for the advice I offer you is one of which you will
hardly, perhaps, appreciate the full force in the present stage of your
career. One result of the comparative neglect of the literary side of
education by many men of science is conspicuously seen in their
literary style. It is true that in our time we have had some eminent
scientific workers, who have also been masters of nervous and
eloquent English. But it is not less true that the literature of science
is burdened with a vast mass of slipshod, ungrammatical and clumsy
writing, wherein sometimes even the meaning of the authors is left
in doubt. Let me press upon you the obvious duty of not increasing
this unwieldy burden. Study the best masters of style, and when
once you have made up your minds what you want to say, try to
express it in the simplest, clearest, and most graceful language you
can find.
Remember that, while education is the drawing out and cultivation of
all the powers of the mind, no system has yet been devised that will
by itself develop with equal success every one of these powers. The
system under which we have been trained may have done as much
for us as it can do. Each of us is thereafter left to supplement its
deficiencies by self-culture. And in the ordinary science-instruction of
the time one of the most obvious of these inevitable deficiencies is
the undue limitation or neglect of the literary side of education.
But in the science-instruction itself there are dangers regarding
which we cannot be too watchful. In this College and in all the other
well-organised scientific institutions of the country, the principles of
science are taught orally and experimentally. Every branch of
knowledge is expounded in its bearings on other branches. Its
theory is held up as the first great aim of instruction, and its
practical applications are made subsequent and subordinate.
Divisions of science are taught here which may have few practical
applications, but which are necessary for a comprehensive survey of
the whole circle of scientific truth. Now, you may possibly have
heard, and in the midst of a busy industrial community you are not
unlikely to hear, remarks made in criticism of this system or method
of tuition. The importance of scientific training will be frankly
acknowledged and even insisted upon, but you will sometimes hear
this admission coupled with the proviso that the science must be of
a practical kind; must, in short, be just such and no other, as will fit
young men to turn it to practical use in the manufactures or
industries to which they may be summoned. The critics who make
this limitation boast that they are practical men, and that in their
opinion theory is useless or worse for the main purposes for which
they would encourage and support a great scientific school.
Now I am quite sure that those science students who have passed
even a single session in Mason College can see for themselves the
utter fallacy of such statements and the injury that would be done to
the practical usefulness of this institution, and to the general
progress of the industrial applications of science, if such short-
sighted views were ever carried into effect. There can be no
thorough, adequate, and effective training in science unless it be
based on a comprehensive study of facts and principles, altogether
apart from any economic uses to which they may be put. Science
must be pursued for her own sake, in the first instance, and without
reference to any pecuniary benefits she may be able to confer. We
never can tell when the most theoretical part of pure science may be
capable of being turned to the most important practical uses. Who
could have surmised, for instance, that in the early tentative
experiments of Volta, Galvani, and others last century lay the germ
of the modern world-grasping electric telegraph? Or when
Wedgwood, at the beginning of this century, copied paintings by the
agency of light upon nitrate of silver, who could have foretold that he
was laying the foundations of the marvellous art of photography.
There can be no more pernicious doctrine than that which would
measure the commercial value of science by its immediate practical
usefulness, and would restrict its place in education to those only of
its sub-divisions which may be of service to the industries of the
present time. Such a curtailed method of instruction is not education
in the true sense of the term. It is only a kind of cramming for a
specific purpose, and the knowledge which it imparts, being one-
sided and imperfect, is of little value beyond its own limited range. I
by no means wish to undervalue the importance of technical
instruction. By all means let our artisans know as much as can be
taught them regarding the nature and laws of the scientific
processes in which they are engaged. But it is not by mere technical
instruction that we shall maintain and extend the industrial and
commercial greatness of the country. If we are not only to hold our
own, but to widen the boundaries of applied science, to perfect our
manufactures, and to bring new departments of Nature into the
service of man, it is by broad, thorough, untrammelled scientific
research that our success must be achieved.
When, therefore, you are asked to explain of what practical use are
some of the branches of science in which you have been trained, do
not lose patience with your questioner, nor answer him as you think
such a Philistine deserves to be answered. Give him a few
illustrations of the thousands of ways in which science, that might
have been stigmatised by him as merely abstract and theoretical,
has yet been made to minister to the practical needs of humanity.
Above all, urge him to attend some of the classes of Mason College,
where he will learn, in the most effectual manner, the intimate
connection between theory and practice. If he chance to be wealthy,
the experiment may possibly open his eyes to the more urgent
needs of the institution and induce him to contribute liberally
towards their satisfaction.
Among the advantages and privileges of your life at college there is
one, the full significance and value of which you will better
appreciate in later years. You have here an opportunity of acquiring
a wide general view of the whole range of scientific thought and
method. If you proceed to a science degree you are required to lay a
broad foundation of acquaintance with the physical and biological
sciences. You are thus brought into contact with the subjects of each
great department of natural knowledge, and you learn enough
regarding them to enable you to understand their scope and to
sympathise with the workers who are engaged upon them. But when
your academical career is ended, no such chance of wide general
training is ever likely to be yours again. You will be dragged into the
whirl of life, where you will probably find little time or opportunity to
travel much beyond the sphere of employment to which you may
have been called. Make the most, therefore, of the advantages
which in this respect you meet with here. Try to ensure that your
acquaintance with each branch of science embraced in your circle of
studies shall be as full and accurate as lies in your power to make it.
Even in departments outside the bounds of your own tastes and
ultimate requirements, do not neglect the means provided for your
gaining some knowledge of them. I urge this duty, not because its
diligent discharge will obviously tell in your examinations, but
because it will give you that scientific culture which while enabling
you to appreciate and enjoy the successive advances of other
sciences than that which you may select for special cultivation, will
at the same time increase your general usefulness and aid you in
your own researches.
The days of Admirable Crichtons are long since past. So rapid and
general is the onward march of science that not only can no man
keep pace with it in every direction, but it has become almost
hopelessly impossible to remain abreast of the progress in each of
the several sub-divisions of even a single science. We are entering
more and more upon the age of specialists. It grows increasingly
difficult for the specialists, even in kindred sciences, to remain in
touch with each other. When you find yourselves fairly launched into
the vortex of life you will look back with infinite satisfaction to the
time when you were enabled to lay a broad and solid platform of
general acquirement within the walls of this College.
Perhaps the most remarkable defect in the older or literary methods
of education was the neglect of the faculty of observation. For the
training of the other mental faculties ample provision was made, but
for this, one of the most important of the whole, no care was taken.
If a boy was naturally observant, he was left to cultivate the use of
his eyes as he best might; if he was not observant, nothing was
done to improve him in this respect, unless it were, here and there,
by the influence of such an intelligent teacher as is described in Mrs.
Barbauld's famous story of Eyes and No Eyes. Even when science
began to be introduced into our schools, it was still taught in the old
or literary fashion. Lectures and lessons were given by masters who
got up their information from books, but had no practical knowledge
of the subjects they taught. Class-books were written by men
equally destitute of a personal acquaintance with any department of
science. The lessons were learnt by rote, and not infrequently
afforded opportunities rather for frolic than for instruction. Happily
this state of things, though not quite extinct, is rapidly passing away.
Practical tuition is everywhere coming into use, while the old-
fashioned cut-and-dry lesson-book is giving way to the laboratory,
the field-excursion, and the school-museum.
It is mainly through the eyes that we gain our knowledge and
appreciation of the world in which we live. But we are not all equally
endowed with the gift of intelligent vision. On the contrary, in no
respect, perhaps, do we differ more from each other than in our
powers of observation. Obviously, a man who has a quick eye to
note what passes around him must, in the ordinary affairs of life,
stand at a considerable advantage over another man who moves
unobservantly on his course. We cannot create an observing faculty
any more than we can create a memory, but we may do much to
develop both. This is a feature in education of much more practical
and national importance than might be supposed. I suspect that it
lies closer than might be imagined to the success of our commercial
relations abroad. Our prevalent system of instruction has for
generations past done nothing to cultivate the habit of observation,
and has thus undoubtedly left us at a disadvantage in comparison
with nations that have adopted methods of tuition wherein the
observing faculty is regularly trained. With our world-wide commerce
we have gone on supplying to foreign countries the same
manufactured goods for which our fathers found markets in all
quarters of the globe. Our traders, however, now find themselves in
competition with traders from other nations who have been trained
to better use of their powers of observation, and who, taking careful
note of the gradually changing tastes and requirements of the races
which they visit, have been quick to report these changes and to
take means for meeting them. Thus, in our own centres of trade we
find ourselves in danger of being displaced by rivals with sharper
eyes and greater powers of adaptation.
It is the special function of science to cultivate this faculty of
observation. Here in Mason College, from the very beginning of your
scientific studies you have been taught to use your eyes, to watch
the phenomena that appear and disappear around you, to note the
sequence and relation of these phenomena, and thus, as it were, to
enter beneath the surface into the very soul of things. You cannot,
however, have failed to remark among your fellow-students great
inequalities in their powers of observation, and great differences in
the development of these powers under the very same system of
instruction. And you may have noticed that, speaking generally,
those class-mates who have shown the best observing faculty have
taken a foremost place among their fellows. It is not a question of
mere brain-power. A man may possess a colossal intellect, while his
faculty of observation may be of the feeblest kind. One of the
greatest mathematicians of this century who, full of honours,
recently passed away from us, had so little cognisance of his
surroundings, that many ludicrous stories are told of his child-like
mistakes as to place and time.
The continued development of the faculty of prompt and accurate
observation is a task on which you cannot bestow too much
attention. Your education here must already have taught you its
value. In your future career the use you make of this faculty may
determine your success or your failure. But not only have your
studies in this College trained your observing powers, they have at
the same time greatly widened the range of your mental vision by
the variety of objects which you have been compelled to look at and
examine. The same methods which have been so full of benefit to
you here can be continued by you in after life. And be assured that
in maintaining them in active use you will take the most effective
means for securing success in the careers you may choose to follow.
But above and beyond the prospect of any material success there is
a higher motive which will doubtless impel you. The education of
your observing faculty has been carried on during your introduction
to new realms of knowledge. The whole domain of Nature has been
spread out before you. You have been taught to observe thousands
of objects and processes of which, common though they may be,
you had previously taken no note. Henceforth, wherever you may
go, you cannot wander with ignorant or unobservant eyes. Land and
sea and sky, bird and beast and flower, now awaken in you a new
interest, for you have learned lessons from them that have
profoundly impressed you, and you have discovered meanings in
them of which you had never dreamed. You have been permitted to
pass within the veil of nature, and to perceive some of the inner
mechanism of this world.
Thus, your training in science has not only taught you to use your
eyes, but to use them intelligently, and in such a way as to see much
more in the world around you than is visible to the uninstructed
man. This widened perception might be illustrated from any
department of natural science. Let me take, by way of example, the
relation of the student of science towards the features and charms
of landscape. It may be said that no training is needed to
comprehend these beauties; that the man in the street, the holiday-
maker from town, is just as competent as the man of science to
appreciate them, and get quite as much pleasure out of them. We
need not stop to discuss the relative amounts of enjoyment which
different orders of spectators may derive from scenery; but
obviously the student of science has one great advantage in this
matter. Not only can he enjoy to the full all the outward charms
which appeal to the ordinary eye, but he sees in the features of the
landscape new charms and interests which the ordinary untrained
eye cannot see. Your accomplished Professor of Geology has taught
you the significance of the outer lineaments of the land. While under
his guidance you have traced with delight the varied features of the
lovely landscapes of the Midlands, your eyes have been trained to
mark their connection with each other, and their respective places in
the ordered symmetry of the whole scene. You perceive why there is
here a height and there a hollow; you note what has given the
ridges and vales their dominant forms and directions; you detect the
causes that have spread out a meadow in one place and raised up a
hill in another.
Above and beyond all questions as to the connection and origin of its
several parts, the landscape appeals vividly to your imagination. You
know that it has not always worn the aspect which it presents to-
day. You have observed in these ridges proofs that the sea once
covered their site. You have seen the remains of long extinct shells,
fishes, and reptiles that have been disinterred from the mud and silt
left behind by the vanished waters. You have found evidence that
not once only, but again and again, after vast lapses of time and
many successive revolutions, the land has sunk beneath the ocean
and has once more emerged. You have been shown traces of
underground commotion, and you can point to places where, over
central England, volcanoes were once active. You have learnt that
the various elements of the landscape have thus been gradually put
together during successive ages, and that the slow processes,
whereby the characteristic forms of the ground have been carved
out, are still in progress under your eye.
While, therefore, you are keenly alive to the present beauty of the
scene, it speaks to you at every turn of the past. Each feature recalls
some incident in the strange primeval history that has been
transacted here. The succession of contrasts between what is now
and what has been fills you with wonder and delight. You feel as if a
new sense had been given to you, and that with its aid your
appreciation of scenery has been enlarged and deepened to a
marvellous degree.
And so too is it with your relation to all the other departments of
Nature. The movements of the clouds, the fall of rain, the flow of
brook and river, the changes of the seasons, the succession of calm
and storm, do not pass before your eyes now as they once did.
While they minister to the joy of life, they speak to you of that all-
embracing system of process and law that governs the world. The
wayside flower is no longer to your eyes merely a thing of beauty.
You have found it to be that and far more—an exquisite organism in
which the several parts are admirably designed to promote the
growth of the plant and to perpetuate the life of the species. Every
insect and bird is now to you an embodiment of the mystery of life.
The forces of Nature, once so dark and so dreaded, are now seen by
you to be intelligible, orderly and capable of adaptation to the
purposes of man. In the physical and chemical laboratories you have
been brought into personal contact with these forces, and have
learnt to direct their operations, as you have watched the manifold
effects of energy upon the infinite varieties of matter.
When you have completed your course of study and leave this
College, crowned, I hope, with academic distinction, there will be
your future career in life to choose and follow. A small number
among you may, perhaps, be so circumstanced as to be able to
devote yourselves entirely to original scientific research, selecting
such branches of inquiry as may have specially interested you here,
and giving up your whole time and energy to investigation. A much
larger number will, no doubt, enter professions where a scientific
training can be turned to practical account, and you may become
engineers, chemists, or medical men. But in the struggle for
existence, which every year grows keener amongst us, these
professions are more and more crowded, so that a large proportion
of your ranks may not succeed in finding places there, and may in
the end be pushed into walks in life where there may be little or no
opportunity for making much practical use of the knowledge in
science which you have gained here. To those who may ultimately
be thus situated it will always be of advantage to have had the
mental training given in this Institution, and it will probably be your
own fault if, even under unfavourable conditions, you do not find,
from time to time, chances of turning your scientific acquirements to
account. Your indebtedness to your professors demands that you
shall make the effort, and, for the credit of the College, you are
bound to do your best.
Among the mental habits which your education in science has
helped to foster, there are a few which I would specially commend to
your attention as worthy of your most sedulous care all through life.
In the first place I would put Accuracy. You have learnt in the
laboratory how absolutely essential this condition is for scientific
investigation. We are all supposed to make the ascertainment of the
truth our chief aim, but we do not all take the same trouble to attain
it. Accuracy involves labour, and every man is not gifted with an
infinite capacity for taking pains. Inexactness of observation is sure
sooner or later to be detected, and to be visited on the head of the
man who commits it. If his observations are incorrect, the
conclusions he has drawn from them may be vitiated. Thus all the
toil he has endured in a research may be rendered of no avail, and
the reputation he might have gained is not only lost but replaced by
discredit. It is quite true that absolute accuracy is often unattainable;
you can only approach it. But the greater the exertion you make to
reach it, the greater will be the success of your investigations. The
effort after accuracy will be transferred from your scientific work to
your every-day life and become a habit of mind, advantageous both
to yourselves and to society at large.
In the next place, I would set Thoroughness, which is closely akin to
accuracy. Again, your training here has shown you how needful it is
in scientific research to adopt thorough and exhaustive methods of
procedure. The conditions to be taken into account are so numerous
and complex, the possible combinations so manifold, before a
satisfactory conclusion can be reached. A laborious collection of facts
must be made. Each supposed fact must be sifted out and weighed.
The evidence must be gone over again and yet again, each link in its
chain being scrupulously tested. The deduction to which the
evidence may seem to point must be closely and impartially
scrutinised, every other conceivable explanation of the facts being
frankly and fully considered. Obviously the man whose education has
inured him to the cultivation of a mental habit of this kind is
admirably equipped for success in any walk in life which he may be
called upon to enter. The accuracy and thoroughness which you
have learnt to appreciate and practise at College must never be
dropped in later years. Carry them with you as watchwords, and
make them characteristic of all your undertakings.
In the third place, we may take Breadth. At the outset of your
scientific education you were doubtless profoundly impressed by the
multiplicity of detail which met your eye in every department of
natural knowledge. When you entered upon the study of one of
these departments, you felt, perhaps, almost overpowered and
bewildered by the vast mass of facts with which you had to make
acquaintance. And yet as your training advanced, you gradually
came to see that the infinite variety of phenomena could all be
marshalled, according to definite laws, into groups and series. You
were led to look beyond the details to the great principles that
underlie them and bind them into a harmonious and organic whole.
With the help of a guiding system of classification, you were able to
see the connection between the separate facts, to arrange them
according to their mutual relations, and thus to ascend to the great
general laws under which the material world has been constructed.
With all attainable thoroughness in the mastery of detail, you have
been taught to combine a breadth of treatment which enables you
to find and keep a leading clue even through the midst of what
might seem a tangled web of confusion. There are some men who
cannot see the wood for the trees, and who consequently can never
attain great success in scientific investigation. Let it be your aim to
master fully the details of the tree, and yet to maintain such a
breadth of vision as will enable you to embrace the whole forest
within your ken. I need not enlarge on the practical value of this
mental habit in every-day life, nor point out the excellent manner in
which a scientific education tends to develop it.
In the fourth place, I would inculcate the habit of wide Reading in
scientific literature. Although the progress of science is now too rapid
for any man to keep pace with the advance of all its departments,
you should try to hold yourselves in touch with at least the main
results arrived at in other branches than your own; while, in that
branch itself, it should be your constant aim to watch every onward
step that is taken by others, and not to fall behind the van. This task
you will find to be no light one. Even were it confined to a survey of
the march of science in your own country, it would be arduous
enough to engage much of your time. But science belongs to no
country, and continues its onward advance all over the globe. If you
would keep yourselves informed regarding this progress in other
countries, as you are bound to do if you would not willingly be left
behind, you will need to follow the scientific literature of those
countries. You must be able to read at least French and German.
You will find in these languages a vast amount of scientific work
relating to your own department, and to this accumulated pile of
published material the journals of every month continue to add. In
many ways it is a misfortune that the literature of science increases
so fast; but we must take the evil with the good. Practice will
eventually enable you to form a shrewd judgment as to which
authors or papers you may skip without serious danger of losing any
valuable fact or useful suggestion.
In the fifth place, let me plead for the virtue of Patience. In a
scientific career we encounter two dangers, for the avoidance of
which patience is our best support and guide. When life is young
and enthusiasm is boundless; when from the details which we may
have laboriously gathered together we seem to catch sight of some
new fact or principle, some addition of more or less importance to
the sum of human knowledge, there may come upon us the eager
desire to make our discovery known. We may long to be allowed to
add our own little stone to the growing temple of science. We may
think of the pride with which we should see our names enrolled
among those of the illustrious builders by whom this temple has
been slowly reared since the infancy of mankind. So we commit our
observations to writing, and send them for publication. Eventually
we obtain the deep gratification of appearing in print among well-
known authors in science. Far be it from me to condemn this natural
desire for publicity. But, as your experience grows, you will probably
come to agree with me that if the desire were more frequently and
energetically curbed, scientific literature would gain much thereby.
There is amongst us far too much hurry in publication. We are so
afraid lest our observations or deductions should be forestalled—so
anxious not to lose our claim to priority, that we rush before the
world, often with a half-finished performance, which must be
corrected, supplemented, or cancelled by some later communication.
It is this feverish haste which is largely answerable for the mass of
jejune, ill-digested, and erroneous matter that cumbers the pages of
modern scientific journals. Here it is that you specially need
patience. Before you venture to publish anything, take the utmost
pains to satisfy yourselves that it is true, that it is new, and that it is
worth putting into print. And be assured that this reticence, while it
is a kindness to the literature of science, will most certainly bring
with it its own reward to yourselves. It will increase your confidence,
and make your ultimate contributions more exact in their facts as
well as more accurate and convincing in their argument.
The other danger to which I referred as demanding patience is of an
opposite kind. As we advance in our career, and the facts of our
investigations accumulate around us, there will come times of
depression when we seem lost in a labyrinth of detail out of which
no path appears to be discoverable. We have, perhaps, groped our
way through this maze, following now one clue, now another, that
seemed to promise some outlet to the light. But the darkness has
only closed around us the deeper, and we feel inclined to abandon
the research as one in which success is, for us at least, unattainable.
When this blankness of despair shall come upon you, take courage
under it, by remembering that a patient study of any department of
nature is never labour thrown away. Every accurate observation you
have made, every new fact you have established, is a gain to
science. You may not for a time see the meaning of these
observations, nor the connection of these facts. But their meaning
and connection are sure in the end to be made out. You have gone
through the labour necessary for the ascertainment of truth, and if
you patiently and watchfully bide your time, the discovery of the
truth itself may reward your endurance and your toil.
It is by failures as well as by successes that the true ideal of the
man of science is reached. The task allotted to him in life is one of
the noblest that can be undertaken. It is his to penetrate into the
secrets of Nature, to push back the circumference of darkness that
surrounds us, to disclose ever more and more of the limitless beauty,
harmonious order and imperious law that extend throughout the
universe. And while he thus enlarges our knowledge, he shows us
also how Nature may be made to minister in an ever-augmenting
multiplicity of ways to the service of humanity. It is to him and his
conquests that the material progress of our race is mainly due. If he
were content merely to look back over the realms which he has
subdued, he might well indulge in jubilant feelings, for his peaceful
victories have done more for the enlightenment and progress of
mankind than were ever achieved by the triumphs of war. But his
eye is turned rather to the future than to the past. In front of him
rises the wall of darkness that shrouds from him the still unknown.
What he has painfully accomplished seems to him but little in
comparison with the infinite possibilities that lie beyond. And so he
presses onward, not self-satisfied and exultant, but rather humbled
and reverential, yet full of hope and courage for the work of further
conquest that lies before him.
Such is the task in which you may be called to share. When you
have entered upon it and have learnt something of its trials and
responsibilities, as well as of its joys and rewards, you will look back
with gratitude to the training you received within the walls of this
College. You will feel even more keenly than you do now how much
you owe to the patient kindness and educational skill of your
teachers and to the healthy stimulus of contact and competition with
your class-fellows. Most heartily do I wish you success in your
several careers. Following up the paths which have been opened for
you here, may it be yours to enlarge still further the circle of light
which science has gained, and to wrest from Nature new aids for the
service of mankind.
FOOTNOTE:
[102] An address to the students of Mason University College,
Birmingham, at the opening of the session, on Tuesday, 4th October,
1898.
X
The Roman Campagna[103]
Among the capitals of Europe Rome has long had the unique
distinction of standing in the midst of a wide solitude. Other cities in
their outward growth have incorporated village after village and
hamlet after hamlet. As their streets and squares merge insensibly
into a succession of villas and gardens, cottages and hedgerows,
followed by the farms and fields of the open country, so the noise
and stir of causeway and pavement gradually give way to the quieter
sounds of rural life. But with the Eternal City this normal
arrangement does not hold good. For sixteen centuries she has kept
herself within her ancient walls which still surround her with their
picturesque continuity of rampart and tower. Inside these barriers
we still encounter, by day and by night, the 'fumum et opes,
strepitumque Romæ.' But outside the gates we find ourselves on a
lonely prairie that sweeps in endless grassy, almost treeless,
undulations up to the base of the, distant hills. The main roads,
indeed, that radiate from the city, are bordered on either side, for
the first mile or two, with a strip of suburban osterie, booths and
shops, varied here and there, perhaps, by a villa and its grounds.
But these fringes of habitation are too narrow and short, and cling
too closely to their respective arteries of traffic, seriously to affect
the solitariness which broods over the intervening landscape up to
the very foot of the walls.
This surrounding district, known as the Roman Campagna,
possesses a singular fascination, which has been often and
enthusiastically described. The endless and exquisite variety of form
and colour presented by the plain and its boundary of distant
mountains, together with the changing effects of weather and
season on such a groundwork, would of themselves furnish ample
subjects for admiration. But the influence of this natural beauty is
vastly enhanced by the strange and solemn loneliness of a scene
which living man seems to have almost utterly forsaken, leaving
behind him only memories of a storied past which are awakened at
every turn by roofless walls of long-abandoned farm-buildings,
mouldering ruins of medieval towers, fragments of imperial
aqueducts, decayed substructures of ancient villas and the grass-
grown sites of ancient cities whose names are forever linked with
the early struggles of Rome. European travel offers few more
instructive experiences than may be gained by wandering at will
over that rolling sward, carpeted with spring-flowers, but silent save
for the song of the larks overhead and the rustle of the breeze
among the weeds below; when the mountainous wall of the Sabine
chain from Soracte round to the Alban Hills gleams under the soft
Italian sky with the iridescence of an opal, and when the
imagination, attuned to the human associations of the landscape,
recalls with eager interest, some of the incidents in the marvellous
succession of historical events that have been transacted here. If,
besides being keenly alive to all the ordinary sources of attraction,
the visitor can look below the surface, he may gain a vast increase
to his interest in the ground by finding there intelligible memorials of
prehistoric scenes, and learning from them by what slow steps the
platform was framed on which Rome rose and flourished and fell. He
will thus discover that, as befitted the city which was to rule the
world, its birthplace was fashioned by the co-operation of the
grandest forces in Nature; that, on the one hand, subterranean
upheaval and stupendous volcanic activity combined to build up the
plain and hills of the Campagna, and that on the other, the universal
and ceaseless working of the subaërial agencies has carved it into
that varied topography which is typified in the isolation of the Seven
Hills of Rome and of the many crags and ridges that served as sites
for the towns of Latium and Etruria.
Seen from the crest of the Vatican ridge, the Roman Campagna
stretches as a plain from the base of the steep front of the
Apennines to the coast of the Mediterranean—a distance of some
thirty English miles. To the north it is bounded by the ridge of
Soracte and the nearer heights of Bracciano and Tolfa. To the south
it runs up to the base of the Alban Hills and sweeps between them
and the sea onwards till it merges into the flat and pestilential
Maremma. Even from such a commanding point of view, however,
this apparent plain can be seen to be far from having an even
surface. Not only does it slope upward and inland from the coast,
until, where it abuts against the foot of the hills, it has reached
heights of 600 or 800 feet, but when looked at more closely it
presents a somewhat diversified topography. Though the heights
and hollows never vary much from the general average level, they
include not only smooth, grassy ridges but also low cliffs that run
along the declivities, rising sometimes into craggy scarps; likewise
narrow gullies and ravines with steep walls, as well as wide, open,
smooth-sided valleys. The surface is for the most part clothed with
pasture; yet the brown and yellow rock that forms most of the plain
protrudes in many places, not only where it has been laid bare by
natural causes, but where it has been artificially cut away or scooped
into subterranean recesses.
Such a varied form of ground was eminently favourable for human
settlement. The earliest races could find or make rock-shelters
almost anywhere. The fertility of the soil afforded to their successors
good pasturage and fields for tillage, while the hillocks, girt round
with cliffs, and the flat-topped ridges, shelving precipitously to lower
ground, offered excellent sites for fortification and defence. Owing to
the porous nature of the ground, much of the rain sinks at once
beneath the surface, instead of flowing off in brooks. Hence many of
the valleys are usually dry, unless in wet seasons. But water can be
obtained all over the district by sinking wells, and that this source of
supply has been in use from a remote period and to an almost
incredible extent, has been strikingly shown by the recent
excavations beneath the pavements of the Roman Forum. It would
be difficult to find anywhere a form of ground which shows better
the influence of geological structure upon the early fortunes of a
people.
With some portion of what has been written by Italian and other
observers on this district, I have made myself acquainted, and
having had the advantage of tracing on the ground the records of
the successive stages through which the Campagna has come to be
what it is, I propose in the following pages to give an outline of this
prehistoric chronicle. I should like to attempt to present to the
reader such a picture of the whole sequence of events as has vividly
impressed itself on my own mind, avoiding, as far as may be
practicable, technicalities and details. Three distinct successive
phases can be recognised in this sequence. First came a time when
the waves of the Mediterranean broke against the base of the steep
front of the Apennines, and when all the low grounds around Rome,
and for leagues to the north and south, lay sunk many fathoms
deep. Next followed the chief period in the building up of the
Campagna. A host of volcanoes rose along the sea-floor on the west
side of Central Italy, when ashes, dust and stones were thrown out
in such quantity and for so prolonged a time as to strew over the
sea-bottom a mass of material several hundred feet thick. Partly
from this accumulation and partly by an upheaval of the whole
region of Italy, the sea-bottom with its volcanic cones was raised up
as a strip of low land bordering the high grounds of the interior, and
a few huge volcanoes were subsequently piled up to a height of
several thousand feet. Lastly succeeded the epoch in which the
volcanic platform, no longer increased by fresh eruptions, was
carved by subaërial agencies into the topography which it presents
to-day. Each of these three phases has had its history legibly graven
in the rocky framework of the Campagna, and some of its memorials
may be recognised even within the walls of Rome.
I. The records of the first period lie beneath the Seven Hills on the
left bank of the Tiber, but rise high above the plain on the right
bank, where they form the chain of heights that culminates in Monte
Mario, 455 feet above the level of the Mediterranean. These records,
forming the series known to geologists by the name of Pliocene,
consist of a lower bluish-grey clay and an upper group of yellow
sands and gravels, the whole being probably a good deal more than
450 feet thick. The clay (Plaisancian) has been found to extend, with
a remarkable persistence of aspect and contents, from the north to
the south of Italy. It has yielded several hundred species of mollusks
and other organisms, which show it to be a thoroughly marine silt,
deposited on the bottom of a sea of some little depth.
At the time of the deposition of this clay the mountainous backbone
of the country had already undergone the greater part of that
prolonged series of terrestrial disturbances whereby solid sheets of
limestone were folded, crushed, ruptured and driven together into a
series of parallel ridges, having a general trend from northwest to
southeast, and forming the nucleus of what is now the chain of the
Apennines. At the epoch when our story begins, however, this chain
was still incomplete, and probably a good deal lower, as well as
narrower, than subsequent upheaval has made it. Instead of
forming, as it now does, the lofty axis of a broad peninsula, it then
consisted of a series of parallel islands and islets, separated from
each other by long and often narrow sounds or channels. In general
appearance it must have resembled parts of the coast of Dalmatia
on the opposite side of the Adriatic. Many of the more prominent
mountains of the region stood then entirely surrounded by the sea.
The Sabine Hills, for example, rose as an island, while Soracte
formed another island farther west. A long strait ran northwards by
Rocca Sinibalda and Rieti to Terni; another of narrower width
stretched towards Perugia and formed then the estuary of the Tiber.
All the Roman Campagna, together with the low grounds on both
sides of the Apennines, was at that time submerged under the sea.
The great band of volcanic heights and cones that extends from
Aquapendente to the Bay of Naples had not yet come into existence,
but over their site the waters of the Mediterranean lay many fathoms
deep.
The climate of Europe had for ages been of so genial a character
that sub-tropical types of life had long flourished both in the sea and
on the land of this quarter of the globe. But in the period of
geological history with which we are now concerned, a remarkable
diminution of temperature was in progress all over the Northern
hemisphere. As the warmth grew less, the distribution of plants and
animals came to be seriously affected. Many southern forms were
extirpated from districts which they had long inhabited, while in their
place came migrations of northern species. This modification made
itself felt both on terrestrial and marine life. Thus in the Atlantic
Ocean a number of northern shells, which had pushed their way
southward even as far as the coasts of the Spanish peninsula, were
able to enter the Mediterranean when a connection was opened
between that inland sea and the main ocean outside. It is interesting
to note that among the shells introduced into the Mediterranean
basin at this time were Astarte borealis, Buccinum groenlandicum,
Cyprina islandica, Panopaea norvegica and others whose
appellations sufficiently indicate the latitudes where they now find
their chief home. On the land, too, such quadrupeds as the reindeer
and the now extinct mammoth wandered from the plains of Lapland
and Russia to the shores of Italy. Eventually when the refrigeration
gave way to the return of more genial conditions, the northern
invaders died out. They have no living descendants now in the south
of Europe.
The grey clay which forms the lower division of the Roman Pliocene
series is best seen on the right side of the Tiber where it forms the
lower half of the ridge of the Vatican and Monte Mario, and where
for more than five-and-twenty centuries it has supplied material for
making the bricks of which ancient and modern Rome has been so
largely constructed. The same clay has been found at lower levels on
the opposite side of the river. On the flanks of the Pincian Hill, at the
Piazza di Spagna, it was exposed about twelve years ago in some
excavations connected with the adjustment of the aqueduct of the
Aqua Vergine. Only a few feet below the crowded pavements of that
busy thoroughfare lies the old sea-bottom with its abundant relics of
marine life. In borings for water which have been made around
Rome the same deposit has been ascertained to extend below the
later volcanic formations of the Campagna. Thus at the Appia Antica
fort, near the tomb of Cecilia Metella, the clay was entered at a
depth of about 300 feet from the surface or eighty feet below the
level of the sea. As the upper limit of the clay at Monte Mario lies
about 200 feet above sea level and the distance from that outcrop to
the fort in question is about six miles, it might be inferred that there
is here evidence of a southeasterly dip of the deposit amounting to
forty-six feet in a mile. But before any inference of this kind can be
accepted, some considerations should be taken into account, of the
highest interest and importance in relation to the early history both
of the Campagna and of the Apennine chain.
Before dealing with these questions, however, let us complete the
examination of the marine deposits of Monte Mario. In the valuable
section disclosed on the slopes of that hill, the grey clay is seen to
become sandy towards the top and to include seams of sand which
rapidly increase in thickness, until, with their included layers of
gravel, they form nearly the whole of the upper part of the ridge.
These yellow sands, generally distinguished by the name of 'Astian,'
have been traced, like the clay below them, along nearly the whole
length of the Italian peninsula. The striking contrast which, in the
nature of their material, they present to the clay, plainly points to a
great alteration of the geography of the coasts at the time when
they were deposited. The sea must have become rapidly shallower.
Not improbably one of the uplifts now took place, whereby the land
has been raised at intervals to its present height. The steepness of
the descent of the mountains into the sea might not lead at once to
much gain of land along the western coast; but instead of the grey
mud that had previously accumulated in the deeper water, coarser
sediment, brought down by numerous torrents from the hills, now
spread out over the sea-bottom. Such a transition from the finest silt
to gravel and sand could not fail to affect the distribution of the
animals living along the coast-line. Accordingly, on comparing the
fossils in the sands with those of the clay, we see that while some of
the shells, especially the larger and more massive kinds, continued
to flourish in abundance; others, which found their most congenial
haunts in tranquil waters, were driven further out to sea.
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