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Title: Makers of Electricity

Author: Brother Potamian
James J. Walsh

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAKERS OF
ELECTRICITY ***

Makers of Electricity
BY

BROTHER POTAMIAN, F.S.C., D.Sc., Lond.
PROFESSOR OF PHYSICS IN MANHATTAN COLLEGE, N. Y.

AND

JAMES J. WALSH, M. D., Ph.D., LL.D.
DEAN AND PROFESSOR OF NERVOUS DISEASES AND OF THE HISTORY OF MEDICINE
AT FORDHAM UNIVERSITY SCHOOL OF MEDICINE; PROFESSOR OF PHYSIOLOGICAL
PSYCHOLOGY AT THE CATHEDRAL COLLEGE, NEW YORK

FORDHAM UNIVERSITY PRESS
NEW YORK
1909

Copyright, 1909,
Fordham University Press,
New York.

PREFACE
This volume represents an effort in the direction of what may be called the
biographical history of electricity. The controlling idea in its preparation
was to provide brief yet reasonably complete sketches of the lives of the
great pioneer workers in electricity, the ground-breaking investigators who
went distinctly beyond the bounds of what was known before their time, not
merely to add a fringe of information to previous knowledge, but to make it
easy for succeeding generations to reach conclusions in electrical science
that would have been quite impossible until their revealing work was done.
The lives of these men are not only interesting as scientific history, but
especially as human documents, showing the sort of men who are likely to
make great advances in science and, above all, demonstrating what the
outlook of such original thinkers was on all the great problems of the world
around us.
In recent times, many people have come to accept the impression that
modern science leads to such an exclusive occupation with things material,
that scientists almost inevitably lose sight of the deeper significance of the
world of mystery in which humanity finds itself placed on this planet. The
lives of these great pioneers in electricity, however, do not lend the slightest
evidence in confirmation of any such impression. They were all of them
firm believers in the existence of Providence, of a Creator, of man's
responsibility for his acts to that Creator, and of a hereafter of reward and
punishment where the sanction of responsibility shall be fulfilled. Besides,
they were men characterized by some of the best qualities in human nature.
Their fellows liked them for their unselfishness, for their readiness to help
others, for their devotedness to their work and to their duties as teachers,
citizens and patriots. Almost without exception, they were as far above the
average of mankind in their personal ethics as they were in their intellectual
qualities.
The lives of such men, who were inspiring forces in their day, are as
illuminating as they are instructive and encouraging. Perhaps never more
than now do we need such inspiration and illumination to lift life to a higher

plane of purpose and accomplishment, than that to which it is so prone to
sink when material interests attract almost exclusive attention.

CONTENTS
Peregrinus and Columbus 1
Norman and Gilbert 29
Franklin and some contemporaries 68
Galvani, discoverer of animal electricity 133
Volta, the founder of electrical science 162
Coulomb 188
Hans Christian Oersted 205
André Marie Ampère 232
Ohm, the founder of mathematical electricity 258
Faraday 299
Clerk Maxwell 334
Lord Kelvin 361

ILLUSTRATIONS
The double pivoted needle of Petrus Peregrinus 17
First pivoted compass, Peregrinus, 1269 19
Magnetic Declination at New York 21
" " " San Francisco 21
" " in London, in 1580 and 1907 23
First dip-circle, invented by Norman in 1576 29
Norman's illustration of magnetic dip 31
Gilbert's orb of virtue, 1600 32
Behavior of compass-needle on a terrella or spherical lodestone 44
Gilbert's "versorium" or electroscope 69
Gordon's electric chimes, 1745 75
Modern form of Leyden jar, with movable coatings 87
Three coated panes in series 89
" panes in parallel 89
" jars in parallel 90
" jars in cascade 90
Discharge by alternate contacts 94
Tassel of long threads or light strips of paper 101
Procopius Divisch (1696-1765) 108
The Divisch lightning conductor (1754) 111
Set of pointed rods 112
Galvani (portrait) opposite page 133
Volta " " " 162
Oersted " " " 205
The Magnetic effect of an electric current 209
Magnetic field surrounding a conductor carrying a current 212
Magnetic whirl surrounding a wire through which a current is
passing 213

Ampère's molecular currents 214
The "sympathetic telegraph" from Cabeo's Philosophia
Magnetica, 1629 216
The "sympathetic telegraph" from Turner's Ars Notoria, 1657 218
Ampère (portrait) opposite page 232
Faraday " " " 299
Clerk Maxwell (portrait) opposite page 334
Lord Kelvin " " " 361

MAKERS OF ELECTRICITY.

CHAPTER I.
Peregrinus and Columbus.
The ancients laid down the laws of literary form in prose as well as in verse,
and bequeathed to posterity works which still serve as models of
excellence. Their poets and historians continue to be read for the sake of the
narrative and beauty of the style; their philosophers for breadth and depth of
thought; and their orators for judicious analysis and impassioned eloquence.
In the exact sciences, too, the ancients were conspicuous leaders by reason
of the number and magnitude of the discoveries which they made. You have
only to think of Euclid and his "Elements," of Apollonius and his Conics, of
Eratosthenes and his determination of the earth's circumference, of
Archimedes and his mensuration of the sphere, and of the inscription on
Plato's Academy, Let none ignorant of geometry enter my door, to realize
the fondness of the Greek mind for abstract truth and its suppleness and
ingenuity in mathematical investigation.
But the sciences of observation did not advance with equal pace; nor was
this to be expected, as time is an essential element in experimentation and
in the collection of data, both of which are necessary for the framing of
theories in explanation of natural phenomena.
The slowness of advance is well seen in the development of the twin
subjects of electricity and magnetism. As to the lodestone, with which we
are concerned at present, the attractive property was the only one known to
ancient philosophy for a period of six hundred years, from the time of
Thales to the age of the Cæsars, when Lucretius wrote on the nature of
things in Latin verse.
Lucretius records the scant magnetic knowledge of his predecessors and
then proceeds to unfold a theory of his own to account for the phenomena
of the wonder-working stone. Book VI. of "De Natura Rerum" contains his
speculations anent the magnet, together with certain observations which
show that the poet was not only a thinker, but somewhat of an experimenter
as well. Thus he recognizes magnetic repulsion when he says: "It happens,

too, at times that the substance of the iron recedes from the stone as if
accustomed to start back from it, and by turns to follow it."
This recognition of the repelling property of the lodestone is immediately
followed by the description of an experiment which is frequently referred to
in works on magnetic philosophy. It reads: "Thus have I seen raspings of
iron, lying in brazen vessels, thrown into agitation and start up when the
magnet was moved beneath"; or metrically,

And oft in brazen vessels may we mark
Ringlets of Samothrace, or fragments fine
Struck from the valid iron bounding high
When close below, the magnet points its powers.

This experiment, seen and recorded by Lucretius, is of special interest to the
student of magnetic history because of the use which is made of iron filings
and also because it has led certain writers to credit the poet with a
knowledge of what is known to-day by the various names of magnetic
figures, magnetic curves, magnetic spectrum. We do not, however, share
this view, because we see no adequate resemblance between the positions
assumed by the bristling particles of iron in the one case, as described by
the Roman poet, and the continuous symmetrical curves of our laboratories
in the other. If Lucretius noticed such curves in his brazen vessels, he does
not say so; nor does the meagre description of magnetic phenomena given
in Book VI. warrant us in assuming that he did.
The use of iron filings to map out the entire field of force that surrounds a
magnet was unknown to classical antiquity; it was not known to Peregrinus
or Roger Bacon in the thirteenth century or even to Gilbert in the sixteenth.
The credit for reviving the use of filings and employing them to show the
direction of the resultant force at any point in the neighborhood of a
magnet, belongs to Cabeo, an Italian Jesuit, who described and illustrated it
in his "Philosophia Magnetica," published at Ferrara in the year 1629. On
page 316 of that celebrated work will be found a figure, the first of the kind,
showing the position taken by the filings when plentifully sifted over a
lodestone: thick tufts at the polar ends with curved lines in the other parts of
the field.

The Samothracian rings mentioned in the passage quoted above were light,
hollow rings of iron which, for the amusement of the crowd, the jugglers of
the times held suspended one from the other by the power of a lodestone.
Writing of the lodestone, Lucretius says:

Its viewless, potent virtues men surprise,
Its strange effects, they view with wond'ring eyes,
When without aid of hinges, links or springs
A pendent chain we hold of steely rings.
Dropt from the stone—the stone the binding source—
Ring cleaves to ring and owns magnetic force;
Those held above, the ones below maintain;
Circle 'neath circle downward draws in vain
Whilst free in air disports the oscillating chain.

Though the Roman poet was acquainted with two of the leading properties
of the lodestone, viz., attraction and repulsion, there is nothing in the lines
quoted above or in any other lines of his great didactic poem to indicate that
he was aware of the remarkable difference which there is between one end
of a lodestone and the other. The polarity of the magnet, as we term it, was
unknown to him and remained unknown for a period of 1200 years.
During that long period nothing of importance was added to the magnetic
lore of the world. True, a few fables were dug out of the tomes of ancient
writers which gained credence and popularity, partly by reason of the
fondness of the human mind for the marvelous, and partly also by reason of
the reputation of the authors who stood sponsors for them.
Pliny (23-79 A. D.) devotes several pages of his "Natural History" to the
nature and geographical distribution of various kinds of lodestones, one of
which was said to repel iron just as the normal lodestone attracts it.
Needless to say that the mineral kingdom does not hold such a stone,
although Pliny calls it theamedes and says that it was found in Ethiopia.
Pliny is responsible for another myth which found favor with subsequent
writers for a long time, when he says that a certain architect intended to
place a mass of magnetite in the vault of an Alexandrian temple for the
purpose of holding an iron statue of Queen Arsinoe suspended in mid-air.
Of like fabulous character is the oft-repeated story about Mahomet, that an

iron sarcophagus containing his remains was suspended by means of the
lodestone between the roof of the temple at Mecca and the ground.
As a matter of fact, Mahomet died at Medina and was buried there in the
ordinary manner, so that the story as currently told of the suspension of his
coffin in the "Holy City" of Mecca, contains a twofold error, one of place
and the other of position. By a recent (1908) imperial irade of the Sultan of
Turkey, the tomb is lit up by electric light in a manner that is considered
worthy of the "Prophet of Islam."
Four centuries after Pliny, Claudian, the last of the Latin poets as he is
styled, wrote an idyl of fifty-seven lines on the magnet, which contains
nothing but poetic generalities. St. Ambrose (340-397) and Palladius (368-
430), writing on the Brahmans of India, tell how certain magnetic
mountains were said to draw iron nails from passing ships and how wooden
pegs were substituted for nails in vessels going to Taprobane, the modern
Ceylon. St. Augustine (354-430) records in his "De Civitate Dei" the
wonder which he felt in seeing scraps of iron contained in a silver dish
follow every movement of a lodestone held underneath.
With time, the legendary literature of the magnet became abundant and in
some respects amusing. Thus we read of the "flesh" magnet endowed with
the extraordinary power of adhering to the skin and even of drawing the
heart out of a man; the "gold" magnet which would attract particles of the
precious metal from an admixture of sand; the "white" magnet used as a
philter; magnetic unguents of various kinds, one of which, when smeared
over a bald head, would make the hair grow; magnetic plasters for the relief
of headache; magnetic applications to ease toothaches and dispel
melancholy; magnetic nostrums to cure the dropsy, to quell disputes and
even reconcile husband and wife. No less fictitious was the pernicious
effect on the lodestone attributed in the early days of the mariner's compass
to onions and garlic; and yet, so deeply rooted was the belief in this figment
that sailors, while steering by the compass, were forbidden the use of these
vegetables lest by their breath they might intoxicate the "index of the pole"
and turn it away from its true pointing. More reasonable than this
prohibition was the maritime legislation of certain northern countries for the
protection of the lodestone on shipboard. According to this penal code, a
sailor found guilty of tampering with the lodestone used for stroking the

needles, was to have the guilty hand held to a mast of the ship by a dagger
thrust through it until, by tearing the flesh away, he wrenched himself free.
It was only at the time of the Crusades that people in Europe began to
recognize the directive property of the magnet, in virtue of which a freely
suspended compass-needle takes up a definite position relatively to the
north-and-south line, property which is serviceable to the traveler on land
and supremely useful to the navigator on sea.
It is commonly said that the compass was introduced into Europe by the
returning Crusaders, who heard of it from their Mussulman foes. These, in
turn, derived their knowledge from the Chinese, who are credited with its
use on sea as far back as the third century of our era.[1]
Among the earliest references to the sailing compass is that of the trouvère
Guyot de Provins,[2] who wrote, about the year 1208, a satirical poem of
three thousand lines, in which the following passage occurs:

The mariners employ an art which cannot deceive.
An ugly stone and brown,
To which iron joins itself willingly
They have; after applying a needle to it,
They lay the latter on a straw
And put it simply in the water
Where the straw makes it float.
Then the point turns direct.
To the star with such certainty
That no man will ever doubt it,
Nor will it ever go wrong.
When the sea is dark and hazy,
That one sees neither star nor moon,
Then they put a light by the needle
And have no fear of losing their way.
The point turns towards the star;
And the mariners are taught
To follow the right way.
It is an art which cannot fail.

The author was a caustic and fearless critic, who lashed with equal freedom
the clergy and laity, nobles and princes, and even the reigning pontiff
himself, all of whom should be for their subjects, according to the satirist,
what the pole-star is for mariners—a beacon to guide them over the stormy
sea of life.
Guyot traveled extensively in his early years, but later in life retired from a
world which he despised, and ended his days in the peaceful seclusion of
the Benedictine Abbey of Cluny.
An interesting reference, of a similar nature to that of the minstrel Guyot, is
found in the Spanish code of laws known as Las Siete Partidas of Alfonso el
Sabio, begun in 1250 and completed in 1257. It says:
"And even as mariners guide themselves in the dark night by the needle,
which is their connecting medium between the lodestone and the star, and
thus shows them where they go alike in bad seasons as in good; so those
who are to give counsel to the king ought always to guide themselves by
justice, which is the connecting medium between God and the world, at all
times to give their guerdon to the good and their punishment to the Wicked,
to each according to his deserts."[3]
It will be necessary to give a few more extracts from writers of the first half
of the thirteenth century in order to show how little was known about the
magnet and how crude were the early appliances used in navigation when
Peregrinus appeared on the scene.
Cardinal Jacques de Vitry, who lived in the East for some years, wrote his
"History of the Orient" between the years 1215 and 1220, in which he says:
"An iron needle after touching the lodestone, turns towards the north star, so
that such a needle is necessary for those who navigate the seas."
This passage of the celebrated Cardinal seems to indicate that even then the
compass was widely known and commonly used in navigation.
Neckam (1157-1217), the Augustinian Abbot of Cirencester, wrote in his
"Utensilibus":
"Among the stores of a ship, there must be a needle mounted on a dart
which will oscillate and turn until the point looks to the north; the sailors

will thus know how to direct their course when the pole-star is concealed
through the troubled state of the atmosphere."
This passage is of historical value, as it contains what is probably the
earliest known reference to a mounted or pivoted compass. Prior to the
introduction of this mode of suspension, the needle was floated on a straw,
in a reed, on a piece of cork or a strip of wood, all of which modes of
flotation, when taken in conjunction with the unsteadiness of the vessel in
troubled waters, must have made observation difficult and unsatisfactory.
Brunetto Latini (1230-1294) makes a passing reference to the new magnetic
knowledge in his "Livres dou Tresor," which he wrote in 1260, during his
exile in Paris.
"The sailors navigate the seas," he says, "guided by the two stars called
tramontanes; and each of the two parts of the lodestone directs the end of
the needle that has touched it to the particular star to which that part of the
stone itself turns."
Though a statesman, orator and philosopher of ability, the preceptor of
Dante in Florence and guest of Friar Bacon in Oxford, Brunetto has not got
the philosophy of the needle quite right in this passage; for the part that has
been touched by the north end of a lodestone will acquire south polarity and
will not, therefore, turn towards the same "tramontane" as the end of the
stone by which it was touched.
Dante himself admitted the occult influence on the compass-needle that
emanates from the pole-star when he wrote:

"Out of the heart of one of the new lights
There came a voice that, needle to the star,
Made me appear in turning thitherward.
Paradise, XII., 28-30.

The next writer on the compass is Raymond Lully (1236-1315), who was
noted for his versatility, voluminous writings and extensive travels as well
as for the zeal which he displayed in converting the African Moors. Lully
writes in his "De Contemplatione": "As the needle after touching the
lodestone, turns to the north, so the mariners' needle directs them over the
sea."

This brings us to the last of our ante-Peregrinian writers who make definite
allusions to the use of the compass for navigation purposes, viz., Roger
Bacon, one of the glories of the thirteenth century as he would be of the
twentieth. It was at the request of his patron, Pope Clement IV., that Bacon
wrote his "Opus Majus," a work in which he treats of all the sciences and in
which he advocates the experimental method as the right one for the study
of natural phenomena and the only one that will serve to extend the
boundaries of human knowledge. In a section on the magnet, a clear
distinction is drawn between the physical properties of the two ends of a
lodestone; for "iron which has been touched by a lodestone," he says,
"follows the end by which it has been touched and turns away from the
other." Besides being a recognition of magnetic polarity, this is equivalent
to saying that unlike poles attract while like poles repel each other. Bacon
further remarks, by way of corroboration, that if a strip of iron be floated in
a basin, the end that was touched by the lodestone will follow the stone,
while the other end will flee from it as a lamb from the wolf. There is,
however, an earlier recognition known of the polarity of the lodestone; for
Abbot Neckam, fifty years before, called attention to the dual nature of the
physical action of the lodestone, attracting in one part (say) by sympathy
and repelling at the other by antipathy. It was the common belief in Bacon's
time and for centuries after, that the compass-needle was directed by the
pole-star, often called the sailor's star; but Bacon himself did not think so,
preferring to believe with Peregrinus, that it was controlled not by any one
star or by any one constellation, but by the entire celestial sphere. Other
contemporaries of his sought the cause of the directive property not in the
heavens at all, but in the earth itself, attributing it to hypothetical mines of
iron which, naturally enough, they located in regions situated near the pole.
Peregrinus records this opinion, which he criticises and rejects, saying in
Chapter X. that persons who hold such a doctrine "are ignorant of the fact
that in many different parts of the globe the lodestone is found; from which
it would follow that the needle should turn in different directions, according
to the locality, which is contrary to experience." A little further on he gives
his own view, saying: "It is evident from the foregoing chapters that we
must conclude that not only from the north pole (of the world), but also
from the south pole rather than from the veins of mines, virtue flows into
the poles of the lodestone."

Observations had to accumulate and much experimentation had to be done
before it was finally established that the cause of the directive property of
the magnet is not to be sought in the remote star depths at all, but in the
earth itself, the whole terrestrial globe acting as a colossal magnet, partly in
virtue of magnetic ore lying near the surface and partly also in virtue of
electrical currents, due to solar heat, circulating in the crust of the earth.
Of the early years of Pierre le Pélérin (Petrus Peregrinus), nothing is known
save that he was born of wealthy parents in Maricourt, a village of Picardy
in Northern France. From his academic title of Magister, we infer that he
received the best instruction available at the time, probably in the
University of Paris, which was then in the height of its fame. His reputation
for mathematical learning and mechanical skill crossed the Channel and
reached Friar Bacon in the University of Oxford. In his "Opus Tertium," the
Franciscan Friar records the esteem in which he held his Picard friend,
saying: "I know of only one person who deserves praise for his work in
experimental philosophy, because he does not care for the discourses of
men or their wordy warfare, but quietly and diligently pursues the works of
wisdom. Therefore it is that what others grope after blindly, as bats in the
evening twilight, this man contemplates in all their brilliancy because he is
master of experiment."
Continuing the appraisal of his Gallic friend's achievements, he says: "He
knows all natural sciences, whether pertaining to medicine and alchemy or
to matters celestial and terrestrial. He has worked diligently in the smelting
of ores and also in the working of minerals; he is thoroughly acquainted
with all sorts of arms and implements used in military service and in
hunting, besides which he is skilled in agriculture and also in the
measurement of lands. It is impossible to write a useful or correct treatise
on experimental philosophy without mentioning this man's name.
Moreover, he pursues knowledge for its own sake; for if he wished to obtain
royal favor, he could easily find sovereigns to honor and enrich him."
This is at once a beautiful tribute to the work and character of Peregrinus
and an emphatic recognition of the paramount importance of laboratory
methods for the advancement of learning. It is evident from such testimony,
coming as it does from an eminent member of the brotherhood of science,
that the world had not to wait for the advent of Chancellor Bacon or for the
publication of his Novum Organum in 1620, to learn how to undertake and

carry out a scientific research to a reliable issue. Call the method what you
will, inductive, deductive or both, the method advocated by the Franciscan
friar of the thirteenth century was the one followed at all times from
Archimedes to Peregrinus and from Peregrinus to Gilbert, none of whom
knew anything of Lord Bacon's pompous phrases and lofty commendation
of the inductive method of inquiry for the advancement of physical
knowledge. Be it said in passing, that Bacon, eminent as he undoubtedly
was in the realm of the higher philosophy, was, nevertheless, neither a
mathematician nor a man of science; he never put to a practical test the
rules which he laid down with such certitude and expectancy for the
guidance of physical inquiry. Moreover, there is not a single discovery in
science made during the three centuries that have elapsed since the
promulgation of the Baconian doctrine that can be ascribed to it; it has been
steadily ignored by men renowned in the world for their scientific
achievements and has been absolutely barren of results.
Peregrinus, on the other hand, does not stop to enumerate opinions, he does
not even quote Aristotle; but he experiments, observes, reasons and draws
conclusions which he puts to the further test of experiment before finally
accepting them. Then and then only does he rise from the order of the
physicist to that of the philosopher, from correlating facts and phenomena
to the discovery of the laws which govern them and the causes that produce
them. Furthermore, he was in no hurry to let the world know that he was
grinding lodestones one day and pivoting compass-needles the next; what
he cared for supremely was to discover facts, new phenomena, new
methods. Peregrinus was not an essayist, nor was he a man of mere book-
learning. He was a clear-headed thinker, a close and resourceful worker, a
man who preferred facts to phrases and observation to speculation.
At one period of his life, Master Peter applied his ingenuity to the solution
of a problem in practical optics, involving the construction of a burning-
mirror of large dimensions somewhat after the manner of Archimedes; but
though he spent three years on the enterprise and a correspondingly large
sum of money, we are not told by Friar Bacon, who mentions the fact, what
measure of success was achieved. Bacon, however, avails himself of the
occasion to insinuate a possible cause of failure, for he says that nothing is
difficult of accomplishment to his friend unless it be for want of means.

Centuries later, the French naturalist Buffon took up the same optical
problem, with a view to showing that the feat attributed to Archimedes
during the siege of Syracuse by the Romans was not impossible of
accomplishment. For this purpose, he used 168 small mirrors in the
construction of a large concave reflector, with which he ignited wood at a
distance of 150 feet and succeeded in melting lead at a distance of 140 feet.
As this was done in the winter time in Paris, it was concluded that it would
have been quite possible to set a Roman trireme on fire from a safe distance
by the concentrated energy of a Sicilian sun.
If Peregrinus was alert in mind, he appears to have been very active in
body. Prompted, no doubt, by the higher motives of Christian faith and
perhaps a little, too, by his fondness for travel and adventure, he took the
cross in early life and joined one of the crusading expeditions of the time.
That he went to the land of the paynim, we have no direct evidence; but we
infer the fact from the title of Peregrinus or Pilgrim, by which he is known,
his full name being Pierre le Pélérin de Maricourt, or, in the Latinized form,
Petrus Peregrinus de Maricourt.
In 1269, we find him engaged in a military expedition undertaken by
Charles Duke of Anjou, for the purpose of bringing back to his allegiance as
King of the Two Sicilies the revolted city of Lucera in Southern Italy. He
served in what might be called the engineering corps of the army, and was
engaged in fortifying the camp and constructing engines of defense and
attack. Unlike his companions in arms, Peregrinus does not allow himself to
be wholly absorbed with military duties, nor does he waste his leisure hours
in frivolous amusements; his mind is on higher things; he is engrossed with
a problem in practical mechanics which required him to devise a piece of
mechanism that would keep an armillary sphere in motion for a time.
In outlining the necessary mechanism, as he conceived it, he was gradually
led to consider the general and more fascinating problem of perpetual
motion itself, with the result that he waxed somewhat enthusiastic when he
thought that he saw the possibility of constructing an ever-turning wheel in
which the motive power would be magnetic attraction, the attraction of a
lodestone for a number of iron teeth arranged at equal distances on the
periphery of a wheel. The device looked well on paper, beyond which stage
it was not carried, perhaps for want of leisure, or more probably for want of
the necessary material and tools. Had Peregrinus been able to test his

theoretical views on the magnetic motor by actual experiment, the delusive
character of perpetual motion would have been recognized at an early epoch
in the world's history, and much time and money spared for more profitable
investment.
This very wheel, which was designed in the trenches before Lucera in 1269,
was probably the cause of the withering rebuke which Justin Huntly
McCarthy administers in his "History of the French Revolution," Vol. I., p.
256, where he says: "In the long record of rascaldom from Peregrinus to
Bamfylde Moore Carew, no single rascal stands forward with such
magnificent effrontery, such majestic impudence, such astonishing success
as Cagliostro." To say the least, this is a very serious slip of the pen on the
part of the Irish historian of the French Revolution, in which a scientific
pioneer of the first rank and a patriot of exalted type is mistaken for a
charlatan of the deepest dye.
Although Peregrinus puts the burden of constructing his wheel on others, he
does not appear to have considered it a vain conceit; for, in the beginning of
the last chapter of the "Epistola" he says: "In this chapter, I will make
known to you the construction of a wheel which, in a remarkable manner,
moves continuously." He is writing from Southern Italy to his friend Siger
(Syger, Sygerus), at home in Picardy; and that this friend may the better
comprehend the mechanism of the wheel, he proceeds to describe in a
systematic manner the various properties of the lodestone, all of which he
had investigated and many of which he had discovered. The "Epistola" of
Peregrinus is, therefore, the first treatise on the magnet ever written; it
stands as the first great landmark in magnetic philosophy.
The work is divided into two parts—the first contains ten chapters and the
latter three. "At your request," he says to his friend, "I will make known to
you in an unpolished narrative the undoubted though hidden virtue of the
lodestone, concerning which philosophers, up to the present time, give us
no information. Out of affection for you, I will write in simple style about
things entirely unknown to the ordinary individual."
After this declaration as to the original character of his work Peregrinus
proceeds: "You must know that whoever wishes to experiment should be
acquainted with the nature of things; he must also be skilled in

manipulation, in order that by
means of this stone, he may
produce those marvelous results."
The titles of the chapters will give
an idea of the comprehensive
character of the magnetic work
accomplished by the author and, at
the same time, will serve to show
how much was known about the
lodestone in the thirteenth century.
PART I.

Chap. I. Purpose of this work.
II. Qualifications of the
experimenter.
III. Characteristics of a good
lodestone.
IV. How to distinguish the
poles of a lodestone.
V. How to tell which pole is
Fig. 1 north and which south.
The Double Pivoted Needle of VI. How one lodestone
Petrus Peregrinus, A.D., 1269 attracts another.
VII. How iron touched by a
lodestone turns towards the
poles of the world.
VIII. How a lodestone attracts iron.
IX. Why the north pole of one lodestone attracts the south
pole of another, and vice versa.
X. An inquiry into the natural virtue of the lodestone.

PART II.

Chap. I. Construction of an instrument for measuring the azimuth
of the sun, the moon or any star when in
the horizon.

II. Construction of a better instrument for the same purpose.
III. The art of making a wheel of perpetual motion.
An attentive reading of the thirteen chapters of this treatise of 3,500 words
will show that:
(1) Peregrinus assigns a definite position to what he calls the poles of a
lodestone and gives practical directions for determining which is north and
which south.
(2) He establishes the two fundamental laws of magnetism, that like poles
repel and unlike poles attract each other.
(3) He demonstrates by experiment that every fragment of a lodestone is a
complete magnet, and shows how the fragments should be put together in
order to reproduce the polarity of the unbroken stone.
(4) He shows how a pole of a lodestone may neutralize a weaker one of the
same name and even reverse its polarity.
(5) He pivots a magnetized needle and surrounds it with a circle divided
into 360 degrees.
This brief summary shows the great advance made by the author on what
was known about the lodestone before his time. Most of the salient facts in
magnetism are clearly described and some of their applications pointed out.
So thorough and complete was this apprehension and explanation of
magnetic phenomena that nothing of importance was added to it for the
next three hundred years.

Fig. 2
First Pivoted Compass, Peregrinus, 1269
In the compass which Peregrinus devised for use in navigation, a light
magnetic needle was thrust through a slender vertical axis made of wood,

which axis also carried a pointer of brass or silver at right angles to the
needle. According to the belief of the time, the magnetic needle gave the
north and south points of the horizon, while the brass pointer determined
the east and west points. This compass, double pivoted be it noticed, was
provided with a graduated circle and a movable arm, having a pair of
upright pins at its extremities, which movable arm enabled the navigator to
determine the magnetic bearing of the sun, moon or any star at the time of
rising or setting. "By means of this instrument," the author says in Chap. II.,
"you can direct your course towards cities and islands and any other place
wherever you may wish to go, by land or by sea, provided you know the
latitude and longitude of the place which you want to reach."
The invention of the compass has been attributed to one Flavio Gioja, a
seafaring man of Amalfi, a flourishing maritime town in Southern Italy. If
we admit that Gioja was a real and not a fictitious person, we cannot,
however, admit the claim which is made by his countrymen, when they say
that he gave to the mariner the use of the compass in the year 1302; for we
have seen that Peregrinus distinctly states that his compass, described in
1269, could be relied upon for guidance by the traveler on land as well as
by the voyager on sea.
To Gioja may belong the merit of having simplified and improved the
compass. It is likely that he suspended the needle on one pivot instead of
the two used by Peregrinus, and that he added the compass-card with its
thirty-two divisions, attaching it to the needle itself, thereby adding
materially to the practical character of the compass as a nautical instrument.
On the other hand, a claim has been made for Peregrinus which cannot be
admitted. It was put forward by his itinerant countryman Thévenot, in the
seventeenth century, to the effect that the author of the "Epistola" was
acquainted with magnetic declination, in virtue of which a freely suspended
magnet does not point north and south, but cuts the geographical meridian
at a definite angle.
Writing in 1681, Thévenot says in his "Recueil de Voyages" that: "It was a
matter of general belief down to the present day, that the declination of the
magnetic needle was first observed sometime in the beginning of the last
(16th) century. I have found, however, that there was a declination of five

degrees in the year 1269, having found it recorded in a manuscript with the
title "Epistola Petri Adsigerii," etc.
The title of the manuscript seen by Thévenot is not, however, as he gives it
above, but "Epistola Petri ad Sygerium," etc., which is quite a different
reading.
There are twenty-eight manuscript copies of the "Epistola" known to exist;
and only one of them, that of the University of Leyden, contains the passage
alluded to by Thévenot. This manuscript was the object of careful study and
critical examination by Wenckebach (1865) and other competent scholars,
who pronounced it a spurious addition made some time in the early part of
the 16th century.[4]
In the time of Peregrinus, it is probable that the declination did not exceed
three degrees in Paris or on the shores of the Mediterranean, a quantity so
small that it would have been difficult of detection; and, if detected, would
have been attributed either to errors in the construction of the instrument
used or to inaccuracy on the part of the observer. This is what happened to
Columbus when, on his return to Spain, having reported the many and
definite observations on the variation of the compass which he had made on
his outward voyage, he was told by the learned ones of the day that he was
in error and not the needle, because the latter was everywhere true to the
pole.
This oft-stated and widely-believed fidelity of the needle to the pole is not,
however, founded on fact; it is the exception, the rare exception, not the
rule, despite the couplet of the poet:

Th' obedient steel with living instinct moves
And veers for ever to the pole it loves;

or this other,

So turns the faithful needle to the pole,
Though mountains rise between and oceans roll.

That the magnet does not turn to the pole of the world is common
knowledge to-day, when the High School tyro will tell you that in New
York it points 9° west of north, while in San Francisco it points 15° east of

north. If he happens
to be well up, he
may refer to the
position of the
agonic line on the
globe along which
the needle stands
true to the pole,
while all places to
the east of that line
in our hemisphere
have westerly
declination and
those to the west
have easterly
declination. Indeed,
magnetic charts
show places where
the needle points
east and west instead
of north and south,
and others where the
north-seeking end
points directly south.
Such varying and
conflicting behavior
of the compass-
Fig. 3 needle serves to
Magnetic Declination at New York, 1907 (Left) show the irregular
and at San Francisco, 1907 (Right) manner in which the
earth's magnetism is
distributed and also
the intensity of distributing forces which exist at certain places.
It is one of the gems in the crown of Columbus, that he observed, measured
and recorded this strange behavior of the magnetic needle in his narrative of
the voyage. True, he did not notice it until he was far out on the trackless
ocean. A week had elapsed since he left the lordly Teneriffe, and a few days

since the mountainous outline of Gomera had disappeared from sight. The
memorable night was that of September 13th, 1492. There was no
mistaking it; the needle of the Santa Maria pointed a little west of north
instead of due north. Some days later, on September 17th, the pilots, having
taken the sun's amplitude, reported that the variation had reached a whole
point of the compass, the alarming amount of 11 degrees.
The surprise and anxiety which Columbus manifested on those occasions
may be taken as indications that the phenomenon was new to him. As a
matter of fact, however, his needles were not true even at the outset of the
voyage from the port of Palos, where, though no one was aware of it, they
pointed about 3° east of north. This angle diminished from day to day as the
Admiral kept the prow of his caravel directed to the west, until it vanished
altogether, after which the needles veered to the west, and kept moving
westward for a time as the flag-ship proceeded on her voyage.
Columbus thus determined a place on the Atlantic in which the magnetic
meridian coincided with the geographical and in which the needle stood
true to the pole. Six years later, in 1498, Sebastian Cabot found another
place on the same ocean, a little further north, in which the compass lay
exactly in the north-and-south line. These two observations, one by
Columbus and the other by Cabot, sufficed to determine the position of the
agonic line, or line of no variation, for that locality and epoch.
The Columbian line acquired at once considerable importance, in the
geographical and the political world, because of the proposal that was made
to discard the Island of Ferro and take it for the prime meridian from which
longitude would be reckoned east and west, and also because it was selected
by Pope Alexander VI. to serve as a line of reference in settling the rival
claims of the kingdoms of Portugal and Castile with regard to their
respective discoveries. It was decided that all recently discovered lands
lying to the east of that line should belong to Portugal; and those to the
west, to Castile.
The line of no variation, like all other isomagnetic lines, has shifted its
position with time, so that it runs to-day considerably to the west of the
place assigned to it by Columbus in 1492 and by the Papal Bull of the
following year.

Columbus did not speak of the disquieting
observation which he made on the night of the
13th of September; he thought of it, and
wondered greatly what might be the cause of
such an unexpected and untoward phenomenon.
His silence on the matter did not avail, for the
keen-eyed sailors noticed the westerly deflection
of the needle when, after a few days, it became
quite apparent. They grew alarmed, believing
that the laws of nature were changing as they
advanced farther and farther into the unknown. It
was a trying moment for the Admiral, but his
ingenuity and tactfulness rose to the occasion.
He told his seamen that the needle did not point
to the cynosure or last star in the tail of the Little
Bear, as commonly supposed, but to a fixed
point in the celestial sphere at which there was
no star, adding that the "cynosure" itself, the
Polaris of our days, was not stationary, but had a
rotational movement of its own like all other
heavenly bodies.
We do not know what Columbus thought of his
explanation, born of the stress of the moment,
but the esteem in which he was held by pilots
and sailors alike for his knowledge of astronomy
and cosmography led them to accept it. Their
fears were allayed, a mutiny was averted and a
successful termination to their voyage rendered Fig. 4
possible. Magnetic Declination
in London in 1580 and
Captains of ocean-liners would give to-day a in 1907
different answer to a passenger who might
consult them about the splinter of steel which
serves to guide their fleet vessels in darkest nights, through howling
tempests and over billowy seas. The mysterious influence that controls it,
they would say, comes neither from Polaris nor the pole of the world, nor
from the heavens above, but from the earth beneath.

Such an explanation was not thought of until it was clearly shown a
hundred years later that this globe of ours acts like a colossal lodestone,
controlling every magnet in our laboratories and observatories, and every
needle on board the merchantmen and fighting-monsters that plough our
seas and oceans.
Without any intuition of modern theory, Columbus made two discoveries in
terrestrial magnetism, as we have seen, each of fundamental importance,
whether considered from the view-point of pure science or that of practical
navigation, viz., (a) that the needle is not true to the pole and (b) that the
angular displacement of the needle from true orientation, the variation of
the compass, as it is called in nautical parlance, differs with the place of the
observer. These two discoveries as well as the location of a place of no
variation on the Atlantic Ocean entitle Columbus to a prominent place
among the founders of the science of terrestrial magnetism.
Later observers discovered that even for a given place this element of
magnetic declination has not a constant value, but undergoes changes which
complete their cycle, some in a day, others in a year, and others again in
centuries. The last or secular change in the direction of the magnetic needle
was discovered by Gellibrand, of London, in 1634 (published in 1635); the
annual, by Cassini, at Paris, 1782-1791; and the diurnal, by Graham, of
London, in 1722.
The first observation of magnetic declination on land appears to have been
made about the year 1510 by George Hartmann (1489-1564), Vicar of the
Church of St. Sebald in Nuremberg, who found it to be 6° east in Rome,
where he was living at the time. Hartmann's observation of the declination
in Rome and also in Nuremberg, where the needle pointed 10° east of north,
will be found in a letter which he wrote in 1544 to Duke Albert of Prussia
and which remained unpublished until the year 1831.
Returning to the treatise of Peregrinus on the magnet, it should be said that
for several centuries the twenty-eight manuscript copies lay undisturbed on
the dusty shelves of city and university libraries. In 1562, four years after
the appearance of the first printed edition (Augsburg, 1558), Taisnier, a
Belgian writer on magnetics, who is also described as poet-laureate and
Doctor "utriusque juris," was among the earliest to discover the "Epistola,"
from which he copied extensively in his little quarto on the magnet and its

effects, thus showing that there were literary pirates in those days. It was
also well known to Gilbert, to Cabeo and Kircher; but despite the references
of these writers, the "Epistola" remained practically unknown until Cavallo,
of London, called attention to the Leyden manuscript in the third edition of
his "Treatise on Magnetism,"[5] 1800, by giving part of the text and
accompanying it with a translation.
Later, in 1838, Libri, historian of the mathematical sciences in Italy, gave
excerpts from the Paris codex with translation; but the scholar who
contributed most of all to make the work of Peregrinus known is the Italian
Barnabite, Timoteo Bertelli, who published in 1868 a critical study of the
various manuscripts of the letter, principally those which he found in Rome
and in Florence, adding copious notes of historic, bibliographic and
scientific value. Father Bertelli was Professor of Physics in the Collegio
della Quercia, in Florence, where he took an active interest in Italian
seismology besides carrying on investigations in meteorology, telegraphy
and electricity. Born in Bologna in 1826, he died in Florence in March,
1905.
The following list of manuscript copies of the "Epistola" is taken from a
scholarly paper by Professor Silvanus P. Thompson, of London, which
appeared in the "Proceedings of the British Academy" for 1906:—
The Bodleian Library seven
Vatican four
British Museum one
Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris two
Biblioteca Riccardiana, Florence one
Trinity College, Dublin one
Gonville and Caius, Cambridge one
The University of Leyden one
Geneva one
Turin one
Erfurt three
Vienna three
S. P. Thompson two

The first printed edition of the "Epistola" was prepared for the press in 1558
by Achilles Gasser, a man well versed in the science and philosophy of his
day; another edition, which will probably be considered the textus receptus,
is that which was prepared and published by Bertelli in 1868.
No complete translation in any language of this historical work on
magnetism was made until 1902, when Prof. Silvanus P. Thompson, of
London, published his "Epistle of Peter Peregrinus of Maricourt to Sygerus
of Foncaucourt, soldier, concerning the Magnet." Unfortunately, this
translation was printed for private circulation and limited to 250 copies.
Two years later, 1904, Brother Arnold, F. S. C., presented a memoir on
Peregrinus, including a translation of the "Epistola," for the M. Sc. degree
of Manhattan College, New York City, which translation was published
some months later by the McGraw Publishing Company, New York. These
are the only complete translations of the "Letter" of Peregrinus on the
Magnet which have yet appeared.
Brother Potamian.

FOOTNOTES:
[1] See Klaproth, "Lettre à M. le Baron A. de Humbolt sur l'Invention de la
Boussole." 1834; also Encyc. Brit., article Compass.
[2] Provins, town 57 miles southeast of Paris.
[3] Southey, "Omniana," Vol. I., p. 213, ed. 1812.
[4] Annali di Matematica pura ed applicata. Rome, 1865.
[5] Also in Rees Encyclopedia, article Compass.

CHAPTER II.
Norman and Gilbert.
We have seen that in the thirteenth century the directive property of the
lodestone was recognized by Peregrinus and used by him in his pivoted
compass; and that in the fifteenth, Columbus discovered magnetic
declination on sea as well as its variation with place.
The next cardinal fact in terrestrial magnetism, magnetic dip, was
discovered in 1576 by Robert Norman, a compass-maker of Limehouse,
London. Norman possessed many of the fine qualities of mind, hand and
disposition that are indispensable in the make-up of the original
investigator. In pivoting his compass-needles, he soon noticed that, however
carefully they were balanced before being magnetized, they did not remain
horizontal after magnetization, the north-seeking end always going down
through a small angle. He next had the happy idea of swinging a needle on
a horizontal axis, so that it might be free to move up and down in a vertical
plane, with the result that the north-seeking end again went down through a
constant but much greater angle.
Like declination, the first discovered of the three magnetic elements, the dip
was found to vary with place on the earth's surface, being 0° at the magnetic
equator and 90° at either pole. It was with a Norman dip-circle, greatly
improved, that Ross in 1831 found the north magnetic pole of the earth to
be in Boothia Felix in latitude 70° 5'.3 N., and longitude 96° 45'.8 W.; and it
was with a similar instrument that Amundsen recently studied the magnetic
conditions of that Arctic region, the exact location of the pole itself being
finally determined by an earth-inductor or spinning coil of the latest make.
Though the results of his observations have not yet been made public, it is
generally known that they indicate a spot for the magnetic pole close to that
found by Sir James Ross. It is not expected, however, that the location of
the pole by the Norwegian Commander shall exactly coincide with that of
the English Captain, because the magnetic pole is believed to have nomadic
tendencies of its own like our geographical pole, only much more
pronounced in magnitude. After moving westward for some time at the rate

of a mile per year, it retraced its
steps and is now back again in
the vicinity of its starting place.
Besides his dip-circle, Norman
also devised a simple and very
apt illustration of magnetic
inclination. Thrusting a steel
needle through a round piece of
cork, he pared the latter down
until the system, consisting of
the needle and the cork, sank to
a certain depth in a glass vessel
containing water, and there took
up a horizontal position. The
needle was next removed from
the water and magnetized with
great care, so as not to disturb
its position in the cork. When
placed again in the water, the
needle sank to its former depth
and settled down at an angle of
71° to the horizon.
The same illustration shows
another experiment which
Norman made in order to
determine whether the earth
Fig. 5 exerts a force of translation on a
The First Dip-Circle, Invented by magnet, in virtue of which the
Norman in 1576 magnet would tend to move
bodily toward the pole. For this
purpose, he floated a
magnetized piece of steel wire on the surface of the water and noticed that,
wherever placed, it merely swung round into the magnetic meridian without
showing any tendency to move northward or southward toward the rim of
the vessel. Hartmann, who observed the declination of the needle on land as
stated on p. 26, appears also to have been the first to notice magnetic

inclination. Having balanced a steel needle with great precision, he found
that, after magnetization, it did not remain horizontal, the north-seeking end
invariably dipping through an angle of 9°. The smallness of the angle in this
experiment was due to the fact that the needle used by the Nuremberg Vicar
could move only in a horizontal plane, whereas Norman's was free to move
in a vertical circle. Had Hartmann used such a device, he would have
obtained more than 60° for the dip instead of the 9° which he records.
As already remarked, the
letter in which Hartmann
consigns these capital
observations was written
in 1544, but was not
published until the third
decade of the nineteenth
century, so that Norman
has clearly the full merit
of independent
discovery.
In the directions which
Norman gives for
making observations of
dip, he states explicitly
that the instrument must
be adjusted "duley
according to the
variation of the place,"
which means that the
plane of the circle must
be turned into what was
called after his time "the
magnetic meridian."
The discovery of
magnetic dip led
Norman to discard the Fig. 6
view generally held in Norman's Illustration of Magnetic Dip
his time, which placed

the controlling influence of the compass-needle in far-off celestial space;
for he says that the poynt respective which the magnet indicates, but to
which it is not bodily drawn, is not in the heavens above, but in the earth
itself. His words are: "And by the declining of the needle is also proved that
the poynt respective is rather in the earth than in the heavens, as some have
imagined; and the greatest reason why they so thought, as I judge, was
because they were never acquainted with this declining in the needle."
Here we have a radical departure from the scientific creed of the time, a
notable advance in scientific theory, an entirely new philosophy founded by
Norman, the compass-maker, and greatly developed twenty-four years later
by his fellow-citizen, Gilbert, the physician.
Norman made another remark of great importance in the new philosophy,
the justness of which was appreciated by Gilbert, his contemporary, but
more so by Faraday and Clerk Maxwell, two centuries later. It refers to the
space surrounding a magnet, natural or artificial, which cubical space
Gilbert, following Norman, called an orb of virtue. That the influence or
"effluvium" of the magnet extends throughout the entire space may readily
be seen by carrying a compass-needle round a magnet from point to point,
far away as well as close by. The phrase "orb of virtue," or sphere of
magnetic influence, appears to describe the actual magnetic condition of the
space in question more pertinently than our modern equivalent of "magnetic
field."
The words of Norman are very remarkable: "I am of opinion that if this
vertue could by anie means be made visible to the eie of man, it would be
found in a sphericall forme, extending round about the stone in great
compasse and the dead bodie of the stone in the middle thereof." The lines
which immediately follow this statement, pregnant with significance, show
the deep religious feeling of the author. They read: "and this I have partly
proved and made visible to be seene in some manner, and God sparing mee
life, I will herein make further experience and that not curiouslie but in the
feare of God as neere as He shall give me grace and meane to annexe the
same unto a booke of navigation which I have had long in hand."—Chap.
VIII.
It is evident from the pages of the Newe Attractive (1581) that Norman was
animated with the right spirit of inquiry, which is calm, deliberate and

Fig. 7
Gilbert's Orb of Virtue, 1600

judicious, which leads to the discovery of facts, to their coordination and
experimental illustration before explanations are thought of and long before
new theories are propounded. The style in which this little treatise is written
has a charm of its own, mainly by reason of its quaintness. At the end of his
address to the candid reader, which, after the manner of the times, was
somewhat belabored and rhetorical in character, Norman breaks away from
common inadequate prose; and, giving wings to his imagination, writes a
lyric on the magnet which is the first metrical composition in English that
we have on such a subject. It reads:—

THE MAGNES OR LOADSTONE'S CHALLENGE.

Give place ye glittering sparks,
ye glimmering Diamonds bright,
Ye Rubies red, and Saphires brave
wherein ye most delight.

In breefe, yee stones inricht,
and burnisht all with golde,
Set forth in Lapidaries shops,
for Jewells to be sold.

Give place, give place I say,
your beautie, gleame and glee,
Is all the vertue for the which,
accepted so you bee.

Magnes, the Loadstone I,
your painted sheath defie,
Without my help in Indian seas,
the best of you might lie.

I guide the Pilot's course,
his helping hand I am,
The Mariner delights in me,
so doth the Marchant man.

My vertue lies unknowne,
my secrets hidden are,
By me, the Court and Commonweale,
are pleasured very farre.

No ship could sail on Seas,
her course to run aright,
Nor Compass shew the ready way
were Magnes not of might.

Blush then, and blemish all,

bequeath to mee thats due,
Your seats in golde, your price in plate,
which Jewellers do renue.

Its I, its I alone,
whom you usurp upon,
Magnes my name, the Loadstone cal'd,
the prince of stones alone.

If this you can deny,
then seem to make reply,
And let the painfull sea-man judge,
the which of us doth lie.

The Mariner's Judgement.

The Loadstone is the stone,
the onely stone alone,
Deserving praise above the rest
whose vertues are unknown.

The Marchant's Verdict.

The Diamonds bright, the Saphires brave,
Are stones that bear the name,
but flatter not, and tell the troath,
Magnes deserves the same.
(Edition of 1720.)
Norman's Newe Attractive was well known to Gilbert, as were also the
Epistola of Peregrinus, the Magiae Naturalis of Porta, and indeed all books
treating of the lodestone, the magnet, or the compass-needle. His own work
De Magnete, published in the year 1600, is a compendium of the world's
knowledge of magnetism and electricity at the time. In its pages, he not
only discusses the opinions of others, but describes discoveries of his own
made during the twenty years which he ardently devoted to the pursuit of
experimental science, crowning his investigations with theories in
electricity and magnetism as became a true philosopher.

Impressed by the originality of Gilbert's treatise, the practical ingenuity and
philosophic acumen displayed throughout, Hallam wrote in his Introduction
to the Literature of Europe: "Gilbert not only collected all the knowledge
which others had possessed on the subject, but became at once the father of
experimental philosophy in this island; and, by a singular felicity and
acuteness of genius, the founder of theories which have been received after
the lapse of ages and are almost universally received into the creed of
science."
At a period when natural science was taught in the schools of Europe
mainly from text-books, we find Gilbert proclaiming by example and
advocacy the paramount value of experiment for the advancement of
learning. He was unsparing in his denunciation of the superficiality and
verbosity of mere bookmen, and had no patience with writers who treated
their subjects "esoterically, reconditely and mystically." For him, the
laboratory method was the only one that could secure fruitful results and
contribute effectively to the advancement of learning.
It is true that men of unusual ability and strong character strove before his
time to adjust the claims of authority in matters scientific. While respectful
of the teachings of recognized leaders, they were not, however, awed into
acquiescence by an academical "magister dixit." On the contrary, they
wanted to test with their eyes in order to judge with reason; believing in the
importance of experiment, they sought to acquire a knowledge of nature
from nature herself.
Such were Albert the Great and Friar Bacon. Albert did not bow
obsequiously to the authority of Aristotle or any of his Arabian
commentators; he investigated for himself and became, for his age, a
distinguished botanist, physiologist and mineralogist.
The Franciscan monk of Ilchester has left us in his Opus Majus a lasting
memorial of his practical genius. In the section entitled "Scientia
Experimentalis," he affirms that "Without experiment, nothing can be
adequately known. An argument proves theoretically, but does not give the
certitude necessary to remove all doubt, nor will the mind repose in the
clear view of truth, unless it find it by way of experiment." And in his Opus
Tertium: "The strongest arguments prove nothing, so long as the

conclusions are not verified by experience. Experimental science is the
queen of sciences and the goal of all speculation."
No one, even in our own times, wrote more strongly in favor of the
practical method than did this follower of St. Francis in the thirteenth
century. Being convinced that there can be no conflict between scientific
and revealed truths, he became an irrepressible advocate for observation
and experiment in the study of the phenomena and forces of nature.
The example of Peregrinus, of Albert and Friar Bacon, not to mention
others like Vincent of Beauvais, the Dominican encyclopedist, was,
however, not sufficient to wean students from the easy-going routine of
book-learning. A few centuries had to elapse before the weaning was
effectively begun; and the man who contributed in a marked degree to this
result was Gilbert the Philosopher of Colchester (1544-1603).
Having received the elements of his education in the Grammar School of
Colchester, his native town, Gilbert entered St. John's College, Cambridge,
from which university he took his B. A. degree in 1560, M. A. in 1564 and
M. D. in 1569. In all, he appears to have been connected with the
University for a period of eleven or twelve years, as student, Fellow, and
examiner.
On leaving Cambridge, Gilbert traveled for four years on the Continent,
principally in Italy, visiting medical schools and studying methods of
treatment under the leading physicians and surgeons of the day as well as
discussing scientific theory with the leaders of thought. On his return to
England in 1573, he practised medicine in London "with great applause and
success." He was elected President of the Royal College of Physicians in
1599, and appointed Physician to Queen Elizabeth in 1601 and to her
successor, James I., in 1603.
On one occasion, he hears that Baptista Porta, whom he calls "a philosopher
of no ordinary note," said that a piece of iron rubbed with a diamond turns
to the north. He suspects this to be heresy. So, forthwith he proceeds to test
the statement by experiment. He was not dazzled by the reputation of
Baptista Porta; he respected Porta, but respected truth even more. He tells
us that he experimented with seventy diamonds in presence of many
witnesses, employing a number of iron bars and pieces of wire,
manipulating them with the greatest care while they floated on corks; and

concludes his long and exhaustive research by plaintively saying: "Yet
never was it granted me to see the effect mentioned by Porta."
Though it led to a negative result, this probing inquiry was a masterpiece of
experimental work.
Gilbert incidentally regrets that the men of his time "are deplorably ignorant
with respect to natural things," and the only way he sees to remedy this is to
make them "quit the sort of learning that comes only from books and that
rests only on vain arguments and conjectures," for he shrewdly remarks that
"even men of acute intelligence without actual knowledge of facts and in
the absence of experiment easily fall into error."
Acting on this intimate conviction, he labored for twenty years over the
theories and experiments which he sets forth in his great work on the
magnet. "There is naught in these books," he tells us, "that has not been
investigated, and again and again done and repeated under our eyes." He
begs any one that should feel disposed to challenge his results to repeat the
experiments for himself "carefully, skilfully and deftly, but not heedlessly
and bunglingly."
It has been said that we are indebted to Sir Francis Bacon, Queen
Elizabeth's Chancellor, for the inductive method of studying the phenomena
of nature. Bacon's merit lies in the fact that he not only minutely analyzed
the method, pointing out its uses and abuses, but also that he showed it to be
the only one by which we can attain an accurate knowledge of the physical
world around us. His sententious eulogy went forth to the world of scholars
invested with all the importance, authority and dignity which the high
position and worldwide fame of the philosophic Chancellor could give it.
But while Bacon thought and wrote in his study, Gilbert labored and toiled
in his workshop. By his pen, Bacon made a profound impression on the
philosophic mind of his age; by his researches, Gilbert explored two
provinces of nature and added them to the domain of science. Bacon was a
theorist, Gilbert an investigator. For twenty years he shunned the glare of
society and the throbbing excitement of public life; he wrenched himself
away from all but the strictest exigencies of his profession, in order to
devote himself undistractedly to the pursuit of science. And all this forty
years before the appearance of Bacon's Novum Organum, the very work
which contains the philosopher's "large thoughts and lofty phrases" on the

value of experiment as a means for the advancement of learning. During
that long period Gilbert haunted Colchester, where he delved into the
secrets of nature and prepared the materials for his great work on the
magnet. The publication of this Latin treatise made him known in the
universities at home and especially abroad: he was appreciated by all the
great physicists and mathematicians of his age; by such men as Sir Kenelm
Digby; by William Barlowe, a great "magneticall" man; by Kepler, the
astronomer, who adopted and defended his views; by Galileo himself, who
said: "I extremely admire and envy the author of De Magnete."
The science of magnetism owes more to Gilbert than to any other man,
Peregrinus (1269) excepted. He repeated for himself the numerous and
ingenious experiments of the medieval philosopher, and added much of his
own which he discovered during the long period of a life devoted to the
diligent exploration of this domain in the world of natural knowledge.
The ancients spoke of the lodestone as the Magnesian stone, from its being
found in abundance in the vicinity of Magnesia, a city of Asia Minor. In his
Latin treatise of 254 (small) folio pages, Gilbert uses the adjective form of
the term, but never the noun "Magnetismus" itself. Our English term
magnetism appears for the first time on page 2 of Archdeacon Barlowe's
"Magneticall Advertisements," published in 1616; while the surprising
compound, "electro-magnetismos," is the title of a chapter in Father
Kircher's "Magnes, sive de Arte Magnetica," printed in the year 1641.
Gilbert showed that a great number of bodies could be electrified; but
maintained that those only could exhibit magnetic properties which contain
iron. He satisfies himself of this by rubbing with a lodestone such
substances as wood, gold, silver, copper, zinc, lead, glass, etc., and then
floating them on corks, quaintly adding that they show "no poles, because
the energy of the lodestone has no entrance into their interior."
To-day we know that nickel and cobalt behave like iron, whilst antimony,
bismuth, copper, silver and gold are susceptible of being influenced by
powerful electro-magnets, showing what has been termed diamagnetic
phenomena. Even liquids and gases, in Faraday's classical experiments,
yielded to the influence of his great magnet; and Professor Dewar, in the
same Royal Institution, exposed some of his liquid air and liquid oxygen to
the influence of Faraday's electromagnet and found them to be strongly

attracted, thus behaving like the paramagnetic bodies, iron, nickel and
cobalt.
Gilbert observes in all his magnets two points, one near each end, in which
the force, or, as he terms it, "the supreme attractional power," is
concentrated. Like Peregrinus, he calls these points the poles of the magnet,
and the line joining them its magnetic axis. With the aid of his steel
versorium, he recognizes that similar poles are mutually hostile, whilst
opposite poles seize and hold each other in friendly embrace. He also
satisfies himself that the energy of magnets resides not only in their
extremities, but that it permeates "their inmost parts, being entire in the
whole and entire in each part." This is exactly what Peregrinus said in 1269
and what we say to-day; it is nothing else than the molecular theory
proposed by Weber, extended by Ewing and universally accepted.
At any rate, Gilbert is quite certain that whatever magnetism may be, it is
not, like electricity, a material, ponderable substance. He ascertained this by
weighing in the most accurate scales of a goldsmith a rod of iron before and
after it had been rubbed with the lodestone, and then observing that the
weight is precisely the same in both cases, being "neither less nor more."
Without referring to the prior discovery of Norman, whom he calls "a
skilled navigator and ingenious artificer," Gilbert satisfies himself that not
only the magnet, but all the space surrounding it, possesses magnetic
properties; for the magnet "sends its force abroad in all directions,
according to its energy and quality." This region of influence Norman called
a sphere of "vertue," and Gilbert an "orbis virtutis," which is the Latin
equivalent; we call it a "magnetic field," or field of force, which is less
expressive and less appropriate. With wonderful intuition, Gilbert sees this
space filled with lines of magnetic virtue passing out radially from his
spherical lodestone, which lines he calls "rays of magnetic force."
Clerk Maxwell was so fascinated with this beautiful concept that he made it
the work of his life to study the field of force due to electrified bodies, to
magnets and to conductors conveying currents; his powerful intellect
visualized those lines and gave them accurate mathematical expression in
the great treatise on electricity and magnetism which he gave to the world
in 1873.

Gilbert observes that the lodestone may be spherical or oblong; "whatever
the shape, imperfect or irregular, verticity is present; there are poles," and
the lodestones "have the selfsame way of turning to the poles of the world."
He knows that a compass-needle is not drawn bodily towards the pole, and
does not hesitate in this instance to give credit to his countryman, Robert
Norman, for having clearly stated this fact and aptly demonstrated it.
Following Norman, he floats a needle in a vessel by means of a piece of
cork, and notices that on whatever part of the surface of the water it may be
placed, the needle settles down after a few swings invariably in the same
direction. His words are: "It revolves on its iron center and is not borne
towards the rim of the vessel."
Gilbert knew nothing about the mechanical couple that came into play, but
he knew the fact; and, with the instinct of the philosopher, tested it in a
variety of ways.
We explain the orientation of the compass-needle by saying that it is acted
upon by a pair of equal and opposite forces due to the influence of the
terrestrial magnetic poles on each end of the needle and by showing that
such a couple can produce rotation, but not translation.
We find Gilbert working not only with steel needles and iron bars, but also
with rings of iron. He strokes them with a natural magnet and feels certain
that he has magnetized them. He assures us that "one of the poles will be at
the point rubbed and the other will be at the opposite side." To show that the
ring is really magnetized, he cuts it across, opens it out, and finds that the
ends exhibit polar properties.
A favorite piece of apparatus with Gilbert, as with Peregrinus, was a
lodestone ground down into globular form. He called it a terrella, a
miniature earth, and used it extensively for reproducing the phenomena
described by magnetizers, travelers and navigators. He breaks up terrellas,
in order to examine the magnetic condition of their inner parts. There is not
a doubtful utterance in his description of what he finds; he speaks clearly
and emphatically. "If magnetic bodies be divided, or in any way broken up,
each several part hath a north and a south end"; i.e., each part will be a
complete magnet.
We find him also comparing magnets by what is known to us as the
"magnetometer method." He brings the magnetized bars in turn near a

compass-
needle and
concludes
that the
magnet or
the
lodestone
which is
able to
make the
needle go
round is
the best
and
strongest.
He also
seeks to
compare
magnets by
a process
of
weighing,
similar to
what is
called, in
laboratory
parlance,
Fig. 8 the "test-
Begavior of Compas-Needle on a Terrella or Sphrical nail"
Lodestone method.
He also
inquires
into the effect of heat upon his magnets, and finds that 'a lodestone
subjected to any great heat loses some of its energy.' He applies a red-hot
iron to a compass-needle and notices that it 'stands still, not turning to the
iron.' He thrusts a magnetized bar into the fire until it is red-hot and shows
that it has lost all magnetic power. He does not stop at this remarkable

discovery, for he proceeds to let his red-hot bars cool while lying in various
positions, and finds: (1) that the bar will acquire magnetic properties if it lie
in the magnetic meridian; and (2) that it will acquire none if it lie east and
west. These effects he rightly attributes to the inductive action of the earth.
Gilbert marks these and other experiments with marginal asterisks; small
stars denoting minor and large ones important discoveries of his. There are
in all 21 large and 178 small asterisks, as well as 84 illustrations in De
Magnete. This implies a vast amount of original work, and forms no small
contribution to the foundations of electric and magnetic science.
Gilbert clearly realized the phenomena and laws of magnetic induction. He
tells us that "as soon as a bar of iron comes within the lodestone's sphere of
influence, though it be at some distance from the lodestone itself, the iron
changes instantly and has its form renewed; it was before dormant and
inert; but now is quick and active." He hangs a nail from a lodestone; a
second nail from the first, a third from the second and so on—a well-known
experiment, made every day for elementary classes. Nor is this all, for he
interposes between the lodestone and his iron nail, thick boards, walls of
pottery and marble, and even metals, and he finds that there is naught so
solid as to do away with its force or to check it, save a plate of iron. All that
can be added to this pregnant observation is that the plate of iron must be
very thick in order to carry all the lines of force due to the magnet, and thus
completely screen the space beyond.
But Gilbert is astonishing when he goes on to make thick boxes of gold,
glass and marble; and, suspending his needle within them, declares with
excusable enthusiasm that, regardless of the box which imprisons the
magnet, it turns to its predestined points of north and south. He even
constructs a box of iron, places his magnet within, observes its behavior,
and concludes that it turns north and south, and would do so were "it shut
up in iron vaults sufficiently roomy." In this, he was in error, for
experiments show that if the sides of the box are thin, the needle will
experience the directive force of the earth; but if they are sufficiently thick
—thick as the walls of an ordinary safe—the inside of such a box will be
completely screened; none of the earth's magnetic lines will get into it so
that the needle will remain indifferently in any position in which it is
placed. Some years ago, the physical laboratory of St. John's College,
Oxford, was screened from the obtrusive lines of neighboring dynamos by

building two brick walls parallel to each other and eight inches apart and
filling in the space with scrap iron. A delicate magnetometer showed that
such a structure allowed no leakage of lines of force through it, but offered
an impenetrable barrier to the magnetic influence of the working dynamos.
Gilbert's greatest discovery is that the earth itself acts as a vast globular
magnet having its magnetic poles, axis and equator. The pole which is in
our hemisphere, he variously calls north, boreal or arctic. Whilst that in the
other hemisphere he calls south, austral or antarctic. He sought to explain
the magnetic condition of our globe by the presence, especially in its
innermost parts, of what he calls true, terrene matter, homogeneous in
structure and endowed with magnetic properties, so that every separate
fragment exhibits the whole force of magnetic matter. He is quite aware that
his theory is a grand generalization; and admits that it is "a new and till now
unheard-of view," and so confident is he in its worth that he is not afraid to
say that "it will stand as firm as aught that ever was produced in philosophy,
backed by ingenious argumentation or buttressed by mathematical
demonstration."
In developing his theory of terrestrial magnetism, Gilbert fell into certain
errors, chiefly for want of data, but partly also by reason of his adherence to
the view that the earth exactly resembled his terrella in its magnetic action.
Accordingly, he believed that the magnetic poles of the earth were
diametrically opposite each other and that they coincided with the poles of
rotation, whence it followed that the magnetic meridian everywhere
coincided with the geographical, and that the magnet, unless influenced by
local disturbances, stood true to the pole.
It was, however, well known from the thrilling experience of Columbus and
the constant report of travelers that this was not the case. Gilbert himself
says that at the time of writing, in the year 1600, the needle pointed 11-1/3°
east of north in London; but what he did not know and could not have
known was that this easterly deviation was decreasing from year to year, to
vanish altogether in 1657, after which the needle began to decline to the
west.
This magnetic declination sorely perplexed Gilbert, as it did not fit in with
his theory. Yet an explanation was needed; and as the earth must be
considered a normal and well-behaved magnet, though of cosmical size,

Gilbert turns the difficulty by saying that this variation is nothing else than
"a sort of perturbation of the directive force" caused by inequalities in the
earth's surface by continents and mountain masses: "Since the earth's
surface is diversified by elevations of land and depths of seas, great
continental lands, oceans and seas differing in every way while the power
that produces all magnetic movements comes from the constant magnetic
earth-substance which is strongest in the most massive continent and not
where the surface is water or fluid or unsettled, it follows that toward a
massive body of land or continent rising to some height in any meridian,
there is a measurable magnetic leaning from the true pole toward the east or
the west."
So convinced is Gilbert of the true and satisfactory character of his
explanation that he goes on to say that, "In northern regions, the compass
varies because of the northern eminences; in southern regions, because of
southern eminences. On the equator, if the eminences on both sides were
equal, there would be no variation." In a later chapter of Book IV., he adds
that, "in the heart of great continents there is no variation; so, too, in the
midst of great seas."
As continents and mountain-chains are among the permanent features of
our planet, Gilbert concluded that the misdirection of the needle was
likewise permanent or constant at any given place, a conclusion which
observations made after Gilbert's time showed to be incorrect. Gilbert
writes: "As the needle hath ever inclined toward the east or toward the west,
so even now does the arc of variation continue to be the same in whatever
place or region, be it sea or continent; so, too, will it be forever
unchanging."
This we know to be untrue, and Gilbert, too, could have known as much
had he brought the experimental method, which he used with such
consummate skill and fruitful results in other departments of his favorite
studies, to bear on this particular element of terrestrial magnetism. He
labored with incredible ardor and persistence for twenty years in his
workshops at Colchester over the experiments in electricity, magnetism and
terrestrial magnetism which he embodies and discusses in his original and
epoch-making book, De Magnete, published in the year 1600; a period of
twenty years was long enough for such a careful observer as he was to
detect the slow change in magnetic declination discovered by his friend

Gellibrand in 1634, published by him in 1635, and known to-day as the
"secular variation." It is true the quantity to be measured was small; but
what is surprising is that such an industrious and resourceful experimenter
as Gilbert was does not record in his pages any observations of his own on
declination or dip, elements of primary importance in magnetic theory.
Shortly after the voyage of Columbus it was thought that the longitude of a
place could be found from its magnetic declination. Gilbert, however, did
not think so, and accordingly scores those who championed that view.
"Porta," he says, "is deluded by a vain hope and a baseless theory"; Livius
Sanutus "sorely tortures himself and his readers with like vanities"; and
even the researches of Stevin, the great Flemish mathematician, on the
cause of variation in the southern regions of the earth are "utterly vain and
absurd."
With regard to dip, Gilbert erroneously held that for any given latitude it
had a constant value. He was so charmed with this constancy that he
proposed it as a means of determining latitude. There is no diffidence in his
mind about the matter; he is sure that with his "inclinatorium" or dip-circle,
together with accompanying tables, calculated for him by Briggs, of
logarithmic fame, an observer can find his latitude "in any part of the world
without the aid of the sun, planets or fixed stars in foggy weather as well as
in darkness."
After such a statement, it is no wonder that he waxes warm over the
capabilities of his instrument and allows himself to exclaim: "We can see
how far from idle is magnetic philosophy; on the contrary, how delightful it
is, how beneficial, how divine! Seamen tossed by the waves and vexed with
incessant storms while they cannot learn even from the heavenly luminaries
aught as to where on earth they are, may with the greatest ease gain comfort
from an insignificant instrument and ascertain the latitude of the place
where they happen to be."
Gilbert dwells at length on the inductive action of the earth. He hammers
heated bars of iron on his anvil and then allows them to cool while lying in
the magnetic meridian. He notes that they become magnetized, and does not
fail to point out the polarity of each end. He likewise attributes to the
influence of the earth the magnetic condition acquired by iron bars that
have for a long time lain fixed in the north-and-south position and

ingenuously adds: "for great is the effect of long-continued direction of a
body towards the poles." To the same cause, he attributes the magnetization
of iron crosses attached to steeples, towers, etc., and does not hesitate to say
that the foot of the cross always acquires north-seeking polarity.
In a similar manner, every vertical piece of iron, like railings, lamp-posts,
and fire-irons, becomes a magnet under the inductive action of the earth. In
the case of our modern ships, the magnetization of every plate and vertical
post, intensified by the hammering during construction, converts the whole
vessel into a magnetic magazine, the resulting complex "field" rendering
the adjustment of the compasses somewhat difficult and unreliable. The
unreliable character of the adjustment arises mainly from the changing
magnetism of the ship with change of place in the earth's magnetic field, the
effect increasing slightly from the magnetic equator to the poles.
With luminous insight into the phenomena of terrestrial magnetism, Gilbert
observes that in the neighborhood of the poles, a compass-needle, tending
as it does to dip greatly, must in consequence experience only a feeble
directive power. To which he adds that "at the poles there is no direction,"
meaning, no doubt, that a compass-needle would remain in any horizontal
position in which it might be placed when in the vicinity of the magnetic
pole.
This is precisely the experience of all Arctic explorers, who find that their
compasses become less and less active as they sail northward, the reason
being that the horizontal component of the earth's magnetic force, which
alone controls the movements of the compass-needle, decreases as the ship
advances and vanishes altogether at the magnetic pole. When once a high
latitude is reached, captains do not depend upon their compasses for their
bearings, but have recourse to astronomical observations. In his account of
magnetic work carried on in the neighborhood of the magnetic pole,
Amundsen says: "At Prescott Island the compass, which for some time had
been somewhat sluggish, refused entirely to act, and we could as well have
used a stick to steer by."
As a physician, Gilbert valued iron for its medicinal properties, but
denounced quacks and wandering mountebanks who practised "the vilest
imposture for lucre's sake," using powdered lodestone for the cure of
wounds and disorders. "Headaches," he said, "are no more cured by

application of a lodestone than by putting on an iron helmet or a steel hat";
and again: "To give it in a draught to dropsical persons is either an error of
the ancients or an impudent tale of their copyists." Elsewhere he condemns
prescriptions of lodestone as "an evil and deadly advice" and as "an
abominable imposture."
In the sixth and last book of De Magnete, Gilbert sets forth his views on
such astronomical subjects as the figure of the earth, its suspension in
space, rotation on its axis and revolution around the sun.
As to the figure of our planet, the primitive view widely credited in early
times was that the earth is a flat, uneven mass floating in a boundless ocean.
The Hindoos, however, did not accept the flatland doctrine, but taught that
the earth was a convex mass which rested on the back of a triad of elephants
having for their support the carapace of a gigantic tortoise. Of course, they
did not say how the complaisant chelonian contrived to maintain his
wonderful state of equilibrium under the superincumbent mass.
Aristotle (384-322, B. C.) taught that the earth, fixed in the center of the
universe, is not flat as a disk, but round as an orange, giving as proofs (1)
the gradual disappearance of a ship standing out to sea and (2) the form of
the shadow cast by the earth in lunar eclipses, to which others added (3) the
change in the altitude of circumpolar stars readily noticeable in traveling
north or south. Aristarchus of Samos (310-250), one of the great
astronomers of antiquity, went further, not fearing to teach that the earth is
spherical in form, that it turns on its axis daily and revolves annually around
the sun. Such orthodox teaching did not, however, commend itself to people
generally, as they did not exactly like the idea of being whisked round with
their houses and cities at a dangerous speed, preferring to explain celestial
phenomena by the rotation of the vast celestial sphere, with all the starry
host, round a flat, immovable earth. For them such a system of
cosmography recommended itself by its simplicity and reasonableness as
well as by the sense of stability, rest and comfort which it brought along
with it.
Ptolemy, who flourished at Alexandria about 150 A. D. and whose name is
associated with a system of the world, also held that the earth is spherical in
form, giving at the same time some very ingenious proofs of his belief. St.
Augustine, in the fourth century, was not opposed to the doctrine of a round

earth, though he felt the religious difficulty arising from the existence of the
antipodes, which difficulty reached its acute stage four hundred years later.
It is well to remember that the Church did not condemn the existence of an
antipodean world; what it did condemn was the teaching of Virgilius,
Bishop of Salzburg, to the effect that this world, lying under the equator,
was inhabited by a race of men not descended from Adam. Virgilius also
taught that the antipodes had a sun and moon different from ours, an
astronomical opinion for which he was never molested by ecclesiastical
authority.
Boethius, the worthy representative of the natural and the higher philosophy
of the sixth century, wrote of the earth as globe-like in form, but small in
comparison with the heavens. Isidore of Seville, in the seventh century, "the
most learned man of his age," and the encyclopedic Bede, in the eighth,
rejected the theory of a flat, discoidal earth and returned to the spherical
form of the early Greek astronomers. But again, centuries had to elapse
before people could be brought to tolerate views of the world that seemed
so directly opposed to the daily testimony of their senses.
The strong, conclusive arguments which alone establish this theory on a
firm basis were, however, not known to Copernicus and could not have
been known in an age that preceded the invention of the telescope and in
which the astronomer had to be the constructor of his own crude wooden
instruments. The wonder is that Copernicus did such excellent observational
work on the banks of the Vistula with the rough appliances at his disposal.
The arguments which he put forward and urged with consummate skill for
the acceptance of his revolutionary theory were its general simplicity and
probability. Of proofs clear and decisive, he gave none; yet, while he was
working on his epoch-making treatise, begun in 1507 and published in 1543
with dedication to Pope Paul III., a direct proof of the earth's spherical form
was given by the return (1528) from the Philippines along an eastern route
of one of Magellan's ships, which had reached those distant isles after
crossing the western ocean, which the Portuguese navigator called the
"Pacific," from the tranquility of its waters. For a direct proof of the earth's
annual motion, the world had to wait two hundred years more, until
Bradley discovered the "aberration of light" in 1729; and for a direct
demonstration of its diurnal motion until Foucault made his pendulum
experiment in the Panthéon, in 1851.

We cannot let Gilbert's reference to a "weightless earth" pass without a few
remarks to justify our approval of the statement.
The idea connoted by the term weight is the pull which the earth exerts on
the mass of a body; thus, when we say that an iron ball weighs six pounds,
we mean that the earth pulls it downwards with a force equal to the weight
of six pounds. That the weight of a given lump of matter is not a constant
but a dependent quantity may be seen from a number of considerations. Its
weight in vacuo, for instance, is different from its weight in air, and this
latter differs considerably from its weight in water or in oil. Again, if we
take our experimental ball down the shaft of a mine, the spring-balance
used to measure the pull of the earth on it will not record six pounds but
something less; and the further we descend, the less will the spring-balance
be found to register. At a depth of two thousand miles below the surface, the
ball would be found to have lost half its weight; and at a depth of four
thousand, all its weight. At the earth's center a "box of weights" would still
be called a "box of weights," though neither the box itself nor its enclosed
standards singly or collectively would have any weight whatever. It has
been shown experimentally that two masses weigh slightly less when
placed one above the other than when placed side by side, because in the
latter case their common mass-center is measurably nearer to the center of
the earth. Every mother knows that when a boy is sent to buy a pound of
candy, it is the mass of the sweet stuff that makes him happy, and not its
weight, for this acts more like an incumbrance while he is bringing it home.
Of course, weight is every day used, and correctly, as a measure of mass,
for every student of mechanics writes without the least hesitation,
W=Mg.
by which he simply means that the weight of a body is directly proportional
to its mass (M), which is constant wherever the body may be taken, and to
the intensity of gravity (g), which varies slightly with geographical position.
As both scale-pans of an ordinary balance are equally affected by the local
value of g, it follows that equilibrium is established only when the two
masses—that of the body and that of the standards—are themselves equal:
hence weighing is in reality only a process of comparing masses, i.e., a
process of "massing."

If we bring our experimental ball to the top of a hill or to the summit of a
mountain or aloft in a balloon, we find the pull on the registering spring
growing less and less as we go higher and higher, from which we naturally
conclude that if we could go far enough out into circumterrestrial space,
say, towards the moon, the ball would lose its weight entirely; it would
cease to stretch the spring of the measuring balance, its weight vanishing at
a definite, calculable distance from the earth's center. If carried beyond that
point the ball would come under the moon's preponderating attraction and
would begin to depress anew the index of the balance until at the surface of
our satellite it would be found to weigh exactly one pound. If transferred to
the planet Mars the ball would weigh two pounds, and if to the surface of
the giant planet Jupiter, sixteen pounds. But while its weight thus changes
continually, its mass or quantity of matter, the stuff of which it is made,
remains constant all the while, being equally unaffected by such variables
as motion, position or even temperature.
Returning from celestial space to our more congenial terrestrial
surroundings, we find a similar inconstancy in the weight of the ball as we
travel from the equator toward either pole, the weight being least at the
equator and slightly greater at either end of our axis of rotation. This change
is fully accounted for by the spheroidal figure of the earth and its motion of
rotation, in virtue of which, while going from the equator toward the pole,
our distance from the center of attraction undergoes a slight diminution, as
does also the component of the local centrifugal force, which is in
opposition to gravity.
From all this, it will be seen that the weight of a body is more of the nature
of an accidental rather than an essential property of matter, whereas its mass
is a necessary and unvarying property. Hence we speak with propriety of
the conservation of mass just as we speak with equal propriety of the
conservation of energy; but we may never speak or write of the
conservation of weight. The mass of our iron ball is precisely the same
away from the surface of the earth as it is anywhere on the surface, whether
a thousand miles below the surface or a thousand miles above it; and the
same it would be found in any part of the solar system or of the starry
universe to which it might be taken.
Since weight is nothing else than the pull which the earth exerts on a body,
it follows that, big and massive as our planet is, it must, nevertheless, be

weightless; for it cannot with any degree of propriety be said to pull itself. It
is incapable of producing even an infinitesimal change in the position of its
mass-center, or center of gravity, as this centroid is sometimes called. The
earth attracts itself with no force whatever; but is attracted and governed in
its annual movement by the sun, the central controlling body of our system,
while the moon and planets play only the part of petty disturbers.
It would, however, be right to speak of the weight of the earth relatively to
the sun; for the sun attracts the mass of our planet with a certain definite
force, readily calculable from the familiar formula for central force, viz.,
mv2/r., in which m is the mass of the earth, v its orbital velocity and r its
distance from the sun. Supplying the numbers, the weight of the earth
relatively to the sun, comes out to be
3,000000,000000,000000 or 3×10^{18} tons weight,
or, in words, three million million million tons weight.
It may here be noted that the velocity v of the earth in its orbit is a varying
quantity, depending on distance from the sun. As this distance is least in
December and greatest in June, it follows that the earth is heavier relatively
to the sun in winter than it is in summer.
The mass of the earth, on the other hand, is not a relative and variable
quantity, but a constant and independent one, which would not be affected
either by the sudden annihilation of all the other members of the solar
system or by the instantaneous or successive addition of a thousand orbs.
Mass being the product of volume by density, that of the earth is
6000,000000,000000,000000 or 6×1021 tons mass, which reads six
thousand million million million tons mass.
The number which expresses the mass of the earth is thus very different
from that which represents its weight relatively to the sun. It is obvious that
the latter would be a much greater quantity if our planet were transferred to
the orbit of Venus and very much less if transferred to that of far-off Jupiter,
but the number which expresses its mass would remain precisely the same
in both cases, viz., the value given above.
In elaborating his theory of magnetism, and especially his magnetic theory
of the earth, Gilbert made extensive use of lodestone-globes, which he
called "terrellas," i.e., miniature models of the earth. In pursuing his

searching inquiry, he was gradually led from these "terrellas" to his great
induction that the earth itself is a colossal, globe-like magnet. Following
Norman, "the ingenious artificer," of Limehouse, London, he also showed
that the entire cubical space which surrounds a lodestone is an "orb of
virtue," or region of influence, from which he inferred that the earth itself
must have its "orb of virtue," or magnetic field, extending outward to a very
great distance.
Gilbert does not, for a moment, think that this theory of terrestrial
magnetism, the first ever given to the world, is a wild speculation. Far from
it; he is convinced that "it will stand as firm as aught that ever was
produced in philosophy, backed by ingenious argumentation or buttressed
by mathematical demonstration."
If the earth has a magnetic field, he argued, why not the moon, the planets
and the sun itself, "the mover and inciter of the universe"? Given these
planetary magnetic fields, Gilbert seems to have no difficulty in finding out
the forces necessary to account for the crucial difficulties of the Copernican
doctrine. Nor is the medium absent that is needed for the mutual action of
magnetic globes, for we are assured that it is none other than the universal
ether, which, he says "is without resistance."
Gilbert disposes of the cosmographic puzzle of the "suspension" of the
earth in space by saying, and saying justly, that the earth "has no heaviness
of its own," and, therefore, "does not stray away into every region of the
sky." To emphasize the statement, he continues: "The earth, in its own
place, is in no wise heavy, nor does it need any balancing"; and again, "The
whole earth itself has no weight." "By the wonderful wisdom of the
Creator," he elsewhere says, "forces were implanted in the earth that the
globe itself might with steadfastness take direction."
Gilbert holds that the daily rotation of the earth on its axis is also caused,
and maintained with strict uniformity, by the same prevalent system of
magnetic forces, for "lest the earth should in divers ways perish and be
destroyed, she rotates in virtue of her magnetic energy, and such also are
the movements of the rest of the planets."
Just how this magnetic energy acts to produce the rotatory motion of a
massive globe Gilbert does not say. Nor was he able to solve such a
magnetic riddle, for there was nothing in his philosophy to explain how a

lodestone-globe in free space should ever become a perpetual magnetic
motor. Oddly enough he disagrees with Peregrinus, who maintained in his
Epistola, 1269, that a terrella, or spherical lodestone, poised in the
meridian, would turn on its axis regularly every 24 hours. He naively says:
"We have never chanced to see this; nay, we doubt if there is such a
movement." Continuing, he brings out his clinching argument: "This daily
rotation seems to some philosophers wonderful and incredible because of
the ingrained belief that the mighty mass of earth makes an orbital
movement in 24 hours; it were more incredible that the moon should in the
space of 24 hours traverse her orbit or complete her course; more incredible
that the sun and Mars should do so; still more that Jupiter and Saturn; more
than wonderful would be the velocity of the fixed stars and firmament."
Here he finds himself obliged to berate Ptolemy for being "over-timid and
scrupulous in apprehending a break up of this nether world were the earth to
move in a circle. Why does he not apprehend universal ruin, dissolution,
confusion, conflagration and stupendous celestial and super-celestial
calamities from a motion (that of the starry sphere) which surpasses all
imagination, all dreams and fables and poetic license, a motion ineffable
and inconceivable?"
Gilbert is not clear and emphatic on the other doctrine of Copernicus, the
revolution of the earth and planets around the sun. He does, however, say
that each of the moving globes "has circular motion either in a great circular
orbit or on its own axis, or in both ways." Again: "The earth by some great
necessity, even by a virtue innate, evident and conspicuous, is turned
circularly about the sun." Elsewhere he affirms that the moon circles round
the earth "by a magnetic compact of both." He returns to this point in his De
Mundo Nostro, saying, "The force which emanates from the moon reaches
to the earth; and, in like manner, the magnetic virtue of the earth pervades
the region of the moon."
We have here an implied interaction between two magnetic fields, rather a
clever idea for a magnetician of the sixteenth century. In one case, the
reaction is between the field of the earth and that of the moon, compelling
the latter to rotate round its primary once every month; and the second,
between the field of the earth and that of the sun, compelling our planet to
revolve round the center of our system once every year.

Though an inefficient cause of the annual motion of our planet, this
interaction of two magnetic fields had, nevertheless, something in common
with the idea of the mutual action of material particles postulated in the
Newtonian theory of universal gravitation.
This magnetic assumption by which Gilbert sought to defend the theory of
the universe propounded by Copernicus was a very vulnerable point in his
astronomical armor which was promptly detected and fiercely assailed by a
galaxy of continental writers; all of them churchmen, physicists and
astronomers of note. They accepted Gilbert's electric and magnetic
discoveries and warmed up to his experimental method; they did not discard
his theory of terrestrial magnetism, but rejected and scoffed at the use
which he made of it to justify the heliocentric theory. They poked fun at the
English philosopher for his magnetic hypothesis of planetary rotation and
revolution, and succeeded in discrediting the Copernican doctrine. Error
prevailed for a time, but Newton's Principia, published in 1687, gave the
Ptolemaic system the coup de grâce. Gilbert's hypothesis of the interaction
of planetary magnetic fields gave way to universal gravitation, and
Copernicanism was finally triumphant.
Throughout the pages of Gilbert's treatise, he shows himself remarkably
chary in bestowing praise, but surprisingly vigorous in denunciation. St.
Thomas is an instance of the former, for it is said that he gets at the nature
of the lodestone fairly well; and it is admitted that "with his godlike and
perspicacious mind, he would have developed many a point had he been
acquainted with magnetic experiments." Taisnier, the Belgian, is an
example of the latter, whose plagiarism from Peregrinus wrings from our
indignant author such withering words as "May the gods damn all such
sham, pilfered, distorted works, which so muddle the minds of students!"
Besides his treatise on the magnet, Gilbert is the author of an extensive
work entitled, "De Mundo Nostro Sublunari," in which he defends the
modern system of the universe propounded by Copernicus and gives his
views on important cosmical problems. This work was published after the
author's death, first at Stettin in 1628, and again at Amsterdam in 1651.
Chancellor Bacon was well acquainted with this treatise of our philosopher;
indeed he had in his collection the only two manuscript copies ever made,
one in Latin and the other in English, a very singular and significant fact in

view of the Chancellor's attitude toward Gilbert. Putting it crudely, one
would like to know how he obtained possession of the manuscripts and
what was his motive in keeping them hidden away from the philosophers of
the day. "It is considered surprising," writes Prof. Silvanus P. Thompson,
"that Bacon, who had the manuscripts in his possession and held them for
years unpublished, should have written severe strictures upon their dead
author and his methods, while at the very same time posing as the
discoverer of the inductive method in science, a method which Gilberd
(Gilbert) had practised for years before."[6]
That Bacon was no admirer of Gilbert's physical and cosmical theories the
following passages will show. In the "Novum Organum" the Chancellor
wrote: "His philosophy is an instance of extravagant speculation founded on
insufficient data"; again, "As the alchemists made a philosophy out of a few
experiments of the furnace, Gilbert, our countryman, hath made a
philosophy out of the lodestone" ("The Advancement of Learning"); lastly,
"Gilbert hath attempted a general system on the magnet, endeavoring to
build a ship out of materials not sufficient to make the rowing-pins of a
boat" ("De Augmentis Scientiarum").
One is tempted to ask how this strange disregard which Bacon entertained
for the scientific views of the greatest natural philosopher of his age and
country came to exist? Was it due to a feeling of jealousy that could not
brook a rival in the domain of the higher philosophy, or was it because
Bacon, the anti-Copernican, wanted to write down Gilbert, the defender of
the heliocentric theory, in the British Isles?
When reading Bacon's depreciatory remarks we have to remember that his
mathematical and physical outfit was very limited even for the age in which
he lived; from which it is safe to infer that he was but little qualified to pass
judgment on the value of the electric and magnetic work accomplished in
the workshops at Colchester or on the theories to which they gave rise.
Bacon deserves praise for denouncing the prevalent system of natural
philosophy which was mainly authoritative, speculative and syllogistic
instead of experimental, deductive and inductive, but he was inconsistent
and forgetful of his own principles when he belittled the greatest living
enemy of mere book-learning, and the most earnest advocate, by word and
example, of the laboratory methods for the advancement of learning.

To avoid misapprehension, it should be here stated that Bacon was not
always censorious in his treatment of his illustrious fellow-citizen, for in
several places he writes approvingly of the electric and magnetic
experiments contained in De Magnete, which he calls in his Advancement
of Learning, "a painfull (i.e., painstaking) experimentall booke." In other
places he draws so freely on Gilbert without acknowledgment as to come
dangerously near the suspicion of plagiarism.
Gilbert died, probably of the plague, in the sixtieth year of his age, on
December 10th, 1603, and was buried in the chancel of Holy Trinity
Church, Colchester, where a mural tablet records in Latin the chief facts of
his life.
Dr. Fuller in his "Worthies of England" (1662) describes Gilbert as tall of
stature and cheerful of "complexion," a happiness, he quaintly remarks, not
ordinarily found in so hard a student and retired a person." Concluding his
appreciation of the philosopher, Fuller writes: "Mahomet's tomb at Mecha[7]
is said strangely to hang up, attracted by some invisible loadstone; but the
memory of this Doctor will never fall to the ground, which his
incomparable book De Magnete will support to eternity."
Animated by a similar spirit of national pride, Dryden wrote

Gilbert shall live till loadstones cease to draw,
Or British fleets the boundless ocean awe.

We shall close these remarks by Hallam's estimate of Gilbert as a scientific
pioneer, contained in his Introduction to the Literature of Europe. "The year
1600," he says, "was the first in which England produced a remarkable
work in physical science; but this was one sufficient to raise a lasting
reputation for its author. Gilbert, a physician, in his Latin treatise on the
magnet, not only collected all the knowledge which others had possessed on
the subject, but became at once the father of experimental philosophy in this
island; and, by a singular felicity and acuteness of genius, the founder of
theories which have been revived after a lapse of ages and are almost
universally received into the creed of science."
For well-nigh three hundred years, De Magnete remained untranslated,
being read only by the scholarly few. The first translation was made by P.

Fleury Mottelay, of New York, and published by Messrs. Wiley and Sons in
the year 1893. Mr. Mottelay has given much attention to the bibliography of
the twin sciences of electricity and magnetism, as the foot-notes which he
has added to the translation abundantly prove.
A second translation appeared in the tercentenary year, 1900, and was the
work of the members of the Gilbert Club, London, among whom were Dr.
Joseph Larmor and Prof. Silvanus P. Thompson. It is a page-for-page
translation with facsimile illustrations, initial letters and tail-pieces.
As one would infer from the numerous references contained in De Magnete,
Gilbert had a considerable collection of valuable books, classical and
modern, bearing on the subject of his life-work; but these, as well as his
terrellas, globes, minerals and instruments, perished in the great fire of
London, 1666, with the buildings of the College of Physicians, in which
they were located.
A portrait of Gilbert was preserved in the Bodleian Library, Oxford, for
many years; but has long since disappeared from its walls. On the occasion
of the three hundredth anniversary (1903) of Gilbert's death, a fine painting
representing the Doctor in the act of showing some of his electrical
experiments to Queen Elizabeth and her court (including Sir Walter
Raleigh, Sir Francis Drake and Cecil, Lord Burleigh, famous Secretary of
State), was presented to the Mayor of Colchester by the London Institute of
Electrical Engineers. A replica of the painting was sent to the St. Louis
Exposition, 1904, where it formed one of the attractions of the Electricity
Building.
The house in which Gilbert was born (1544) still stands in Holy Trinity
Street, Colchester, where it is frequently visited by persons interested in the
history of electric and magnetic science.
Brother Potamian.

FOOTNOTES:
[6] "Souvenir of Gilberd's Tercentenary," p. 6.
[7] See magnetic myths, page 5.

CHAPTER III.
Franklin and Some Contemporaries.
As already seen, the writers of Greece and Rome knew little about the
lodestone; we have now to add that the knowledge of electricity which they
possessed was of the same elementary character. They knew that certain
resinous substances, such as amber and jet had, when rubbed, the property
of attracting straws, feathers, dry leaves and other light bodies; beyond this,
their philosophy did not go. The Middle Ages added little to the subject, as
the Schoolmen were occupied with questions of a higher order. The Saxon
Heptarchy came and went, Alcuin taught in the schools of Charlemagne,
Cardinal Langton compelled a landless and worthless king to sign Magna
Charta, universities were founded with Papal sanction in Italy, France,
Germany, England and Scotland, Copernicus wrote his treatise on the
revolution of heavenly bodies and dedicated it to Pope Paul III., Tycho
Brahé made his famous astronomical observations at Uranienborg and
befriended at Prague the penniless Kepler, and Columbus gave a New
World to Castile and Leon—all this before the man appeared who, using
amber as guide, discovered a new world of phenomena, of thought and
philosophy. This man was no other that Gilbert, whose discoveries in
magnetism were described in an earlier chapter. The trunk line of his work
was magnetism; electricity was only a siding. One was the main subject of a
life-long quest while the other was only a digression. It was a digression in
which the qualities of the native-born investigator are seen at their very
best: alertness and earnestness, resourcefulness and perseverance, all
rewarded by a rich harvest of valuable results. It is refreshing and inspiring
to read the Second Book of Gilbert's treatise, De Magnete, in which are
recorded in quick succession the twenty important discoveries which he
made in his new field of labor.
At the very outset, he found it necessary to invent a recording instrument to
test the electrification produced by rubbing a great variety of substances.
This he appropriately called a versorium; we would call it an electroscope.
"Make to yourself," he says, "a rotating needle of any sort of metal three or

Fig. 9
Gilvert's "Versorium" or Electroscope

four fingers long and pretty light and poised on a sharp point." He then
briskly rubs and brings near his versorium glass, sulphur, opal, diamond,
sapphire, carbuncle, rock-crystal, sealing-wax, alum, resin, etc., and finds
that all these attract his suspended needle, and not only the needle, but
everything else. His words are remarkable: "All things are drawn to
electrics." Here is a great advance on the amber and jet, the only two bodies
previously known as having the power to attract "straws, chaff and twigs,"
the usual test-substances of the ancients. Pursuing his investigations, he
finds numerous bodies which perplex him, because when rubbed they do
not affect his electroscope. Among these, he enumerates: bone, ivory,
marble, flint, silver, copper, gold, iron, even the lodestone itself. The former
class he called electrica, electrics; the latter was termed anelectrica, non-
electrics.
To Gilbert we, therefore, are indebted for the terms electric and electrical,
which he took from the Greek name for amber instead of succinic and
succinical, their Latin equivalents. The noun electricity was a coinage of a
later period, due probably to Sir Thomas Browne, in whose Pseudodoxia
Epidemica, 1646, it occurs in the singular number on page 51 and in the
plural on page 79. It may interest the reader to be here retold that we owe
the chemical term affinity to Albertus Magnus, barometer to Boyle, gas to
van Helmont, magnetism to Barlowe, magnetic inclination to Bond, electric
circuit to Watson, electric potential to Green, galvanometer to Cumming,

electro-magnetism to Kircher, electromagnet to Sturgeon, and telephone to
Wheatstone.
Gilbert was perplexed by the anomalous behavior of his non-electrics. He
toiled and labored hard to find out the cause. He undertook a long, abstract,
philosophical discussion on the nature of bodies which, from its very
subtlety, failed to reveal the cause of his perplexing anomaly. Gilbert failed
to discover the distinction between conductors and insulators; and, as a
consequence, never found out that similarly electrified bodies repel each
other. Had he but suspended an excited stick of sealing-wax, what a
promised land of electrical wonders would have unfolded itself to his vision
and what a harvest of results such a reaper would have gathered in! From
solids, Gilbert proceeds to examine the behavior of liquids, and finds that
they, too, are susceptible of electrical influence. He notices that a piece of
rubbed amber when brought near a drop of water deforms it, drawing it out
into a conical shape. He even experiments with smoke, concluding that the
small carbon particles are attracted by an electrified body. Some years ago,
Sir Oliver Lodge, extending this observation, proposed to lay the poisonous
dust floating about in the atmosphere of lead works by means of large
electrostatic machines. He even hinted in his Royal Institution lecture that
they might be useful in dissipating mists and fogs, and recommended that a
trial be made on some of our ocean-steamers.
Gilbert next tries heat as an agent to produce electrification. He takes a red-
hot coal and finds that it has no effect on his electroscope; he heats a mass
of iron up to whiteness and finds that it, too, exerts no electrical effect. He
tries a flame, a candle, a burning torch, and concludes that all bodies are
attracted by electrics save those that are afire or flaming, or extremely
rarefied. He then reverses the experiment, bringing near an excited body the
flame of a lamp, and ingenuously states that the body no longer attracts the
pivoted needle. He thus discovered the neutralizing effect of flames, and
supplied us with the readiest means that we have to-day for discharging
non-conductors.
He goes a step further; for we find him exposing some of his electrics to the
action of the sun's rays in order to see whether they acquired a charge; but
all his results were negative. He then concentrates the rays of the sun by
means of lenses, evidently expecting some electrical effect; but finding

none, concludes with a vein of pathos that the sun imparts no power, but
dissipates and spoils the electric effluvium.
Professor Righi has shown that a clean metallic plate acquires a positive
charge when exposed to the ultraviolet radiation from any artificial source
of light, but that it does not when exposed to solar rays. The absence of
electrical effects in the latter case is attributed to the absorptive action of the
atmosphere on the shorter waves of the solar beam.
Of course Gilbert permits himself some speculation as to the nature of the
agent with which he was dealing. He thought of it, reasoned about it,
pursued it in every way; and came to the conclusion that it must be
something extremely tenuous indeed, but yet substantial, ponderable,
material. "As air is the effluvium of the earth," he says, "so electrified
bodies have an effluvium of their own, which they emit when stimulated or
excited"; and again: "It is probable that amber exhales something peculiar
that attracts the bodies themselves."
These views are quite in line with the electronic theory of electricity in
vogue to-day, which invests that elusive entity with an atomic structure. It is
held that the tiny particles or electrons that are shot out from the cathode
terminal of a vacuum tube with astounding velocity are none other than
particles of negative electricity, pure and simple. They have mass and
inertia, both of which properties are held to be entirely electrical, though
quite analogous to the mass and inertia of ordinary, ponderable matter.
History shows that scientific theories have their periods of infancy, maturity
and decay. When they have served their purpose, like the scaffolding of a
building, they are removed from sight and stored away, say, in a limbo of
discarded philosophy, for use of the historian of science or of the
metaphysician writing on the nature of human knowledge. Such was the
fate of Gilbert's "effluvium" theory of electricity, of the fluid theories of
Dufay and Franklin, and the ether-strain theory of recent years. "Each
physical hypothesis," says Prof. Fleming, "serves as a lamp to conduct us a
certain stage in the journey. It illumines a limited portion of the path,
throwing light before and behind for some distance; but it has to be
discarded and exchanged at intervals because it has become exhausted and
because its work is done."

It is a little surprising that the phenomenon of electrical repulsion should
have escaped the attention of one so skilled in experimentation as Gilbert.
Yet such was the case; and Gilbert even went so far as to deny its very
existence, saying, "Electrics attract objects of every kind; they never repel."
This error reminds one of Gilbert's own saying that "Men of acute
intelligence, without actual knowledge of facts, and in the absence of
experiment, easily slip and err." Just twenty-nine years after Gilbert had
penned this aphorism, there appeared in Ferrara an extensive work on
electric and magnetic philosophy, by the Jesuit Cabeo, in which this
electrical repulsion was recognized and described. Having rubbed one of his
electrics, Cabeo noticed that it attracted grains of dust at first and afterward
repelled them suddenly and violently. In the case of threads, hairs or
filaments of any kind, he observed that they quivered a little before being
flung away like sawdust. This self-repelling property of electricity,
described in the year 1629, opened up a new field of inquiry, which was
actively explored by a number of brilliant electricians in England and on the
Continent.
This was especially the case after the building of the first frictional machine
by Otto von Guericke in 1672. The burgomaster of Magdeburg had already
acquired European fame by the original and sensational experiments on
atmospheric pressure which he made in presence of the Emperor and his
nobles in solemn diet assembled (1651). Von Guericke seems to have been
of a mind with Gilbert concerning writers on natural science who treat their
subjects "esoterically, miracle-mongeringly, abstrusely, reconditely,
mystically"; for he affirms that "oratory, elegance of diction or skill in
disputation avails nothing in the field of natural science."
Von Guericke's machine consisted of a ball of sulphur, with the hand of the
operator or assistant as rubber. Some years later, the sulphur ball was
replaced by Newton (some say Hauksbee) by a glass globe, which, in turn,
was exchanged for a glass cylinder by Gordon, a Scotch Benedictine, who
was Professor of natural philosophy in the University of Erfurt. In 1755,
Martin de Planta, of Sus, in Switzerland, constructed a plate-machine which
was subsequently improved by Ramsden of London. The frictional
machine, as it was rightly called, has been superseded by the influence
machine, a type of static generator which is at once efficient, reliable and

easy of operation. The best known form for laboratory use is that of
Wimshurst (1832-1903), of London.
Andrew Gordon, the Scotch Benedictine to whom reference has just been
made, was a man of an inventive turn of mind. Besides, the cylindrical
electric machine which he constructed, he devised several ingenious pieces
of electrical apparatus, among which are the electric chimes usually
ascribed to Franklin. They are fully described in his Versuch einer
Erklärung der Electricität, published in 1745. On page 38, he says that he
was led to try an electrical method of ringing bells; and then adds: "For this
purpose I placed two small wine-glasses near each other, one of which
stood on an electrified board, while the other, placed at a distance of an inch
from it, was connected with the ground. Between the two, I suspended a
little clapper by a silk thread, which clapper was attracted by the electrified
glass and then repelled to the grounded one, giving rise to a sound as it
struck each glass. As the clapper adhered somewhat to the glasses, the effect
on the whole was not agreeable. I, therefore, substituted two small metallic
gongs suspended one from an electrified conductor and the other from a
grounded rod, the gongs being on the same level and one inch apart. When
the clapper was lowered and adjusted, it moved at once to the electrified
bell, from which it was driven over to the other, and kept on moving to and
fro, striking the bell each time with pleasing effect until the electrified bell
lost its charge." In the illustration, a is connected with the electrified
conductor; b is the insulated clapper; c the grounded gong.

Gordon's book was
published in Erfurt in
1745, while the year
1752 is that in which
Franklin applied the
chimes to his
experimental rod to
apprise him of the
approach of an
electric storm, an
application which was
original and quite in
keeping with the
practical turn of mind
that characterized our
journeyman-printer,
philosopher and
statesman.
Unquestionably,
Franklin had all the
ingenuity and
Fig. 10
constructive ability
Gordon's Electric Chimes, 1745
needed to make such
an appliance; but
there is no evidence that he actually invented it. Though Franklin neither
claimed nor disclaimed the chimes as his own, all his admirers would have
preferred less reticence on his part when the discoveries and inventions of
contemporary workers in the electrical field were concerned. He had
attained sufficient eminence to permit him to look appreciatingly and
encouragingly on the efforts of others.
Gordon also invented a toy electric motor in which rotation was effected by
the reaction of electrified air-particles escaping from a number of sharp
points. One of these motors consisted of a star of light rays cut from a sheet
of tin and pivoted at the center, with the ends of the rays slightly bent aside
and all in the same direction. When electrified, Gordon noticed that the star
required no extraneous help to set it in motion. It was a self-starting

electric-motor. In the dark, the points were tipped with light, and as they
revolved traced out a luminous circle which "could neither be blown out nor
decreased."
The reader will recognize in this description taken from Gordon's Versuch,
page 45, the electric whirl of the lecture-table; Gordon's name is never
associated with it, but that of Hamilton (Hamilton's "fly" or Hamilton's
"mill") sometimes is!
This irrepressible monk seems to have been one of the earliest
electrocutors, for it is said that many an innocent chaffinch fell victim to
discharges from his machine; and we would be disposed to think of him as a
wizard on learning that he ignited spirits by using an electrified stream of
water, to the astonishment and mystification of the spectators.
Abbé Menon was kinder to the feathered tribe than his black-cowled
brother of Erfurt; he did not subject them to a powerful discharge, but rather
to a gentle electrification for the purpose of determining what physical or
physiological effect the agent would have on the animal system. The Abbé
found that cats, pigeons, sparrows and chaffinches lost weight by being
electrified for five or six hours at a time, from which he concluded that
electricity augments the slow, continuous perspiration of animals. The same
was found to take place with the human body itself. The reader will
remember that Stephen Gray in 1730 suspended a boy by means of silken
cords for the purpose of electrification; Abbé Nollet did the same, and
doubtless his friend Abbé Menon adopted a similar mode of insulation for
complacent electrical subjects. An easier mode of operating would have
been to make the child stand on a cake of resin, the insulating property of
which had been discovered by Stephen Gray.
About this time, 1746, Franklin appears on the scene, and though he
devoted but nine years (1746-1755) of his life to the study of electricity, he
made discoveries in that fascinating branch of human knowledge that will
hand his name down the centuries.
Franklin's life is interesting and instructive on account of the difficulties
which he met and overcame, for his strength of will, tenacity of purpose,
the philosophy which he followed, his devotedness to science, and the
success which he achieved.

Our philosopher's moral code comprised the thirteen virtues of temperance,
silence, order, resolution, frugality, industry, sincerity, justice, moderation,
cleanliness, tranquility, chastity and humility. To each of these virtues
Franklin attached a precept which makes edifying reading even at the
present day: temperance, eat not to dullness, drink not to elation; silence,
speak not but what may benefit others or yourself, avoid trifling
conversation; order, let all your things have their places, let each part of
your business have its time; resolution, resolve to perform what you ought,
perform without fail what you resolve; frugality, make no expense, but do
good to others or yourself, i.e., waste nothing; industry, lose no time, be
always employed in something useful, cut off all unnecessary actions;
sincerity, use no hurtful deceit, think innocently and justly, and if you
speak, speak accordingly; justice, wrong no one by doing injury or omitting
the benefits that are your duty; moderation, avoid extremes, forbear
resenting injuries so much as you think they deserve; cleanliness, tolerate
no uncleanliness in body, clothes or habitation; tranquility, be not disturbed
by trifles or accidents common or unavoidable; chastity (no remark);
humility, imitate Jesus.
This last virtue seems to have given Franklin very much concern; for he
admits that he had the appearance of humility, and immediately adds that in
reality there is no passion of the human breast so hard to subdue as pride.
He is shrewd enough to say that "even if I could conceive that I had
completely overcome it, I should probably be proud of my humility." Like
many another, the virtue which gave him the most trouble was order, and
this never became conspicuously apparent at any time of his long life.
In his endeavors after the higher life, he seems to have been animated with
the earnest spirit of the ascetic who binds himself to strive after perfection
as laid down in the maxims and counsels of the Gospel. It is not without
surprise and perhaps a feeling too of self-condemnation, that we read the
means which he adopted to reach a high moral standard. Taking for granted
that he had a true appreciation of right and wrong, he did not see why he
should not always act according to the dictates of conscience. To improve
himself morally and advance in the higher life, he adopted a means that
should have proved effective. Taking the first of the thirteen fundamental
virtues, he applied himself to its acquisition for a whole week together, after
which he took the second, then the third, and so on with the rest. He thought

that by making daily acts of the virtue, it would become habitual with him
at the end of the week. When the last of the thirteen virtues had received its
share of attention, he returned to the first one on the list and proceeded
round the cycle again. Being a man of purpose and tenacity, he completed
the circle of his chosen virtues four times a year; subsequently he extended
the time of individual practise so as to take a whole year for the course; and
later on, he devoted several years to the completion of his list.
As an aid in this work of self-betterment, Franklin examined himself daily,
registering his failures in a little book which was ruled for the purpose, a
column being allowed for each day and a line for each of the thirteen
virtues. He naively tells us the result of this exercise of daily introspection
in these words: "I am surprised to find myself so much fuller of faults than I
had imagined; but I had the satisfaction of seeing them diminish."
The evening examination of conscience was always concluded by the
following prayer written by Franklin himself: "O powerful Goodness!
bountiful Father! merciful Guide! increase in me that wisdom which
discovers my truest interest. Strengthen my resolutions to perform what that
wisdom dictates. Accept my kind offices to Thy other children as the only
return in my power for Thy continual favors to me."
An extensive reader, Franklin found in Thomson's poems some lines that
appealed to him very strongly by the beauty of the sentiment expressed. He
called them "a little prayer," which he recited from time to time:

"Father of light and life, Thou Lord Supreme,
Oh, teach me what is good; teach me Thyself.
Save me from folly, vanity and vice;
From every low pursuit; and fill my soul
With knowledge, conscious peace and virtue pure;
Sacred, substantial, never-failing bliss!"

His was a praiseworthy attempt at emancipating himself from the thraldom
of passion and raising himself to the high plane of perfection required by
the Master when He said "Follow Me." Doubtless, as time wore on, he must
have felt as many before and since, that the spirit is willing but the flesh is
weak.

In his autobiography, Franklin attributes his success in business not only to
his self-control, uniformity of conduct, philosophical indifference to slight
or pique, but also to his habits of frugality, the result in part of his early
training. "My original habits of frugality continuing," he says, "and my
father having frequently repeated a proverb of Solomon, 'Seest thou a man
diligent in his business? he shall stand before kings,' I from thence
considered industry as a means of obtaining wealth and distinction, which
encouraged me, tho' I did not think that I should ever literally stand before
kings, which, however, has since happened." Our aged philosopher
proceeds to tell us of his good fortune with a little bit of pardonable vanity,
to which, by the way, he was never a great stranger, despite his philosophy,
acquired virtue, and staid character. Referring to the kings of the earth, he
informs us that he "stood before five, and even had the honor of sitting
down with one to dinner."
An important event in Franklin's life was the founding by him of the first
public library in the country in the year 1732. Though but twenty-six years
of age, he seems to have been as well aware as any of the millionaire
philanthropists of to-day, of the good that may be accomplished among
common people by providing them with suitable reading matter. He
watched with eagerness the progress of his experiment and was pleased
with the success that crowned it. He observes that such libraries "tend to
improve the conversation of Americans and to make common tradesmen
and farmers as intelligent (well-informed?) as most gentlemen from other
countries."
Peter Collinson, Fellow of the Royal Society of London, who had dealings
with some Philadelphia merchants, was led to take an active interest in the
library. This he did by sending over a number of books and papers relating
to electricity together with an "electrical tube" with instructions for its use.
These literary and scientific contributions sent from London from time to
time, excited much interest among the charter members of the Library
Company, and principally that of Franklin himself. He had heard something
of the new order of phenomena which was just then engaging the attention
of European physicists. In the summer of 1746, while on a visit to Boston,
his native place, he assisted at a lecture on electricity by a certain Dr.
Spence, a Scotchman, who sought to illustrate the properties of electrified
bodies by such experiments as could be made with glass tubes and suitable

rubbers, the rudimentary apparatus available at the time. Franklin was
impressed by what he saw and heard, even though he indulged in a little
destructive criticism when he said that the experiments were "imperfectly
made," because the lecturer was "not very expert." When Franklin wrote
those words, he knew by repeated and painful experience the difficulty of
getting satisfactory results from rubbing glass tubes or rotating glass globes,
owing to the provoking attraction which plain, untreated glass has for
moisture. Knowing this, he might have been less severe in his strictures on
his friend, the peripatetic electrician.
It is evident, however, that the experiments which he witnessed surprised
and pleased him, for, having shortly afterward received some electrical
tubes together with a paper of instructions, from his London friend, Peter
Collinson, he set to work for himself without delay. We may well say of
him that what his right hand found to do, he did calmly, but with all his
might. A twelve-month had not elapsed before he wrote: "I never was
engaged in any study that so totally engrossed my attention and time as this
has lately done; for, what with making experiments when I can be alone and
repeating them to my friends and acquaintance who, from the novelty of the
thing, come continually in crowds to see them, I have had little leisure for
anything else." (1747.)
Here we see the calm, persistent character of the philosopher united with
the affability and communicativeness of the gentleman.
For the sake of encouraging others as well, perhaps, as through a sense of
personal relief, Franklin had a number of long tubes of large bore blown at
the local glass-house, which tubes he distributed to his friends that they, too,
might engage in research work. In this way, rubbing and rubbing of an
energetic kind became quite an occupation in the Franklin circle.
Kinnersley, whose name still survives in works on static electricity in
connection with an electric "thermometer" which he devised, was among
the band of ardent workers who ungrudgingly acknowledged Franklin's
superior acumen, comprehensive grasp of detail and wondrous insight into
the mechanism of the new phenomena. If we say that Franklin was not a
genius, it is only for the purpose of adding that even in those early electrical
studies he displayed an uncommon amount of the unlimited capacity for
taking pains which is said to be associated with that brilliant gift. He tested
all his results with great care and in a variety of ways before accepting any

of them as final; and considered his explanations of them provisional, being
ever ready to modify them or give them up altogether if shown to conflict
with the simple workings of nature.
As early as 1733, the refined and tactful Dufay, in France, showed by
numerous experiments on woods, stones, books, oranges and metals that all
solid bodies were susceptible of electrification. This was a notable advance
which swept away Gilbert's classification of bodies into electrics and non-
electrics. The French physicist soon drew from his observations the
conclusion that electrification produced by friction is of two kinds, to which
he applied the terms vitreous and resinous, the former being developed
when glass is rubbed with silk and the latter when amber or common
sealing-wax is rubbed with flannel. He noticed, too, that silk strings
repelled each other when both were touched either with excited glass or
sealing-wax; but that they attracted each other when touched one with glass
and the other with sealing-wax. From these observations, he deduced the
electrostatic laws, that similarly electrified bodies attract while dissimilarly
electrified bodies repel each other.
The law of distance was discovered later by Coulomb, who, in 1785,
showed that the law of repulsion as well as of attraction between two
electrified particles varies inversely as the square of the distance. In the year
1750, the law of the inverse square for magnets was stated by John Michell,
who expressed it by saying that the "attraction and repulsion decrease as the
square of the distance from the respective poles increases." Michell was
fourth wrangler of his year (1748-9), Fellow of Queen's College,
Cambridge, and inventor of the torsion balance, which, however, he did not
live to use; but which, in the hands of Cavendish, yielded important results
on the mean density of the earth. Coulomb probably re-invented the
"balance" and applied the practical, laboratory instrument which he made it,
to the study of the quantitative laws of electricity and magnetism.
To observe and correlate phenomena is the special work of the physicist; to
speculate on ultimate causes is the privilege of the philosopher. Dufay was
both. The theory which he offered was a simple one, even if untrue to
nature. It was a good working hypothesis for the time being.
According to this theory, there are two distinct, independent electrical fluids
mutually attractive but self-repelling. With that postulate, Dufay was able to

offer a plausible explanation of a great many phenomena that puzzled the
electricians of the time.
Franklin, however, held a different view; rejecting the dual nature of
electricity, he propounded his one-fluid theory, which was found equally
capable of explaining electrical phenomena. A body having an excess of the
fluid was said to be positively charged, while one with a deficit was said to
be negatively charged. The sign plus was used in one case and the sign
minus in the other; and just as two algebraical quantities of equal magnitude
but opposite sign give zero when added together, so a conductor to which
equal quantities of positive and negative electricity would be given would
be in the neutral state. The Franklinian theory was welcomed in England,
Germany and Italy, but it met with opposition in France from the brilliant
Abbé Nollet and the followers of Dufay.
Each of the rival theories affords a mental conception of the forces in play
and also a consistent explanation of the resulting phenomena. Their
simplicity, and, at the same time, the comprehensiveness of explanation
which they afford, will continue to give them a place in our text-books for
many years to come.
Efforts are being made to apply the electronic theory to the various
phenomena of electrostatics, the electron being the smallest particle of
electricity that can have separate, individual existence. It is many times
smaller than the hydrogen atom, the smallest of chemical atoms, and it
possesses all the properties of negative electricity. By the loss of one or
more electrons, a body becomes positively electrified, whereas by the
acquisition of one or more electrons it becomes negatively electrified. The
electron at rest gives rise to the phenomena of electrostatics; in motion, it
gives rise to electrical currents, electromagnetism and electric radiation.
We do not know what led Franklin to call positive the electrification of
glass when rubbed with silk, and negative that of sealing-wax when rubbed
with flannel. If he meant to imply that positive is the more important of the
two, he erred, for many reasons can be given to show the preponderating
influence of negative electricity; but it is too late now to change the
terminology.
If asked to point out differences between the physical effects of positive and
negative electrification, we would refer to the positive brush, which is finer

and much more developed than the negative; to the Wimshurst machine,
with its positive brushes on one side and negative "beads" on the other; to
the positive charge acquired by a clean plate of zinc when exposed to
ultraviolet light; to the ordinary vacuum tube in which there is a violet glow
at the cathode end or negative terminal; to Crookes's tubes, X-ray tubes and
other high vacuum tubes, in which electrified particles, Kelvin's molecular
torrent, are shot out from the negative electrode with great velocity; and to
arc-lamps using a direct current in which the plus carbon is hollowed out
crater-like, has the higher temperature and wastes away twice as fast as the
negative.
The year 1746 is an annus mirabilis in the history of electricity, for it was in
the January of that year that an attempt to electrify water by
Musschenbroek, of Leyden, led to the discovery of the principle of the
electrostatic condenser. Whatever may be thought of the claim for priority
put forward in favor of Dean von Kleist, of Cammin in Pomerania, or of
Cunæus, of Leyden, it is certain that the discovery became known
throughout Europe by the startling announcement and sensational
description given of it by Musschenbroek, a renowned professor of a
renowned university. He was not only surprised but terror-stricken by the
effect of the electric energy which he had unconsciously stored up in his
little phial; for after telling his French friend Réaumur, the physicist, that he
felt the commotion in his arms, shoulders and chest, he added that he would
not take another shock for the whole kingdom of France! A resolution
destined to be broken, like so many others before and since.
Very different was the sentiment of Bose, Professor of Physics in the
University of Wittenberg, who is credited with saying that he would like to
die by the electric shock, that he might live in the memoirs of the French
Academy of Sciences.
The Leyden jar became at once the scientific curiosity and universal topic
of discussion of the time; and not only was it the curiosity, but also the crux
of the day, puzzling investigators, perplexing philosophers and giving rise
to animated controversies. The mystery was soon dispelled, however, when
Franklin began in 1747 his searching inquiry into the electric conditions of
each element of the jar. Nothing escaped his subtle mind and nothing was
left undone by his deft hand. The evidence of experiment and the logic of
facts carried at last conviction even with Londoners and Parisians, who

were wont to look upon Americans as
mere colonists, who had neither time nor
opportunity for scientific pursuits, being
obliged to hew their way through virgin
forests or drive the roving Indian back
from their frontiers into the wilds of the
West. The theory of the Leyden jar given
by Franklin 160 years ago has stood the
test of time. It has met with universal
acceptance; and, despite our manifold
advances, but little of permanent value
has been added to it.
It is very interesting to follow the main
lines of this magnificent research.
Franklin electrifies, in the usual way,
water contained in a small flask,
complaisantly taking the shock on
completing the circuit. To find where the
charge resides, whether in the hand of the
operator, as some said, or in the water, as
others maintained, he again electrifies the
water and pours it into another flask,
which fails, however, to give a shock,
thus showing that the charge had not been
carried over with the water. Convinced
that the charge was still somewhere in the
first phial, he carefully poured water into
Fig. 11 it again; and found, to his intense
Modern Form of Leyden Jar satisfaction, that it was capable of giving
with Movable Coatings an excellent shock. It was now clear to
him that the energy of the charge was
either in the hand of the experimenter or in the glass itself, or in both. To
determine this nice point, he proceeds to construct a "jar" which could
easily be taken to pieces. For this purpose, he selected a pane of glass; and,
laying it on the extended hand, placed a sheet of lead on its upper surface.
The leaden plate was then electrified; and when touched with the finger, a
spark was seen and a shock felt. By the addition of another plate to the

lower surface, the shocking power of this simple condenser was increased.
In this efficient form he had a readily dissectible condenser, which allowed
him to throw off and replace the coatings at will, and thereby to prove
beyond cavil that the seat of the stored-up electric energy is not in the
conductors, but in the glass itself. This was a discovery of the first
magnitude and one destined to associate the name of Franklin with those of
the most eminent electricians down the ages. Fig. 11 shows the modern
form of the jar with movable coatings.
In the
"fulminating"
pane, as it came
to be called, we
have one of the
eleven elements
of Franklin's
historic battery
of 1748. It is
interesting to
notice that he
was accustomed
to connect his
"panes" in series Fig. 12
while charging Three Coated Panes in series
(Fig. 12), but
that he preferred to join similar coatings together, that is, to couple them in
"parallel" (Fig. 13), for powerful discharges. Fig. 14 shows three jars in
"parallel."
Later on, he arranged Leyden jars so that the inside coating of one could be
hooked to the outside coating of another, the first of the series hanging
down from the prime conductor of the machine, while the last one was
grounded. "What is driven out of the tail of the first," he quaintly says,
"serves to charge the second; what is driven out of the second serves to
charge the third, and so on." This has become known as the "cascade"
method of charging a battery, owing to the flow of electricity from one jar
to the next (Fig. 15). Electricians, however, have discarded the picturesque
"cascade" for the prosaic term of "series" or "tandem" arrangement.

Fra
nkli
n
also
noti
ced
that
a
phia
l
can
not
be
char
ged
whil
e
stan
Fig. 13 ding
Three Panes in Parallel on
wax
or
on glass, or even while hanging from the prime conductor, unless
communication be formed between its outer coating and the floor, the
reason given being that "the jar will not suffer a charging unless as much
fire can go out of it one way as is thrown in by the other." (1748.)
Following his very ingenious Philadelphia friend and co-worker,
Kinnersley, he varies the mode of charging by electrifying the outside of the
jar and grounding the inner coating; for "the phial will be electrified as
strongly if held by the hook and the coating applied to the globe as when
held by the coating and the hook applied to the globe." (1748.)
The globe here referred to is the glass globe of Franklin's frictional machine
of American make, which, when rotated, was electrified positively by
contact with the hand or with a leather rubber. Franklin also used a sulphur
ball or "brimstone" globe, and observed that the electrification produced on
it differed in kind from that developed on the glass globe. (1752.)

Fig. 14
Three Jars in Parallel

It may here be stated that the first to use a leather cushion as a substitute for
the hand in the frictional machine, was Winkler, of Leipzig (1745); the
efficiency of the rubber was increased by Canton, of London, who covered
it with an amalgam of tin and mercury (1762). Bose, of Wittenberg, had
previously added the prime-conductor, which greatly augmented the
electrical capacity and output of the machine.
In 1750 Franklin imitated the effect of lightning on the compasses of a ship
by the action of a jar discharge on an unmagnetized steel needle. "By
electricity," he says, "we have frequently given polarity to needles and
reversed it at pleasure."
Similar experiments are made to-day in every lecture-course on static
electricity; but the experimenter, when wise, does not announce beforehand
which end of the needle will be north and which south, as he is just as likely
to be wrong as right, the uncertainty being due to the fact that the discharge
of a Leyden jar is not a current of electricity in one direction, but rather a
few sudden rushes or rapid surgings of electricity to and fro; in other words,
it is oscillatory in character instead of being continuous in one direction.

Fig. 15
Three Jars in Cascade

Franklin did not know this; although he made a very pertinent remark in
1749 when he likened the mechanical condition of the glass of a charged jar
to that of a bent rod or a stretched spring. "So, a straight spring," he says,
"when forcibly bent must, to restore itself, contract that side which in the
bending was extended, and extend that side which was contracted."
Franklin knew, of course, that the bent rod, when released, would swing to
and fro a few times before settling down to its state of rest; but he failed to
see the analogy between it and the strained glass of the charged Leyden jar.

It is to Joseph Henry (1799-1878), the Faraday of America, that we owe the
recognition and statement of the oscillatory character of the discharge from
Leyden jars and condensers generally. He discovered and published this
cardinal fact in 1842. His words deserve recording. "The discharge,
whatever may be its nature, is not correctly represented (employing for
simplicity the theory of Franklin) by the single transfer of an imponderable
fluid from one side of the jar to the other; the phenomenon requires us to
admit the existence of a principal discharge in one direction and then
several reflex actions backward and forward, each more feeble than the
preceding, until equilibrium is attained."[8] The italics are Prof. Henry's.
It is precisely this oscillatory character of the spark-discharge that enables
us to send out trains of electric waves into the all-pervading ether, and thus
to communicate, by "wireless," with remote stations.
Having conclusively proved that the energy of a charged condenser resides
in the dielectric, Franklin next tries to find whether "the electric matter" in
the case of conductors is limited to the surface or whether it penetrates to an
appreciable depth. To ascertain this, he insulates a silver fruit-can and
brings a charged ball, held by a silk thread, into contact with the outer
surface. On testing after removal, he found that the ball retained some of its
charge, whilst it lost all if allowed to touch the bottom of the vessel.
Surprised at this unexpected difference, he repeated the experiment again
and again, only to find the ball every time without a trace of charge after
contact with the interior of the vessel. This perplexed and puzzled him.
"The fact is singular," he says, "and you require the reason? I do not know
it. I find a frank acknowledgment of one's ignorance is not only the easiest
way to get rid of a difficulty, but the likeliest way to obtain information, and
therefore I practice it. I think it an honest policy. Those who affect to be
thought to know everything, often remain long ignorant of many things that
others could and would instruct them in, if they appeared less conceited."
This was in 1755. Cavendish in 1773 and Coulomb in 1788 independently
attacked the same problem; and having proved by their classic experiments
that a static charge is limited to the surface of conductors, it was but a step
to infer that such a distribution of electricity implies that the law of force
between two elements of charge, or between two point-charges, is the law
of the inverse square of the distance.

It will also be remembered that Faraday, not knowing what had been
accomplished eighty years before in Philadelphia, used for one of his best-
known experiments an ice-pail, into which he lowered an electrified ball for
the purpose of showing the exact equality of the induced and the inducing
charge. The similarity of apparatus and mode of procedure are remarkable.
In pursuing his work, Franklin placed a charged jar on a cake of wax and
other insulating materials, and drew sparks from it by touching successively
the knob and the outer coating, repeating the process a great number of
times to his infinite delight. He next attached a brass rod to the outside,
bending it and bringing the other end close to the knob (Fig. 16) connected
with the inner coating. Between these two he suspended a leaden ball by a
silk thread and found, as he expected, that it played to and fro between the
terminals for a considerable time. Observe that we have here a definite mass
maintained in a state of reciprocating motion by a series of electric
attractions and repulsions. We have in fact an electro-motor, closely
resembling the star and the chimes of Gordon, the Benedictine, 1745; a
mere toy, if you will, but still a remarkable invention. We repeat the same
experiment to-day only with a little more harmony, by substituting for the
knobs two little bells, which emit a soft, musical note when struck by the
interhanging clapper.
This experiment has further significance, for, like Gordon's chimes, it is an
instance of the conveyance of electricity from one point of space to another
by means of a material carrier, a mode of transfer which has since been
called "electric convection," the full meaning of which was not revealed
until Rowland (1848-1901), made his famous experiment of 1876 in the
laboratory of the University of Berlin with a highly-charged, rapidly-
revolving, ebonite disc. It was apropos of this experiment that the illustrious
Clerk Maxwell, of the University of Cambridge, wrote to his friend,
Professor Tait, of Edinburgh, saying that:

"The mounted disc of ebonite
Had whirled before, but whirled in vain;
Rowland of Troy, that doughty knight,
Convection currents did obtain,
In such a disc, of power to wheedle
From its loved north, the needle."

We may here say that Franklin was no stranger to
the work done by the electrical pioneers of the
Old World, his diligent London friend, Peter
Collinson, keeping him advised by means of
letters, books and pamphlets, in which
inspiration and practical hints must have been
found. He certainly was well acquainted with the
achievements of Dr. Watson and Dr. Bevis, of
London, as well as with the theories and
experiments of Dufay and Abbé Nollet in Paris.
It is germane to the subject to say that Dr. Bevis
used mercury and iron filings for the inner
coating of his jars, as well as sheet lead for both.
He also experimented with coated panes of glass
instead of jars. About this, Franklin wrote to
Collinson: "I perceive by the ingenious Mr.
Watson's last book, lately received, that Dr. Bevis
had used, before we had, panes of glass to give a
Fig. 16
shock; though till that book came to hand, I
Discharge by
thought to have communicated it to you as a
Alternate Contacts
novelty." (1748.)
Franklin gave way to a little pleasant humor when, in 1748, he proposed to
wind up the "electrical season" by a banquet à la Lucullus, to be given to a
few of his friends and fellow-workers, not in a sumptuously decorated hall,
but al fresco, on the banks of the Schuylkill. "A turkey is to be killed for our
dinner by the electrical shock," he wrote, "and roasted by the electrical jack
before a fire kindled by the electrical bottle, when the healths of all the
famous electricians in England, Holland, France and Germany are to be
drunk in electrified bumpers under the discharge of guns fired from the
electrical battery."
It is hardly to be supposed that such an elaborate program was carried out.
Indeed the difficulty of preparing the apparatus and getting it ready for
action on the banks of a river were formidable enough to say the least.
Franklin, however, had a Leyden battery capable of doing considerable
electrocution, for with two jars of six gallons capacity each, he knocked six

men to the ground; the same two jars sufficed to kill a hen outright, whereas
it required five, he tells us, to kill a turkey weighing ten pounds.
The "electrical bumper" was a wine-glass containing an allowance, let us
say, of some favorite brand and charged in the usual way. On approaching
the lips the two coatings would be brought within striking-distance and a
spark would take place, if not to the delight of the performer, at least to the
amusement of the on-lookers. It was subsequently remarked that guests
whose upper lip was adorned with a moustache could quaff the nectar with
impunity, as every bristle would play the part of a filiform lightning-rod and
prevent the apprehended, disruptive discharge!
Not quite so humorous was his suggestion of a hammock to be used by
timid people during an electric storm: "A hammock or swinging-bed,
suspended by silk cords equally distant from the walls on every side, and
from the ceiling and floor above and below, affords the safest situation a
person can have in any room whatever; and which, indeed, may be deemed
quite free from danger of any stroke of lightning." (1767.)
In his experiments on puncturing bodies by the spark-discharge, Franklin
does not fail to notice the double burr produced when paper is used.[9] His
words are:
"When a hole is struck through pasteboard by the electrified jar, if the
surfaces of the pasteboard are not confined or compressed, there will be a
bur raised all round the hole on both sides the pasteboard, for the bur round
the outside of the hole is the effect of the explosion every way from the
centre of the stream and not an effect of direction." (1753.) The spelling is
Franklin's unreformed.
The to-and-fro nature of the discharge was thought, at a time, to account
satisfactorily for the burr raised on each side of the pasteboard; but
Trowbridge, of Harvard, has shown that even a unidirectional discharge,
such as can be obtained by inserting a wet string or any high resistance in
the circuit, would produce a double burr, from which we infer, confirming
Franklin, that this effect of the discharge is caused by the sudden expansion
of air within the paper itself.
By the year 1749, Franklin had reached the conclusion that the lightning of
the skies is identical with that of our laboratories, basing his belief on the

following analogies which he enumerates in the notes or "minutes" which
he kept of his experiments: "The electric fluid agrees with lightning in these
particulars: (1) Giving light; (2) color of the light; (3) crooked direction; (4)
swift motion; (5) being conducted by metals; (6) crack or noise in
exploding; (7) rending bodies it passes through; (8) destroying animals; (9)
melting metals; (10) firing inflammable substances; and (11) sulphurous
smell."
But although he felt the full force of the analogical argument, Franklin
knew that the matter could not be finally settled without an appeal to
experiment; and accordingly he adds: "The electric fluid is attracted by
points; we do not know whether this property is in lightning. But since they
agree in all the particulars wherein we can already compare them, is it not
probable that they agree likewise in this? Let the experiment be made."
(1749.)
In writing to Collinson in July, 1750, he tells his London friend how the
experiment may be made: "On the top of some high tower or steeple, place
a kind of sentry-box—big enough to contain a man—and an electrical
stand. From the middle of the stand let an iron rod rise and pass, bending
out of the door, and then upright 20 or 30 feet, pointed very sharp at the
end. If the electrical stand be kept clean and dry, a man standing on it, when
such clouds are passing low, might be electrified and afford sparks, the rod
drawing fire to him from the cloud."
Collinson brought some of Franklin's letters to the notice of fellow-
members of the Royal Society with a view to their insertion in the
Philosophical Transactions of that learned body; but even his epoch-
making letter to Dr. Mitchell, of London, on the identity of lightning and
electricity, was dismissed with derisive laughter. The Royal Society made
amends in due time for their contemptuous treatment of the American
philosopher by electing him member of the Society and by awarding him
the Copley medal in 1753.
Disappointed as he was, Collinson collected Franklin's letters and published
them under the title of New Experiments and Observations on Electricity
made at Philadelphia in America. The pamphlet appeared in 1751, and was
immediately translated into French by M. d'Alibard at the request of the
great naturalist Count de Buffon.

The experiments described in the pamphlet, and especially that of the
pointed conductor, were taken up in Paris with great enthusiasm by de
Buffon himself, by d'Alibard, a botanist of distinction, and by de Lor, a
professor of physics. Following out the instructions given by Franklin, they
were all able to report success: d'Alibard on May 10th, de Lor on May 18th,
and de Buffon on May 19th, 1752.
De Buffon erected his rod on the tower of his château at Montbar; de Lor,
over his house in Paris, and d'Alibard, at his country seat at Marly, a little
town eighteen miles from Paris. D'Alibard was not at home on the eventful
afternoon of May 10th; but before leaving Marly, he had drilled a certain
Coiffier in what he should do in case an electric storm came on during his
absence. Though a hardy and resolute old soldier and proud of the
confidence placed in him, Coiffier grew alarmed at the long and noisy
discharges which he drew from the insulated rod on the afternoon of May
10th. While the storm was still at its height he sent for the Prior of the place,
Raulet by name, who hastened to the spot, followed by many of his
parishioners. After witnessing a number of brilliant and stunning
discharges, the priest drew up an account of the incident and sent it, at once,
by Coiffier himself to d'Alibard, who was then in Paris. Without delay
d'Alibard prepared a memoir on the subject which he communicated to the
Académie des Sciences three days later, viz.: on May 13th. In the
concluding paragraph, the polished academician pays a graceful tribute to
the philosopher of the Western World:
"It follows from all the experiments and observations contained in the
present paper, and more especially from the recent experiment at Marly-la-
ville, that the matter of lightning is, beyond doubt, the same as that of
electricity; it has become a reality, and I believe that the more we realize
what he (Franklin) has published on electricity, the more will we
acknowledge the great debt which physical science owes him."
We may, in passing, correct the error of those who credit French physicists
with having originated the idea of the pointed conductor. Such writers
should read the words of d'Alibard in the beginning of his memoir, where
he says: "En suivant la route que M. Franklin nous a tracée, j'ai obtenu une
satisfaction complète"; that is, "In following the way traced out by Franklin,
I have met with complete success." To Franklin, therefore, belongs the idea
of the pointed rod of 1750, which became the lightning conductor of

subsequent years; to the Parisian savants belongs the great distinction of
having been the first to make the experiment and verify the Franklinian
view of the identity of the lightning of our skies with the electricity of our
laboratories.
Franklin had precise ideas on the action of his pointed conductors, clearly
recognizing their twofold function: (1) that of preventing a dangerous rise
of potential by disarming the cloud; and (2) that of conveying the discharge
to earth, if struck. In some of his letters, he complains of people who
concentrate their attention on the preventive function, forgetting the other
entirely. "Wherever my opinion is examined in Europe," he wrote in 1755,
"nothing is considered but the probability of these rods preventing a stroke,
which is only a part of the use I proposed for them; and the other part, their
conducting a stroke which they may happen not to prevent, seems to be
totally forgotten, though of equal importance and advantage."
A favorite illustration of Franklin's showing the discharging power of
points, consisted in insulating a cannon ball against which rested a pellet of
cork, hung by a silk thread. On electrifying the ball, the cork flies off and
remains suspended at a distance, falling back at once, as soon as a needle is
brought near the ball. (1747.)
He also used tassels consisting of fifteen or twenty long threads (Fig. 17),
and even cotton-fleece, the filaments of which stand out when electrified,
but come together when a pointed rod is held underneath. He also noticed
that the filaments do not collapse when the point of the rod is covered with
a small ball. (1762.)
Franklin's views on lightning-rods met with some opposition in France from
the brilliant Abbé Nollet, and in England from Dr. Benjamin Wilson. The
latter was mainly instrumental in bringing about the famous controversy of
"Points vs. Knobs." In 1772, a committee was appointed by the Royal
Society to consider the best means of protecting the powder-magazines at
Purfleet from lightning. On the committee with Dr. Wilson were Henry
Cavendish, the distinguished chemist and physicist, and Sir John Pringle,
President of the Royal Society. The report favored sharp conductors against
blunt ones advocated by Dr. Wilson. Five years later, in 1777, the question
was again brought up, and again the new committee decided in favor of

pointed
terminals,
convinced
"that the
experiments
and reasons
made and
alleged to
the contrary
by Mr.
Wilson were
inconclusive.
"
Dr. Wilson,
being a man
of influence,
succeeded in
having his
views taken
up by the
Board of
Ordnance. It Fig. 17
has been Tassel of Long Threads or Light Strips of Paper
remarked
that this controversy would never have attracted attention but for the fact
that the discoverer of the effect of points was Franklin. He was an American
and the dispute with the colonies was then at its height. The war of the
Revolution had begun, and the British forces had already met with serious
reverses. No patriot could, therefore, admit any good in points. George III.
took sides, decreed that the points on the royal conductors at Kew should be
covered with balls, and ordered Sir John Pringle to support Dr. Wilson. Sir
John gave the dignified answer: "Sire, I cannot reverse the laws and
operations of nature"; to which the King, incensed that so incompetent a
man should hold such an important office, replied: "Then, Sir John, perhaps
you had better resign," which Sir John did.
A wit of the time put the matter epigrammatically when he wrote:

"While you, great George, for knowledge hunt
And sharp conductors change to blunt,
The nation's out of joint;
Franklin a wiser course pursues,
And all your thunder useless views
By keeping to the point."

It was in connection with this heated controversy that Franklin wrote the
following admirable words:
"I have never entered into any controversy in defence of my philosophical
opinions. I leave them to take their chance in the world. If they are right,
truth and experience will support them; if wrong, they ought to be refuted
and rejected. The King's changing his pointed conductors for blunt ones is,
therefore, a matter of small importance to me."
It was not until September, 1752, that Franklin raised a rod over his own
house. This experimental conductor was made of iron fitted with a sharp
steel point and rising seven or eight feet above the roof, the other end being
buried five feet in the ground. In order to avoid useless personal
displacement, Franklin, the economist of time, made an automatic
annunciator similar to that devised by Gordon in 1745, and described by
Watson in his Sequel, 1746, to apprize him of the advent of a good thunder-
gust. Instead of making the rod of one continuous length, it was divided on
the staircase, opposite his chamber door, the ends being drawn apart to a
horizontal distance of a few inches. Screwing a pair of tiny gongs to the
ends, he suspended between them a brass ball, held by a silk thread, to act
as clapper. Whenever a thundercloud came hovering by, the bells began to
ring, thereby summoning the philosopher to his "laboratory" on the
staircase.
Franklin's rod, erected over his house in the summer of 1752, was evidently
intended by him for experimental rather than protective purposes. There is
no doubt whatever in his mind about the use of such pointed conductors for
the protection of buildings and ships against the destructive effects of
lightning. He expressly says, in an article printed in Poor Richard's
Almanack for 1753, that "It has pleased God in His infinite goodness to
mankind, to discover to them the means of securing their habitations and
other buildings from mischief by thunder and lightning. The method is this:

provide a small iron rod (it may be made of the rod-iron used by the
nailers), but of such a length, that one end being 3 ft. or 4 ft. in the moist
ground, the other may be 6 ft. or 8 ft. above the highest part of the building.
To the upper end of the rod fasten about a foot of brass-wire, the size of a
common knitting needle, sharpened to a fine point; the rod may be secured
to the house by a few small staples. If the house or barn be long, there may
be a rod and point at each end, and a middling wire along the ridge from
one to the other. A house thus furnished will not be damaged by lightning, it
being attracted by the points and passing through the metal into the ground
without hurting anything. Vessels also, having a sharp-pointed rod fixed on
the top of their masts, with a wire from the foot of the rod reaching down
round one of the shrouds to the water, will not be hurt by lightning."
It is well known, as Dr. Rotch, Director of the Blue Hill Observatory,
recently pointed out, that the matter for these almanacs was prepared by
Franklin himself under the pen-name of Richard Saunders. As the above
passage appeared in the almanac for 1753, it is obvious that it must have
been ready sometime toward the end of 1752. Furthermore, we know that it
was actually in the hands of the printer in the middle of October of that
year, for the Pennsylvania Gazette of Oct. 19th says that the almanac was
then in press and that it would be on sale shortly. Whence it follows that the
year 1752 is the year of the invention of the lightning rod, and not 1753 or
1754 as often stated.
The instructions given by Franklin include all the essentials necessary for
the erection of a lightning conductor. It may be made of iron or copper, flat
or round, but must make good "sky" and good "earth." The former
condition is secured by screwing to the top of the rod either copper or
platinum terminals ending in sharp points; and the latter, by burying the
lower end deep in moist soil. Between "sky" and "earth" the rod must be
continuous.
The function of the rod is twofold, as Franklin well recognized, preventive
and preservative. It prevents the stroke, under ordinary conditions, by the
action of the points, which send off copious streams of air and dust particles
electrified oppositely to that of the cloud. Even at a distance, the dangerous
potential of the cloud is reduced by these convection currents and the stroke
ordinarily averted. It is clear that ten points are more efficacious than one,
and fifty more than five. Hence the number of points which we see

distributed over the higher and more conspicuous parts of a building, all of
which are carefully connected with the lightning conductor.
However well a building may theoretically be protected, conditions will
occasionally arise when the rod will inevitably be struck; its preservative
function then comes into play, by which it carries the energy of the
disruptive discharge safely to earth.
The experience of more than a century shows that the lightning-rod affords
protection in the great majority of cases; but it would be at least a mild
exaggeration to say that it never failed, even when properly constructed.
At first, the erection of lightning-rods was opposed in the New World as
well as in the Old: some based their opposition to the novelty on religious
grounds, saying that, as lightning and thunder are tokens of divine wrath, it
would be impious to interfere in any way with their manifestations. This
objection was met by saying that for a parity of reason we should avoid
protecting ourselves against the inclemencies of the weather.
Others opposed the use of the rods on the score that they invited or attracted
the flash, which was answered by saying that they attract lightning as much
as a rain-pipe attracts a shower, and no more.
The death of Professor Richmann, of the University of St. Petersburg, also
tended to retard the adoption of the rod for the protection of buildings; but
the invalidity of that objection became apparent when the circumstances of
the accident became known. Richmann's conductor was like d'Alibard's
(1751), an experimental rod, and as such was insulated at the lower end. It
was, therefore, not a lightning-rod at all, inasmuch as it was not grounded.
On August 6th, 1753, during a violent electric storm, Richmann happened
to be close to his exploring rod observing the indications of a roughly-made
electrometer, when a sharp thunder-clap was heard, and at the same instant
a ball of fire was seen by Richmann's assistant to dart from the apparatus
and strike the head of the unfortunate Professor, who fell over on a near-by
chest and expired instantly. His assistant was stunned for a while. On
regaining consciousness, he ran to the aid of the Professor; but it was too
late, the body was lifeless.
In recording this tragic event, Priestley, the historian of electricity, says that,
"It is not given to every electrician to die in so glorious a manner as the

justly envied Richmann."
For one, we do not "envy" Professor Richmann's fate, and we think that the
phrase "tragic manner" would better suit the circumstances of his death than
the "glorious manner" of Dr. Priestley.
Risks of a similar character were taken by Franklin in Philadelphia, de
Romas in Bordeaux, and d'Alibard's representative at Marly, when
experimenting with kites and insulated rods; they took their lives in their
hands, though they may not have thought so.
A few years ago, Sir William Preece said that a man might with impunity
"clasp a copper rod an inch in diameter, the bottom of which is well
connected with moist earth, while the top of it receives a violent flash of
lightning; the conductor might even be surrounded by gunpowder in the
heaviest storm without risk or danger."
It is not on record that the English electrician ever clasped a lightning
conductor or even stood in close proximity to one during an electric storm.
The above statement was as sensational as it was unwise and foolhardy. The
neighborhood of a rod during a storm is a zone of danger, owing to the
electrical surgings which are set up in it, and, as such, is to be avoided.
The death of Richmann caused quite a sensation throughout Europe, and
naturally the lightning-rod came in for severe condemnation. Among the
memoirs to which the fatality gave rise was one written in the heart of
Moravia and addressed to the celebrated Euler, Director of the Academy of
Sciences at Berlin. The writer was a monk of the Premonstratensian Order,
whose field of labor was at Prenditz.
In the year 1754, this country priest made experiments with lightning
conductors on a scale that transcended anything done in Paris, London or
Philadelphia. The accompanying illustrations show the conductor which
Divisch (also Diwisch) raised at Prenditz (also Brenditz) in the summer of
that year to demonstrate publicly the efficacy of such apparatus in breaking
up thunder-clouds and neutralizing the destructive energy pent up in their
electric charges. Prenditz, it would appear, suffered severely from electric
storms; and it was mainly for the safety of the locality that the good priest
devoted himself with earnestness to the study of electrical phenomena.

As such a man deserves to live in the memory of posterity, we have sought
out the leading facts of his career mainly from Father Alphons Zák, of
Pernegg, in Lower Austria, a distinguished writer of the Order to which
Divisch belonged, and have woven such details as we obtained from him
and others into the simple narrative that follows.
Procopius
Divisch
(Prokop
Diwisch) was
born on Aug.
1st, 1696, at
Helkowitz-
Senftenberg
in Bohemia.
He spent his
youth at
Znaim, where
he studied the
humanities
and
philosophy at
the College
conducted by
the Jesuit
fathers in that
Moravian
city. In 1719,
when in his
twenty-third
year, he
decided to
quit the
Fig. 18 common
Procopius Divisch ways of the
world in order
to lead the
higher life in the Premonstratensian Order at Kloster-Bruck. At the ripe age

of 30, Divisch was ordained priest, in 1726, after which he taught
philosophy and theology to classes of young aspirants to the ecclesiastical
state. In 1733 he went to the University of Salzburg and won his double
Doctorate in theology and philosophy. Three years later, in 1736, he was
appointed parish priest of Prenditz, a small Moravian town on the road to
Austerlitz, since of Napoleonic fame. Here he remained for five years,
returning in 1741 to Bruck as Prior of the Kloster or monastery situated
there. At the end of the Seven Years' War of the Austrian succession, he
quitted Bruck, in 1745, for his parish at Prenditz, where he spent the last
twenty years of his life in the pastoral ministrations of his sacred office and
in electrical experimentation, of which he was very fond.
The curative property of the new agent was heralded throughout Europe
about this time in terms of unmeasured praise. Some of Divisch's ailing
parishioners, believing him to be an expert in electrical manipulation,
applied to him for a little alleviation of their woes. The good-hearted priest
did not turn them away, but thought it desirable to treat them to the
therapeutic effect of such sparks as he could get from his homemade
frictional machine. The results were various, depending probably on the
confidence and imagination of the patient. Several remarkable cures seem
to have been effected either by the electric spark or by the persuasive
powers of the operator, or by both combined, with the result that people far
and wide were divided in their opinion of the Pastor of Prenditz. Some
physicians said that he was interfering with their practice, and even
clergymen found fault with him for indulging in work which they thought
unsuited to the cloth. A general impression, too, seems to have prevailed
that his electrical experiments, especially those with his lightning
conductor, were likely to prove harmful in more ways than one.
On the other hand, Divisch had admirers in high places, among whom were
the Emperor Francis I. of Germany and his imperial consort, Maria Theresa.
Having been invited to Vienna, Divisch repaired to the Austrian capital,
where, with the aid of Father Franz, another electrical devotee, he gave a
demonstration of the wonderful capability of the new form of energy before
the grandees of the empire.
When he came to the electrical property of points, he showed their
discharging power in a very original way, one which must have made his
assistant uneasy for a while. At times, the machine worked by Father Franz

gave excellent results; at others, it failed to generate. It was noticed by the
critical few that when the machine failed, Divisch was close by; while when
it worked normally, he was at some distance away. After a number of such
alternations of success and failure which sorely perplexed the assistant,
himself a man of renown in Vienna, Divisch explained the occurrence by
saying, with a merry twinkle in his eye, that the failure of the machine to
generate when he was close to it, apparently seeking out the cause of the
breakdown, was due to a number of pin-like conductors which he had
concealed for the purpose in his peruke and which neutralized the charge on
the rotating generator!
The identity of the lightning of our skies with the artificial electricity of our
laboratories was suspected by many before the middle of the eighteenth
century. Englishmen like Hauksbee, Hall, Gray, Freke, Martin and Watson;
Germans like Bose and Winkler, and Frenchmen like Abbé Nollet, had
already published their suspicions and conjectures anent the matter.
Franklin, too, had indicated twelve points of analogy between the two, in
1749, in his letter to Collinson, of London. Though he felt the force of the
analogical agreement, he also felt that the matter could not be definitely
settled without an appeal to experiment. Accordingly, he added: "The
electric fluid is attracted by points; we do not know whether this property is
in lightning. But since they agree in all the particulars wherein we can
already compare them, is it not probable that they agree likewise in this?
Let the experiment be made."
The experiment was made by Franklin himself by means of his kite two
years later, in the summer of 1752, and also by the lightning-rod which he
erected over his own house in the autumn of the same year. Doubtless
Divisch heard of the marvelous effects obtained from d'Alibard's insulated
conductor at Marly; at any rate, he erected in an open space at some little
distance from his rectory at Prenditz, a lightning conductor 130 feet in
height. As will be seen from the illustration, it bristled with points, for the
Bohemian wizard argued rightly that five points would be more efficient
than one, and 50 more efficacious than five. The weird-looking structure
destined to ward off the lightning of heaven had no less than 325 well-
distributed points. Lodge says in his Lightning Conductors: "Points to the
sky are recognized as correct; only I wish to advocate more of them, any
number of them, like barbed wire along ridges and eaves. If you want to

neutralize a
thunder-bolt, three
points are not as
effective as 3000."
This was written in
1892; nearly 140
years before that
date, we find a
simple parish priest
of an obscure
village in Moravia
using precisely
such a multiple
system of short,
pointed conductors
for the protection
of life and property.
This lightning
conductor or
meteorological
machine, as
Divisch called it,
was erected by him
at Prenditz on June
15th, 1754. On the
top of the rod will
be seen three light
vanes, which were Fig. 19 (Left) and Fig. 20 (Right)
added in the The Divisch Lightning Conductor
interest of the
feathered race in
order to prevent incautious members from incurring the risk of
electrocution by alighting on the apparatus during a storm. The wind
whirled the vanes round like the cups of an anemometer, and thus kept the
birds away from the zone of danger.
Several trials came to the electrical Pastor, and from quarters least expected.
It happened in the second year after the erection of the apparatus that the

Fig. 21
Set of Pointed Rods

summer was unusually dry, in consequence of which the crops failed almost
completely. The farmers of the neighborhood were always suspicious of the
strange-looking mast of Prenditz; and, be it said, that they were more than
diffident about the propriety of interfering with the forces of nature even
under the plea of protection, forgetting that they took great care to protect
themselves against heat and cold, rain, snow and hail. The country ladies,
no doubt, used parasols for one kind of protection; and the gentry,
umbrellas for another. Anyhow, the people of Prenditz and the good folk
around did not like the lofty mast, with its outstretched arms and bristling
rows of suspicious-looking iron points connected to the ground by means of
four long, heavy chains. For the nonce, they deemed their Pastor a queer
fellow, who thought that he could avert the anger of heaven by the oddest
kind of a machine which they ever laid their eyes on. It was argued in the
councils of the hamlets that, whatever advantages Divisch claimed for his
"machine," they were all of a negative character. It prevented the lightning
stroke, he said; that might be, but they did not see the prevention. What they
did see and keenly realize was the failure of their crops. That affected them
very closely; and if, as they supposed, the apparatus of Prenditz had
anything to do with it, the sooner they got rid of the machine the better.
Divisch, it must be said, was liked by his people; but despite his popularity,
the men of violence carried the day and the machine was doomed. Popular
passion, excited by personal interest, got the better of the consideration due
to the Pastor. On an appointed day, a band of bellicose farmers came down

on the village and wrecked the apparatus which had cost the priest so much
thought and manual labor and on which, knowingly and justly, he relied for
the protection of the homesteads of his rustic flock.
This recalls a similar incident of mob violence which occurred at St. Omer
in the north of France, where a manufacturer of that quaint old town, who
had been in America and seen the usefulness of lightning conductors,
proceeded to erect one over his own house. Hardly was it completed before
the populace gathered together; and, when passion was sufficiently aroused
by inflammatory remarks of the demagogues, the house was attacked and
the conductor torn down. The manufacturer complained of the inaction of
the "gardiens de la paix" and appealed to the courts to uphold his right to
protect his home against lightning. He entrusted his case to a young,
brilliant lawyer, as yet unknown to fame, but one destined to achieve
unenviable notoriety during the revolutionary period. This, the first
defender of the lightning-rod in a court of justice, was Robespierre.
The news of the untoward event soon reached the ears of the
Premonstratensian's superiors at Kloster-Bruck; and, as they very wisely
considered that the duty of a country priest is primarily to attend to the
spiritual welfare of his people, rather than to invent machines for their
protection against the bolts of heaven, they advised him to yield to the
prejudice of his people and not reconstruct the objectionable apparatus.
Father Divisch accepted the friendly advice of his superiors and obeyed like
a good Premonstratensian monk. The remains of the shattered
"meteorological machine" were sent to the abbey at Bruck, where they
could be seen for many years afterward. As a consequence of this act of
vandalism, Divisch gave up experimenting with lightning-rods and with
electricity itself. The villagers were satisfied, but the world at large lost the
benefit that might accrue from the researches on atmospheric electricity
which Divisch would have carried on during the remaining nineteen years
of his life.
In giving up electricity, the disappointed priest turned his attention, first, to
acoustics and then, practical man as he was, to the construction of musical
instruments. It was not long before his genius brought out an orchestrion of
wind and stringed instruments which was played like an organ with hands
and feet, and which was capable of 130 different combinations. Prince

Henry of Prussia offered a considerable sum of money for the invention, but
Divisch died while the preliminaries of sale were arranging, and
negotiations were broken off. The instrument remained for many years in
the abbey at Bruck, where it was in daily use for the canonical office.
It is a curious coincidence that Franklin was also interested in musical
instruments. He is credited with having devised an improved form of glass
harmonica, one of which he presented to Queen Marie Antoinette.
Despite the bitter experience of Divisch, the introduction of lightning
conductors into Italy was warmly advocated some years later by Padre
Toaldo (1719-1797), an admirer and correspondent of Franklin. It was
through his influence and personal activity that the magnificent thirteenth-
century Cathedral of Siena was protected with lightning conductors after
having been repeatedly struck during the centuries and seriously damaged.
Toaldo published in 1774 his celebrated work on the protection of public
edifices and private buildings against lightning; it contributed greatly to
reassure public opinion on the value of "Franklinian rods," as the
conductors were commonly called.
It is a matter of regret that Franklin used the words "the electric fluid is
attracted by the points" in the passage quoted above, inasmuch as in the
popular mind such "attraction" courts rather than averts danger. As already
said, the rod no more "attracts" lightning than a rain-pipe attracts a
downpour. Franklin knew very well the twofold function of his rods, the
preventive, by which they tend to ward off the stroke by gradually and
silently neutralizing the excessive energy of the cloud; and the other, the
preservative, by which they convey the discharge safely to earth when
struck. He even complains of people who concentrate their attention on the
preventive function, forgetting the other entirely, adding that, "Wherever
my opinion is examined in Europe, nothing is considered but the probability
of these rods preventing a stroke, which is only a part of the use which I
proposed for them; and the other part, their conducting a stroke which they
may happen not to prevent, seems to be totally forgotten, though of equal
importance and advantage." (1755.)
At a time, it was customary to make the rods rise to a considerable height
above the building, in the belief that the diameter of the circle of protection
was four times the height of the rod. Such a rule was an arbitrary one which

facts soon showed to be unreliable and unsafe. It is now recognized that
there is no such thing as a definite area of protection.
Were this a literary chapter, we would point out that either of the
expressions "electric" storm or "lightning" storm is preferable to thunder-
storm, because electricity or lightning is the active agent or principal feature
of the impressive phenomenon. No one thinks of calling a hailstorm by the
descriptive term of patter-storm; yet that would be just as logical and
appropriate an appellative in one case as thunder-storm is in the other.
Thunder-tube is certainly a startling misnomer applied to the long, narrow,
glazed tubes formed in siliceous materials by the fervid heat of the flash,
but not in any way by the sound-waves produced by the crash. Thunder-bolt
does not mean, despite the common opinion, a white-hot mass that
accompanies the discharge; it is purely and simply the flash itself. A
glowing mass that happens to come down in the track of the discharge is a
meteorite, a body of cosmic not terrestrial origin, a visitor from space that
chose the rarefied path of the flash for its descent to earth.
Again, there are no thunder-clouds in nature, only electric clouds or
lightning clouds; nor is there ever thunder in the air save when the lightning
breaks from cloud to cloud, or leaps from cloud to earth, or strikes from
earth to cloud. But though thunder is only occasionally in the air, electricity
always is. We have a normal electrical field in all seasons, times and places.
Though it is the lightning that kills and not the thunder, we would not,
however, object to the following inscription which we found on a
tombstone:

"Here lies (so and so), oh! what a wonder,
She was killed outright by a peal of thunder,"

because the suddenness of the peal may have given the aged lady a shock
from which her failing heart was unable to recover.
We are well aware that such criticism of technical terms in popular use will
have no reform effect whatever; because as long as people will say "the sun
rises" and "the stars set," they will continue to speak of thunder-clouds and
thunder-storms, thunder-tubes and thunder-bolts. Though containing an

element of error, these expressions have the sanction of the centuries; and
so, they have come to stay.
Returning to Divisch, that worthy priest and pioneer electrician died at
Prenditz in his sixty-ninth year, on Dec. 21st, 1765, and was buried in the
little churchyard where he had blessed many a grave during the twenty-five
years of his ministration. A simple inscription marks the place of his
interment, but a monument will soon be erected to his memory which will
tell the passerby where sleeps the Premonstratensian pioneer of the
lightning-rod.
About three months before the erection of his rod, i.e., in June, 1752, the
idea occurred to Franklin that he could approach the region of clouds just as
well by means of a common kite. Here are his words anent the novel and
famous experiment with the "lightning kite":

"Make a small cross of two light strips of cedar, the arms so long as to
reach to the four corners of a large thin silk handkerchief when
extended; tie the corners of the handkerchief to the extremities of the
cross, so you have the body of a kite, which, being properly
accommodated with a tail, loop and string, will rise in the air, like
those made of paper; but this, being of silk, is fitter to bear the wet and
wind of a thunder-gust without tearing. To the top of the upright stick
is to be fixed a very sharp-pointed wire, rising a foot or two above the
wood. In the end of the twine, next the hand, is to be held a silk ribbon,
and where the silk and cord join a key may be fastened. This kite is to
be raised when a thunder-gust appears to be coming on, and the person
who holds the string must stand within a door or window, or under
some cover, so that the silk ribbon may not be wet; and care must be
taken that the twine does not touch the frame of the door or window.
As soon as any of the thunder-clouds come over the kite, the pointed
wire will draw the electric fire from them, and the kite with all the
twine will be electrified, and the loose filaments of the twine will stand
out every way and be attracted by an approaching finger. And when the
rain has wetted the kite, so that it can conduct the electric fire freely,
you will find it stream out plentifully from the key on the approach of
your knuckle. At this key the phial may be charged, and from electric
fire thus obtained spirits may be kindled and all the other electric

experiments be performed which are usually done by the help of a
rubbed glass globe or tube, and thereby the sameness of the electric
matter with that of lightning completely demonstrated."[10]

Here we have the electric kite and manner of using it fully described
without, however, any direct statement that the author himself actually
experimented with it, although he does say that the experiment was
successfully carried out. This is strictly true, but it may be safely contended
that the precautions enumerated, the observation about the fibres of the
cord, its improved conductivity when wetted by the rain and the like, all
bespeak a knowledge of practical conditions that could be obtained only by
way of experiment.
But if Franklin is not outspoken on the matter, some of his contemporaries
are. Here is the kite incident as related in the Continuation of the Life of Dr.
Franklin, by Dr. Stuber, a Philadelphian and intimate friend of the
Franklins:

"While Franklin was waiting for the erection of a spire, it occurred to
him that he might have more ready access to the region of clouds by
means of a common kite. He prepared one by fastening two cross-
sticks to a silk handkerchief, which would not suffer so much from the
rain as paper. To the upright stick was affixed an iron point. The string
was, as usual, of hemp, except the lower end, which was silk. Where
the hempen string terminated, a key was fastened. With this apparatus,
on the appearance of a thunder-gust approaching, he went out into the
commons, accompanied by his son, to whom alone he communicated
his intentions, well knowing the ridicule which, too generally for the
interest of science, awaits unsuccessful experiments in philosophy. He
placed himself under a shed to avoid the rain. His kite was raised. A
thunder-cloud passed over it. No sign of electricity appeared. He
almost despaired of success, when suddenly he observed the loose
fibres of his string move toward an erect position. He now presented
his knuckle to the key and received a strong spark. Repeated sparks
were drawn from the key, the phial was charged, a shock given, and all
the experiments made which are usually performed with electricity."

This testimony of a man who enjoyed the unlimited confidence of Franklin
has a very matter-of-fact ring about it; there is not a note of uncertainty, not
a word indicating doubt that his friend and neighbor went out to the fields
accompanied by his robust son, carrying along with them a queer
assortment of electrical impedimenta. This son, William by name, was
twenty-two years of age at the time; and as he died in 1813, eleven years
after the publication of Dr. Stuber's biographical sketch, he had ample time
to contradict the kite story if instead of being a fact it were a mere romance.
Nor is this all, for Dr. Stuber's narrative, given above, appears textually in
the "Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Benjamin Franklin," edited by his
grandson William Temple Franklin. The Doctor, be it remarked, was very
fond of his grandson, whose "faithful service and filial attachment" he
warmly commends in several of his letters, and whose regard for the
memory of the statesman led him to undertake the task of preparing his
works for publication. On page 211, Vol. I., he tells us that "As Dr. Franklin
mentioned his electrical discoveries only in a very transient way, and as
they are of a most important and interesting nature, it has been thought that
a short disgression on the subject would be excusable and not void of
entertainment. For this purpose the following account of the same,
including the first experiment of the lightning kite, as given by Dr. Stuber,
is here given."
In these concluding lines we have the testimony of Franklin's grandson to
the authenticity of the "lightning kite" story. Moreover, the account as given
by Stuber evidently meets with his cordial approval, since he transcribes it
verbatim; and, as if to invest the quotations with unimpeachable authority,
he tells us in the preface, p. viii., that "they deserve entire dependence
because of the accuracy of the information imparted."
A word now from Priestley, also one of Franklin's intimate friends. In his
History of Electricity, fourth edition, p. 171, he says that "Dr. Franklin,
astonishing as it must have appeared, continued actually to bring lightning
from the heavens by means of an electrical kite which he raised when a
storm of thunder was perceived to be coming on." Then follows a
description taken almost word for word from Dr. Stuber, whom he styles
"the best authority on the subject."
If, perchance, the above testimony should not be deemed conclusive and
final, all lingering doubt must be removed by Franklin's own words, for in

his Autobiography, after briefly referring to the experiments made in France
with pointed conductors, he adds: "I will not swell this narrative with an
account of that capital experiment (the pointed conductor), nor of the
infinite pleasure which I received on the success of a similar one I made
soon after with a kite at Philadelphia, as both are to be found in histories of
electricity."
Here, at last, we have Franklin's own word for it, that he made the kite
experiment, and that he made it "soon after" the demonstration of his
electrical discoveries which M. de Lor gave, by request, before Louis XV.
and his court.
The "lightning kite" is, therefore, not a myth, as some have ventured to
think, having been fully described by Franklin in his letter to Peter
Collinson, dated October 19th, 1752, and having been made by him some
time in June of the same year.
We have now to see whether Franklin was anticipated in the idea of the kite
or in its use for electrical purposes. There are some who hold that he was
anticipated by M. de Romas as to the idea, but not the actual experiment;
while others credit the French magistrate with both. Let us examine the
evidence which there is for these opinions.
M. de Romas lived in Nérac, a small town some seventy-five miles south of
Bordeaux. He was a member of the bar; and at the time of the Franklinian
furor in Europe was a judge of the district court. He took an interest in
scientific matters quite unusual for men of his profession, proceeding, as
soon as he had read of the efficiency of pointed conductors, to study their
behavior for himself. His experiments met with surprising success, and
were as much admired by the local savants as they were dreaded by the
common folk. Letters containing his observations were regularly sent to the
Academy of Bordeaux, where they were read with lively interest on account
of their character and novelty. From the published Actes of that body we
learn that the first kite used by de Romas was raised by him on May 14th,
1753. Disappointment, however, attended this attempt, no electrical
manifestation being observed, although rain fell and wetted the hempen
cord. The magistrate of Nérac attributed his failure to the resistance of the
string; and, like a good electrician, surprisingly good for the time,
determined to improve its conductivity by wrapping a fine copper wire

round its entire length. When this long and tedious operation was
completed, he went out again to the fields on a stormy day, when, assisted
by two of his friends, he raised the kite and soon got torrents of sparks from
the wire-wound cord. This was on June 7th, 1753. The experiment was
repeated from time to time, both for his own satisfaction and that of his
assistants as well as for the entertainment of his ever-growing class of
admiring spectators. Kites 7-1/2 ft. long and 3 ft. wide were raised 400 and
even 550 ft. above ground when flashes nine feet long and an inch thick
were drawn, so the account says, with the report of a pistol. The effect must
have been truly spectacular. The kite was held by a silk ribbon fastened to
the end of the hempen cord.
It is then a matter of history vouched for by the Actes of the Academy of
Bordeaux that May 14th, 1753, is the day on which the first use of a kite for
electrical purposes was made in France; on the other hand, it is to be
remembered that Franklin flew his "lightning kite" in June, 1752, almost a
year earlier. As far, then, as the fact is concerned, the Philadelphia
philosopher was not anticipated by the Justice of Nérac.
From facts let us pass to writings. Franklin's letter to Collinson, in which he
describes the electric kite, is dated October 19th, 1752, while that of M. de
Romas, on which the claim for priority is founded, was addressed by him to
the Academy of Bordeaux on July 12th, 1752, three months earlier. After a
lengthy and interesting account of his experiments with pointed conductors,
he concludes his communication as follows:
"C'est là, Monsieur, ce qu'il y a de plus important, car j'aurais bien d'autres
particularités à vous communiquer; mais ma lettre, devenue d'une excessive
longueur, m'avertit de finir. Je me réserve de mettre au jour la dernière
(quoiquelle ne soit qu'un jeu d'enfant) lorsque je me serai assuré de la
réussite par l'expérience que je me propose d'en faire et que je ne negligerai
pas."
In English this would read: "Such, Sir, are the more important points which
I have to communicate, and to which many others might be added, were it
not for the excessive length of this letter, which warns me that it is time to
bring it to a close. I will, however, give publicity to the last one of all
(though it is only a child's plaything) as soon as I shall have assured myself

of its success by an experiment which I have devised and which I shall not
fail to make."
The words in brackets—"though it is only a child's plaything"—are all
important, for it is on them and on them alone that the claim for priority has
been put forth and maintained. It will be seen that the word kite (cerf-
volant), does not occur in the letter, so that there can be no absolute
certainty as to the nature of the jeu d'enfant which the author had in mind,
though it is very likely that the kite was meant. In his Mémoire sur les
moyens de se garantir de la foudre dans les maisons, he says, after
describing some experiments that he had made with pointed rods:
"Néanmoins toujours plein du désir d'augmenter le volume du feu
électricque, il fallut chercher le moyen pour y parvenir. En conséquence, je
me plongeai dans de nouvelles méditations. Enfin une demi-heure après,
tout au plus, le cerf-volant des enfants se présenta tout à coup à mon esprit,
et il me tardait de la mettre à l'épreuve. Par malheur, je n'en avais pas le
temps." In English: "Being anxious to augment the quantity of electric fire,
I began to think of some means to effect my purpose, and soon became
quite absorbed with the subject. Not more than half an hour elapsed before
the idea of the kite suddenly occurred to me, and I longed for an
opportunity to try it; but unfortunately I had not sufficient leisure at the
time." The work in which this passage occurs was published at Bordeaux in
1776, shortly after the death of the author. De Romas always maintained
that he did not borrow the idea of the kite from any one, but that it occurred
to him while pursuing his experiments with pointed conductors.
It must be admitted that de Romas could not have been acquainted with
Franklin's performance of June, 1752, when he sent to the Bordeaux
Academy his letter of July 12th, of the same year, for we cannot suppose
that in an age of sailing vessels such news would cross the Atlantic and
reach an obscure provincial town in the southwest of France in the space of
a month. On the other hand, it is equally improbable that a vague allusion to
the electrical use of a kite made at Nérac on July 12th, by a man entirely
unknown to fame as was de Romas, should be talked of on the banks of the
Schuylkill before October 19th, the date of Franklin's memorable letter to
Collinson. Moreover, the "jeu d'enfant" allusion as well as the very use of
the kite by de Romas failed so completely to attract the attention of
scientific men of his own country that he frequently and bitterly complained

down to the end of his life, in 1776, of their persistent neglect of his claims
to recognition.
From all this, we conclude:
(a) That Franklin's "lightning kite" is not a myth, the experiment having
been made by him in June, 1752, and fully described by him in a
memorable letter written to Peter Collinson, of London, dated October 19th
of the same year:
(b) That de Romas independently had the idea of using a kite for electrical
purposes as early as July 12th, 1752; but that he did not carry out his idea
until May 14th, 1753; and, furthermore, that he did not succeed in getting
any electrical manifestations until June 7th, 1753, his success then being
due, at least in part, to the clever idea which he had of entwining the cord
with a fine copper wire. Therefore, suum cuique.
In conclusion, we would say that the cardinal and enduring achievements of
Franklin are:
(1) His rejection of the two-fluid theory of electricity and substitution of the
one-fluid theory; (2) his coinage of the appropriate terms positive and
negative, to denote an excess or a deficit of the common electric fluid; (3)
his explanation of the Leyden jar, and, notably, his recognition of the
paramount role played by the glass or dielectric; (4) his experimental
demonstration of the identity of lightning and electricity; and (5) his
invention of the lightning conductor for the protection of life and property,
together with his clear statement of its preventive and protective functions.
If Franklin was well acquainted with electrical phenomena, it is safe to say
that his knowledge of human nature was wider and deeper still. This
appears continually in his Autobiography, in his political writings, in
business transactions and diplomatic relations.
On one occasion, while his re-election as clerk of the General Assembly
was pending, a certain member made a long speech against him. Franklin
listened with calm, dignified composure; and after his election, instead of
resenting the opposition of the offending member, he determined that it
would be better to disarm his antagonism and win his friendship. For this
purpose he sent the assemblyman a courteously-worded request for the loan
of a very scarce book which was in his library. The book was sent to

Franklin, who returned it within a week with a note of thanks, which had
the desired effect. Commenting on the event, our philosopher says that "it is
more profitable to remove than to resent inimical proceedings."
Some of Franklin's views on general political economy are tersely set forth
in the following passage: "There seem, in fine, to be but three ways for a
nation to acquire wealth. The first is by war, as the Romans did in
plundering their conquered neighbor; this is robbery. The second is by
commerce, which is generally cheating. The third is by agriculture, the only
honest way wherein man receives a real increase of the seed thrown into the
ground, in a kind of continual miracle wrought by the hand of God in his
favour, as a reward for his innocent life and virtuous industry."
Franklin asserts his religious convictions in many passages of his
"Autobiography" as well as on many occasions of his public life. Shocked
by "Tom" Paine's views of fundamental religious truths, he says: "I have
read your manuscript with some attention. By the argument which it
contains against a particular Providence, though you allow a general
Providence, you strike at the foundation of all religion. For, without the
belief of a Providence that takes cognizance of, guards and guides, and may
favour particular persons, there is no motive to worship a Deity, to fear His
displeasure, or to pray for His protection. I will not enter into any
discussion of your principles, though you seem to desire it. At present, I
shall only give you my opinion that, though your reasonings are very subtile
and may prevail with some readers, you will not succeed so as to change the
general sentiments of mankind on that subject; and the consequence of
printing this piece will be a great deal of odium drawn upon yourself,
mischief to you, and no benefit to others. He that spits against the wind,
spits in his own face."
This aphorism recalls the ripe wisdom contained in many of the sayings of
"Poor Richard," for Franklin was a deep thinker, shrewd observer and
quaint expositor of his own philosophy. Continuing, he fleeces Paine in the
following noble words: "But were you to succeed, do you imagine any good
would be done by it? You yourself may find it easy to live a virtuous life
without the assistance afforded by religion; you having a clear perception of
the advantages of virtue and the disadvantages of vice, and possessing
strength of resolution sufficient to enable you to resist common temptations.
But think how great a portion of mankind consists of weak and ignorant

men and women, and of inexperienced, inconsiderate youth of both sexes,
who have need of the motives of religion to restrain them from vice, to
support them to virtue, and retain them in the practice of it till it becomes
habitual, which is the great point for its security. And perhaps you are
indebted to her originally, that is, to your religious education for the habits
of virtue upon which you now justly value yourself. You might easily
display your excellent talents of reasoning upon a less hazardous subject,
and thereby obtain a rank with our most distinguished authors. For among
us, it is not necessary, as among the Hottentots, that a youth, to be raised
into the company of men, should prove his manhood by beating his
mother."
Franklin concludes this magnificent expression of his religious faith by the
solemn warning: "I would advise you, therefore, not to attempt unchaining
the tiger, but to burn this piece before it is seen by any other person;
whereby you will save yourself a great deal of mortification by the enemies
it may raise against you, and perhaps a good deal of regret and repentance.
If men are so wicked with religion, what would they be without it?"
Franklin's belief in the cardinal doctrine of the resurrection of the body is
well expressed in the epitaph which he wrote for himself in 1728, when in
his twenty-second year. It reads
The Body
Of
Benjamin Franklin
Printer,
(Like the cover of an old book
Its contents torn out
And stript of its lettering and gilding)
Lies here, food for worms.
But the work shall not be lost
For it will (as he believed) appear once more
In a new and more elegant edition
Revised and corrected
By
The Author.

However, when the statesman and philosopher was laid at rest beside his
wife in the Cemetery of Christ Church, Philadelphia, in 1790, the marble
slab which marked the grave bore no other inscription than Franklin's name
and the date of his death.
Appreciating the great loss which the country sustained by the death of
Franklin, Congress ordered a general mourning for one month throughout
the fourteen States of the Union; and the French National Assembly decreed
three days of public mourning at the instance of Mirabeau, who said in his
address that "The genius that gave freedom to America and scattered
torrents of light upon Europe, has returned to the bosom of the Divinity.
Antiquity would have erected altars to that mortal who for the advantage of
the human race, embracing both heaven and earth in his vast mind, knew
how to subdue both thunder and tyranny."
The fugitive apprentice boy of 1723 turned out to be one of the most
esteemed and eminent Americans of his day. Of an even temper and well-
balanced mind, he was plain in dress, simple in manner, easy of approach
and friendly to all. The success which he achieved during his long career of
eighty-five years, shows what may be done by seizing the opportunities
which come to every one, by concentration of mind, application to duty and
tenacity of purpose. He attained distinction in science, in letters, in
diplomacy; he stood for good government and true liberty. His name is a
household one in his own country, where monuments, institutions and cities
will bear it down to posterity.
ADDENDA.
The Lightning Kite.
Fully described by Franklin in a letter to Peter Collinson, of London, dated
October 19th, 1752.
Stuber in his "Continuation of the Life of Dr. Franklin," and Priestley in his
"History of Electricity," affirm that Franklin made the experiment in June,
1752.
Franklin's son, William, never denied the story, although he figured in it as
an active character.
William Temple Franklin, who prepared for publication his grandfather's
works, gives the kite story almost verbatim from Stuber.

Finally, Franklin himself states that he made the experiment: Memoirs, Vol.
I., p. 164.
Franklin and de Romas.
June, 1752: Franklin raises his kite in a field near Philadelphia.
July 12, 1752: Letter of de Romas to the Academy of Bordeaux, in which a
probable reference is made to the kite as un jeu d'enfant.
October 19th, 1752: Franklin describes the "lightning kite" in a letter to
Peter Collinson, of London.
May 14th, 1753: First use by de Romas of the electric kite in the fields
around Nérac; no result.
June 7th, 1753: First success by de Romas with his electric kite.
Pointed Conductor.
Suggested by Franklin in letter to Peter Collinson, of London, dated July
29th, 1750.
D'Alibard, following Franklin's instructions, gets torrents of discharges
from his iron rod 40 feet high at Marly, May 10th, 1752.
De Lor gets good results from his conductor 99 feet high, erected over his
house in Paris, May 18th, 1752.
De Buffon succeeds with his rod on May 19th, 1752.
Franklin erected the first rod over his house in Philadelphia in September,
1752. It was made of iron with a sharp steel point rising seven or eight feet
above the roof, the other end being sunk five feet in the ground. Franklin
charged a Leyden Jar from his rod in April, 1753. Professor Richmann, of
St. Petersburg, was killed by a flash from his apparatus on August 6th,
1753.
Brother Potamian.

FOOTNOTES:
[8] Scientific Writings of Joseph Henry, Vol. I., p. 201.
[9] Frequently referred to as Lullin's experiment.

[10] Every schoolboy knows that the electricity which passed down the kite-
string was not drawn from the clouds, but was due to their inductive action on
the pointed conductor attached to the kite. Kant calls Franklin the "Modern
Prometheus."

CHAPTER IV.
Galvani, Discoverer of Animal Electricity.

Aloisio Galvani
It is a well-known fact, often commented on in the history of medicine, that
Harvey, the discoverer of the circulation of the blood, did not give the
details of his discovery to the public for some twenty years after he had first

reached it. The reason for his delay was twofold. With the characteristic
patience of a real investigator in science, Harvey wanted to work out the
details of his discovery for himself before giving it to the public, and
wished to be sure of all he would have to say about it before committing it
to print. He had not, as had indeed none of the really great discoverers in
science, that intense desire for publicity which causes smaller men to rush
into print with their embryonic discoveries, or oftener, their supposed
discoveries, the moment they get their first distant glimpse of a new truth or
see some mirage of a distant scientific principle, perhaps already well
known, in their heated imaginations. Small men squabble about priority in
small discoveries, and rush headlong into print, lest some one should
anticipate their wonderful observation. The example of Harvey can scarcely
be commended too highly, for if followed, it would save the world of
science a lot of bother and obviate the necessity of taking back many things
that have been proclaimed in the name of science. Fortunately, it has been
the rule among genuine students of science, not because of any deliberate
imitation of their great predecessors, but because of modest assurance of the
worth of their work and honest desire to perfect it before giving it to the
world.
Luigi, or, as he preferred to be known himself, Aloysio Galvani, for the
young prince of the house of Gonzaga whose canonization made him St.
Aloysius was his patron in baptism and a favorite in life, presents an
interesting exemplification of this characteristic trait of the really great
discoverer in science, to wait calmly and work faithfully for thorough
confirmation of his views before publishing them. His admirable patience in
reaching the real significance of his discovery before proclaiming the
results of his investigations is only a typical illustration of the modest
thorough scientist that he was. It used to be said that Galvani's discovery of
the twitchings of the frog's legs, which led him to give himself to serious
investigations into animal electricity, was made more or less by accident in
1786. His views on the subject of animal electricity were not formally
published until the appearance of his treatise, De Viribus Electricitatis in
Motu Musculari Commentarius, in the eighth volume of the Memoirs of the
Institute of Science of Bologna, published in 1791. This would seem to
indicate that only five years elapsed between his original observation and
the publication of his views. Even this interval may seem long enough to
our modern notions of at least supposed rapidity of scientific progress, but

we know now, from documents in the possession of the Institute of Science
at Bologna, that, twenty years previous to the publication of this
commentary, Galvani was deeply interested in the action of electricity upon
the muscles of frogs, and was diligently and fruitfully occupied during his
spare time with investigations upon this subject.
When, in Makers of Modern Medicine,[11] I called special attention to the
fact that practically all of the greatest discoverers in medicine had made
their cardinal discovery, or at least the far-reaching observation that opened
up for them the special career in investigation that was to make them
famous, before they were thirty-five, one of my critics doubted the assertion
and suggested the case of Galvani as a distinct exception. Ordinarily, it is
presumed that his discovery of the twitchings of frogs' legs under the
influence of electricity was made in 1786, when he was in his forty-ninth
year. As a matter of fact, however, his first observations were made and his
attention attracted to the importance of the subject when he was scarcely
more than thirty. His career is indeed a striking example of the earliness in
life at which a great man's work is likely to come to him, and yet illustrates
very aptly the patience with which he devotes himself to it, without seeking
the idle reputation to be derived from immediate announcement, if he really
has the true spirit of the scientific investigator.
Galvani began original work of a high order very early in his medical
career. His graduation thesis on the human skeleton treated especially of the
formation and development of bone, and attracted no little attention. It is
noteworthy because of the breadth of view in it, for it touches on the
various questions relative to osteology, from the standpoint of physics and
chemistry, as well as medicine and surgery. It was sufficient to obtain for its
author the place of lecturer in anatomy in the University of Bologna,
besides the post of director of the teaching of anatomy in the Institute of
Sciences, a subsidiary institution. Here, from the very beginning, Galvani's
course was popular. He was not, as we note elsewhere, a fluent talker, but
he was one of the first who introduced experimental demonstrations of his
subject into his lectures, and this made his teaching very attractive and drew
crowds to his university courses.
Galvani's work as an anatomist, however, was done much more in
comparative anatomy than in the study of the human being. He selected
birds for the special subject of his first investigations in the field, and his

monograph on the kidneys of birds attracted widespread attention among
the scientists of Europe. As the farthest removed from man of the beings
that are warm-blooded, these creatures have always attracted particular
attention, and, quite apart from any interest in evolution, were the subject of
special investigation. Owing to the facility with which they can be studied
in embryonic stages in the hatching egg, most of the peculiarities of their
structure and development are very well known now. The kidneys of the
bird are especially interesting, because they represent a different phase of
development from that of human beings. Galvani had selected, then, one of
the cardinal or turning-point subjects in comparative anatomy. As he
pointed out very clearly, the kidneys of birds differ very much among
themselves, and the intense muscular action of this creature makes a large
amount of excretory material, that must be disposed of, and consequently
demands much more active kidney function than occurs in most other
classes of animals. Galvani studied every feature—the vessels, the nerves,
the canals—and almost necessarily pointed out many new points or added
hitherto unknown details.
He next devoted himself to the study of the ear of the bird. This might seem
to be of little special interest, since hearing is not one of the most
characteristic qualities of the winged species. It so happens, however, that
the semi-circular canals which are closely connected with the auditory
apparatus in all animals are extremely large in birds. As a consequence of
this, the avian auditory structures assume an importance in comparative
anatomy quite like that of the kidneys in the same species. After Galvani
had completed his studies, he found that he had been anticipated by another
great Italian anatomist of the time, Antonio Scarpa (of Scarpa's triangle in
human anatomy), who afterwards became the Chief Surgeon to Napoleon.
Galvani abandoned the idea of publishing his book then, but published a
short article, in which he added much to Scarpa's details and conclusions.
His additions were particularly with regard to the semi-circular canals,
which are probably the organ of direction, the necessity for which, in this
species, for the purpose of flying, is so easy to understand. He also
described with great care the single ossicle or small bone, which replaces
the chain of little bones that exist in mammal ears, and pointed out that the
shape of this bone and its appendages enabled it to fulfil, though single, all
the functions of the hammer, the anvil and the stirrup bones in human
beings.

Galvani's careful study of the semi-circular canals of various species of
birds can perhaps be better appreciated from the fact that he made it a point
to measure their size exactly, as compared to the semi-circular canals of
most other creatures. He found that the semi-circular canals of the hawk, for
instance, were larger than the corresponding structures in man or even in
the cow or the horse. As these latter animals are many hundred times larger
than the largest birds, the special significance of the canals in birds becomes
manifest. In certain of the birds, as he pointed out, these structures are not
semi-circles, nor indeed of circular form at all, but take on much more the
shape of an ellipse, and, indeed, sometimes the arc of curvature of the
ellipse is quite acute. He seems to have had no hint, however, of the
function that we have in modern times assigned to these structures, that of
presiding over direction and equilibrium, and discusses in his rather
vigorous Latin what the physiological significance of them may be as
regards hearing. He thinks that they add something to the acuity of hearing,
and would seem to imply that in birds flying rapidly through the air, there
was the necessity for a more perfect hearing apparatus than among other
creatures, and that this was the reason for the huge development of their
semi-circular canals.
At this time the science of comparative anatomy was just beginning to
attract widespread attention. John Hunter, in London, was doing a great
work in this line, which placed him in the front rank of contributors to
biology and collectors of important facts in all the sciences allied to
anatomy and physiology. Galvani's work on birds, then, made him a pioneer
in the biological sciences that were to attract so much attention during the
nineteenth century. His experimental work in comparative anatomy, strange
as it might seem, and apparently not to be expected, led him into the
domain of electricity, through the observation of certain phenomena of
animal electricity and the effects of electrical currents on animals.
Like so many other great discoveries in science, Galvani's first attraction to
his subject of animal electricity is often said to have been the result of a
happy accident. Of course it is easy to talk of accidents in these cases.
Archimedes and his bath; the fall of the apple for Newton; Laennec's
observation of the boys tapping on a log in the courtyard of the Louvre and
the ready conduction of sound, from which he got his idea for the invention
of the stethoscope; Lord Kelvin's eye-glass falling and showing him how a

weightless arm for his electrometer might be obtained in a beam of light,—
may all be called happy accidents if you will. Without the inventive
scientific genius ready to take advantage of them, however, these accidents
would not have been raised to the higher plane of important incidents in the
history of science. These phenomena had probably occurred under men's
eyes hundreds of times before, but there was no great mind ready to receive
the seeds of thought suggested, nor to follow out the conclusions so
obviously indicated. Galvani's observation of the twitching of the muscles
of the frog under the influence of electricity, may be called one of the happy
accidents of scientific development, but it was Galvani's own genius that
made the accident happy.
There are two stories told as to the method of the first observation in this
matter. Both of them make his wife an important factor in the discovery.
According to a popular but less authentic form of the history, Galvani was
engaged in preparing some frogs' legs as a special dainty for his wife, who
was ill and liked this delicacy very much. He thought so much of her that he
was doing this himself, in the hope that she would be thus more readily
tempted to eat them. While so engaged, he exposed the large nerve of the
animal's hind legs, and at the same time split the skin covering the muscles.
In doing this he touched the nerve muscle preparation, as this has come to
be called, with the scalpel and the forceps simultaneously, with the result
that twitchings occurred. While seeking the cause of these twitchings, the
idea of animal electricity came to him.
The other form of the story is told a little later in Galvani's own words in
the analysis of his monograph on animal electricity. He does not mention
his wife in it, but there is a tradition that she was present in the laboratory
when the phenomenon of the twitching of the frog's legs was first noticed,
and indeed that it was she who called his attention to the curious
occurrence.
She was a woman of well-developed intellect, and her association with her
father and also with her husband made her well acquainted with the
anatomy and physiology of the day. She realized that what had occurred
was quite out of the ordinary. She is even said to have suggested their
possible connection with the presence and action of the electric apparatus.
Husband and wife, then, together, by means of a series of observations
determined that, whenever the apparatus was not in use the phenomenon of

the convulsive movements of the frog's legs did not take place,
notwithstanding irritation by the scalpel. Whenever the electric apparatus
was working, however, then the phenomenon in question always took place.
According to either form of the story, if we accept the traditions in the
matter, Madame Galvani had an important part in the discovery.
Galvani's most important contribution to science is undoubtedly his De
Viribus Electricitatis in Motu Musculari Commentarius—Commentary on
the Forces of Electricity in Their Relation to Muscular Motion. Like many
another epoch-making contribution to science, it is not a large work, but in
his collected works in the edition of 1841, occupies altogether sixty-four
pages, of scarcely more than two hundred and fifty words to the page. There
are probably not more than fifteen thousand words in it altogether. It was
published originally in the eighth volume of the Memoirs of the Institute of
Science at Bologna, in 1791, but a reprint of it, with some modifications,
was issued at Modena in the following year. This Modenese edition,
published by the Societa Typographica, was annotated by Professor
Giovanni Aldini, who also wrote an accompanying dissertation, De
Animalis Electricae Theoriae Ortu Atque Incrementis, On the Rise and
Development of the Theory of Animal Electricity. In this volume was also
published a letter from Galvani to Professor Carminati, in Italian, on the
Seat of Animal Electricity. These two editions are the sources to which we
must turn for whatever Galvani tried to make known with regard to animal
electricity.
This little volume consists of four parts: the first of which is devoted to a
consideration of the effects of artificial electricity on muscular motion; the
second is on the effect of atmospheric electricity on muscular motion; the
third is on the effect of animal electricity on muscular motion; and the
fourth consists of a series of conjectures and some conclusions from his
observations. The arrangement of the work, as can readily be understood
from this, is thoroughly scientific. Galvani proceeds from what was best
known and most evident to what he knew less about, trying to enlarge the
bounds of knowledge and then suggesting the conclusions that might be
drawn from his work and offering a number of hints as to the possible
significance of many of the phenomena that might form suggestive material
for further experimentation along this same line. In spite of the
forbiddingness of the Latin to a modern scientist, as a rule, the little work is

well worthy of study because of its eminently scientific method and the
excellent evidence it affords of the way serious students of science
approached a scientific thesis before the beginning of the nineteenth
century.
The first paragraph of this dissertation is of such fundamental significance,
because it represents the primal work done in animal electricity, that it has
seemed to me worth while presenting entire. The original Latin from which
the translation is made, and from which a good idea of Galvani's Latin style
may be obtained, is given in a note.[12]
"I had dissected a frog and had prepared it, as in Figure 2 of the fifth plate
(in which is shown a nerve muscle preparation), and had placed it upon a
table on which there was an electric machine, while I set about doing
certain other things. The frog was entirely separated from the conductor of
the machine, and indeed was at no small distance away from it. While one
of those who were assisting me touched lightly and by chance the point of
his scalpel to the internal crural nerves of the frog, suddenly all the muscles
of its limbs were seen to be so contracted that they seemed to have fallen
into tonic convulsions. Another of my assistants, who was making ready to
take up certain experiments in electricity with me, seemed to notice that this
happened only at the moment when a spark came from the conductor of the
machine. He was struck with the novelty of the phenomenon, and
immediately spoke to me about it, for I was at the moment occupied with
other things and mentally preoccupied. I was at once tempted to repeat the
experiment, so as to make clear whatever might be obscure in it. For this
purpose I took up the scalpel and moved its point close to one or the other
of the crural nerves of the frog, while at the same time one of my assistants
elicited sparks from the electric machine. The phenomenon happened
exactly as before. Strong contractions took place in every muscle of the
limb, and at the very moment when the sparks appeared, the animal was
seized as it were with tetanus."
Galvani then explains in detail how he made observations on control frogs
at moments when there were no electric sparks, and decided that the contact
with the scalpel was only effective in producing twitchings when there was
a simultaneous electric spark. He noted, also, that occasionally the
contractions did not occur, in spite of the fulfilment of the conditions
mentioned. He traced this to fatigue. He then proceeded to vary the

experiment in many ways, decreasing the size of the scalpel, increasing and
decreasing the size of the electric machine and varying the method of
preparation of the frog, so as to decide just what the significance of the
phenomenon was. In a general way, it may be said that this study shows
Galvani as one of the most careful of experimentalists, though he has often
been declared to be a theorizer, rather than an observer.
A very interesting anticipation of Galvani's original experiment, made long
before his time by a great naturalist, the story of which serves to show that
discoveries made before their time, that is, before people are ready to
follow them up, fail to attract attention, has been called to my attention by
Brother Potamian. In the second volume of the Dutch Naturalist
Swammerdam's Works, page 839, is to be found the following passage:[13]
"Another experiment that is at once very curious and suggestive can be
made if one separates the largest of the muscles of the thigh of the frog and
so prepares it with its adherent nerve as to leave it unhurt. If after this has
been done you take the tendons of this muscle, one in each hand, and
irritate the hanging nerve by a little forceps or other instrument, the muscle
will recover the former motion which it had lost. You will see at once that it
contracts and that there will be an effort as it were to bring together the two
hands which hold its tendons. This I demonstrated, in the year 1658, to the
illustrious Duke of Tuscany then reigning, when he was at the moment in a
state of mind that prompted him not to favor me. This same experiment can
be repeated with the same muscle as often and for as long a time as any
portion of the nerve remains uninjured, so that we may, therefore, irritate
the muscle to its former contraction as often as we wish."
As a foundation classic in electricity, Galvani's De Viribus Electricitatis
deserves more detailed analysis. The first part of the monograph is taken up
with experiments of many kinds, with what may be called artificial sources
of electricity—the electric machine, the Leyden jar, and other modes of
electrical development. The second part treats of the effects of atmospheric
electricity upon muscular motion, by which expression Galvani means
lightning, though he also observed various electrical manifestations in the
muscles of his frogs when there was no actual lightning but only darkening
of the heavens, without actual passage of the current flash from one cloud
to another or from the clouds to the earth. In this matter, Galvani displayed
quite as much courage as patient observation. He knew the fate of

Richmann, the Russian scientist, who had been struck dead by a lightning-
bolt while making experiments not very different, yet he dared to place a
lightning conductor on the highest point of his house, and to this conductor
he attached a wire, which ran down to his laboratory. During a storm, he
suspended on this metallic circuit, by means of their sciatic nerves, frogs'
legs and the legs of other animals prepared for the purpose. To the feet of
the animals he attached another Wire sufficiently long to reach down to the
bottom of a well, thus grounding the circuit.
Not satisfied with this study of the influence of lightning and large electrical
disturbances in the air on the preparation of the frog as he had made it,
Galvani set about discovering whether even the slight differences in
electrical potential which occur during the day in atmospheric electricity
might not give rise, even in fair weather, to certain contractions of the frog's
muscles. He made his observations for many days at many different hours
and under varying conditions of light and shade, of heat and cold, without
finding anything. There were occasional contractions, but they bore no
definite relation to variations in the atmosphere, or the electric state of the
atmosphere. Galvani satisfied himself of this very thoroughly, and with a
patience and diligence worthy of emulation by a Fellow at a modern
university working on a foundation for the determination of a particular
question.
The third part of the work is the most important as well as the longest, and
contains the ideas which are original with Galvani, but which met most
opposition in his time and have only been properly appreciated in recent
years. Galvani came to the conclusion that there is such a thing as animal
electricity. This led to a famous controversy with Volta, in which their
contemporaries judged that Galvani had the worst of it; but, as so often
happens, their successors a century later would judge that Galvani's views
were more in accord with what we know at the present time. Criticism is
always easier than scientific advance, and in a controversy it is usually the
man who writes most forcibly, rather than the one who thinks most deeply,
who secures the assent of readers. This makes controversy in matters of
science always unfortunate, for it does much more to retard than to help
scientific progress.
Galvani insists, at the end of this chapter on animal electricity, that what he
writes is entirely the result of experiment, and that he has tried in every way

to make his experiments from a thoroughly critical standpoint. Those who
repeat his observations will find this to be true, though he confesses that
there are times when conditions not well understood seem to hinder the
results that he usually obtained.
The fourth part of his commentary is taken up with certain conjectures, as
he calls them, and some conclusions from his work. In this he suggests the
use of electricity for the cure of certain nervous diseases, and especially for
the treatment of the various forms of paralysis. The use of electricity for
these cases had been previously suggested, and Bertholinus had told the
story of patients who were utterly unable to move and who had recovered
after having been in the neighborhood where a lightning-bolt had struck. To
the minds of physicians of that time, this must have seemed proof positive
of the curative value of lightning, and, therefore, of electricity, for paralytic
conditions. The remedy was heroic, if not indeed positively risky, but its
good effect could not be doubted. Unfortunately, as is always true in
medical matters, the real question at issue in these cases is not so much the
value of the remedy as the propriety of the diagnosis. Paralysis, in the sense
of inability to use one or more limbs, may be due to many causes. There are
a number of forms of functional or hysterical palsy, that is, of incapacity to
use certain groups of muscles not dependent on any organic lesion, but
upon some curious state of the nervous system which may pass away
entirely, and which, indeed, seem to be dependent on the patient's state of
mind. A number of so-called paralytic patients were cured by the
earthquake in San Francisco; some are made to do the apparently
impossible every year; they get up and walk because of the shock due to a
fire or burglars. We know now that the electrical status of the individual is
very carefully protected from disturbance by external electrical forces.
What Galvani began has borne fruit in diagnosis more than treatment, so
that his prophecy has been amply fulfilled. "The application of this method
may throw light on the subject and experience may help us to understand
it."
Among his conclusions, Galvani hints that electricity may not only proceed
from the clouds during electrical disturbances, but also may proceed from
the earth itself, and that living beings may be affected by this. He suggests,
therefore, that plants and animals may be influenced in their growth and in
their health by such electrical changes. He adds the suggestion that there

may be some intimate connection between electrical phenomena and
earthquakes, and suggests that, in countries where earthquakes are frequent,
observations should be made by means of frogs' limbs in order to see
whether there may not be some definite change in the electrical conditions
of the atmosphere before and during the earthquake. He seems to have had
some idea that the curious feelings which at times come before an
earthquake to human beings, though they seem even more noticeable in
animals, may be due to this change in atmospheric electricity.[14]
We are rather prone to think that news of scientific discoveries traveled
slowly in Europe in the eighteenth century. There is abundant evidence of
the contrary in these sketches of electricians, and Galvani's case is one of
the most striking. How much attention Galvani's discovery attracted and
how soon definite details of it spread to the other end of Europe may be
judged from the fact that, in 1793, Mr. Richard Fowler published a small
book at Edinburgh bearing the title, Experiments and Observations Relative
to the Influence Lately Discovered by M. Galvani, and commonly called
Animal Electricity.[15] This little book, which may be seen at the Surgeons
General Library, Washington, and in the Library of the American Institute
of Electrical Engineers, New York, details a large number of experiments
that Fowler had made during the preceding year or more, so that Galvani's
work must have reached him within a few months after its publication.
Fowler mentions the fact that Galvani had been occupied many years before
this in the study of electric fishes, especially the torpedo, the gymnotus
electricus and silurus electricus. He also mentions a curious observation of
Cotugno, who, a few years before, had received a shock from a mouse
while dissecting the little animal, which makes it clear that imagination
played a role in helping to the introduction of the newer ideas with regard to
animal electricity.[16]
But before his discovery was to attract so much attention, Galvani had to
work it out, and this is the merit of the man.
It is almost needless to say, these experiments upon frogs were not
accomplished in a few days or a few weeks. Galvani had his duties as
Professor of Anatomy to attend to besides the obligations imposed upon
him as a busy practitioner of medicine and surgery. At that time, it was not
nearly so much the custom as it is at the present, to use frogs for

experiments, with the idea that conclusions might be obtained of value for
the biological sciences generally, and especially for medicine. There has
always been such an undercurrent of feeling, that such experiments have
been more or less a beating of the air. Galvani found this opposition not
only to his views with regard to animal electricity as enunciated after
experimental demonstration, but also met with no little ridicule because of
the supposed waste of time at occupations that could not be expected to lead
to any practical results. It was the custom of scientific men to laugh
somewhat scornfully at his patient persistence in studying out every detail
of electrical action on the frog, and one of the supposedly prominent
scientists of the time even dubbed him "the frog dancing master." This did
not, however, deter Galvani from his work, though some of the bitter things
must have proved cutting enough, and might have discouraged a smaller
man, less confident of the scientific value of the work that he was doing.
His relations with his patients—for during all of his career he continued to
practice, especially surgery and obstetrics—were of the friendliest
character. While his distinction as a professor at the University gave him
many opportunities for practice among the rich, he was always ready and
willing to help the poor, and, indeed, seemed to feel more at home among
poor patients than in the society of the wealthy and the noble. Even toward
the end of his life, when the loss of many friends, and especially his wife,
made him retire within himself much more than before, he continued to
exercise his professional skill for the benefit of the poor, though he often
refused to take cases that might have proved sources of considerable gain to
him. Early in life, when he was very busy between his professorial work
and his practice, he remarked more than once, on refusing to take the cases
of wealthy patients, that they had the money with which to obtain other
physicians, while the poor did not, and he would prefer to keep some time
for his services to them. When ailing and miserable toward the end of his
life, he still continued his practice, and was especially ready to spend his
time with the poor. He was dying himself, as one of his biographers says,
when he got up from a sick bed to see a dying woman who sent for him.
He was one of the most popular professors that the University of Bologna
ever had. He was not, in the ordinary sense of the word, an orator, but he
was a born teacher. The source of the enthusiasm which he aroused in his
hearers was undoubtedly his own love for teaching and the power it gave

him to express even intricate problems in simple, straightforward language.
More than any of his colleagues, he understood that experiments and
demonstrations must be the real groundwork of the teaching of science.
Accordingly, very few of his lectures were given without the aid of these
material helps to attract attention. Besides, he was known to be one who
delighted to answer questions, and was perfectly frank about the limitations
of his knowledge whenever there was no real answer to be given to a
question that had been proposed. Though an original discoverer of the first
rank, he was extremely modest, particularly when talking about the details
of his discoveries or subjects relating to them.
Galvani was not a good talker, though he seems to have been a good
teacher. He had little of that facility which wins friends easily and enables a
man to shine with a borrowed lustre of knowledge, often enough quite
superficial. What he said was almost sure to have a very serious meaning.
While there is no doubt that Galvani was a genius, in the sense that he was
one of the precious few who take the step across the boundary of the
unknown and make a path along which it is easy for others to follow in
reaching hitherto trackless regions in human speculation, he also had what
is undoubtedly the main element in talent, for he was possessed to a high
degree of the faculty for hard work. For this he regulated the hours of his
labor very carefully. Only thus could he have accomplished what he did. It
must not be forgotten that he was teaching anatomy and obstetrics at the
University of Bologna, and, surprising as it may seem, doing both these
tasks well. He was besides accomplishing good work in comparative
anatomy and physiology by original investigations of a high order. In spite
of all this, which would seem occupation enough and more for any one
man, he was able to keep up a rather demanding practice.
He did not have many friends, but those whom he admitted to his intimacy
were bound to him with the proverbial hoops of steel. With two men in
Bologna he spent most of his leisure. They were Dr. Julio Cæsare Cingari, a
distinguished physician of the city, and the well-known astronomer who
held the chair of astronomy at the University, Francisco Sacchetti. With
these he passed many a pleasant hour, and week after week they met at one
another's houses to discuss scientific questions and the lighter topics of the
day. Galvani was thoroughly respected by all the members of the Faculty at
Bologna, though he did not seek many friendships, and indeed probably

would have more or less resented the intrusions of acquaintances, because
of the time that it would take from him. He was a very retiring man, caring
not at all for social things, and least of all for that personal fame which has
been so well defined as the being known by those whom one does not
know. His happiness in life came to him from his work and from his
domestic relations. His wife was one of those marvelous women, rarer than
they should be, one is tempted to say, who are enough interested in their
husband's intellectual work to add to the zest of discovery in the discussion
of it with them, and who yet realize that it is by minimizing the little
worries of life that they can best help their husbands.
A very interesting phase of the Italian University life of that time is revealed
in two important incidents of Galvani's university career. One of his
professors—one, by the way, for whom he seems to have had a great deal of
respect, and to whose lectures he devoted much attention, was Laura
Caterina Maria Bassi, the distinguished woman Professor of Philosophy at
the University of Bologna, about the middle of the eighteenth century. It is
doubtless to her teaching that Galvani owes some of his thorough-going
conservatism in philosophic speculation, a conservatism that was of great
service to him later on in life, in the midst of the ultra-radical principles
which became fashionable just before and during the French Revolution.
Madame Bassi seems to have had her influence on him for good not only
during his student career, but also later in life, for she was the wife of a
prominent physician in Bologna, and Galvani was often in social contact
with her during her years of connection with the University.
As might, perhaps, be expected, seeing that his own happy domestic life
showed him that an educated woman might be the center of intellectual
influence, Galvani seems to have had no spirit of opposition to even the
highest education for women. This is very well illustrated by the first
formal lecture in his course on anatomy at the University, which had for its
subject the models for the teaching of anatomy that had been made by
Madame Manzolini.[17] In the early part of the eighteenth century, Madame
Manzolini had been the Professor of Anatomy at the University of Bologna,
and in order to make the teaching of this difficult subject easier and more
definite, she modeled with great care and delicate attention to every detail,
so that they imitated actual dissections of the human body very closely, a

set of wax figures, which replaced the human body for demonstration
purposes, at least at the beginning of the anatomical course.
Galvani, in taking up the work of lecturer in anatomy, appreciated how
much such a set of models would serve to make the introduction to
anatomical study easy, yet at the same time without diminishing its
exactness, and accordingly introduced his students to Madame Manzolini's
set of models in his very first lecture. At the time, not a few of the teachers
of anatomy at the Italian universities were inclined to consider the use of
these models as rather an effeminate proceeding. Galvani's lack of prejudice
in the matter shows the readiness of the man to accept the best, wherever he
found it, without regard to persons or feelings.
Galvani's personal character was very pleasant, yet rather grave and serious.
His panegyrist, Professor Giuseppe Venturoli, in the eulogium of Galvani,
delivered in the Public Academy of the Institute of Bologna (1802) within
five years after Galvani's death, says that Galvani was far from that
coldness or lack of interest which sometimes characterizes scientists in their
social relations, and which, as he naïvely says, is sometimes praised and
sometimes blamed by those who write about them. Another side of
Galvani's character is more interesting. He was ready to do all in his power
for the poor. He conducted his obstetrical clinic particularly with a liberal
benevolence and charity that deserve to be mentioned. When it is
considered how much time his teaching and his charity took from him, it is
rather surprising to find that he had enough left to enable him to devote
himself with so much success to the difficult tasks he set himself in research
and to the time-taking labors of controversy, which occupied many years
after the announcement of his discoveries.
The most striking proof of the thorough conscientiousness with which he
faced the duties of life is to be found in his conduct after the establishment
of the so-called Cis-Alpine Republic in Italy. This was a government
established merely by force of arms, maintained through French influence,
without the consent of the people, and a plain usurpation of the rights of the
previous government. Galvani considered himself bound in duty to the
authority under which he had lived all his previous life and to which he had
sworn fealty. When the University of Bologna was reorganized under the
new government, the first requirement of all those who were made
professors was that they should take the oath of allegiance to the new

government. This he refused to do. His motives can be readily understood,
and though practically all the other professors of the University had taken
the oath, he did not consider that this freed him from his conscientious
obligations in the matter.
Accordingly he was dropped from the roll of professors and deprived of the
never very large salary which he had obtained from this chair. On this sum
he had practically depended for his existence, and he began to suffer from
want. While he had been a successful practitioner of medicine, especially of
surgery, he had always been very liberal, and had spent large sums of
money in demonstrations for his lectures and personal experimentation and
in materials for the museums of the University. He began to suffer from
actual want, and friends had to come to his assistance. He refused, however,
to give up his scruples in the matter and accept the professorship which was
still open to him. Finally, at the end of two years, influence was brought to
bear on the new government, and Galvani was allowed to accept his chair in
the University without taking the oath of allegiance. This tribute came too
late, however, and within a short time after his restoration to his
professorship he died.
Galvani's conduct in this affair is the key-note to his character and conduct
through life. For him duty was the paramount word, and success meant the
accomplishment of duty. For getting on in the world and material rewards
he had no use unless they came as the consequence of duty fulfilled. His
action in the matter of the University professorship has of course been
much discussed by his biographers.
His eulogist, Professor Venturoli, whom we have already quoted, and whose
eulogium is to be found in the complete edition of Galvani's works issued at
Bologna in 1841,[18] has much to say with regard to Galvani's religious
sentiments.
He says: "The great founder in electricity was deeply religious, and his
piety clothed a heart that was not less affectionate and sensitive to affection
than it was intrepid and courageous. When called upon to take the civic oath
in a formula involved in ambiguous words, he did not believe that he ought,
on so serious an occasion, to permit himself anything but the clear and
precise expression of his sentiments, full as they were of honesty and
rectitude. Refusing to take advantage of the suggestion that he should

modify the oath by some declaration apart from the prescribed formula,
though it might still be generally understood that he had taken the oath, he
refused constantly to commit himself to any such subterfuge. It is not our
duty here to ask whether his conclusion was correct or not. He followed the
voice of his conscience, which ever must be the standard of duty, and it
certainly would have been a fault to have deviated from it. It is sad to think
that this great man, deprived of his position, saw himself, for an instant at
least, exposed to the danger of ending his career, deprived of the
recompense which he so richly deserved and to which his past services to
the State and the University had given him so just a title. This is all the
more sad when we realize that the vicissitudes of his delicate health, much
more than his age, now rendered such recompense doubly necessary. It is a
gracious thing to recall, however, the noble firmness with which he
maintained himself against so serious a blow. His courage is all the more
admirable as one can see how absolutely without affectation it is. He was
not ostentatious in his goodness, and did not permit himself to be cast down
by the unfortunate conditions, but constantly preserved in the midst of
adverse fortune that modest, imperturbable and dignified conduct which
had always characterized him in the midst of his prosperity and his glory."
That his action in this matter was very properly appreciated by his
contemporaries, and that the moral influence of his example was not lost,
can be realized from the expressions used by Alibert, the Secretary-General
of the Medical Society of Emulation, in the historical address on Galvani
which he delivered before that society in Paris in 1801:
"Galvani constantly refused to take the civil oath demanded by the decrees
of the Cis-Alpine Republic. Who can blame him for having followed the
voice of his conscience—that sacred, interior voice which alone prescribes
the duties of man and which has preceded all human laws? Who could not
praise him for having sacrificed all such exemplary resignation, all the
emoluments of his professorship, rather than violate the solemn
engagements made under religious sanction?"
In the same panegyric there is a very curiously interesting passage with
regard to Galvani's habit of frequently closing his lectures by calling
attention to the complexity yet the purposefulness of natural things, and the
inevitable conclusion that they must have been created with a definite
purpose by a Supreme Being possessed of intelligence. At the time that

Alibert wrote his memoir, it was the fashion to consider, at least in France,
that Christianity was a thing of the past, and that while theism might
remain, that would be all that could be expected to survive the crumbling
effect of the emancipation of man.
He says: "We have seen already what was Galvani's zeal and his love for
the religion which he professed. We may add that, in his public
demonstrations, he never finished his lectures without exhorting his pupils
to a renewal of their faith, by leading them always back to the idea of the
eternal Providence which develops, preserves and causes life to flow among
so many different kinds of things. I write now," he continues, "in the age of
reason, of tolerance and of light. Must I then defend Galvani in the eyes of
posterity for one of the most beautiful sentiments that can spring from the
nature of man? No; and they are but little initiated in the saner mechanism
of philosophy who refuse to recognize the truths established on evidence so
strong and so authentic. Breves haustus in philosophia ad atheismum
ducunt, longiores autem reducunt ad Deum—Small draughts of philosophy
lead to atheism, but longer draughts bring one back to God"—(which may
be better translated, perhaps, for English readers by Pope's well known
lines, "A little learning [in philosophy] is a dangerous thing; drink deep or
touch not the Pierian spring").
Galvani has been honored by his fellow-citizens of Bologna as one of their
greatest townsmen, and by the University as one of her worthiest sons. In
1804, a medal was struck in his honor, on the reverse of which, surrounding
a figure of the genius of science, were the two legends: "Mors mihi vita,"
"Death is life for me," and "Spiritus intus alit," "The spirit works within,"
which were favorite expressions of the great scientist while living, and are
lively symbols of the spirit which animated him. In 1814, a monument was
erected to him in the courtyard of the University of Bologna. It is
surmounted by his bust, made by the most distinguished Bolognian sculptor
of the time, De Maria. On the pedestal there are two figures in bas-relief,
executed by the same sculptor, which represent religion and philosophy, the
inspiring genius of Galvani's life.
Before he died, he asked, as had his favorite poet Dante, whose Divina
Commedia had been one of the pleasures of life and above all one of the
consolations of his times of adversity, to be buried in the humble habit of a
member of the Third Order of St. Francis. He is said to have valued his

fellowship with the sons of the "poor little man of Assisi" more than the
many honorary fellowships of various kinds which had been conferred upon
him by scientific societies all over Europe. With him passed away one of
the great pioneers of modern science and one of the most lovable men in all
the history of science. His death took place just before the close of the
eighteen century, Dec. 4, 1798, but his work was destined to be one of the
harbingers of a great period of electrical development.

FOOTNOTES:
[11] Fordham University Press, 1906.
[12] Ranam dissecui, atque praeparavi ut in fig. 2 Tab. V. eamque in tabula,
omnia mihi alia proponens, in qua erat mechina electrica fig. 1, collocavi ab ejus
conductore penitus sejunctam, atque haud brevi intervallo dissitam; dum
scalpelli cuspidem unus ex iis, qui mihi operam dabant, cruralibus hujus ranae
internis nervis DD casu vel leviter admoveret, continuo omnes artuum musculi
ita contrahi visi sunt, ut in vehementiores incidisse tonicas convulsiones
viderentur. Eorum vero alter, qui nobis electricitatem tentantibus praesto erat,
animadvertere sibi visus est, rem contingere dum ex conductere machinae
scintilla extorqueretur fig. 1 B. Rei novitatem ille admiratus de eadem statim me
alia omnino molientem ac mecum ipso cogitantem admonuit. His ego incredibili
cum studio, et cupiditate incensus idem experiundi, et quod occultum in re esset
in lucem pro ferendi admovi propterea et ipse scalpelli cuspidem uni vel alteri
crurali nervo, quo tempore unus aliquis ex iis, qui aderant, scintillam eliceret.
Phoenomenon eadem omnino ratione contigit; vehementes nimirum
contractiones in singulos artum musculos, perinde ac si tetano praeparatum
animal esset correptum, eodem ipso temporis momento inducebantur, quo
scintillae extorquerentur.
[13] For the sake of those who might care to see how the great Dutch naturalist
expressed these curious scientific notions in Latin, the original text seems worth
while giving.
"Jucundissimum porro juxta ac utilissimum experimentum aliud institui potest,
si quidam e maximis Musculis de Ranae Femore separetur, atque una cum
adhaerente suo Nervo ita praeparetur, ut hic illaesus permaneat. Quodsi enim,
hoc peracto, utrumque Musculi hujus Tendinem a, a manibus prehenderis.
Nervumque ejus propendentem forsicula aliove quodam instrumento de in
irritaveris b; pristinum, quem amiserat, motum suum mox recuperabit Musculus.
Videbis hinc ilico eum contrahi, binasque manus, quae Tendines ejus adtinent, ad
se mutuo veluti adducere: prout olim jam, anno 1658, Illustrissimo Duci
Hetrusco, cummaxime regnanti, demonstravi; quum Is immerito sane favore ad
me invisere non dedignaretur. Hoc ipsum veto experimentum eodem in Musculo
tam crebro & diu reiterari potest, donec ulla Nervi pars illaesa fuerit: ut ideo
toties sic ad pristinam contractionem suam lacessere Musculum valeamus,
quoties nobis libuerit."
[14] With Galvani's attention to medical electricity, it is not surprising that for
several years, beginning with 1873, an Italian medical journal called Il Galvani,
with the sub-title Giornale di Elettro-Idro-ed Aero Terapia, was published at
Milan. Its directors were the brothers Themistocles and Ulysses Santopadre.
Those who think that an exaggeration of claims for electrical influence on
various diseases is of comparatively recent date, will do well to consult that
journal. The prophylaxis of yellow-fever is suggested by means of static
electricity. The cause of yellow-fever is declared to be a disturbance of the
electro-magnetic conditions of the body. Everything, from skin diseases to
uterine inertia, chloroform asphyxia, aphasia, and the various forms of paralysis,

and Basedow's disease, are described as cured by electrical treatment. So does
science become the nursing mother of quackery.
[15] Edinburgh, 1793.
[16] In 1795, one of the theses presented for the Fellowship of the Royal College
of Surgeons of Edinburgh was on the subject of Galvanism, or at least on
Galvani's work, by Francis Barker, who signs himself Hibernicus, an evidence of
the fact that Irishmen often went to Edinburgh for their scientific training. This
thesis serves to show that Galvani's work was already attracting the attention
even of the most distant of Western Universities.
[17] It is interesting to note that the two successful inventions for lessening the
necessity for deterrent dissecting work are due to women—Professor Manzolini
and her wax models, and Alessandra Giliani, the assistant of Mondino, Father of
Dissection, (d. 1320), who knew how "to fill the veins with various colored
fluids which would harden, and paint these same vessels and color them so
naturally that they brought Mondino great fame and credit." (Old Chronicler.)
[18] Opere Edite ed Inedite del Professore Luigi Galvani Raccolte e Pubblicate
Per Cura Dell'Accademia Delle Scienze Dell'Instituto Di Bologna, Bologna
Tipografia Di Emilio Dall'Olmo. MDCCCXLI.

CHAPTER V.
Volta the Founder of Electrical Science.
Up to the end of the eighteenth century, discoverers in electrical science had
usually been students of science in other departments, whose attention to
electricity had been attracted in passing as it were. Occasionally, indeed,
they had been only interested amateurs, inquisitive as to the curious
phenomena of magnetism. It is surprising how many of these pioneers in
electricity were clergymen, though that fact is seldom realized. It can be
seen very readily in my chapter on Clergymen Pioneers in Electricity, in
Catholic Churchmen in Science (Second Series, Dolphin Press, Phila.,
1909). With Volta's career, however, was initiated the story of the electrical
scientists who devoted themselves almost exclusively to this department of
physics, though more or less necessarily paying some attention to related
subjects. Volta's discovery of a practical instrument for measuring
electricity, as well as of comparatively simple apparatus producing a
continuous current, changed the whole face of the science of electricity.
After these inventions, regular work could be readily done in the
investigation of problems in the science of electricity without
discouragement or inadequate instruments, discontinuous electrical
phenomena, disturbances of experiments by the weather, and other
conditions which had been hitherto so unfavorable to electrical
experimentation. Volta's invention of the pile, or battery, so deservedly
called after him, caused electrical science to take on an entirely new aspect,
and the modern development of electricity was assured. It has been well
said that no other invention, not even the steam-engine, meant so much for
the transformation of modern life as this new apparatus for the production
of a continuous electric current.
The man who worked this revolution in electrical science was no mere
inventor who, by a happy chance, brought together practical factors that had
been well known before but had never been combined. He was one of the
greatest scientists of a period particularly rich in examples of original
scientific genius of a high order. Before his death, he came to be

ackno
wledge
d by
the
scientif
ic
world
of his
time as
one of
the
greates
t
leaders
of
thought
, not
alone
in
electric
ity, but
in all
depart
ments
of the
physica
l
Alessandro Volta science
s. His
life
forms for this reason an important chapter in the history of science and
scientific development.
Like most of the distinguished scientific discoverers of the last two
centuries, Alessandro Volta was born in very humble circumstances. His
father was a member of the Italian nobility, but had wasted his patrimony so
completely that the family was in extreme poverty when the distinguished
son was born, on the eighteenth of February, 1745. This poverty was so

complete that Volta said of it, later in life: "My father owned nothing except
a small dwelling worth about fourteen thousand lire; and as he left behind
him seventeen thousand lire of debt, I was actually poorer than poor." A
good idea of the circumstances in which Volta's childhood was passed may
be gathered from the fact that he could not even secure copy-books for his
first school exercises except through the kindness of friends.
Volta had shown signs of genius from early boyhood, and yet had been
discouragingly slow in his intellectual development as a child. In fact, it
was feared that he was congenitally lacking in intelligence to a great degree.
It is said that he was more than four years old before he ever uttered a word.
This does not mean before he learned to talk connectedly, but before he
could utter even such familiar expressions as "father," "mother," and the
like. He was considered to be dumb; and, as is not infrequently the mistaken
notion with regard to children dumb for any reason, he was thought to be
almost an idiot. The first word he ever uttered is said to have been a
vigorous "No!" which was heard when one of his relatives insisted on his
doing something that he did not wish to do. At the age of seven, however,
he had so far overcome all difficulties of speech as to be looked upon as a
very bright child. Owing to this late, unexpected development, his parents
seem to have regarded him as a sort of living miracle, and felt certain that
he was destined to accomplish great things. His father said of him later, "We
had a jewel in the house and did not know it."
Fortunately for Volta, one of his uncles was archdeacon of the Cathedral,
and another was one of the canons. These relatives helped him to obtain an
education, the way being made especially easy by the fact that at this time
all the Jesuit Colleges subsisted on foundations and collected no fees from
any of their students; so that all that was necessary for his uncles to do for
him was to contribute to his expenses outside of college. According to
tradition, the Jesuits not only helped Volta in his education, but assisted him
in obtaining his books and even in his living expenses while at their college.
At the age of about sixteen, his education was complete, even including a
year of philosophy. This is probably an indication of his talent as a student;
though it was not an unusual thing in the southern countries for students to
graduate at sixteen, or even younger, after a course equivalent to that now
required for the bachelor's degree in arts.

We have gotten far away from this early graduation, although it is still
sometimes possible in Italian universities; and one of the brightest men I
ever knew was an Italian who had graduated with a degree equivalent to our
A. B. before he was sixteen. When Volta graduated, however, such early
completion of the undergraduate course was not at all unusual in Italy, and
boys of thirteen and fourteen, almost as a rule, entered the undergraduate
department to complete their course for a degree at seventeen or eighteen.
One of our greatest physicians in this country, Benjamin Rush, was only
seventeen when he completed his college course, and such examples were
not at all rare. Indeed, the possibility for these men to devote themselves
much earlier than is possible now to their serious life-work, yet with the
development of mind which comes from a University course in the arts, was
probably a distinct help to the success of their scientific careers. One is
tempted to think that possibly such justification of earlier graduation, as we
find among the distinguished scientists of a century ago, might make us
reflect deeply before lending ourselves to what Herbert Spencer thought a
phase of evolution, the lengthening of childhood, for it is just possible that
the earlier recognition of manhood may mean more for individual
development. Of course, geniuses are exceptions to rule, and an argument
founded on their careers may mean very little for the generality of students.
Like many another of the great scientists, Volta was not that constant source
of satisfaction to his teachers while at school that might possibly be
expected. He had little interest in the conventional elementary education of
the time, he was frequently distracted during school hours, and even as a
mere boy often asked questions with regard to natural phenomena that were
puzzlers to his masters, and sometimes complained of their lack of
knowledge. He fortunately outgrew this priggishness, for in later childhood
he seems to have been one of those talented children who learn rapidly and
who are impatient at being kept back while their slower fellow-pupils are
having drilled into them what came so easy to readier talents.
In his classical studies, however, Volta was deeply interested. He was
especially enthusiastic over poetry, and at school devoted the spare time
that his readiness of acquisition left him to the reading of Virgil and Tasso.
These favorite authors became so familiar to him that he could repeat much
of them by heart, and even in old age could cap verses from them better
than any of his friends, even those all of whose lives had been devoted

exclusively to literary occupations. During his walks, when an old man, he
often entertained himself by repeating long passages from the classic Latin
and Italian poets.
Even at this time, Volta's interest in the physical sciences was very marked.
There is still extant a Latin poem of about five hundred verses, in which he
sets forth the observations of Priestley, the discoverer of oxygen, whom it
used to be the custom to call the Father of Modern Chemistry. This poem
shows his thorough familiarity with the work of the great English
investigator. Volta's model was Lucretius. Lest it should be a source of
surprise that an Italian scientist had recourse to Latin for even a poetic
account of scientific discoveries, it may be well to recall that Latin was still
the universal language of science at that time, and Volta's great
contemporary in electricity, Galvani, wrote his original monograph on
animal electricity in that language, and even the Father of Pathology wrote
his first great treatise, De Causis et Sedibus Morborum, in that tongue. As
to his adoption of verse as a vehicle for scientific writing, it must not be
forgotten that, at the time when Volta was writing his poem, another
distinguished writer on scientific subjects, Erasmus Darwin, the grandfather
of Charles Darwin of the last generation, was composing his "Zoonomia; or,
Animal Biography," in English verse. Didactic verse was quite the fashion
of the time, and some of it, even when it came from acknowledged poets,
had not more poetry than Volta's effusion.
As if to make up for his lack of linguistic faculty when young, Volta seems
to have had a special gift for languages when he grew older. Before the age
of twenty, he knew French as well as his mother tongue, read German and
English fluently, and Low Dutch and Spanish were not beyond his
comprehension. Besides his verses in Latin he wrote poetry also in French
and Italian, always with cleverness at least, and at times with true poetic
feeling.
While attending the Jesuit school, he expressed, it is said, a desire to enter
the Order. As his father, however, had been with the Jesuits for eleven years
and had then given up his studies, his family feared a repetition of such an
experience; and so his clergymen uncles took him away from the school and
sent him for a while to the Seminary at Benzi. After a time Volta abandoned
the idea of becoming a priest, but would not consent to follow the wishes of
the family council further, at least not to the extent of becoming a lawyer.

Though he studied law for a time, he constantly wandered away to the
reading of books on the natural sciences and to the study of natural objects.
Finally he was allowed to give up law to devote himself exclusively to
science.
Fortunately, one of the canons of the Cathedral of Como, a former fellow-
student of his and a man of considerable means, was also interested in the
natural sciences, and obtained the books and instruments necessary to
enable Volta and himself to continue their studies. Father Gattoni seems to
have realized at once the possibilities for great advances in science that lay
in Volta's wonderful powers of observation, and encouraged him in every
way. As a consequence, some of the important experiments that laid the
foundation of the modern science of electricity and proved the beginning of
Volta's world-wide reputation were carried on in Gattoni's rooms.
As a young man, Volta was so completely devoted to scientific
investigations that there could be no doubt of the bent of his genius for
original work of a high order. His power of concentration of attention on a
subject was supreme. Biographers emphasize that there was no time, much
less inclination, for the levities that so often appeal to the growing youth.
He was almost too staid and preoccupied with his work for his own health
and the comfort of his friends. When he became interested in a series of
experiments, he often forgot the flight of time, and was known to miss
meals, and inadvertently to put off going to bed—apparently quite
unconscious of his physical necessities. This intense concentration of mind
had its disadvantages. One of his friends complained playfully that he made
a rather disagreeable traveling companion on account of his tendency to
become abstracted; and on occasions this friend was deeply mortified to see
Volta, when in company, take out a pocket-handkerchief that had been used
for some purpose in the laboratory—which showed unmistakable signs of
its previous employment as a cleansing agent for dirty instruments or hands,
though its possessor was evidently unconscious of its appearance. More
than once, too, his handkerchief proved, when taken out for its natural uses,
to be as preoccupied as its owner: specimens of rocks or natural curiosities
that he had gathered and inadvertently allowed to remain in his pocket came
with it.
All during his life he retained an unusual faculty for concentrating his
attention, which at times amounted to complete abstraction from his

surroundings. It is related that, one cold morning his students at the
University of Pavia found him in his shirt sleeves, so intent on arranging the
experiments that were to illustrate his morning lecture that he was
unconscious of the time, and even did not notice their coming into the room
until they had been for some time in their seats and he had finally
completed the arrangement for the demonstrations. He was constantly
occupied with problems in natural science, looking for the explanation of
phenomena that he did not understand as well as gathering new data by
observation and experiment. He was gifted with the supremely inquisitive
spirit, in the scientific sense of the epithet, and could not be satisfied with
accepting things as he found them without knowing the reasons for them.
Volta furnishes another excellent illustration of how soon genius gets at its
life-work. We have his own authority for the fact that he had come to
certain conclusions with regard to the explanation of electrical phenomena,
which, when he was only nineteen years of age, he set forth in a letter to the
Abbé Nollet, who was then one of the best known experimenters and
writers on electrical phenomena in Europe. Though so young, Volta had
tried to simplify Franklin's theory of electricity by assuming that there was
an action only between a (supposed) electrical substance and matter. It is
curious to see how much he anticipated what was to be the thinking for
more than a century after his time and practically down to the present day.
He considers that all bodies, in their normal state, contain electricity in such
proportion that electrical equilibrium is established within them. Electrical
phenomena, then, are due to disturbances of this equilibrium. Such
disturbances may be produced by physical means, as by friction or by
chemical means, and even atmospheric electricity may be explained in the
former way.
Volta's first formal paper on electricity, bearing the title De Vi Attractiva
Ignis Electrici, was published in 1769, when he was twenty-four years of
age. His second paper, Novus Ac Simplicissimus, Electricorum Tentaminum
Apparatus—New and Very Simple. Apparatus for Electrical Tests, shows
that Volta was getting beyond the stage of theorizing about electricity into
the experimental work, which was to form the foundation of his
contributions to electrical science. It is not surprising, then, that when he
was just past thirty, in 1775, he was able to announce to Priestley his
invention of the electrophorus. Priestley is usually thought of as one of the

founders of modern chemistry, but he was known to his own generation,
especially at this time, as the writer of a very interesting and complete
history of electricity. It is characteristic of Volta's careful ways, that the
reason for his letter to Priestley was in order to obtain information from him
as to what extent this invention, which Volta knew, as far as he was
concerned, to be original with himself, was novel in the domain of electrical
advance.[19]
With the intense interest in his work that we have noted, it is not surprising
to find Volta's investigations proving fruitful. His active inventive genius
stood him in good stead in enabling him to demonstrate principles by
working instruments. The electrophorus is but one of the instruments that
show the very practical character of the man. He was especially taken with
the idea of securing some method of measuring electricity. Among other
things, he invented the condensing electroscope, in which, instead of the
ribbons of gold leaf now employed, he used straws. With this instrument he
was able to demonstrate the presence of minute quantities of electricity
developed under circumstances in which ordinarily the occurrence of any
such phenomena would be unsuspected. These two instruments, the
electroscope and the electrophorus, lifted the department of electricity out
of the realm of theory into that of accurate scientific demonstration, and
made the electrical departments of the physical laboratories of the time
much more interesting and important than they had been before.
Though so early occupied with electricity, Volta did not confine himself to
this subject, nor even to the wider field of physics, and that he did not
hesitate, in his scientific inquisitiveness, to follow clues even in chemistry,
is well illustrated by his first step in the investigation of gases. His attention
being called to bubbles breaking on the surface of Lake Maggiore while on
a fishing excursion, he set about finding their source, and noted that
whenever the bottom of the lake near the shore was stirred somewhat a
number of bubbles arose, and that the gas thus set free was inflammable. He
constructed an electrical pistol in which gases thus set free were exploded
by a spark from the electrophorus. About the same time, on the principle of
the electrical pistol, he invented the eudiometer, an apparatus by means of
which the oxygen content of air could be determined.
With regard to these inventions, Arago calls attention to a special quality
that is peculiar to all of Volta's work. "There is not a single one of the

discoveries of Professor Volta," says the distinguished French scientist,
"which can be said to be the result of chance. Every instrument with which
he has enriched science existed in principle in his imagination before an
artisan began to put it into a material shape."
After these inventions and his previous work, it is not surprising that in
1774 Volta was offered the professorship of experimental physics in the
College of Como. Here he labored for five years, until he received a call, in
1779, to the professorship of physics at the University of Pavia, where he
was destined to remain in an active teaching capacity for a period of forty
years.
Volta began his life-work as professor of physics at Pavia by extending his
observations on gases. He was the first to demonstrate the expansion of
gases under heat, especially as regards their increased expansibility at
higher temperatures. Many observers had been at work on this problem
before his time, but there were serious discrepancies in the results reported.
Volta was the first to point out the reasons for the apparent inconsistencies
of previous investigators' findings; and from his observations alone some
valuable data might have been obtained for the establishment of what has
since become known as the "law of Charles."
At this time, his knowledge of English enabled him to follow English
discoveries closely, and he seems to have paid particular attention to the
work of Cavendish and Priestley. Not long after Cavendish's description of
the method of obtaining pure hydrogen, Volta made a series of observations
on the relations of spongy platinum to this gas, and pointed out the
spontaneous ignition that takes place when the two substances are brought
together. This experiment is the basis of what has since been known as the
hydrogen lamp, called, from the German observer who first made it a
practical instrument, Dobereiner's lamp.
After seven years of teaching, Volta was given the opportunity to visit
various parts of Europe, and took advantage of the occasion to meet most of
the celebrated men of science. His linguistic faculty stood him in good stead
during this sabbatical year, and his travel aided him in completing a
thorough acquaintanceship with European languages as well as with
scientists. His practical character led him, during his trip, to note the growth
of the potato and its uses in various European countries, and he brought the

plant home with him to Italy in order to introduce it among the farmers. He
succeeded in making his countrymen realize its value, and the introduction
of the potato is one of the reasons for which Italians have always looked up
to him as a benefactor of his native land. How modern this makes a
vegetable we are inclined to think of as having been always an important
food resource of the race!
About the middle of the third quarter of the eighteenth century, by one of
the fortunate accidents that happen, however, only to genius, Galvani, at the
time Professor of anatomy in Bologna, had been led to make the
observation that if a frog, so prepared that its hind leg is attached to the
trunk only by means of the sciatic nerve, happens to be touched by a metal
instrument in such a way as to put nerve and muscle in connection with
each other through the metal instrument, a very curious phenomenon is
observed, the muscles of the almost severed leg becoming spasmodically
contracted and then relaxed whenever the contacts were made and broken.
Galvani noted the phenomenon first in connection with an electric machine,
and looked for an explanation of it in electricity, thinking that there was an
analogy between it and the discharge of the Leyden jar. After several years
of careful observation, he published a monograph on the subject, which at
once attracted attention all over Europe.
Volta was very much interested in Galvani's work, and took up the
development of it from the physical side. At first he agreed with the
explanation offered by Galvani, who considered that his experiment
demonstrated the presence of electricity in animal bodies, and who
proposed to introduce the term "animal electricity." After careful
investigation, however, Galvani's assertion that animal electricity existed in
a form entirely independent of any external electricity, though it had been
accepted by most of the distinguished men of science of the time, seemed to
Volta without experimental verification. For many years his most
determined efforts were used to demonstrate that the muscle twitchings
observed were not due to the presence of animal electricity (galvanism as it
had come to be called), but to the fact that the metals touching the different
portions of the moist nerve muscle preparation really set up minute currents
of ordinary electricity.
Some of the experiments which he devised for this purpose were extremely
ingenious, and show how thoroughly empirical were his methods and how

modern his scientific spirit. In the course of his experiments he found that a
difference in the metals of which the arc was composed, when used for the
purpose of eliciting the so-called animal electricity, made a great difference
in the electrical phenomena observed and in the amount of muscle
twitchings obtained. In one brilliant series of experiments, moreover, he
showed that, even when the metallic portions touching nerve and muscle
were identical, there might still be distinct electrical phenomena, if only an
artificial difference in temperature of the end of the metallic arc were
produced. Volta was even able to demonstrate that such minute physical
differences as the filing of one end of the metallic arc used might give rise
to small currents of electricity.
In the midst of these experiments, he came to the realization that two
portions of metal of different kinds, separated by a moist non-conducting
material, might be made to produce a constant current of electricity for
some time. More than this, however, he found that discs of metal of
different kinds might be piled on top of one another with intervening discs
of moist cloth, and so produce proportionately stronger currents as more
and more of the metal plates were employed. This was the origin of the
voltaic pile, as it has been called—the first battery for the production at will
of regular currents of electricity of definite strength.[20]
While engaged at this he succeeded in demonstrating what has come to be
known as Volta's basic experiment; namely, that two plates of metal of
different kinds become electrically excited merely by contact. This was
practically the beginning of the great advance in applied electricity which
ushered in our modern electrical era. It seems a simple matter now, looking
back over the century that has elapsed since then, to have taken the
successive steps that Volta did for the construction of his electrical pile and
for the demonstration of the principle of contact electricity. Groping, as he
was, in the dark, however, it took him three years to make the progress that
we have described in a few words. How great his discoveries appeared,
even to the most distinguished of his scientific contemporaries, can best be
judged from an expression of one of the greatest of French electrical
scientists, Arago, who declared "Volta's pile the most wonderful instrument
that has ever come from the hand of man, not excluding even the telescope
or the steam-engine."

An excellent description of just how Volta made his electric pile and what
he was able to accomplish with it experimentally in the laboratory, is to be
found in the numbers for January and February, 1900, of the Stimmen aus
Maria-Laach—a literary and scientific periodical published by the German
Jesuits. This article on Alessandro Volta, by Father Kneller, S. J., was
written shortly after the celebration of the hundredth anniversary of Volta's
invention of the electric pile, when there had just been a fresh sorting over
of Volta's documents, and contains a very full set of references to the
biographical material for Volta's life. Father Kneller says:
"Before this, no one thought for a moment of any possibility of the practical
application of electricity. But all at once the whole situation changed. After
eight years of observation and experiment, Volta accomplished one day, at
the beginning of 1800, in his laboratory at Como, the construction of an
instrument which was to revolutionize the study and the practical
applications of electricity. He made a pile composed of a large number of
equal-sized copper and zinc discs. On each copper disc he placed one of
zinc, and then on this a moistened piece of cloth, and continued the series of
alternate discs and cloths in this order until he had a rather high column.
This was an apparatus as simple as possible and from which no one but
Volta could possibly have promised any results. The inventor, however,
knew what he was about.
"As soon as he had connected the upper and lower metal plates by means of
a wire, there began to flow from the zinc to the copper a secret something,
which by the application of the ends of the wire to muscles caused them to
twitch; which appeared before the eye as light; applied to the tongue, gave a
sensation of taste; caused a thin wire to glow and even to burn between
carbon points; produced a blinding light; decomposed water into its
constituents; dissolved hitherto unknown metals out of salts and earth;
made iron magnetic; directed the magnetic needle out of its path; inclosed
wire coils caused new electric currents to be set up; to say nothing of the
awful spectacle which occurred when, under the influence of the electric
current, the bodies of executed criminals again gave movements of the
limbs, their thoraxes really heaved and sank as if they really breathed, and
even a dead grasshopper was caused to spring and apparently to sing again.
"Only now, after the discovery of this new kind of electricity—which did
not work merely by jerks, but flowed in a constant stream from pole to pole

—only now was this mighty natural agent won to the service of man. Volta
is, therefore, above all others, the one who broke ground not only for an
immense amount of new knowledge in physics, chemistry and physiology,
but who also made possible rapid progress in practical electricity, in
telegraphy, in electric motors and power machines, in electroplating and the
marvelous results in electro-galvanism which constitute our most wonderful
mechanical effects at the present time."
Soon after Volta's discovery of the electric pile, or voltaic pile, as it was
called in his honor, his reputation spread throughout Europe. At the
beginning of 1800, he sent a detailed description of the voltaic pile to the
Royal Society of London. During the year 1801 the scientific journals all
over Europe were filled with discussions of his discovery.
The French Academy of Sciences invited him to Paris in order to
demonstrate his discoveries to the members of that body. Volta was now
looking forward to some peaceful years of study, and, so far as he was
personally concerned, would surely have refused the invitation.
Circumstances were such, however, that it became a civic duty for him to
proceed to Paris.
At this time Napoleon was First Consul, and the Italian cities wished to
propitiate his favor as far as possible. It was considered a wise thing by the
city to send a special delegation to Paris, and, as they knew Napoleon was
deeply interested in scientific discoveries that promised practical results, the
name of Volta was suggested as one of the official delegates. As an
associate, Professor Brugnatelli, who had made some important
investigations in chemistry, and who was later to be an extender of the
practical application of Volta's discoveries by the invention of the first
method of electroplating, was the other member of the delegation. It is a
curious reflection on the facilities for travel at the time, that it took twenty-
six days for the delegates to reach Paris from Pavia.
Shortly after their arrival in Paris, the travelers were formally introduced to
the members of the French Institute, and a number of sessions of the
Academy were held, at which Volta's discoveries were discussed. Volta read
a communication on the identity of electricity and galvanism. Napoleon, as
First Consul, was present at these sessions in the robe of an Academician,
and was not only an interested listener, but occasionally, by pertinent

questions, drew out significant details of former experiments and Volta's
own theories with regard to the nature of the phenomena observed. At the
end of the first meeting, at which Volta took a prominent part, Napoleon
spent several hours with him talking about the prospects of electricity.
In his letters to his brothers and to his wife at this time, Volta expressed his
pleasure at finding how much attention his discoveries were attracting all
over Europe. As he said himself, Germany, France and England were full of
them, and all the distinguished scientists were eager to do him honor. In
France, he was chosen one of the eight foreign members of the Institute,
and was made Knight Commander of the Legion of Honor and of the Order
of the Iron Crown. Napoleon selected him as one of the first members of the
Italian Academy, which he was then in course of establishing, and conferred
on him the honor of Senator and Count of the Kingdom of Italy. The French
Academy, after having heard Volta's own description of his experiments and
discoveries, contrary to its usual custom, voted to him by acclamation its
gold medal. More important still, Bonaparte made him a present of 6000
lire, and conferred upon him an annual income of 3000 lire from the public
purse. It is an index of Volta's feeling as a faithful son of the Church, that as
this income was allotted to him from the revenues of the bishopric of Adria,
he would consent to receive it only after Napoleon's decree had been
confirmed by the Pope.
Volta had been for nearly twenty years in the University of Pavia before he
finally found for himself a wife. He was then past forty-nine years of age.
His wife was the youngest daughter of Count Ludovico Peregrini. She had
six sisters, one of whom became a nun, and all the others were married
before Volta sought the hand of the youngest. Writing to a friend, he says,
"that her sisters had distinguished themselves so much by piety, prudence,
good sense and practical economy in their households as well as by the
most admirable qualities of heart and mind, that he considered himself very
fortunate in obtaining a branch from the family tree; and he took her in
preference to others that had been offered to him, even though they were
possessed of greater physical beauty, more exalted piety and a larger
dowry." The marriage seems to have been a very happy one,
notwithstanding the considerable disparity of ages and the very matter-of-
fact spirit with which it was entered into by one of the parties at least.

The charming intimacy of his domestic life may be judged from some of his
letters to his wife when he was traveling. She was always his confidante
with regard to new things in science that he saw, and especially as regards
the kindly reception which he met with from scientists and the readiness
with which they accepted his views. At first, so many of his ideas were new,
that it is not surprising that they were looked at somewhat askance by
contemporary scientists. When, on his journeys through France, he noticed
the trend of opinion setting in favor of his views in electricity, he took pains
to tell his wife, and apparently found his greatest pleasure in having her
share the joy of his triumph.
One of the severest blows that he suffered was the untimely death of his
eldest son, Flaminio, in 1814. "This loss," he wrote to one of his nephews
not long after, "strikes me so much to heart that I do not think I shall ever
have another happy day." The relations between himself and his children
were all of the kindliest nature; and the character of the man comes out
perhaps even more clearly in the traditions that are still extant with regard
to the devotion of his servants to him, and especially his body-servant,
Polonio. Volta was always a simple and unpretentious person,
notwithstanding the fact that scientific and even political honors had been
heaped upon him toward the end of his life. It was rather difficult, for
instance, to get him to change his old clothes for new ones. This feat was
usually accomplished by Polonio, who, when he thought the time had
arrived for his master to put on the newer clothes, would engage him in
some scientific explanation of a morning; then handing him the new
garments, Volta would put them on, and would be wearing them for some
time before he noticed it. The old servant was then generally able to
persuade him that it was time to make the change. Toward the end of his
career, Volta led a retired life in a country house not far from his native city
of Como. Foreigners often came to see or even have the privilege of a few
words with the distinguished scientist who was regarded as the patriarch of
electrical science. To Volta, the being on exhibition was always an
unpleasant function. He did not care to be lionized, and frequently refused
to allow himself even to be seen unless his visitors had a scientific motive.
On such occasions, the only chance of the visitors was to secure the good
will of Polonio. He would engage his unsuspecting master in a discussion of
clouds or wind, or some appearance in the heavens, or something in the
leaves of the neighboring trees, and would then bring him to the portico,

that he might see the supposed phenomenon. This would give occasion for
the visitors to get at least a glimpse of the scientist, who usually failed to
suspect the real purpose for which he had been tempted out of doors.
While thus living in the country, Volta's piety became a sort of proverb
among the country people. Every morning at an early hour, in company
with his servant, he could be seen with bowed head making his way to the
church. Here he heard mass, and usually the office of the day, in which all
the canons of the cathedral took part. He had a special place on the epistle
side of the altar, not far from the organ. His favorite method of prayer was
the rosary. He was not infrequently held up to the people by the parish
priest as a model of devotion. Whenever he was in the country, every
evening saw him taking his walk towards the church. On these occasions,
he was usually accompanied by members of his family, and they entered the
church for an evening visit to the blessed sacrament.
His behavior toward those who lived in the vicinity of his country place
endeared him to all the peasantry. He was not only liberal in giving alms,
but made it a point to visit frequently the houses of the poor and help them
as much as possible by counsel and suggestion. His scientific knowledge
was at command for their benefit, and he was often able to tell them how to
avoid many dangers. He gave them definite ideas with regard to the
importance of cleanliness and the necessity of cooking their food very
carefully so as to prevent diseases occasioned by badly cooked material. He
also taught them to distinguish between the wholesome and the spurred rye,
from which their polenta was prepared, in order to escape the dreaded
pellagra, the disease so common in Italy, which comes from the use of
diseased grain.
He endeared himself so much to the people of the countryside that they
invented a special name for him, which proclaimed the tenderness of their
liking for the man. They knew how much he was honored for his wonderful
discoveries in electricity, and many of them had even seen some of the (to
them at least) inexplicable phenomena that he could produce at will by
means of various electrical contrivances. At first they called him a
"magician"; but as this word has, particularly for the Italian peasantry, a
suspicion of evil in it, they added the adjective "beneficent," and he was
generally known as Il mago benefico.

His interest in these gentle, kindly people may be appreciated from the fact
that he knew practically all of his country neighbors by name, and, as a rule,
he was familiar also with the conditions of their families and their
household affairs. Not infrequently he would stop and talk to them about
such things, and this favor was always considered as a precious mark of his
neighborly courtesy by the peasantry.
Such was the simplicity of the man whose name is undoubtedly one of the
greatest in the history of science. The great beginnings of the chapter on
applied electricity are all his. There was nothing he touched in his work that
he did not illuminate. His was typically the mind of the genius, ever
reaching out beyond the boundaries of the known—an abundant source of
leading and light for others. Far from being a doubter in matters religious,
his scientific greatness seemed only to make him readier to submit to what
are sometimes spoken of as the shackles of faith, though to him belief
appealed as a completion of knowledge of things beyond the domain of
sense or the ordinary powers of intellectual acquisition. Like Pasteur, a
century later, the more he knew, the more ready was he to believe and the
more satisfying he found his faith. This is a very different picture of the
great scientific mind from that ordinarily presented as characteristic of
scientific thinkers. But Volta is not an exception; rather does he represent
the rule, so far as the very great scientists are concerned; for it is only the
second-rate minds, those destined to follow but not to lead, in science, who
have so constantly proclaimed the opposition of science to faith.
Volta's well-known confession of faith declares his state of mind with
regard to religion better than any words of a biographer, and it is a striking
commentary on the impression that has in some inexplicable way gained
wide acceptance, that a man cannot be a great scientist and a firm believer
in religion. A distinguished professor of psychology at one of the large
American universities said not long since, that a scientist must keep his
science and religion apart, or there will be serious consequences for his
religion. Volta's opinion in this matter is worth remembering. Having heard
it said that, though he continued to practice his religion, this was more
because he did not want to offend friends, that he did not care to scandalize
his neighbors, and did not want the poor folk around him to be led by his
example into giving up what he knew to be their most fruitful source of
consolation in the trials of life, while in the full exercise of his intellectual

faculties, Volta deliberately wrote out his confession of faith so that all the
world of his own and the after time might know it.
"If some of my faults and negligences may have by chance given occasion
to some one to suspect me of infidelity, I am ready, as some reparation for
this and for any other good purpose, to declare to such a one and to every
other person and on every occasion and under all circumstances that I have
always held, and hold now, the Holy Catholic Religion as the only true and
infallible one, thanking without end the good God for having gifted me with
such a faith, in which I firmly propose to live and die, in the lively hope of
attaining eternal life. I recognize my faith as a gift of God, a supernatural
faith. I have not, on this account, however, neglected to use all human
means that could confirm me more and more in it and that might drive away
any doubt which could arise to tempt me in matters of faith. I have studied
my faith with attention as to its foundations, reading for this purpose books
of apologetics as well as those written with a contrary purpose, and trying
to appreciate the arguments pro and contra. I have tried to realize from what
sources spring the strongest arguments which render faith most credible to
natural reason and such as cannot fail to make every well-balanced mind
which has not been perverted by vice or passion embrace it and love it. May
this protest of mine, which I have deliberately drawn up and which I leave
to posterity, subscribed with my own hand and which shows to all and
everyone that I do not blush at the Gospel—may it, as I have said, produce
some good fruit.—Signed at Milan, Jan. 6th, 1815, Alessandro Volta."
When Volta wrote this, he was just approaching his sixtieth year and was in
the full maturity of his powers. He lived for twelve years after this, looked
up to as one of the great thinkers of Europe and as one of the most
important men of Italy of this time. Far from being in his dotage, then, he
was at the moment surely, if ever, in the best position to know his own mind
with regard to his faith and his relations to the Creator.
There is a famous picture of Volta, by Magaud, in Marseilles. It chronicles
the fact that Volta had become a Count, a Senator and a Member of the
French Institute, so appointed by Napoleon, and that he is in some sense
therefore a Frenchman. Magaud has painted him standing, with his electric
apparatus on one side and the Scriptures on the other. Near him is placed his
friend Sylvio Pellico, whose little book, "My Ten Years' Imprisonment," has
endeared him to thousands of readers all over the world. Pellico had

doubted the presence of Providence in the world and the existence of a
hereafter. In the midst of his doubts, he turned to Volta. "In thy old age, O
Volta!" said Pellico, "the hand of Providence placed in thy pathway a young
man gone astray. Oh! thou, said I to the ancient seer, who hast plunged
deeper than others into the secrets of the Creator, teach me the road that will
lead me to the light." And the old man made answer: "I too have doubted,
but I have sought. The great scandal of my youth was to behold the teachers
of those days lay hold of science to combat religion. For me to-day I see
only God everywhere."

FOOTNOTES:
[19] Wilcke, a Swedish investigator of electric phenomena, constructed in 1762
two machines involving the principle of the electrophorus.—(Brother
Potamian.)
[20] Brother Potamian has called my attention to the fact that Volta's work on the
origin of electricity from two different metals when, though connected, they
were yet separated by some moist medium, was curiously anticipated by an
observation described by Sulzer, in a book called Nouvelle Théorie des Plaisirs,
1767. In this he states that, if a silver and a lead coin, placed one above and the
other under the tongue, be brought in contact a sour taste develops, which he
considers to be due to vibrations set up by the contact of the two metals. He
seems also to have had a dash of light before the eyes, so that all the elements
necessary for the discovery of the voltaic pile were in his hands, and indeed he
was making what has since become one of the classical experiments, by which
certain physiological effects of the electric current are demonstrated.

CHAPTER VI.
Coulomb.
Great discoverers in science must usually be satisfied with having their
names attached to some one phase of scientific development, be it an
instrument, a law, a unit of measurement, a process of investigation or some
phenomenon which they first observed. The originality of Coulomb's genius
will be better appreciated, since besides having a unit of electricity named
after him, there is also a law in electro-magnetics and a torsion-balance that
will always be associated with his name. Few men have been more
ingenious in their ability to put complex ideas into practical shape and give
them simple mechanical expression by instrumental methods. While his
name is to be forever associated with the science of electrostatics, he was
profoundly interested in other departments of physics, and for him to be
interested always meant that he would illuminate previous knowledge by
practical hints and suggestions and carry the conclusions of his
predecessors a little farther into science than they had ever gone before. His
was typically an experimental genius, and he must be considered one of the
men of whom not more than half a dozen are born in a century, who are, in
Kipling's strong term, "masterless"; who do not need to be taught, but who
find for themselves a path into the domain of the unknown.
Coulomb investigated the fundamental law in electricity and magnetism,
that attractions and repulsions are inversely as the square of the distances,
and showed that it held accurately for point-charges and point-poles. He
demonstrated that these interesting phenomena were not chance
manifestations of irregular forces, but that they represented a definite mode
of action of force, thus setting this department of knowledge on a scientific
basis. While in practical significance Ohm's Law, discovered nearly a half
century later, is of much more import, Coulomb's discoveries are
fundamental in character and, coming in the very beginnings of modern
electrical science, did much to guide the infant science in the ways it should
follow. The establishing of this law contributed very largely to the rapid
development of the twin sciences of electricity and magnetism. It is

experimental observation that means most for a rising science; and, in fact,
that Coulomb should have been the pioneer in it stamps him as possessed
not only of great originality, but also of the power of independent thinking,
which is perhaps the most precious quality for the man of science.
The French investigator succeeded in demonstrating his law by two distinct
methods which are still used for illustration purposes in our physical
laboratories. In the first, he employed the torsion-balance devised by
Michell, and re-invented by himself, an instrument of exact measurement
which, in his hands, yielded as invaluable results as it did in those of
Faraday half a century later. The instrument depends on the principle first
established by Coulomb himself, that when a wire is twisted, the angle of
torsion is directly proportional to the force of torsion. In the application of
this principle, a fine wire is suspended in a glass case, on the sides of which
there is a graduated scale to measure the degree of repulsion between two
like poles of a magnet or between similarly electrified bodies.
In his second research on the law of the inverse square, Coulomb used what
is known as the method of oscillations. A magnetic needle swinging under
the influence of the earth's magnetism is known to act like a pendulum, and
as such obeys the laws of pendular motion. In applying this method,
Coulomb caused the magnetic needle to oscillate, first, under the influence
of the earth's magnetism alone and then under the combined influence of
the earth and the magnet placed at varying distances from the needle. The
most interesting feature of this work is the manner in which Coulomb
succeeded in eliminating the important factor of the earth's magnetism from
the problem. It is so simple and ingenious that it commands the admiration
of investigators, who employ it in their laboratory work even to the present
day.
It is clear, then, that the International Committee which selected the term
coulomb for the electromagnetic unit of electrical quantity gave honor
where it was eminently due. Coulomb stands out as a man of precision and
accuracy, whose methods of exact measurement revolutionized the rising
science, and whose researches and discoveries in physics and mechanics
furnish ample justification for giving him a place among the makers of
electricity. He was one of the gifted men whose original works ushered in
so gloriously the nineteenth century, and who laid the deep and firm

foundations on which the last three generations have built up the
magnificent temple of electrical science.
Charles Augustin de Coulomb was born at Angoulême, June 14th, 1736.
His ancestors for several generations had been magistrates, and were looked
upon as representatives of the country nobility. He made his university
studies in Paris, and while still young, entered the army. From the very
beginning, however, his genius for mathematics was recognized, and he was
employed in the capacity of military engineer. To Americans, it will be
interesting to know that his first engineering project was undertaken at
Martinique, where he constructed Fort Bourbon. His sterling character and
remarkable ability secured him rapid advancement in the service. In spite of
the fact that the climate did not agree with him, he remained for three years
on the island, because he would not employ the political influence that
might have secured his recall, since he thought it his duty to serve his
country in an important colonial post. Nearly all his comrades perished by
fever. It is the irony of fate that after his return to France a change in the
ministry deprived him of the just recompense of his devotion to country,
and he did not receive the special extraordinary promotion which he had
earned in this special detail.
During a short stay that he made at Paris after his return, he sought the
society of men of science as far as possible, and succeeded in getting in
touch with all that was most promising in scientific progress at the time. He
was already known rather favorably by many of the scientific men of the
capital because of the paper on The Statics of Vaults, a monograph on static
problems in architecture, which he presented to the Academy of Sciences in
1779. His next military assignment was to Rochefort. Here he composed his
monograph on "The Theory of Simple Machines," which carried off the
double prize that had been offered by the Academy of Sciences for the
solution of problems connected with this important question. This attracted
the attention not only of the scientific world, but also of his military
superiors. As a result, he was sent successively to Cherburg and to the Isle
of Aix, to direct engineering works, and accomplished the tasks involved
with success.
Two years later, when he was about forty-five years of age, he was elected
member of the Academy of Sciences by a unanimous vote. He was a man of
great personal magnetism, and all those who came in contact with him

learned to like him for his straightforward character and for the absolute
righteousness of his life. Few men have made firmer friends than Coulomb,
as few have ever shown more unselfish devotion to duty and to conscience
than he, though under circumstances that were neither spectacular nor
theatrical. It was harder to face the deadly climate of Martinique than it
would have been to take one's place at the head of a forlorn hope in an
outburst of enthusiastic courage; and Coulomb was to have other trials of
quite as deterrent a nature, and was to meet them with the same imperturbed
sense of duty.
Graft is sometimes supposed to be temptation peculiar only to our own
times, but the opportunities for it have always been present in such work as
Coulomb had to oversee, and the army engineer of all ages has had to stand
or fall before it. It was proposed, about this time, to build a system of
government canals in Brittany. Such a canal-system would, as is easy to
understand, cost an enormous sum of money and give magnificent
opportunities for speculation of various kinds. No small objection had been
made to the project, on the score that it would not confer all the benefits on
the region that were claimed for it, and Coulomb was commissioned by the
Minister of Marine to determine the question of the advisability of
constructing the canals, and of the probable effect which they would have
on the commerce of the country.
After careful investigation, he came to the conclusion that the advantages
which were expected to accrue from the project would not compensate for
the enormous expense that would be entailed. This decision aroused the
angry protest of a strong political faction, who expected to reap wealth and
personal advantages of many kinds from the scheme, and who protested
bitterly against Coulomb's report. He was able to support his conclusions in
the matter, however, with such unanswerable mathematical and engineering
arguments, that his opinion prevailed and the project was given up.
As a consequence, instead of the opportunity to serve a political party with
every avenue to preferment and, above all, to wealth open for him, he found
himself, for the time being, deprived even of the opportunity to devote
himself further to his favorite occupations in military engineering. The
excuse given for this interruption in his career, for there has always been an
excuse for such action, was that proper representations for permission to

make the report had not been made to the Minister of Marine; and instead
of commendation, Coulomb received what was practically a reprimand.
Wounded by this injustice, which was manifestly due to the fact that his
honest report had displeased those who expected to reap personal benefit
from the canal project, and disgusted with a service in which such things
were possible, Coulomb sent in his resignation. The Minister of Marine
realized that the acceptance of the proffered resignation would surely
expose the ministry at least to suspicion as to the reasons why Coulomb's
report was not accepted with good grace. Permission to retire from the
service was refused, as this would insure his silence. He was ordered back
to Brittany to continue his work there, possibly with the idea that this
unfavorable experience would be sufficient of itself to make him understand
what was expected of him and render him a little more complacent to the
wishes of those in authority. If any such ideas were entertained, they were
destined to grievous disappointment. Coulomb was not of those who, seeing
duty plainly, refuse to follow it because some personal advantage or
disadvantage intervenes. Selfish reasons did not appeal to his character nor
obscure the issues.
He went back to Brittany, ready to express his firm opinion in the matter
and with integrity of soul untouched. The consequence was that the
provincial authorities, recognizing their true interests, acknowledged the
error they had come near falling into, and now wished to reward the
engineer handsomely for his unswerving devotion to duty. Coulomb as
promptly refused a reward for doing his duty as he had ignored even the
appearance of a bribe to avoid it. Only after considerable pressure was he
prevailed upon to accept the best timepiece they could procure, on which
the arms of the province were engraved. It had what was quite rare in those
days, a second's hand, and he constantly made use of this in all his
experimental work thereafter. A French biographer says that, never was a
souvenir better chosen nor more suitably employed. Coulomb's merits were
recognized by the government authorities not long after, and he was made
superintendent of the fountains of France. A few years later, he was
promoted to the position of Curator of Plans and Relief Maps of the
Military Staff of France, and was chosen as one of the commission of the
French Academy of Sciences who went to England in order to study
hospital conditions there. At this time, he was at the acme of his career. His

grade was that of Lieutenant Colonel of Engineers, a position much higher
in the foreign armies at that time than would be the post with the
corresponding title in our army. He had been made a Chevalier of St. Louis,
and it looked as though a brilliant future were opening out before him. Each
year, for a decade, had seen the publication of one or more memoirs on
important subjects, nearly every one of which contained some original
material of the highest value, destined not only to add to Coulomb's
reputation, but to furnish basic information for the further development of
science.
In 1789, however, the Revolution broke out, and there was an end to all
Coulomb's opportunities for work. He was utterly out of sympathy with the
movement, the worst consequences of which he foresaw from the
beginning, and he at once handed in his resignation of the various positions
that he occupied under the government. He went into almost absolute
retirement, devoting himself to the education of his children. During this
time, however, he did not cease to cultivate science, inasmuch as he gave
the finishing touch to various papers which he had previously outlined.
Unfortunately, however, his departure from Paris made it impossible for
him to continue his investigations in electricity for want of apparatus, and
so there is a ten years' interruption in his life of scientific activity and of
original work. Besides, it cannot be surprising that he should not have had
the heart to go on with his work under the awful social conditions that
prevailed. Many of his friends lost their lives during the stormy period of
the Revolution; most of the others were banished or were in hiding. His
beloved country had gone into an unfortunate eclipse, as he could not help
but consider it; most of the nations of the earth were indeed in league
against her, and the end was not yet in sight. It would be too much to expect
of human nature that it should devote itself to abstruse problems in science
at moments of such disturbance as this, and so some of the possibilities of
Coulomb's original genius were lost to science during that calamitous
period.
Like many of the great discoveries of science, Coulomb's most important
work was done in the course of other investigations, and came by what
might be called a happy accident. He had been investigating the qualities of
wire of various kinds, especially with regard to their elasticity, so as to be
able to determine the limits of their use in various engineering projects.

When he discovered that the elasticity of torsion of a wire was a constant
property, he proceeded to utilize it in the calculation of such delicate
phenomena as those of electric and magnetic forces. The first instrument for
this purpose that he constructed consisted simply of a long magnetized
needle suspended horizontally by a fine wire. Supposing this needle to be at
rest, if one moves it away from the magnetic meridian by a certain number
of degrees, the twisted wire will have a definite tendency to untwist and to
bring back the needle to its original position by a series of oscillations
whose frequency can be readily observed.
For such observations, it is possible to obtain the value of the force acting
on the needle and causing it to move to and fro at a given rate. This was the
underlying idea which received very simple expression in the ingenious
instrument which Coulomb devised and called a torsion-balance. With it, he
set about determining the law which governs the mutual action of magnets
and of electrified bodies with regard to distance, and found it to be the same
as that which Newton found to hold for bodies distributed throughout the
universe, that is, that attraction and repulsion vary inversely as the square of
the distance. He also proved, with the aid of his torsion-balance, that the
forces of attraction and repulsion vary as the product of the strength of the
poles in one case and as the product of the electric charges in the other.
These were the important discoveries of Coulomb's life; they served to earn
for him the right to have his name given to the unit of electrical quantity,
the coulomb.
Coulomb did not stop here, however, but proceeded to apply his laws to
various other phenomena. He proved that electricity distributes itself
entirely over the surface of a body without penetrating the mass of the
conductor, and he showed by calculation that this result was a necessary
consequence of the law of repulsion.
A list of the papers which he published on electricity and magnetism, the
titles of which, with French accuracy of expression, furnish an excellent
idea of their contents, shows the thoroughly progressive and scientific spirit
of the man, and how well he proceeded from the known to the less known,
always widening the bounds of knowledge. Suffice it to say here that the
observations of Coulomb were not only original, but that they concerned
some of the most difficult questions in electricity, and that he was clearing
the ground for others in such a way as to make future work and quantitative

measurements in electricity reliable and comparatively easy. It is because of
this pioneer work that Coulomb deserves so much praise. It was not long
before Coulomb's observations were confirmed by others, and then the
beginnings of the modern development of electricity became manifest,
owing not a little to the researches and inventions, the genius and ingenuity
of this French military engineer.
Some phases of electrical development attributed to others really belong to
Coulomb. A typical example of this detraction from his merit is the
attribution to Biot of the solution of the problem of the complete discharge
of an electrified sphere by means of two hollow hemispheres. This
experiment is fully described by Coulomb, and he even emphasizes the fact
that the external discharging bodies need not necessarily be of the same
shape as the charged sphere. Some of what Coulomb accepted as principles
in electricity have proved in the course of time, not to be the realities that he
thought them; but the progress that has led to such contradictions of his
opinions has been mainly rendered possible by his own discoveries. The
fable of the eagle stricken by the arrow containing some of its own feathers,
is so old that one might think that, when the progress of a science due to a
scientist brings men beyond the position he occupied, they would not blame
him for backwardness. This is, however, one of the curious critical methods
in the history of science that has most frequently to be deprecated by the
historian who is tracing origins and developments.
Coulomb's papers, with the exception of his memoir on "Problems in Statics
Applied to Architecture," his "Researches on the Methods of executing
Works under Water without the Necessity of Pumping," his "Theory of
Simple Machines," and his researches "On Windmills," which form separate
monographs, were all published together in a single volume by the French
Physical Society in 1884.[21]
This volume contains, besides his investigations on the best way of making
magnetic needles, his theoretic and experimental investigations on the force
of torsion and on the elasticity of metallic threads, which were undertaken
in order to enable him to make his electric torsion-balance something more
than mere guess-work. All the other papers are concerned directly with
electricity or magnetism, and show how actively, nearly a hundred and
twenty-five years ago, a great mind was engaged with problems in
electricity which we are apt to consider as belonging more properly to our

own time. The list of papers published in these memoirs, arranged in
chronological order, gives a good idea of the development of electrical
science in Coulomb's own mind. There is a logical as well as a
chronological order to be observed in them.
In 1785, when he was just approaching his fiftieth year, there were three
subjects with regard to which Coulomb's experimental observations enabled
him to set down some definite principles. The first of these was the
construction and use of an electric balance, founded on the property which
wires have of exhibiting a torque proportional to the angle of torsion. The
second was the determination of the laws, according to which the magnetic
and electric "fluids," as Coulomb and investigators in electricity called them
at that time, act both as regards repulsion and attraction. The third was the
determination of the quantity of electricity which an insulated body loses in
a given time from contact with air more or less moist.
In 1786, he published a paper in which he demonstrated what he considered
the principal properties of the electric fluid. These are, that this fluid does
not spread itself on a substance by any chemical affinity or any elective
attraction, but that it distributes itself over various bodies that are placed in
contact, entirely in accordance with their shape; and also that in electrical
conductors, the charge is limited to the surface of the conductor and does
not penetrate to any appreciable depth.
In 1787, his only paper was on the manner in which the electrical fluid
divides itself between two conducting bodies placed in contact, and on the
distribution of this fluid over the different parts of the surface of these
bodies. He continued his investigations into this subject in 1788, and also
succeeded in determining the density of the electricity at different points on
the surface of conducting bodies.
In 1789, he began to work more particularly on magnetism. His first paper
on the subject was published that year. Unfortunately, as we have said, the
Revolution interrupted his scientific investigations at this point, and for the
next eleven years we have nothing from his pen. As a nobleman, he was
compelled to leave Paris, and this not only put him out of touch with
scientific work generally, but deprived him of the opportunities of using
such apparatus as was necessary to carry on his experiments. That he acted
prudently in leaving Paris, the careers of other scientists amply prove.

Lavoisier continued to carry on his chemical investigations during the
stormy times of the Revolution, but his stay in the capital eventually cost
him his life. Abbé Haüy, the father of crystallography,[22] who, because of
his contributions to the science of pyro-electricity, is of special interest to
us, continued to work at his crystals throughout even the Reign of Terror.
When thrown into prison, he asked and obtained permission to have his
crystals with him. His friends saved him from Lavoisier's fate, but not
without an effort, as his life was seriously endangered.
It is easy to understand, however, that a member of the nobility like
Coulomb, whose life had been spent in military affairs, should not be able
to devote himself seriously to scientific matters while his country was in
such a turmoil.
In 1801, he resumed his investigations once more, but now they are
concerned more particularly with magnetism. The first was a theoretical and
practical determination of the forces which hold different magnetic needles,
magnetized to saturation, in the magnetic meridian. This was followed, in
the same year, by a paper which, like its predecessor, was published among
the memoirs of the Institute of France, which had replaced the Royal
Academy of Sciences, to which body many of Coulomb's papers of the
former time had been presented, and in whose publications they originally
appeared. This second paper detailed his experiments on the determination
of the force of cohesion of fluids and the law of resistance in them, when
the movements were very slow.
When the French Institute was organized under Napoleon in 1801,
Coulomb was named among its first members. It is believed that he was
even chosen to occupy a place in the first government of the state, but a
man more interested in politics obtained the place, a fortunate circumstance
for science. Coulomb was named, however, one of the inspectors of public
instruction, then the highest place in the education department, and he did
much to restore to France the educational system that had been destroyed
during the Revolution. In this rather trying work he was noted for the
kindliness yet firmness of his character, while his absolute fairness and
sense of justice were recognized on all sides.
Unfortunately Coulomb was not long spared to continue his work. He took
up his experimental and mathematical investigations, on his return to the

capital, with great enthusiasm, but his health had been undermined and his
work had been rudely interrupted. After 1801, no further paper by him
appears to have been published until 1806. This gave the result of different
methods employed in order to produce in blades and bars of steel the
greatest degree of magnetism. For some time preceding this, in spite of
increasing ill-health, he had continued his experiments on the influence of
temperature on the magnetism of steel. His work on this subject was not
destined to be completed, for not long after passing his seventieth year, in
June of this year, his health gave way completely, and he died August 23d,
1806. His final observations were gathered by Biot, carefully preserved, and
assigned a place in the volume of Coulomb's Memoirs, issued by the French
Physical Society.
Personally, Coulomb was noted for great seriousness of character, though
with this was mingled a gentleness of disposition that made for him some
cordial friendships among his scientific contemporaries. He had but few
friends, but those who were admitted to his intimacy made up by the depth
of their affection for the smallness of their number. Even those who had
occasion to meet him but once or twice, carried away from their meeting an
affectionate remembrance of his kindliness and courtesy and readiness to
help wherever he could be of service. He was extremely happy in his family
relations, and this proved to be a great source of consolation to him during
the years when the progress of the French Revolution took him away from
science and made him almost despair of his country.
It is not surprising that Biot, the great French physicist, in writing of
Coulomb in his Mélanges Scientifiques et Littéraires, Vol. III. (Paris, 1858),
should have held Coulomb up as a model of the simple, earnest, helpful life
and as a man of the most exemplary character. He says: "Coulomb lived
among the men of his time in patience and charity. He was distinguished
among them mainly by his separation from their passions and their errors,
and he always maintained himself calm, firm and dignified in se totus teres
atque rotundus, as Horace says, a complete, perfect and well-rounded
character." Few men have deserved so noble a eulogy as this, written nearly
fifty years after his death, by one who had known Coulomb himself and his
contemporaries well; it has none of the exaggeration of a funeral panegyric,
and is evidently founded on details of knowledge with regard to the great
electrician which had become a tradition among French scientists, and

which Biot has forever crystallized into the history of science by his
emphatic expression.
One could scarcely wish for a better epitaph than Biot's summing up of
Coulomb's personal character: "All those who knew Coulomb know how
the gravity of his character was tempered by the sweetness of his
disposition, and those who had the happiness to meet him at their entrance
into a scientific career have kept the most tender remembrance of his gentle
good-heartedness."

FOOTNOTES:
[21] Collection de Memoires relatifs à La Physique Publiés Par la Société
Française de Physique. Tome I., Mémoires de Coulomb. Paris. Gauthier-Villars,
Imprimeur-Libraire Du Bureau des Longitudes, de L'École Polytechnique, Quai
des Augustins, 55, 1884.
[22] Catholic Churchmen in Science, the Dolphin Press, Philadelphia, 1906.

CHAPTER VII.
Hans Christian Oersted.

Hans Christian Oersted
Whatever may be thought of the value of controversy in other departments
of knowledge, it has certainly proved useful in the progress of experimental
science. Witness the animated and prolonged discussion which took place

between Volta and Galvani, and which led to enduring results for the
welfare of mankind. Wishing to prove the correctness of his theory of
electrification by contact against Galvani's animal electricity, Volta devoted
himself unremittingly to experimentation until, in the century year 1800, his
brilliant work culminated in the invention of the "pile" or electric battery
which bears his name.
A suspicion had been growing for many years in the minds of physicists,
that there must be some degree of relationship, probably an intimate one,
between magnetism and electricity, between magnetic and electric forces. In
the year 1785, van Swinden, a celebrated Dutch physicist, published a work
on electricity in which he described and commented upon a number of
analogies which he had observed between the two orders of phenomena;
but, voluminous as was the work, it threw no light on the nature of the
suspected relationship.
It was well known, in the case of houses and ships struck by lightning, that
knives, forks and other articles made of steel were often found to be
permanently magnetized. Following up this pregnant observation,
experimenters often sought to impart magnetic properties to steel needles
by Leyden-jar discharges, but with indifferent success. Sometimes there
would be a trace of magnetism left and sometimes none. In no case was it
possible to say beforehand which end of the knitting-needle would have
north polarity and which south.
Though we are better equipped to-day for research work than were our
predecessors in the electrical field fifty years ago, we are still unable to
predict the polarity that will result in a bar of iron from a given condenser
discharge. The uncertainty arises from the fact disclosed by Joseph Henry in
1842 and well known to-day that, under ordinary circumstances, all such
discharges consist of a rush of electricity to and fro, that is, they give rise to
an oscillatory current of exceedingly short duration. Were it otherwise, that
is, were the discharge unidirectional, the needle would always be
magnetized to a degree of intensity proportional to the energy released; and
it would be possible in every case to foretell with certainty the resulting
polarity which the needle would acquire.
With the advent of the voltaic battery, a generator which supplies a steady
flow of current in one direction, the interesting problem of relationship

between electric and magnetic forces was again attacked; and this time with
considerable success.
Probably the earliest investigator afield was Romagnosi, an Italian
physician residing in Trent (Tyrol), who, in the year 1802, published in the
"Gazetta" of his town an account of an experiment which he had made, and
which showed that he was working on promising lines. What he did was
this: having connected one end of a silver chain to a voltaic pile, and having
carried the chain through a glass tube for the purpose of insulation, he
presented the free end, terminating in a knob, to a compass-needle, also
insulated. At first, the needle was attracted; and, after contact, repelled.
Whatever Romagnosi thought of his experiment and its theoretical bearing,
the attraction and subsequent repulsion of the compass-needle which he
said he observed were electrostatic and not electromagnetic effects. The
Italian physician was indeed on the verge of a great discovery; but he halted
in his course and lost his opportunity.
Mojon, Professor of chemistry in Genoa, was a little more fortunate, though
he, too, failed to improve his opportunities. In 1804, he sought to magnetize
steel needles by placing them for a period of twenty days in circuit with a
battery of one hundred elements of the crown-of-cups type, and had the
satisfaction of finding them permanently magnetized when withdrawn from
the circuit. Unlike the electrostatic effect of his fellow-countryman
Romagnosi, this was unquestionably an electromagnetic effect, the first link
in the long chain connecting electricity with magnetism.
That this result attracted wide attention at the time, as it well deserved, is
evident from the notice given by Izarn in his "Manuel du Galvanisme," and
by Aldini in his "Essai Théorique et expérimental sur le Galvanisme," both
of which were published in Paris in the same year, 1804.
Though the manuals of Izarn and Aldini served to give a fresh impetus to
the quest of the relationship between electricity and magnetism, it was not,
however, until the year 1820 that the cardinal discovery was made by one
philosopher and the intimate relationship revealed by another. Then all
Europe rang with the names of Oersted, the fortunate discoverer of the
"magnetic effect" of the electric current, and Ampère, whose masterly
analysis disclosed the nature of the long-sought-for connection. In the

delight of the hour, men called Oersted the Columbus, and Ampère the
Newton, of electricity.
Though a philosopher of a high order and lecturer of interest and brilliancy,
Oersted was, nevertheless, a poor experimentalist. He was fine in the
abstract, awkward in the concrete. Often did he call for the assistance of a
student to perform an experiment for the class under his direction.
Hansteen, who is celebrated for his very fine work in terrestrial magnetism,
often had this privilege, for he was clear of mind and deft of hand. Writing
to Faraday, he said: "Oersted was a man of genious, but very unsuccessful
as a demonstrator, for he could not manipulate instruments."
In seeking for some evidence of a physical interaction between electricity
and magnetism, Oersted on one occasion, placed a wire conveying a current
vertically across a compass-needle; and, on obtaining no result, seemed
greatly disappointed. He evidently expected the needle to respond in some
way to the energy of the current; and so it would have responded had he
placed the wire in any other position than the particular one which he
selected. The Danish philosopher now hesitates; and for lack of coolness,
patience and resourcefulness, runs the risk of losing the crowning glory of
his life. He is disappointed at his failure; and for the nonce, contents himself
with brooding over it.

Fig. 22
The Magnetic Effect of an Electric Current. Oersted, 1820

On another occasion, having a stronger battery at his disposal, he
determined to try the experiment again, in the hope that the greater energy

at his command would provoke the magnet to respond. This time, he
stretched the wire over and parallel to the compass needle, when, to his
intense delight, the magnet turned aside as soon as the circuit was closed.
The result was pronounced and instantaneous. The Professor, an enthusiast
by nature, waxed warm over his good fortune, and well might he do so, as
the discovery which he had just made was destined to revolutionize existing
modes of transmitting intelligence to distant parts and bring remotest
countries into direct, and immediate relation with one another.
That Oersted fell into ecstasy over his success was but natural, though it is
not stated that he exhibited his enthusiasm by the performance of any
unusual feat. When Lavoisier made a discovery, he was wont to take hold of
his assistant and go dancing around with him for sheer joy. After making a
certain successful experiment in his laboratory, Gay-Lussac gave vent to his
feelings by dancing round the room, and clapping his hands the while. It is
related that, when Davy saw the first globules of potassium burst through
the crust of potash and take fire, his delight knew no bounds. He also took
to dancing, and some time had to elapse before he was sufficiently
composed to continue his work. Even the cool and self-possessed Faraday
occasionally waxed warm on seeing his efforts crowned with success. It is
said that, when he got a wire conveying a current to revolve round the pole
of a magnet, he rubbed his hands vigorously and danced around the table,
his face beaming with delight: "There they go, there they go; we have
succeeded at last," he said. He then gleefully proposed to cease work for the
day and spend the evening at Astley's seeing the feats of well-trained
horses!
Having realized that his experiment was one of fundamental importance in
physical theory, our philosopher proceeds to repeat it under varying
conditions. He places the wire conveying the current in front of the needle,
behind it, under it, across it; he reverses the current in each case, and
notices the direction in which the needle turns. Though he states results
very clearly, he gives no general rule whereby the direction of the deflection
may be foretold from that of the current. A memoria technica to meet all
cases that may occur was needed, and was promptly supplied by Ampère,
who, with a flash of genius, devised the rule of the little swimmer. Others
have been added since, such as the cork-screw rule and the rule involving
the outspread right hand; but the swimmer appeals in a manner quite its

own to the fancy of the youthful student. It pleases while it instructs; it is
ingenious while yet remarkably simple.
It has been said that the Philosopher of Copenhagen was led by mere
accident to the experiment which will hand his name down the ages; but
inasmuch as he was looking, during thirteen years, for a result analogous to
the one which he obtained, it is only right to give him full credit for the
success which he achieved. It has been well remarked, that the seeds of
great discoveries are constantly floating around us, but take root only in
minds well prepared to receive them. Accidents of the Oersted type happen
only to men who deserve them, as was the case with Musschenbroek and
Galvani in the eighteenth century, and with Roentgen in the nineteenth. The
electrification of a flask of water, the twitching of frogs' legs in response to
electric sparks, and the blackening of a sensitive screen by a distant,
shielded Crookes's tube, led to the electrostatic condenser in the first case,
to "galvanism" in the second, and to the photography of the invisible in the
third.
Writing of Oersted's discovery, Faraday said that "It burst open the gates of
a domain in science, dark till then, and filled it with a flood of light."
The discovery of 1820 was hailed throughout Europe by an extraordinary
outburst of enthusiasm. Oersted was complimented and congratulated on all
sides. Honors were showered upon him: the Royal Society of London
awarded him the Copley medal; the French Academy of Sciences gave him
its gold medal for the physico-mathematical sciences; Prussia conferred
upon him the Ordre pour le Mérite, and his own country made him a Knight
of the Daneborg.
Oersted lost no time in preparing a memoir on the subject of his work, a
copy of which was sent to the learned societies and most renowned
philosophers of Europe. The memoir, which was written in Latin and dated
July 21st, 1820, consisted of four quarto pages with the title "Experiments
on the effect of the electric conflict on the magnetic needle."
A perusal of this paper brings home the conviction that Oersted realized
fairly well the forces which came into play in his experiment; for in one
place, he speaks of the effect as due to a transverse force emanating from
the conductor conveying the current, and again as a conflict acting in a
revolving manner around the wire. A complete statement of the nature of

the mechanical force exerted by a conductor conveying a current on a
magnetic needle was given almost immediately by Ampère, a master
analyst and accomplished experimentalist.

Fig. 23
Magnetic Field Surrounding a Conductor Carrying a Current

It will stand for all time in the history of science, that in less than two
months after the publication of Oersted's memoir, Ampère succeeded in
showing the mechanical effect in magnitude and direction of an element of
current not only on the magnetic needle itself, but also on a similar element
of an adjacent conductor conveying a current, thereby founding a new
science in the department of physics, the science of electro-dynamics.
Oersted does not appear to have given thought to the practical possibilities
of his discovery. While appreciating the utilitarian in science, he evidently
preferred the pursuit of knowledge for its own sake. In a discourse which he
delivered in 1814 before the University of Copenhagen, he put himself on
record when he said that "The real laborer in the scientific field chooses
knowledge as his highest aim."
So said Plato ages before, and so said Archimedes, who held that it was
undesirable for a philosopher to seek to apply the discoveries of science to
any practical end. The screw which he invented, his catapults and burning

mirrors, show, however, that when necessary the Syracusan mathematician
could come down from the serene heights of investigation to the prosaic
arena of application.
Before Oersted spoke of "the real laborer," Thomas Young had affirmed that
"Those who possess the genuine spirit of scientific investigation are content
to proceed in their researches without inquiring at every step what they gain
by their newly discovered lights, and to what practical purposes they are
applicable."
Young's most illustrious successor in the Royal Institution,
Michael Faraday, devoted himself calmly but unflinchingly
to research work, in the conviction that no discovery,
however remote in its nature, from the subject of daily
observation, could with reason be declared wholly
inapplicable to the benefit of mankind. After discovering in
1831 that electric currents could be produced by the relative
motion of magnets and coils of wire, a discovery which is
the basis of all the electric engineering of our day, Faraday
constructed several experimental machines embodying this
principle, and then turned away abruptly from the work,
saying, "I had rather been desirous of discovering new facts
and new relations dependent on magneto-electric induction
than of exalting the force of those already obtained, being
assured that the latter would find their full development
hereafter."
Our own Joseph Henry, whose sterling merit is universally
recognized, beautifully said in this connection: "He who
loves truth for its own sake feels that its highest claims are
lowered by being continually summoned to the bar of
immediate and palpable utility."
Oersted seems to have shared the opinion largely held by the
scientific men of his day, that electricity is mainly a
magnetic phenomenon. Ampère, for one, did not think so, as
is evident from the beautiful theory which he devised to
explain the magnetism of a bar by minute electric currents
Fig. 24 flowing round each individual molecule of the iron. To the

Magnetic French physicist, magnetism was purely an electrical
Whirl phenomenon.
Surroundin
Though propounded more than eighty years ago, this theory
ga Wire is still in harmony with all facts and phenomena in the
Through
domain of magnetism known to-day. It is important to
Which a remember, when thinking of this physical theory, that the
Current is
Amperian currents in question are confined to the molecule,
Passing and that they do not flow from one molecule to another.

Fig. 25
Ampère's Molecular Currents

Critics have urged against the theory that the molecules must be heated by
the circulation of these elementary currents, to which objection it has been
replied that, as we know nothing of the nature of the molecule, we cannot
say that it offers any resistance to the current; and, therefore, we cannot
affirm that there is any development of heat due to the circulation of these
elementary currents.
It is to Ampère's credit that he was also the first to propose a practical
application of Oersted's discovery, an application that was nothing less than

the electric telegraph itself. He suggested that the deflection of the magnetic
needle could be used for the transmission of signals from one place to
another by means of as many needles and circuits as there are letters in the
alphabet. If Ampère had only recalled the optical and mechanical telegraphs
in use in his day, such as the swinging of lanterns by night and wigwagging
of flags and the movements of semaphores by day, he might have reduced
his twenty-four circuits to one, using the two elements, viz., motion of the
needle to the right and motion to the left, to make up the entire alphabet.
Morse substituted the dot and the dash for these deflections, and thus
rendered the reception of messages automatic and permanent.
In connection with this proposal to use a magnetic needle for the
transmission of intelligence, the reader will no doubt recall the lover's
telegraph, so beautifully described by Addison in the "Spectator" for
December 6th, 1711; but ingeniously conceived as it was, this magnetic
telegraph was purely and simply a creation of the imagination.
This canny conceit has been attributed to Cardinal Bembo, the elegant
scholar and private secretary to Pope Leo X.; but it was his friend Porta, the
versatile philosopher, who made it widely known by the vivid description
which he gave of it in his celebrated work on "Natural Magic," published at
Naples in 1558.
This sympathetic telegraph consisted, we are told, of a magnetic needle
poised in the center of a dial-plate, with the letters of the alphabet written
around it. The two fortunate individuals privileged to hold wireless
correspondence with each other having agreed as to the day and the hour,
proceed to the room in which the wonderful instrument is kept, where, as
soon as one of them turns the needle of his transmitter to a letter, the distant
needle turns at once in sympathy to the same letter on its dial!
Such is the power of magnetic sympathy, that the instruments will work
successfully though hills, forests, lakes or mountains intervene! Porta has it:
"To a friend at a distance shut up in prison, we may relate our minds; which,
I do not doubt, may be done by means of compasses having the alphabet
written around them."
This sympathetic magnetic telegraph figures extensively in the scientific
literature of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries: some believed in the
figment, others condemned it. Addison described it in elegant prose, and

Fig. 26
The "Sympathetic Telegraph" from Cabeo's Pilosophia Magnetica,
1629

Akenside in beautiful verse. Perhaps the most famous composition on the
subject is a short Latin poem, written, after the style and vein of Lucretius,
in 1617 by Famianus Strada, an Italian Jesuit. A few years after its
publication in the author's "Prolusiones," a metrical translation was made by
Hakewill and inserted on page 285 of his "Apologie, or Declaration of the
Power and Providence of God," 1630.

Owing to the interest that attaches to this celebrated composition and the
difficulty of getting Hakewill's "Apologie," we append his version of the
poem.

The Loade above all other stones hath this strange property
If sundry steels thereto or needles you apply,
Such force and motion thence they draw that they
incline
To turn them to the Bear, which near the Pole doth shine.
Nay, more, as many steels as touch that virtuous stone
In strange and wondrous sort conspiring all in one
Together move themselves and situate together:
As if one of those steels at Rome be stirred, the other
The self-same way will stir though they far distant be,
And all through Nature's force and secret sympathy;
Well then if you of aught would fain advise your friend
That dwells far off, to whom no letter you can send;
A large smooth round table make, write down the
crisscross row
In order on the verge thereof, and then bestow
The needle in the midst which touch'd the Loade that so
What note soe'er you list, it straight may turn unto.
Then frame another orb in all respects like this
Describe the edge and lay the steel thereon likewise,
The steel which from the self-same Magnes motion drew;
This orb send with thy friend what time he bids adieu.
But on the days agree at first, when you do mean to
prove
If the steel stir, and to what letter it doth move.
This done, if with thy friend thou closely wouldst
advise,
Who in a country off far distant from thee lies,
Take thou the orb and steel which on the orb was set
The crisscross on the edge thou seest in order writ.
What notes will frame thy words, to them direct thy
steel
And it sometimes to this, sometimes to that note wheel

Turning it round about so often till you find
You have compounded all the meaning of your mind.
Thy friend that dwells far off, O strange! doth plainly
see
The steel so stir though it by no man stirréd be,
Running now here, now there: he conscious of the plot
As the steel-guide pursues, and reads from note to note.
Then gathering into words those notes, he clearly sees
What's needful to be done, the needle truchman is.
Now, when the steel doth cease its motion; if thy friend
Think it convenient answer back to send,
The same course he may take; and, with his needle
write
Touching the several notes which so he list indite.
Would God, men would be pleased to put this course in
use,
Their letters would arrive more speedy and more sure,
No rivers would them stop nor thieves them intercept;
Princes with their own hands, their business might effect.
We scribes, from black sea 'scaped, at length with hearty
wills
At th' altar of the Loade would consecrate our quills.
Another translation of the poem was made by Dr. Samuel Ward and
published at the end of his "Wonders of the Loadstone," 1640.
Ampère's suggestion, made, as we have seen, in the year 1820, was not the
first proposal to use electricity for telegraphic purposes. Already, in 1753, a
writer in The Scots Magazine, signing himself C. M. (Charles Morrison, of
Greenock, according to Sir David Brewster, and Charles Marshall, of
Paisley, according to Latimer Clark), outlined a method involving the use of
frictional electricity; and Lesage, of Geneva, constructed a short
experimental line, in 1774, consisting of twenty-four wires and a pith-ball
electroscope. But the man who attained the greatest success in the
employment of static electricity for this purpose was Ronalds, of London,
who, in 1816, erected a single-wire line eight miles long in his gardens at
Hammersmith, with a pair of pith-balls and a rotating disc for receiving
instrument.

Fig. 27
The "Sympathetic Telegraph" from Turner's Ars Notoria, 1657

When well satisfied that his system was practicable and reliable, Ronalds
wrote to the head of the intelligence department in London urging the
adoption of his invention for the public service; but he was promptly
brought to realize the scant encouragement so often extended to inventors
by persons in high places, that responsible official politely informing him
"that telegraphs of all kinds are wholly unnecessary," and that no other than
the mechanical one in daily use would be adopted.

When penning these words, the representative of the British government
must have forgotten the experience of 1812, when the result of the battle of
Salamanca was semaphored from Plymouth to London, on which occasion
a fog cut off the message after the transmission of the first two words,
"Wellington defeated," the remainder of the despatch, "the French at
Salamanca," reaching the capital only on the following morning!
A rapid sketch of the life of our philosopher, whose discovery of the
magnetic effect of the voltaic current in 1820 led to the invention of the
electric telegraph, cannot be without interest.
Hans Christian Oersted was born on August 14th, 1777, in the little town of
Rudkjöbing, in the island of Langeland, Denmark. Being the son of poor
parents, his early years were spent in very narrow circumstances. He and
his younger brother were mainly indebted to their own efforts for whatever
instruction they received in the rudiments of learning. The town in which
they lived being small, offered few opportunities for education, even if the
family exchequer had been such as to permit the boys to take advantage of
them. There was a German wigmaker in the place, however, who was a
little more advanced in knowledge than the generality of the townspeople.
He and his wife liked the Oersted boys, who were very frequently to be
found in the wigmaker's shop. The good housewife taught them to read,
while the artist himself taught them a little German. Hans Christian
advanced so rapidly in his studies that he acquired a reputation for
precociousness, which, with the usual prejudice against bright children,
made the neighbors shake their heads prophetically and say: "The child will
not live; he is too bright to last long."
Hans Christian learned the elements of arithmetic from an old school-book
which he picked up by chance; and no sooner had he advanced a little, than
he set about instructing his brother. Very probably, the teacher benefited
quite as much by this process of instruction as the pupil. Adversity is a good
school for the formation of character as well as for the acquisition of
knowledge. It is evident, from the lives of such men as Oersted, Faraday,
Kepler, Ohm, and others who were brought up in the lap of poverty, that it
is not so much educational opportunity that is needed for the development
of mind which we call education, as the earnest determination and the
abiding desire to have it. Even boyhood creates its own opportunities for

education despite intervening obstacles, if it has only a decided eagerness, a
pronounced thirst for knowledge.
About the time that the young Oersteds entered their teens, their father
secured the services of a private teacher to give them some instruction in
the rudiments of Latin and Greek. This accidental preceptor was only a
wandering student who happened to be in the place at the time; but the
boys, in their eagerness to learn, derived more benefit from his lessons than
many boys of their age often do nowadays from the help and
encouragement of a carefully selected and academically equipped tutor.
At the age of twelve, Oersted senior was taken into his father's apothecary-
shop in quality of assistant, a position which seemed destined to put an end
to all opportunities for further advancement in the path of learning. When a
boy goes into a drug-store in an official capacity, his future career is usually
settled; he is a druggist to the end. His new avocation, however, proved to
be the beginning of new intellectual activities for Oersted. The chemical
side of his work became a source of new information to him, and also a
stimulus to learn all that he could of chemistry and kindred subjects.
Science became a hobby with the young apothecary, and everything relating
to it appealed to him. What Hans learned, he as usual imparted to his
brother, who was already becoming interested in other departments of
learning, especially the law.
The desire of the boys to advance grew with their stock of knowledge.
Accordingly, when, in 1794, Hans was only seventeen years of age and his
brother sixteen, they both matriculated at the University of Copenhagen.
Their father was able to help them but little, so that they were obliged to
live quietly and sparingly, a condition distinctly favorable to consecutive
and efficient study. They became so successful in their pursuits that they
soon began to attract attention. Having passed creditable examinations, they
were recommended for pecuniary assistance from an educational fund
established by the government for the purpose. Even then, as receipts were
hardly equal to expenses, they sought to increase their little revenue by
giving private lessons in their leisure hours. Here we have a striking
example of what may be accomplished by men who work their way through
College in the teeth of adverse circumstances; in these two brothers, we
have proof of the truth that it is the student's mind, his willingness and

determination to work, that count in education more than the golden
opportunities that may fall to his lot.
In the year 1799, Oersted prepared a thesis on "The Architectonics of
Natural Metaphysics," which won for him his Doctorate in Philosophy.
Though the young Doctor did not hesitate to discuss metaphysical problems
and even to disagree with Kant at a time when most Teutonic minds were
deeply under the influence of the philosopher of Königsberg, his chief
interests, however, centered in the experimental sciences, in physics and
chemistry.
In spite of his devotedness to science, Oersted allowed himself, by way of
distraction, an occasional excursion into the field of literature. A great
literary and artistic movement was making itself felt in the northern part of
Europe at the time. The æsthetic awakening of the Teutonic nations had
come after three centuries of religious and political unrest, ill adapted to
intellectual development. Lessing and Winkelmann, Goethe and Schiller,
the two Schlegels and Klopstock as well as the young poets, Uhland and
Koerner, were either already at work or were about to enter on their
distinguished careers, and the neighboring Scandinavian nations were
beginning to be seriously affected by the movement which was going on
among their brethren. In the third year of his university course, Oersted
entered the lists as a competitor for literary honors on the question, "What
are the Limits of Prose and Poetry?" and had the satisfaction of winning the
gold medal offered for the contest. In spite of this episode, indicative of
devotedness to the muses, Oersted passed a brilliant pharmaceutical
examination; and in the following year succeeded in capturing another
prize, this time for a medical essay.
After such a period of preparation, it might be expected that a brilliant
career would open up for Oersted; but, unfortunately, he could not afford to
wait for slow academic rewards, as it was absolutely necessary for him to
set about earning his livelihood. For this purpose, shortly after graduation,
he accepted the position of manager of a drug-store. As the salary attached
to the office was rather slender, he increased his resources by giving
lectures in the evening on the familiar subjects of chemistry, natural
philosophy and metaphysics.

About this time, the wanderlust, or passion for travel, took possession of
our young philosopher; and under its influence, he resolved to see for
himself what men of scientific avocations were doing in France and in
Germany. His own pinched circumstances would not allow him to
undertake such a journey; but he was fortunate enough to win a stipendium
cappelianum which allowed him to travel at the expense of the government
for a period of five years, though he used it only for three. If ever pecuniary
aid was productive of enduring results, it was so in this case.
In 1801, at the age of twenty-four, Oersted set out from Copenhagen on his
grand tour, determined to make it a scientific as well as sentimental journey.
In Germany, which he first visited, he met Klaproth, the orientalist; Werner,
the mineralogist; Olbers the astronomer; the philosophers Fichte, Schelling
and the two Schlegels; and above all, the young and brilliant physicist
Johann Wilhelm Ritter, who discussed with him the theory of the wonderful
"pile" invented by Volta in the previous year, 1800.
In Paris, Oersted spent about fifteen months, during which time he was in
habitual relations with many of the savants who were just then reflecting
great lustre on French science. To mention but a few: there was Cuvier, the
leading naturalist of his age; Abbé Haüy, crystallographer of world-wide
reputation; Biot, the brilliant expounder of physics; Charles, the discoverer
of the law which bears his name; Berthollet, the associate of Monge the
mathematician, and Lavoisier, the chemist.
On his return to the Danish capital in 1804, Oersted delivered courses of
lectures on electricity and magnetism, light and heat, before numerous and
cultured audiences; and such was the success which he achieved that he was
appointed, at the age of twenty-nine, to the chair of physics in the
University of Copenhagen.
For nearly forty-five years he was destined to occupy this academical
position, so that his connection with that seat of learning rounded out the
full period of half a century.
While sedulously occupied with the duties of his chair and the pursuit of his
favorite scientific subjects, Oersted was not unmindful of his civic and
altruistic obligations. He frequently gave popular scientific lectures, which
were open to women as well as to men. He helped in the organization of a
bureau through which lectures would be given in various parts of the

country, and thus became a pioneer in what we call to-day the university
extension movement. When democratic ideas began to be discussed in
Denmark after the French Revolution of 1830, Oersted was one of those
who took part in the onward movement for the betterment of the people. In
1835, he coöperated in the foundation of the Society for the Freedom of the
Press; and when Christian VIII. ascended the throne, he addressed the new
monarch in a speech of liberal tendency, hailing him because of the interest
which he took in the advancement of science and in the uplift of the masses.
An idea of the position accorded to Oersted by his colleagues in the world
of science may be gathered from an address made by Sir John Herschel at
the closing session of the Southampton meeting of the British Association
in 1836, in which the distinguished astronomer said: "In science, there is
but one direction which the needle will take when pointed towards the
European continent, and that is towards my esteemed friend, Professor
Oersted. To look at his cool manner, who would think that he wielded such
an intense power, capable of altering the whole state of science, and almost
the knowledge of the world? He has at this meeting developed some of
those recondite and remarkable forces of nature which he was the first to
discover, and which went almost to the extent of obliging us to alter our
views on the most ordinary laws of energy and motion. He elaborated his
ideas with slowness and certainty, bringing them forward only after a long
lapse of time. How often did I wish to Heaven that we could trample down,
and strike forever to earth, the hasty generalizations which mark the present
age, and bring up another and safer system of investigation, such as that
which marked the inquiries of our friend? It was in deep recesses, as it
were, of a cell, that a faint idea first occurred to Oersted. He waited long
and calmly for the dawn which at length broke upon him, altering the whole
relations of science and life. The electric telegraph and other wonders of
modern science were but mere effervescences from the surface of this deep,
recondite discovery of his. If we were to characterize, by any figure, the
usefulness of Oersted to science, we would regard him as a fertilizing
shower descending from heaven, which brought forth a new crop, delightful
to the eye and pleasing to the heart."
It may be noticed that in Oersted's day early specialization was fortunately
unknown. His education was broad and his intellectual activities broader
still. Quite as interesting as many of his scientific researches are some of his

contributions to philosophy and some of his views on the significance of the
material universe. Oersted, a man of the world with a wide range of
interests and a philosopher who lived at high intellectual altitudes, was one
of the all-round men in the history of thought who took active part in
science, in literature, in politics and in social problems. He had the
opportunity of meeting many of the renowned scientists and philosophers of
the century, and had been very closely in touch with some of them. He was
a regular attendant at scientific congresses, in which he distinguished
himself by the leading part which he took in their deliberations. His
opinions, therefore, on the great problems of life, religious, moral, social
and political, challenge our respect even where they do not compel our
approval. Our Danish philosopher deserves, then, to stand as the spokesman
of his generation of savants on the great questions that concern man's
relations to his fellow-men, to an all-wise Providence and to an enduring
hereafter. His opinions on these matters are all the more interesting because
they are in open contradiction with what is sometimes thought to be the
views of scientists on such subjects.
One of the passages of his paper on "All Existence, a Dominion of Reason,"
contains some surprising anticipations of ideas that created a great stir in
the intellectual world some fifty years ago. In 1846, that is, thirteen years
before the publication of Darwin's "Origin of Species," Oersted discussed
evolution and suggested explanations that are generally considered to have
been forced from apologists when compelled to take up the work of
reconciling Christian doctrines with scientific conclusions.
Writing in the middle 'forties, he said: "If we are now thoroughly convinced
that everything in the material world is produced from similar particles of
matter, by the same forces and in obedience to the same laws, we must
allow that the planets have been formed according to the same laws as our
own earth. They have been in process of development during immeasurable
periods of time, and have undergone numerous transformations which have
also influenced the vegetable and animal kingdoms of those remote periods.
The lower forms of life advanced by gradual stages to higher and more
complex states of organization, till at length (in a comparatively recent
period) a self-conscious being was evolved, the crowning work of this long-
continued process of development. Accordingly, we must allow a similar
order of organic development to take place on the other planets of our solar

family. There may be some which have not as yet attained the same degree
of development that we have reached; but everywhere throughout the
universe, creatures endowed with reason appear in due time, just as man
appeared on our own globe. Their understanding is intimately connected
with the organs of sense which they possess; therefore, the nature of their
mental faculties cannot be essentially different from our own. That I may
avoid even the appearance of materialism, I must direct attention to the
conciliatory principle, that the natural environment from which man springs
must be recognized as the work of the eternal, creative Spirit. In other
words, our conception of the universe is incomplete, if not comprehended
as a constant and continuous work of the eternally creating Spirit."
Thus far Oersted; let us here recall what Lord Kelvin, the representative
scientist of his day, quoted with approval on a memorable occasion from the
Danish scientist with regard to the basic truths of science, philosophy and
religion. "It will not be foreign to our purpose if, called upon by the
solemnities of this day, we endeavor to establish our conviction of the
harmony that subsists between religion and science, by showing how the
man of science must look upon his pursuits, if he understands them rightly,
as an exercise of religion.
"If my purpose here was merely to show that science necessarily engenders
piety, I should appeal to the great truth everywhere recognized, that the
essence of all religion consists in love toward God. The conclusion would
then be easy, that love of Him from whom all truth proceeds must create the
desire to acknowledge truth in all her paths; but as we desire here to
recognize science herself as a religious duty, it will be requisite for us to
penetrate deeper into its nature. It is obvious, therefore, that the searching
eye of man, whether he regards his own inward being or the creation
surrounding him, is always led to the Eternal Source of all things. In all
inquiry, the ultimate aim is to discover that which really exists and to
contemplate it in its pure light apart from all that deceives the careless
observer by only a seeming existence. The philosopher will then
comprehend what, amidst ceaseless change, is the Constant and Uncreated,
which is hidden behind unnumbered creations, the bond of union which
keeps things together in spite of their manifold divisions and separations.
He must soon acknowledge that the independent can only be the constant
and the constant the independent, and that true unity is inseparable from

either of these. And thus it is in the nature of thought that it finds no quiet
resting place, no pause, except in the invariable, eternal, uncaused, all-
causing, all-comprehensive Omniscience.
"But, if this one-sided view does not satisfy him, if he seeks to examine the
world with the eye of experience, he perceives that all those things of
whose reality the multitude feels most assured never have an enduring
existence, but are always on the road between birth and death. If he now
properly comprehends the whole array of nature, he perceives that it is not
merely an idea or an abstract notion, as it is called; but that reason and the
power to which everything is indebted for its essential nature are only the
revelation of a self-sustained Being. How can he, when he sees this, be
otherwise animated than by the deepest feeling of humility, of devotion and
of love? If anyone has learned a different lesson from his observation of
nature, it could only be because he lost his way amidst the dispersion and
variety of creation and had not looked upwards to the eternal unity of truth."
As already said, Oersted lived to celebrate the fiftieth year of his connection
with his university. This was in November, 1850, on which occasion his
friends, pupils and the public generally united together in honoring him as a
professor whose warm and animated lectures enraptured audiences; as a
leader in the scientific advance of the times; and as a Christian to whom
nature was but a manifestation of the Deity's combined wisdom and creative
power.
The aged scientist, much touched by this popular demonstration as well as
by the tokens of esteem given him by the King, spoke of this jubilee
celebration as the happiest day of his life. The reader will recall another
great man, great in the world of politics and great on the field of battle, who
said that the happiest day of his life was that of his first communion.
A few months after celebrating his golden jubilee, Oersted passed away,
after a short illness, on March 9th, 1851, deeply mourned by all.
Oersted was eminent as a scholar and equally eminent as a man; lenient in
his judgment of others, he was strict with regard to himself; simple in his
ways and frugal in living, he was benevolent to others, being always ready
to give a helping hand wherever needed. To such a man may well be
applied these beautiful words with which Priestley begins his "History of
Electricity": "A life spent in the contemplation of the productions of divine

power, wisdom and goodness, would be a life of devotion. The more we see
of the wonderful structure of the world and of the laws of nature, the more
clearly do we comprehend their admirable uses to make all percipient
creation happy, a sentiment which cannot but fill the heart with unbounded
love, gratitude and joy."
A statue to the memory of Oersted was unveiled in Copenhagen on
September 25th, 1876, in presence of the King of Denmark, the King of
Greece, the Danish Crown Prince and members of the Royal family, as well
as numerous high officials, representatives of learned societies and a vast
body of students and people assembled together to do honor to a man who
was distinguished alike by his scientific attainments and philosophical
acumen, and who, during his long life, never faltered in his devotedness to
the welfare of his country as he never weakened in his defense of the great
truths of religion.
Brother Potamian.

CHAPTER VIII.
André Marie Ampère.
Few men of the nineteenth century are so interesting as André Marie
Ampère, who is, as we have seen, deservedly spoken of as the founder of
the science of electro-dynamics. Extremely precocious as a boy, so that, like
his immediate predecessor in discovery, Oersted the Dane, his rapid
intellectual development drew down upon him ominous expressions from
those who knew him, he more than fulfilled the highest promise of his early
years. His was no one-sided genius. He was interested in everything, and
his memory was as retentive as his intellect was comprehensive. He grew
up, indeed, to be a young man of the widest possible interests. Literature
never failed to have its attraction for him, though science was his favorite
study and mathematics his hobby. The mathematical mind is commonly
supposed to run in very precise grooves, yet Ampère was always a
speculator, and his speculations were most suggestive for his
contemporaries and subsequent generations. Indeed, his mathematics, far
from being a hindrance to his penetrating outlook upon the hazier confines
of science, rather seemed to help the penetrations it gave. While he was so
great a scientist that Arago, so little likely to exaggerate his French
contemporary's merit, has said of Ampère's discovery identifying
magnetism and electricity, that "the vast field of physical science perhaps
never presented so brilliant a discovery, conceived, verified, and completed
with such rapidity," his friends knew this great scientist as one of the
kindliest and most genial of men, noted for his simplicity, his persuasive
sympathy and his tender regard for all those with whom he was brought into
intimate relations.
The commonly accepted formula for a great scientist, that he is a man wrapt
up in himself and his work, enmeshed so completely in the scientific
speculations that occupy him that he has little or no time for great
humanitarian interests, so that his human sympathies are likely to atrophy,
is entirely contradicted by the life of Ampère. He was no narrow specialist,
and, indeed, it may be said that not a single one of these great discoverers in

electricity
whom we
are
considerin
g in this
volume
was of the
type that
is
sometimes
accepted
as
indicative
of
scientific
genius and
originality.
After
reading
their lives,
one is
prone to
have the
feeling
that men
who lack
that wider
André Marie Ampère sympathy
which, in
the
famous words of the old Latin poet, makes everything human of interest to
them, are not of the mental calibre to make supreme discoveries, even
though they may succeed in creating a large amount of interest in their
scientific speculations in their own generation. It is the all-round man who
does supreme original work of enduring quality.
André Marie Ampère was born at Lyons, January 22d, 1775. His father,
Jean Jacques Ampère, was a small merchant who made a comfortable living

for his family, but no more. His father and mother were both well informed
for their class and time, and were well esteemed by their neighbors. His
mother especially was known for an unalterable sweetness of character and
charitable beneficence which sought out every possible occasion for its
exercise. She was universally beloved by those who knew her, and the
charm of Ampère's manner, which made for him a friend of every
acquaintance, was undoubtedly a manifestation of the same family strain.
Shortly after the birth of their son, the parents gave up business and retired
on a little property situated in the country not far from Lyons. It was in this
little village, without any school-teacher and with only home instruction,
that the genius of the future savant, who was to be one of the distinguished
scientific men of the nineteenth century, began to show itself. For Ampère
was not only a genius, but, what is so often thought to be an almost absolute
preclusion of any serious achievement later in life, a precocious genius. The
first marvelous faculty that began to develop in him was an uncontrollable
tendency to arithmetical expression. Before he knew how to make figures,
he had invented for himself a method of doing even rather complicated
problems in arithmetic by the aid of a number of pebbles or peas. During an
illness that overtook him as a child, his mother, anxious because of the
possible evil effects upon his health of mental work, took his pebbles away
from him. He supplied their place, however, during the leisure hours of his
convalescence, when time hung heavy on his child hands, by bread crumbs.
He craved food, but, according to the "starving" medical régime of the time,
he was allowed only a single biscuit in three days. It required no little self-
sacrifice on his part, then, to supply himself with counters from this scanty
supply, and his persistence, in spite of hunger, evidently indicates that this
mathematical tendency was stronger than his appetite for food. This is all
the more surprising, since children are usually scarcely more than little
animals in the matter of eating, and commonly satisfy their physical
cravings without an after-thought of any kind.
Ampère learned to read when but very young, and then began to devour all
the books which came to hand. Usually, the precocious taste for reading
specializes on some particular subject; but everything was grist that came to
the child Ampère's mental mill, and it was all ground up; and, strangest of
all, much of it was assimilated. Travel, history, poetry, occupied him quite
as much as romance; and, amazing as it may appear, even philosophy was

not disdained while he was still under ten years of age. It seems amusing to
read the declaration of the French biographer, that if this boy of ten had any
special predilection in literature, it was for Homer, Lucan, Tasso, Fénelon,
Corneille and Voltaire, yet it must be taken seriously.
When he was about fifteen, this omnivorous intellectual genius came across
a French encyclopedia in twenty folio volumes. This seemed to him a
veritable Golconda of endless riches of information. Each of the volumes
had its turn. The second was begun as soon as the first was finished, and the
reading of the third followed, and so on, until every one of the volumes had
been completely read. References to other volumes might be looked up
occasionally, but this did not distract him into taking other portions of the
works out of alphabetical order. Surprising as it must seem, most of this
heterogeneous mass of information, far from being forgotten at once, was
deeply engraved on his wonderful memory. More than once in after-life,
when many years had passed, it was a surprise to his friends to find how
much information Ampère had amassed on some abstruse and unfamiliar
subject, and how readily he was able to pour forth details of information
that seemed quite out of his line. He would then confess that the
encyclopedia article on the subject, read so many years before, was still
fresh in his mind, or at least that its information was so stored away as to be
readily available. We have heard much of Gladstone's memory in more
recent years; but that seems to have been nothing compared to this
wonderful faculty which recalled for Ampère, even as an old man, the
unrelated details of every encyclopedia article that had passed under his
eyes half a century before, when he was a boy of ten to fourteen.
The modest family library soon proved utterly insufficient to occupy the
mind of this young, enthusiastic student; and his father, sympathetic to his
ardent curiosity, took him to Lyons from time to time, where he might have
the opportunity to consult volumes of various kinds that might catch his
fancy. At this time, his old mathematical tendency reasserted itself. He
wished to learn something about the higher mathematics. He found in a
library in Lyons the works of Bernoulli and of Euler. When the delicate-
looking boy, whom the librarian considered little more than a child, put in
his request to the town library for these serious mathematical works, the old
gentleman said to him: "The works of Bernoulli and Euler! What are you
thinking of, my little friend? These works figure among the most difficult

writings that ever came from the mind of man." "I hope to be able to
understand them," replied the boy. "I suppose you know," said the librarian,
"that they are written in Latin." This was a disagreeable surprise for young
Ampère. As yet he had not studied Latin. He went home, resolved, however,
to remove this hindrance to his study of the higher mathematics. At the end
of the month, owing to his assiduity, the obstacle had entirely disappeared;
and though he could read only mathematical Latin and had later to study the
language from another standpoint, in order to understand the classics, he
was now able to pursue the study of mathematics in Latin to his heart's
content.
The even tenor of the boy's life, deeply engaged as he was in studies of
every description, was destined to be very seriously disturbed. When he was
but fourteen, in 1789, the Revolution came, with its glorious promise and
then its awful consummation. Ampère's father was seriously alarmed at the
revolutionary course things were taking in France, and had the fatal
inspiration to leave his country home and betake himself to the city of
Lyons. For a time, he occupied a position as magistrate. After the siege of
Lyons, the revolutionary tribunal established there took up the project of
making the Lyonnese patriotic, as they called it, by properly punishing the
citizens for their failure to sympathize at first with the revolutionary
government, and soon a series of horrible massacres began. New victims
were claimed every day, and Ampère's father was one of those who had to
suffer. The real reason for his condemnation was that he had accepted a
position under the old government, though the pretext stated on the warrant
for his arrest was that he was an aristocrat. This is the only evidence we
have that the Ampère family was in any way connected with the nobility.
The day on which he was sentenced to die, Jean Jacques Ampère wrote to
his wife a letter of sublime simplicity, in which his Christian resignation of
spirit, his lofty courage, yet thoroughly practical commonsense, are
manifest. He warned his wife to say nothing about his fate to their daughter
Josephine, though he hoped that his son would be better able to stand the
blow, and perhaps prove a consolation to his mother.
The news proved almost too much for the young Ampère, and for a time his
reason was despaired of. All his faculties seemed to be shocked for the
moment into insensibility. Biographers tell us that he wandered around,
building little piles of sand, gazing idly at the stars or vacantly into space,

wearing scarcely any of the expression of a rational being. His friends could
harbor only the worst possible expectations for him, and even his physical
health suffered so much that it seemed he would not long survive. One day,
by chance, Rousseau's "Letters on Botany" fell into his hands. They caught
his attention, and he became interested in their charming narrative style, and
as a result, his reason awoke once more. He began to study botany in the
field, and soon acquired a taste for the reading of Linnæus. At the same
time, classic poetry, especially such as contained descriptions of nature,
once more appealed to him, and so he took up his classical studies. He
varied the reading of the poets with dissections of flowers, and yet
succeeded in following both sets of studies so attentively that, forty years
afterward, he was still perfectly capable of taking up the technical
description of the plants that he had then studied, and while acting as a
university inspector, he composed 150 Latin verses during his horseback
rides from one inspection district to another, without ever having to consult
a gradus or a dictionary for the quantities, yet without making a single
mistake. His memory for subjects once learned, was almost literally
infallible.
Something of his love for nature can be appreciated from an incident of his
early manhood, which is not without its amusing side. Ampère was very
near-sighted, and had been able to read books all his life only by holding
them very close to his eyes. This makes it all the more difficult to
understand how he succeeded in reading so much. His near-sightedness was
so marked that he had no idea of beauties of scenery beyond him, and was
often rather put out at the enthusiastic description of scenes through which
he passed en diligence, when his fellow-travelers spoke of the beauties of
the scenes around them. Ampère, like most people who do not share, or at
least appreciate, the enthusiasm of others for beautiful things around them,
was in this mood, mainly because he was not able to see them in the way
that others did, and, therefore, could not have the same pleasure in them.
This lack in himself was unconscious, of course, as in all other cases, and,
far from lessening, rather emphasized the tendency to be impatient with
others, and rather made him more ready to think how foolish they were to
go into ecstasies over something that to him was so insignificant.
One day, while Ampère was making the journey along the Saone into
Lyons, it happened that there sat beside him on the stage-coach a young

man who suffered from near-sightedness very nearly in the same degree as
Ampère himself, but whose myopia had been corrected by means of
properly fitting glasses. These glasses were just exactly what Ampère
needed in order to correct his vision completely. The young fellows became
interested in each other, and, during the course of their conversation, his
companion suggested to Ampère, seeing how near-sighted he was, that he
should try his glasses. He put them on, and at once nature presented herself
to him under an entirely different aspect. The vision was so unexpected, that
the description which he had so often heard from his fellow-travelers, but
could not appreciate, now recurred to him, and he could not help
exclaiming in raptures, "Oh! what a smiling country! What picturesque,
graceful hills! How the rich, warm tones are harmoniously blended in the
wonderful union of sky and mountain vista!" All of these now spoke
emphatically to his delicate sensibility, and a new world was literally
revealed to him. Ampère was so overcome by this unexpected sight, which
gave him so much pleasure, that he burst into tears from depth of emotion,
and could not satisfy himself with looking at all the beauties of nature that
had been hidden from him for so long. Ever after, natural scenery was one
of the greatest pleasures that he had in life, and the beauties of nature, near
or distant, meant more to him than any other gratification of the senses.
In spite of the fact that Ampère had devoted considerable attention to
acoustics as a young man, and had studied the ways in which the waves of
air by which sounds are formed and propagated, he had absolutely no ear
for music, and was as tone-deaf as he had been blind before his discovery
with regard to the glasses. Musical notes constituted a mathematical
problem for Ampère, but nothing more. This continued to be the case until
about thirty years of age. Then, one day, he attended a musical soirée, at
which the principal portions of the program were taken from Glück. It is
easy to understand that this master of harmony possessed no charms for a
tone-deaf young man. He became uneasy during the course of the musical
program, and his uneasiness became manifest to others. After the selections
of the German composer were finished, however, some simple but
charming melodies were unexpectedly introduced, and Ampère suddenly
found himself transported into a new world. If we are to believe his
biographers, once more his emotion was expressed by an abundance of
tears, which Ampère seems to have had at command and to have been quite
as ready to give way to in public as any of Homer's heroes of the olden

time. Blind until he was nearly twenty, he used to say of himself, he had
been deaf until he was thirty. In spite of his failure to respond in youth, once
it had been awakened to appreciation, his soul vibrated profoundly to all the
beauties of color and sound, and, later in life, they gave rise in him to
depths of emotion which calmer individuals of less delicate sensibilities
could scarcely understand, much less sympathize with.
Between his two supreme experiences in vision and sound, there had come
to Ampère another and even profounder emotion. He tells the story himself,
in words that probably express his feelings better than any possible
description of his biographer could do, and that show us how wonderfully
sensitive his soul was to emotion of all kinds. He had just completed his
twenty-first year when he fell head over heels in love. Though he wrote
very little, as a rule, he has left us a rather detailed description in diaries,
evidently kept for the purpose, of the state of his feelings at this time. These
bear the title, "Amorum," the story of his love. On the first page these words
occur: "One day as I was taking an evening walk, just after the setting of the
sun, making my way along a little brook," then there is a hiatus, and he was
evidently quite unable to express all that he felt. It seems that he was
gathering botanical specimens, wearing an excellent set of spectacles ever
since his adventure on the stage-coach had shown him the need of them,
when he suddenly perceived at some distance two young and charming girls
who were gathering flowers in the field. He looked at one of them, and he
knew that his fate was sealed. Up to that time, as he says, the idea of
marriage had never occurred to him. One might think that the idea would
occur very gently at first, then grow little by little; but that was not
Ampère's way. He wanted to marry her that very day. He did not know her
name; he did not know her family; he had never even heard her voice, but
he knew that she was the destined one.
Fortunately for the young lady and himself, she had very sensible parents.
They demanded how he would be able to support a wife. Ampère was quite
willing to do anything that they should suggest. His father had left enough
to support the family, but not enough to enable him to support a wife in an
independent home; and until he had some occupation, the parents of his
bride-to-be refused to listen to his representations. For a time, he consented
to be a salesman in a silk store in Lyons, in order to have some occupation
which might eventually give him enough money to enable him to marry.

Fortunately, however, he was diverted from a commercial vocation which
might thus have absorbed a great scientist, and arrangements were made
which permitted him to continue his intellectual life, yet have the woman of
his choice. She was destined to make life happier far for him than is the
usual lot of man, and he was ever ready to acknowledge how much she
meant for his happiness.
With literature, poetry, love and settling down in life to occupy him, it is
hard to think of Ampère as a young man doing great work in science, but he
did; and his work deservedly attracted attention even from his very early
years. It was in pure mathematics, perhaps, above all other branches, that
Ampère attracted the attention of his generation. Ordinary questions he did
not care for. Problems which the fruitless efforts of twenty centuries had
pronounced insoluble attracted him at once. Even the squaring of the circle
claimed his attention for a while, though he got well beyond it even before
his boyhood passed away. There is a manuscript note from the Secretary of
the Academy of Lyons, which shows that on July 8th, 1788, Ampère, then
not quite thirteen years of age, addressed to that learned body a paper on the
"Squaring of the Circle." Later, during the same year, he submitted an
analogous memoir, entitled, "The Rectification of an Arc of a Circle, less
than a Semi-circumference."
Arago says that he was tempted to suppress this story of Ampère's
coquetting with so dangerous a problem, for Ampère rather flattered himself
that he had almost solved it. It was only after Arago recalled how many
geniuses in mathematics had occupied themselves with this same problem,
that he saw his way clearly not to share the scruples of those who might
think this incident a reflection on Ampère's mathematical genius. After all,
Anaxagoras, Hippocrates, Archimedes and Apollonius, among the ancients,
and among the moderns, Willebrod Snell, Huyghens, Gregory, Wallis, and
finally Newton, the mathematician of the heavens, occupied themselves
seriously with this very problem. Arago even notes that some men, by their
speculations on the squaring of the circle, were led to distinguished
discoveries, and mentions the name of Father Grégoire de Saint-Vincent,
the distinguished Flemish mathematician of the Society of Jesus, to whom,
as a direct result of his studies in attempted circle-squaring, we owe the
discovery of the properties of hyperbolic space, limited by the curve and its
asymptotes, as well as the expansion of log (1 + x) in ascending powers of

x. Montucla, the historian of mathematics, writing of Père Saint-Vincent,
said that, "No one ever squared the circle with so much ability or with so
much success." There was, however, a fallacy in his magnificent work
which was pointed out by the celebrated Huyghens.
Shortly after the beginning of the nineteenth century, Ampère, as one of his
French biographers rather characteristically declares, redeemed whatever of
mathematical sinning there might have been, in indulging in fond dalliance
with the squaring of the circle, by a series of mathematical papers, each of
which was in itself a distinct advance on previous knowledge, and at the
same time, definite evidence of his mathematical ability. The first paper,
published in 1801, was a contribution to solid geometry, bearing the title,
"On Oblique Polyhedrons." His next paper, written in 1803, though not
published until 1808, was a treatise on the advantages to be derived in the
theory of curves from due consideration of the osculating parabola. Another
treatise, written about the same time, had for title, "Investigations on the
Application of the General Formulæ of the Calculus of Variations to
Problems in Mechanics." This concerned problems which had interested
and, in most cases, proved too hard of solution even for such men as
Galileo, Jacques Bernoulli, Leibnitz, Huyghens and Jean Bernoulli. Arago's
expression with regard to this work is: "The treatise of Ampère contains, in
fact, new and very remarkable properties of the catenary (la chainette) and
its development." He adds: "There is no small merit in discovering hiatuses
in subjects explored by such men as Leibnitz, Huyghens and the two
Bernoullis. I must not forget to add that the analysis of our associate unites
elegance with simplicity."
It is not surprising, after such marks of mathematical genius, that Ampère
was appointed to the chair of mathematics at the École Polytechnique,
where he came to be looked upon as one of the most distinguished of
French mathematicians. In 1813, he became a candidate for the position left
vacant by the death of the famous Lagrange; and at this time, presented to
the Academy general considerations on the integration of partial differential
equations of the first and the second order. After his election to the
Academy, Ampère continued to present important papers at its various
sessions. Among these, three are especially noteworthy: one was a
demonstration of Père Mariotte's law (known to English students as Boyle's
law); another bore the title, "Demonstration of a new Theory from which

can be deduced all the Laws of Refraction, ordinary and extraordinary"; a
third was a memoir on the "Determination of the curved surfaces of
Luminous Waves in a medium whose Elasticity differs in each of the three
dimensions."
In his eulogy of Ampère, which, together with his article in the
"Dictionnaire Universelle de Biographie," we have followed rather closely,
Arago calls particular attention to the fact that in Paris, Ampère moved in
two intellectual circles quite widely separated in their interests and
sympathies. Among the first group, were the members of the old "Institute"
and professors and examiners of the École Polytechnique and professors of
the Collège de France. In the other, were the men whose names have since
become widely known as students of psychology, of whom Cabanis may be
taken as the representative. Ampère had as great a passion for psychology,
and was as ready to devote himself to fathoming and analyzing the
mysteries of the mind, as he was to work out a problem in advanced
mathematics, or throw light on difficult questions in the physical sciences.
These two sets of interests are seldom united in the same man, though
occasionally they are found. At the end of the nineteenth century, we had
the spectacle of very distinguished men of science in physics, and even in
biology—Sir William Crookes, Sir Oliver Lodge, Professor Charles Richet,
Professor Lombroso and even Mr. Alfred Russell Wallace—interested in
psychic and spiritualistic manifestations of many kinds as well as in natural
science; and, inasmuch as they did so, they would have found Ampère a
brother spirit. Ampère indeed dived rather deeply into what would be
called, somewhat slightingly, perhaps, in our generation, metaphysical
speculation. At one time, he contemplated the publication of a book which
was to be called "An Introduction to Philosophy." He had made elaborate
theories with regard to many metaphysical questions, and had written
articles on "The Theory of Relations," "The History of Existence,"
"Subjective and Objective Knowledge" and "Absolute Morality." Arago
calls attention to the fact that Napoleon's famous anathema against
ideology, far from discouraging Ampère, rather seemed to stimulate him in
his studies, and he declared that it would surely contribute to the
propagation of this kind of speculation, rather than to its suppression. It was
simply another case of Napoleon overreaching himself, though this was in
the domain of ideas and not in the realm of politics, where his fate was to
reach him some time later.

How deeply interested Ampère became in metaphysics will perhaps be best
appreciated from the fact that, for progress in metaphysics, exercise in
disputation is needed, and had been the custom in the old medieval
universities. Ampère once made an arrangement to travel from Paris to
Lyons and stay there for some time, provided a definite promise was made
that at least four afternoons a week should be devoted to discussions on
ideology. The journey to Lyons, a distance of two hundred and fifty miles,
was no easy undertaking in those days. The Paris, Lyons and Mediterranean
Express now whirls one down to the capital of the silk district in a night;
but in Ampère's time, it took many days, and the journey was by no means
without inconveniences, which were likely to be so troublesome that a
prolonged rest was needed after it was over. Ampère seems quite to have
exhausted the interest of his friends in Lyons, who found his metaphysical
speculations too high for them, though they themselves were specializing in
the subject and would be glad to tempt him into discussions of the exact
sciences; but in lyrical strain he apostrophizes psychological studies: "How
can I abandon the country, the flowers and running waters for the arid
streets of the city! How give up streams and groves for deserts scorched by
the rays of a mathematical sun, which, diffusing over all surrounding
objects the most brilliant light, withers and dries them down to the very
roots! How much more agreeable to wander under flitting shades, where
truth seems to flee before us to incite us to pursue, than walk in straight
paths where the eye embraces all at a glance!"
Had Ampère been less successful as a mathematician or an investigator of
physical science, these expressions would seem little short of ridiculous. As
it is, they provide food for thought. Ampère seemed to realize that, for the
intellectual man, the only satisfaction was not in successful research so
much as in application of mind to what promised results. As in everything
else, it was the chase, and not the capture, that counted. Seldom has this
idea been applied to intellectual things with so much force as it seems to
have appealed to Ampère, and one is reminded of Malebranche's famous
expression, "If I had truth in my hand, I would be tempted to let it go for the
pleasure of recapturing it."
The principal source of Ampère's fame, however, for future generations,
was to be in his researches in the science of electro-dynamics. The name of
this science will ever be inseparably linked with that of Ampère, its founder.

It was for that reason, of course, that the International Congress of
Electricians decided to give his name to the unit of current strength, so that
it has now become a household word, and will continue so for ages to
come. In spite of the resemblances, much more than superficial, between
magnetism and electricity, the identification of these two with each other
seemed as yet very distant. It is curiously interesting, however, to note that
Ampère himself, in a program of his course, printed in 1802, announced
that the "professor will demonstrate that electrical and magnetic phenomena
must be attributed to two different fluids which act independently of each
other." Ampère's fame was to be founded on the direct contradiction of this
proposition, which he proposed and triumphantly defended by a marvelous
series of experimental illustrations eighteen years later. In the meantime, the
discovery of another distinguished scientist, doing his work many hundreds
of miles away, was to prove the stimulus to Ampère's constructive
imagination, so as to enable him to fill out many obscure points of
knowledge with regard to magnetism and electricity.
This suggestive discovery was that of Oersted, the sketch of whose life and
work immediately precedes this. Oersted demonstrated that a current of
electricity will affect a magnetic needle. This epoch-making discovery
reached Paris by way of Switzerland. The experiment was repeated before
the French Academy of Sciences by a member of the Academy of Geneva,
on September 11th, 1820. The date has some importance in the history of
science, for just seven days later, on the 18th of September, Ampère
presented, at the session of the Academy of Sciences, a still more important
fact, to which he had been led by the consideration of Oersted's discovery
while testing it by way of control experiment. This brilliant discovery of
Ampère, Arago summed up in these words: "Two parallel conducting wires
attract each other when the current traverses them in the same direction. On
the contrary, they repel each other when the current flows in opposite
directions. The phenomenon described by Oersted was called, very
appropriately, electromagnetic, whilst the phenomena described by Ampère,
in which the magnet played no part, received at his suggestion the general
name of electro-dynamics, which has since been applied to them."
At first it was said that these phenomena were nothing more than
manifestations of the ordinary attractive and repelling power of the two
forms of electricity which had been so carefully studied, especially in

France, during the eighteenth century. Ampère at once disposed of any such
idea as this, however, by pointing out that bodies similarly electrified repel
each other, whilst those that are in opposite electrical states attract each
other. In the case of conductors conveying currents, there is attraction when
these are in the same direction, and repulsion when they flow in the
opposite direction. This reasoning absolutely precluded all possibility of
further doubt in the matter, and this particular form of objection to Ampère's
discoveries was dropped at once.
Having satisfactorily disposed of other objections, Ampère was content
neither to rest quietly in his discovery nor merely to develop various
experimental phases of it which would be extremely interesting and
popularly attractive, but which at the same time might mean very little for
science. With his mathematical mind, Ampère resolved to work out a
mathematical theory which would embrace not only all the phenomena of
magnetism then known, but also the complete theory of the science of
electro-dynamics. Needless to say, such a problem was extremely difficult.
Arago has compared it to Newton's solution of the problem of gravitation
by mathematics. Considering the comparatively small amount of data that
Ampère had at his command, this problem might very well be compared to
that which Leverrier took up with so much success, when he set about
discovering by calculation only the planet Neptune, as yet unknown, which
was disturbing the movements of Uranus.
It might be thought that these discoveries of Ampère would be welcomed
with great enthusiasm. As a matter of fact, however, new discoveries that
are really novel always have, as almost their surest index, the fact that
contemporaries refuse to accept them. The more versed a man is in the
science in which the discovery comes, the more likely is he to delay his
acceptance of the novelty. This is not so surprising, since, as a rule, new
discoveries are nearly always very simple expressions of great truths that
seem obvious once they are accepted, yet have never been thought of. They
mean, therefore, that men who consider themselves distinguished in a
particular science have missed some easily discoverable phenomenon or its
full significance, and so, to accept a new discovery in their department of
learning men must confess their own lack of foresight.
It may be pointed out that the same thing happened with regard to Ohm,
only it was much more serious. Years of Ohm's life were wasted because of

the refusal of his contemporaries to accept his "law" at his valuation. Arago,
in his life of Ampère, recalls that when Fresnel discovered the transverse
character of waves of light, his observations created the same doubts and
uncertainty in the same individuals who a few years later refused to accept
Ampère's conclusions. Arago puts it, that as he was ambitious of a high
place in the world of ideas, he should have expected to find his adversaries
precisely those already occupying the highest places.
Ampère never looked on himself as a mere specialist in physical science,
however, and it is extremely interesting to know that he dared to take sides
in a discussion between Cuvier and Geoffroy-Saint-Hilaire, with regard to
the unity of structure in organized beings. While the purely physical
scientists mostly sat mute during the discussion, Ampère took an active
share in it, and ventured to subject himself to what perhaps, above all
things, a Frenchman dreads, the ridicule of his colleagues. Arago thought
that he held his own very well in this discussion, which involved some of
the ideas that were afterwards to be the subject of profound study and
prolonged investigation later in the nineteenth century, because of the
announcement of the theory of evolution.
After his discoveries in electricity Ampère came to be acknowledged as one
of the greatest of living scientists, and was honored as such by most of the
distinguished scientific societies of Europe. His work was not confined to
electricity alone, however, and late in life he prepared what has been well
called a remarkable work on the classification of the sciences. This showed
that, far from being a mere electrical specialist or even a profound thinker
in physics, he understood better probably than any man of his time the
interrelations of the sciences to one another. He was a broad-minded,
profound thinker in the highest sense of the words, and in many things
seems to have had almost an intuition of the intimate processes of nature; a
sharer in secrets as yet unrevealed, though he was at the same time an
untiring experimenter, eminently successful, as is so evident in his electrical
researches, in arranging experiments so as to compel answers to the
questions which he put to nature.
In the midst of all this preoccupation of mind with science and all the
scientific problems that were working in men's minds in his time, from the
constitution of matter to the nature of life, above all engaged in
experimental work, he was a deeply religious man in his opinions and

practices. He had indeed the simple piety of a child. During the awful
period of the French Revolution, he had some doubts with regard to
religious truths; but once these were dispelled, he became one of the most
faithful practical Catholics of his generation. He seldom passed a day
without finding his way into a church, and his favorite form of prayer was
the rosary.
Frederick Ozanam tells the story of how he himself, overtaken by
misgivings with regard to faith, and roaming almost aimlessly through the
streets of Paris trying to think out solutions for his doubts, and the problems
that would so insistently present themselves respecting the intellectual
foundations of Christianity, finally wandered one day into a church, and
found Ampère there in an obscure corner, telling his beads. Ozanam himself
was moved to do the same thing, for Ampère was then looked upon as one
of the greatest living scientists of France. Under the magic touch of an
example like this and the quiet influence of prayer, Ozanam's doubts
vanished, never to return.
Saint-Beuve, whose testimony in a matter like this would surely be
unsuspected of any tendency to make Ampère more Catholic than he was,
in his introduction to Ampère's essay on the Philosophy of the Sciences
(Paris, 1843), says:
"The religious struggles and doubts of his earlier life had ceased. What
disturbed him now lay in less exalted regions. Years ago, his interior
conflicts, his instinctive yearning for the Eternal, and a lively
correspondence with his old friend, Father Barrett, combined with the
general tendency of the time of the Restoration, had led him back to that
faith and devotion which he expressed so strikingly in 1803.... During the
years which followed, up to the time of his death, we were filled with
wonder and admiration at the way in which, without effort, he united
religion and science; faith and confidence in the intellectual possibilities of
man with adoring submission to the revealed word of God."
Ozanam, to whose thoroughly practical Christianity while he was professor
of Foreign Literatures at the University of Paris we owe the foundation of
the Conferences of St. Vincent de Paul, which so long anticipated the
"settlement work" of the modern time and have done so much for the poor
in large cities ever since, was very close to Ampère, lived with him indeed

for a while, said that, no matter where conversations with him began, they
always led up to God. The great French scientist and philosopher used to
take his broad forehead between his hands after he had been discussing
some specially deep question of science or philosophy and say: "How great
is God, Ozanam! How great is God and how little is our knowledge!" Of
course this has been the expression of most profound thinkers at all times.
St. Augustine's famous vision of the angel standing by the sea emptying it
out with a teaspoon, which has been rendered so living for most of us by
Botticelli's great picture, is but an earlier example of the same thing. One of
Ampère's greatest contemporaries, Laplace, re-echoed the same sentiment,
perhaps in less striking terms, when he declared that what we know is but
little, while what we do not know is infinite.
For anyone who desires to study the beautiful Christian simplicity of a truly
great soul, there is no better human document than the "Journal and
Correspondence of Ampère," published some years after his death. He
himself wrote out the love story of his life; and it is perhaps one of the most
charming of narratives, certainly the most delightful autobiographic story of
this kind that has ever been told. It is human to the very core, and it shows a
wonderfully sympathetic character in a great man, whose work was
destined a few years later to revolutionize physics and to found the practical
science of electro-dynamics.
When Ampère's death was impending, it was suggested that a chapter of the
"Imitation of Christ" should be read to him; but he said, no! declaring that
he preferred to be left alone for a while, as he knew the "Imitation" by heart
and would repeat those chapters in which he found most consolation. With
the profoundest sentiments of piety and confidence in Providence, he
passed away June 10th, 1836, at Marseilles.
With all his solid piety, this man was not so distant from ordinary worldly
affairs as not to take a lively interest in all that was happening around him
and, above all, all that concerned the welfare of men. He was especially
enthusiastic for the freedom of the South American Republics, eagerly
following the course of Bolivar and Canaris, and rejoicing at the success of
their efforts. South American patriots visiting Paris found a warm welcome
at his hands, and also introductions that made life pleasant for them at the
French capital. His house was always open to them, and no service that he
performed for them seemed too much.

Ampère was beloved by his family and his friends; he was perhaps the best
liked man among his circle of acquaintances in Paris because of the
charming geniality of his character and his manifold interests. He was kind,
above all, to rising young men in the intellectual world around him, and was
looked up to by many of them as almost a second father. His charity
towards the poor was proverbial, and this side of his personality and career
deserves to be studied quite as much as what he was able to accomplish for
science. The beauty of his character was rooted deeply in the religion that
he professed, and in our day, when it has come to be the custom for so
many to think that science and faith are inalterably opposed, the lesson of
this life, so deeply imbued with both of these great human interests,
deserves to be studied. Ozanam, who knew him best, has brought out this
extremely interesting union of intellectual qualities, in a passage that serves
very well to sum up the meaning of Ampère's life.
"In addition to his scientific achievements," says Ozanam, "this brilliant
genius has other claims upon our admiration and affection. He was our
brother in the faith. It was religion which guided the labors of his mind and
illuminated his contemplations; he judged all things, science itself, by the
exalted standard of religion.... This venerable head which was crowned by
achievements and honors, bowed without reserve before the mysteries of
faith, down even below the line which the Church has marked for us. He
prayed before the same altars before which Descartes and Pascal had knelt;
beside the poor widow and the small child who may have been less humble
in mind than he was. Nobody observed the regulations of the Church more
conscientiously, regulations which are so hard on nature and yet so sweet in
the habit. Above all things, however, it is beautiful to see what sublime
things Christianity wrought in his great soul; this admirable simplicity, the
unassumingness of a mind that recognized everything except its own
genius; this high rectitude in matters of science, now so rare, seeking
nothing but the truth and never rewards and distinction; the pleasant and
ungrudging amiability; and lastly, the kindness with which he met
everyone, especially young people. I can say that those who know only the
intelligence of the man, know only the less perfect part. If he thought much,
he loved more."

CHAPTER IX.
Ohm, the Founder of Mathematical Electricity.
Lord Kelvin, himself one of the greatest of the electrical scientists of the
nineteenth century, in commenting some years ago on Ohm's law, said that
it was such an extremely simple expression of a great truth in electricity,
that its significance is probably not confined to that department of physical
phenomena, but that it is a law of nature in some much broader way. Re-
echoing this expression of his colleague, Professor George Chrystal, of
Edinburgh, in his article on electricity in the Encyclopedia Britannica (IX.
edition), says that Ohm's law "must now be allowed to rank with the law of
gravitation and the elementary laws of statical electricity as a law of nature
in the strictest sense." In a word, to these leaders and teachers in physical
science of the generation after his, though within a comparatively short time
after Ohm's death, there has come the complete realization of the absolutely
fundamental character of the discovery made by George Simon Ohm, when
he promulgated the principle that a current of electricity is to be measured
by the electromotive force, divided by the resistance in the circuit. The very
simplicity of this expression is its supreme title to represent a great
discovery in natural science. It is the men who reach such absolutely simple
formulæ for great fundamental truths that humanity has come, and rightly,
to consider as representing its greatest men in science.
Like most of the distinguished discoverers in science who have displayed
marked originality, Ohm came from what is usually called the lower
classes, his ancestors having had to work for their living for as long as the
history of the family can be traced. His father was a locksmith, and
succeeded his father at the trade. The head of the family for many
generations had been engaged at this handicraft. The first of them of whom
there is any definite record was Ohm's great-grandfather, Wilhelm Ohm,
who was a locksmith at Westerholt, not far from Münster, in Westphalia.
Wilhelm Ohm's son, Johann Vincent, the grandfather of the great
electrician, during his years as a journeyman locksmith had spent some time
in France, and subsequently settled down in Kadolzburg, a small suburb of

Erlangen, in Bavaria. In 1764, he obtained the position of locksmith to the
University of Erlangen, and became a citizen of that municipality. Both of
his sons followed the trade of their father.
The elder of these, Johann Wolfgang, worked at his trade as a journeyman
in a number of the small cities of Germany, and only after ten years of
absence in what, because of the independent condition of the States now
known as the German Empire, were then considered foreign parts, did he
wander back to his native place. On his return he received the mastership in
his craft, and shortly after, about 1786, married a young woman named
Beck. George Simon Ohm, the electrical scientist, was the first child of this
marriage, and was born March 16th, 1789. A second son, born three years
later, also became distinguished in after-life for his mathematical ability.
This younger brother, after having filled a number of teaching positions in
various German educational institutions, was called as professor of
mathematics to Berlin, where he died in 1862.
While their father, Johann Wolfgang Ohm, followed his trade of locksmith
for a living, like many another handicraftsman, he had many mental
interests which he cultivated in leisure hours, and doubtless dwelt on while
his hands were occupied with the mere routine work of his trade. It is
curiously interesting to find that he devoted himself, during the hours he
could spare from his occupation, to two such diverse intellectual
occupations as mathematics and Kant's philosophy; but they had no
newspapers in those days, and a man, even of the artisan class, had some
time for serious mental occupation. It might be thought, under these
circumstances, that he would be but the most passing of amateurs in either
of these subjects, and have a very superficial knowledge of them. This
probably was true for his philosophy fad, for there are not many who have
ever thought themselves more than amateurs in Kantism, and even Kant
himself, I believe, thought that only one scholar ever really understood his
system, and subsequently said he had some doubts even about that one; but
in mathematics, the elder Ohm seems to have attained noteworthy success.
Hofrath Langsdorff, who was the professor of mathematics at Erlangen
during the last decade of the eighteenth century, and who was called to
Heidelberg in 1804, a fact that would seem quite enough to set beyond all
question that his opinion in this matter may be taken as that of a competent
judge, declared that the elder Ohm's mathematical knowledge was far above

the ordinary, and that he knew much more than the elements even of the
higher mathematics. Under these circumstances, it is not surprising that the
father should have tried to encourage in both his boys a taste for
mathematics, nor that he should have taken their mathematical instruction
into his own hands and succeeded in making excellent mathematicians of
them, even in their early years. He was so successful in this, indeed, that
Langsdorff, after a five-hour examination of the brothers when they were
respectively 12 and 15, did not hesitate to declare that the Erlangen
locksmith's family was likely to be remembered as containing a pair of
brothers who, for success in mathematics, might rival the famous Bernoulli
brothers, so well known at that time.
This might be thought only a bit of neighborly praise, meant to warm a
father's heart, yet it seems indeed to have been given quite seriously.
Certainly the event justified the prophecy. It is not surprising that, with such
a forecast to encourage him, the father should have been ready to make
every sacrifice to enable both his sons to prepare for the university.
He continued his instruction of them, then, in mathematics, though he
insisted at the same time that they should continue to keep up their
occupation of locksmiths. In spite of his enthusiasm for mathematics, the
old gentleman seems to have cherished no illusions with regard to the
likelihood of pure mathematics ever serving them as a lucrative means of
livelihood. It was a very satisfying intellectual interest, but a good trade was
much more apt to prove their constant and substantial standby, unless, of
course, the boys should actually prove to be the geniuses foretold. He seems
to have realized to the full, Coleridge's idea that, like the literary man, the
mathematician should have some other occupation, though he might not go
to the extent of following Oliver Wendell Holmes' well-known addition to
Coleridge's formula, that he should, as far as possible, confine himself to
the other occupation. The boys were given the opportunity to attend the
gymnasium of Erlangen, and seem to have had excellent success in their
general studies besides mathematics.[23]
In 1805, when George, the subject of our sketch, was sixteen years of age,
he was graduated from the gymnasium and was ready for the university. On
May 3d, 1805, he took his matriculation examination before the faculty of
Erlangen, electing the course of mathematics, physics and philosophy. Later
in life he told his friends that it was his deep love for the mathematics of

these studies, and his persuasion that in them the student was brought in
contact with the most important factors for absolute intellectual cultivation,
that tempted him to take them up. To this he did not hesitate to add that
there seemed to him to be some call of a higher voice, as if he had a
vocation to dedicate himself to the cultivation and extension of these
important subjects.
He had been but some two years at the university, when for a time his
studies had to be interrupted, partly for lack of means to pursue them, but
partly because to his father, at least, the university course was not the source
of such satisfaction as he had anticipated from his son's ability in
mathematics. While Ohm took his studies seriously, he was not by any
means a mere "grind," and, indeed, the reputation which he acquired at the
university for many of the qualities which make for a student's popularity
among his fellows, was not such as would be likely to appeal to a very
serious-minded father. Ohm had acquired the fame of being one of the best
dancers in the university; he was a brilliant billiard player and an unrivalled
skater; all of which indicates that as a young man he had the physical
development and acuteness of sense so necessary to enable him to gain
prestige in all these sports.
His father, in spite of his desire for his son's university career, was quite
willing, then, at the end of September, 1808, to have him take up a position
as teacher of mathematics in the school kept by Pastor Zehnder, in the
Canton Berne, in Switzerland. His very youthful appearance (he was only
18 years of age at the time, quite boyish looking and not even large for his
years) caused the head of this institution no little surprise when he came
with letters of introduction showing that he was to be the new teacher in
mathematics. He could scarcely believe his eyes for a time. Within a few
months, however, he was convinced of the ability and the capacity for work
of his new addition to the faculty, who seems to have given, from the very
beginning, excellent satisfaction in his rather important position.
Ohm remained there some three years and a half and then moved to
Neunberg, where, independent of any educational institution, he set himself
up as a private tutor in mathematics. His reason for so doing, as he himself
tells, was that he wished to devote himself to the study of pure mathematics
more than was possible in a regular teaching position. For this same reason
also he refused a number of offers of positions as teacher of mathematics,

which would ordinarily be considered quite flattering to a young man of
only 21. Another reason for refusing these offers was that he wished to
perfect himself in French, and he had an excellent opportunity afforded him
for conversation in this language in the conditions in which he was placed
in Neunberg. This last may seem an unusual reason, but it is characteristic
of Ohm's determination always to add to his power of understanding and
expression.
Most young men in Ohm's circumstances are so occupied with the thought
of immediate success in life, that every possible abbreviation of their
studies which will bring them nearer the opportunity to make their own
living is likely to be heartily welcomed. Ohm, however, realized that his
own intellectual development was more important, especially at this time,
even than getting on in the world; and for this reason his life has an added
interest, not only for students themselves, but especially for those who have
the best interests of students at heart and wish to be able to cite examples of
how a little delay in getting at one's actual life-work, or, still more, at a
remunerative occupation, may serve the very useful purpose of preparing a
man so much the better to bring out his best intellectual possibilities when
he does settle down to his work.
At Easter, 1811, Ohm returned to Erlangen, after having spent nearly two
years perfecting himself in mathematics. He then finished his studies at the
university, which seems not to have had the rule of requiring attendance for
a definite period before coming up for its degree, but permitted him to take
the examinations for the doctorate of philosophy on the strength of the work
he had done, and gave him his degree on the 25th of October of the same
year. With the drawing tighter of the bands of red tape in educational
institutions in more recent years, Ohm would have found it difficult to get
his degree thus readily, though it was the university rather than the graduate
who was eventually to be honored by it. After this, he became privatdocent
in mathematics at the university, and taught for three semesters. He met
with marked success and became very popular with the students. After a
year and a half, however, he gave up his university position to accept the
professorship of mathematics at the Realschule of Bamberg.
While Ohm was here, the spirit of young Germany awoke at the news of
Napoleon's unfortunate Moscow campaign, in which his good fortune
seemed to have definitely abandoned the great Emperor of the French. Most

of the students of the universities of Germany were deeply aroused by it,
and those who know Körner's and Uhland's songs will have some idea of
the depth of patriotic feeling that was stirred in thousands of young German
hearts, who thought that now the opportunity for the fatherland to throw off
the hated foreign yoke forever, had come at last. Ohm debated with himself
whether he should volunteer with the crowds of young men who were so
bravely giving up everything, that the fatherland might be free. Two things
deterred him. If he went as a soldier, the material assistance he was able to
give his father, and which, as the old man was now advancing in years and
had spent most of his little savings upon his sons, was needed, would have
to be given up. The other motive that kept him at home was, according to
his German biographer in the Allgemeine Deutsche Biographie, which we
have been following for most of these details, because he felt that what he
might be able to accomplish in other fields besides those of battle would
eventually prove more beneficial for his fatherland, and indeed for the
whole of humanity, than anything he could do as a soldier, even with the
patriotic motive to help his country to throw off the yoke of the foreign
usurper, which had proven so hard to bear. As we have already seen, it was
a characteristic trait of Ohm all through life, that he cherished the idea,
which acquired almost the force of a premonition, that he was destined for
great things.
Ohm continued his work as a teacher, then, instead of volunteering for the
army; but, as might be expected, found the monotonous work of drilling
young students in mathematics extremely unsatisfactory after a time. At the
end of a year and a half of service at Bamberg, he asked for a change in the
conditions of his teaching position. Instead of this, he received a transfer to
the Bamberg pro-gymnasium, where he was to teach Latin until a regular
teacher was appointed. In spite of his representations that the teaching
position offered him was utterly at variance with his talents and his
inclinations, he was compelled to accept this occupation for a time, though
after some delay there came the assurance that, just as soon as possible, he
would be assigned to a position as teacher of mathematics.
In spite of his unfortunate circumstances, which would ordinarily be
thought quite enough to keep him from serious work until he was settled in
a position more suited to his tastes, he devoted himself to the writing of his
first book during this time, and it was published by Enke, in Erlangen, in

the spring of 1817. Its title was, "Outlines of the Study of Geometry as a
Means of Intellectual Culture." It comprised nearly two hundred pages, and
gives the best possible insight into the ability and intelligence of the author,
then a young man of only twenty-eight. As a sort of appendix, he gives a
short sketch of his father, evidently introduced, not quite so much for the
purpose of filially confessing his obligations to the old locksmith
mathematician, nor with the idea of repaying some of his immeasurable
debt for all the opportunities which the sacrifices of paternal affection had
brought into the life of his sons, as to emphasize the excellent educational
influence which his father's mathematical training had had upon his boys,
and thus prove his thesis as to the value of mathematical studies in
education. Few filial tributes were ever more deserved or given more
convincingly or with less suggestion of the conventional attitude of son to
father.
Now that mathematics has come to occupy probably even a less prominent
place in education than it did in Ohm's time, though the burden of his
complaint with regard to educational methods was that geometry was not
used as a daily developmental subject as much as it should be, it may be
interesting to recall some of the reasons which he advanced for urging its
greater employment as an instrument for mental training. He thought that
rational geometry should occupy a place of honor among our means of
education. Its quality as a mode of pure reasoning, though so closely related
to the senses, made easy the transition from sensation to thought, which is
such an important element in education; while its eminently simple
character, though combined with definite demands upon the constructive
faculties, made it appropriate in a high degree for the education of the
young out of the field of merely imitative use of the intellect, into that of
independent thinking and following out of ideas. "Geometry," says Ohm,
"when properly taught, not with the fruitless drilling usually employed in
teaching it, but in such ways as to secure deep personal attention, must take
rank above all other branches of education, in enabling the student to break
down the barrier which separates mere understanding from personal
investigation. It forces a man whose thoughts were, up to this time, only the
repetition of others' thoughts, to think for himself and to light for himself in
his own mind the torches which enable him to see things clearly for
himself, and not merely in the dimness of the half light that is thrown on
them by the explanations of others."

Geometrical methods always had a special fascination for Ohm, and
practically all of his books and writings bear the impress of that close
dependence of all parts on one another, that absolutely logical connection so
characteristic of geometric accuracy of thought. His was the sort of mind
likely to be benefited by mathematical training. Such minds are, however,
comparatively few, for most men are not rational in any sense of the word,
that would make them dependent on logical reasoning. Perhaps it is as well
that they are not, for many of those lacking in logic or mathematical
accuracy of thought and absoluteness of conclusion, still continue to
accomplish much in the world of thought and do much valuable planning
for the complexities of human affairs, where strict logic will not always
solve the intricate yet incomplete problems that present themselves in
human relations, where, indeed, individual unknown factors often make any
but an approximate solution impossible.
The opinions of the critics as to Ohm's "Outlines of Geometry" were, as
might be easily anticipated, not all flattering, since only a few of the critics
were able to place themselves on the ideal standpoint of mathematical
subjectivity from which he had written his book. King Frederick William
III., of Prussia, is said to have read it with much interest, however, and the
royal pleasure doubtless drew attention to Ohm's work, and may have
contributed to the fact that, shortly after its publication, in September, 1817,
Ohm was invited by the Royal Consistory of Cologne to take the position of
head professor of mathematics and physics in the gymnasium of that city.
This post was not only honorable, it was also highly remunerative, at least
from the standpoint of teachers' wages as they were at that time, and Ohm
eagerly accepted the position.
Lamont, who was the director of the Royal Observatory at Munich, has
written a memorial of Ohm which contains much valuable information. The
body of it is an address delivered at a meeting of the Faculty of the
University of Munich in honor of Thaddeus Siber and George Simon Ohm,
but its value has been much enhanced by notes added before publication.
Siber was a Benedictine who was professor in the philosophical department
at Munich, and died the same year as Ohm. Lamont says that he received
his information as to intimate details of Ohm's life from his brother, Prof.
Martin Ohm, of Berlin. His sketch is, therefore, absolutely authoritative.
Lamont says with regard to this period of teaching at Cologne: "Ohm's first

position of importance, in any way worthy of his talents, was the
professorship of mathematics at the large Jesuit gymnasium in Cologne, in
1817, where the special gift that he possessed, of making the study of
mathematics not only comprehensible but attractive to boys, brought him
success and recognition."
For nearly ten years Ohm had the opportunity to put into practice in this
Jesuit gymnasium of the Rhineland, the principles which he had so much at
heart, for he was apparently given the full freedom of his department of
teaching. He succeeded so well that he received wide and hearty
recognition for his work. The mathematical studies of the Cologne
gymnasium stood higher than had ever been the case before, and this was
all Ohm's work. In the years before his teaching in the Rhenish city, those
who were distinguished in mathematics at the University of Bonn had not
come, as a rule, from Cologne, but from other places; but now nearly all the
mathematical prize-takers of Bonn came from among Ohm's students, and
the best of the candidates for teaching positions in physics and mathematics
had also, as a rule, had the advantages of his training.
Among the best of his scholars at this time was the afterwards well-known
mathematician, Lejeune-Dirichlet, who taught in Berlin with Jacobi and
Steiner and succeeded Gauss in Göttingen. Another of his most
distinguished pupils was the astronomer Heis, who occupied a modest
position at the Munster Academy, but whose merits were above the post
which he occupied, and who was distinguished for the excellency of his
original work and his ability as a mathematician. One very interesting fact
with regard to Ohm's teaching, was that he was successful in catching and
holding the interest not only of those of his students who were later to
specialize in mathematics, but also of those who took up mathematics only
as a subject for mental development, that was to be applied to other
purposes later in life, and who found Ohm's teaching of the greatest
possible service. Among these, the well-known German literary man, Jacob
Venedey, of Cologne, has expressed his affection and gratitude for his old
teacher in a very striking way in his sketch of the cathedral at Cologne,
written in the banishment that came to so many vigorous German thinkers
after the failure of the revolution of '48. In sending a copy of this to Ohm,
Venedey says: "Honored Sir:—It will perhaps be a source of wonder to you
that a student who apparently learned so little from you and your colleagues

that he must now earn his bread by writing, should continue to cherish for
you the liveliest gratitude. It is not the fault of mathematics that only the
dimmest recollection of them remains with me. I shall never forget the
personality of my professor, however, nor his ways and methods of
teaching. I frequently recount your way with us boys, and I have the
liveliest remembrance of your influence as a teacher. There are seldom
weeks, there never is a month, when I fail to recall you. This is no mere
compliment that I am paying to you, since I know you too well to think that
flattery would mean anything to you, as it would be unworthy of you, and I
for my part am not one of those who like to bandy compliments. I have
often wished to meet you again, and a hundred times I thought that I saw
you because some one at a distance had something that recalled you. I may
say to you that you accomplished something for me in those days of
teaching that I would not have been able to accomplish for myself. I can
only think of you, then, with the highest feelings of reverence approaching
what might well be called love. It will be a happy day, indeed, for me if I
am ever in a position to make an hour of existence happier for you in any
way."
While Ohm so zealously continued his instruction in both the upper classes
of the gymnasium, he never lost from sight that higher aim of original
research and investigation to which his genius disposed him.
His choice of a subject for original investigation wavered for a long time
between mathematics and physics, but, as he himself declared, his
experience having shown him that authority was prone to play a large role
in mathematics, while the field was more open for personal research and
observation in physics, he resolved to take up that department for his
special studies, consoled by the idea that physics cannot be properly
pursued without mathematics. Looking around to select a subject that would
serve as a striking preface to his work in this department, though resolved at
the same time to avoid one where he would be without rivalry, he found it
all ready to his hand in what one of his contemporaries called the enigmatic
phenomena of the galvanic current. This was to prove a fortunate selection,
indeed, both for himself and the opportunity afforded his genius as well as
for the science of electricity itself.
He then began a series of investigations, always experimental in character,
and with the mathematical explanations of the phenomena observed

carefully worked out. Accounts of these studies appeared from time to time
in the year-book for Chemistry and Physics, issued by Schweigger. After
some ten years, these were collected together, or at least the principal
portions of them, and published in the second half of the year-book for the
year 1826. The apparatus for his experiments was fortunately at command
in the gymnasium at Cologne, but without his mechanical skill, obtained
from his experience as a locksmith when a boy, it would have been
impossible so to vary his experiments and modify his instruments as to
bring out many of the phenomena that he succeeded in demonstrating.
Nearly all of the great discoverers in science have been handy men
possessed of mechanical skill, and this is as true for medicine, as I have
shown in "Makers of Modern Medicine,"[24] though it might perhaps not be
expected, as it is here in electricity, where it seems very natural.
Ohm felt, in 1826, that he had succeeded in exhausting nearly all that he
could learn for himself, and as he wished to have opportunities for further
study, and especially for further reading, he asked for an academic furlough
that would carry him over the next year. The work that he had already
accomplished was beginning to be appreciated, and after discussion of the
papers that he had published up to that time, the requested furlough was
promptly granted; and in a letter in which the school authorities praised his
school work as well as his original investigations, they allowed him to take
the sabbatic year for the furtherance of science on one-half the usual salary,
though with the condition also that more would be allowed to him in case
this seemed necessary and the conditions justified it.
This furlough was perhaps the most important event in Ohm's life. He
employed it in bringing to a focus the ideas with regard to electricity which
had been gradually worked out in his mind during the past ten years. In
May, 1827, within six months after the beginning of his exclusive devotion
to the subject, Ohm's article on the mathematics of the galvanic current
appeared. It proved a scientific achievement of the first rank, that was to be
epoch-making in the domain of electricity. It settled the conditions under
which electrical tension exists in various bodies, and made it clear that there
is a fundamental law of electrical conduction which could be expressed by
an easy, simple formula.
Ohm's preface to his little book, that was to work such a revolution in
electricity and was to remain for all time one of the classics in this

department of science, is typical of the man in many ways. Its modesty
could not very well be exceeded. Its simplicity constitutes in itself an appeal
to the reader's interest. I know nothing in the literature of the history of
science quite like it in these regards, unless it be the preface of
Auenbrugger's little book on percussion, in which he laid the foundation of
modern clinical diagnosis.[25] The two men have many more qualities in
common than the authorship of modest prefaces to their books. Both of
them were geniuses whose names the aftertime will not willingly let die,
and both of them accomplished their work apart from the stream of
university life in their time, and met with a like fate in the neglect, for some
time at least, by their distinguished colleagues of the important discoveries
that they had made. Ohm's preface deserves to be quoted because of its
classic quality:
"I herewith present to the public a theory of galvanic electricity as a special
part of electrical science in general, and shall successively, as time,
inclination and means permit, arrange more such portions together into a
whole, if this first essay shall in some degree repay the sacrifice it has cost
me. The circumstances in which I have hitherto been placed have not been
suitable either to encourage me in the pursuit of novelties or to enable me to
become acquainted with works relating to the same department of literature
throughout its whole extent. I have, therefore, chosen for my first attempt a
department of science in which I have the least to apprehend competition.
"May the well-disposed reader accept whatever I have accomplished with
the same love for science as that with which it is sent forth!—The Author,
Berlin, May 1st, 1827."
In his preface to the American edition of the "Galvanic Circuit Investigated
Mathematically,"[26] Mr. Thomas D. Lockwood, vice-president of the
American Institute of Electrical Engineers, said of this masterpiece of
Ohm's: "A sufficient reason for republishing an English translation of the
wonderful book of Professor G. S. Ohm is the difficulty with which the
only previous translation (that of Taylor's Scientific Memoirs) is procurable.
"Besides this, however, the intrinsic value of the book is so great that it
should be read by all electricians who care for more than superficial
knowledge.

"It is most remarkable to note, at this time, how completely Ohm stated his
famous law that the electromotive force divided by the resistance is equal to
the strength of the current."
With regard to the book as a whole, Mr. Lockwood says, after suggesting
certain anticipations of Ohm's ideas which had been made in the preceding
century: "Ohm's work stands alone, and, reading it at the present time, one
is filled with wonder at the prescience, respect for his patience and
prophetic soul, and admiration of the immensity and variety of ground
covered by his little book, which is indeed his best monument."
Like many another great discovery in physical science, Ohm's work failed
to receive the immediate appreciation which it deserved. It cannot be said,
however, that it failed to attract attention. It would be easier, indeed, to
forgive the scientists of the day if this were true. Not long after its
appearance, abstracts from it were made by Fechner in Leipzig, by Pfaff in
Erlangen, and Poggendorff in Berlin, which showed that these scientists
understood very clearly the significance and comprehended the wide
application of Ohm's law as claimed by its author. From these men there
was no question of hostile criticism. Professor Pohl, of the University of
Berlin, however, in the Berlin "Year-book of Scientific Criticism," did not
hesitate to express his utter disagreement, and declared that Ohm's work
was fallacious and should be rejected. Other writers of the time treated
Ohm's article more or less indifferently, as a merely conventional
contribution to science.
Professor Pohl's opinion was taken to represent the conclusions of the
faculty of the University of Berlin, especially noted for mathematical
ability. This was to prove a serious hindrance to Ohm in the university
career which he had planned for himself. At Berlin they had the ear of the
Minister of Education, and it was not long before Ohm felt that the
criticisms of his work were making themselves felt in a direction
unfavorable to him. Not long after the appearance of his book, there came a
disagreement between Ohm and the educational authorities. Ohm felt that
this was due to failure to recognize the significance of his work, and that
under the circumstances he could not hope for the appreciation that would
provide him with the opportunities he deserved. He insisted on sending in
his resignation as a teacher. Nothing could change his determination in the

matter, not even the pleas of his former scholars, and his resignation had to
be accepted.
Ohm had hoped for a teaching position in a university. The Minister of
Education declared that, while his work as a teacher had been accomplished
with careful industry and diligence and conscientious attention to duty, the
ministry regretted that, in spite of thorough appreciation of him and
admiration for his excellent work as a scientist, they could not find for him
a position outside of the gymnasium. How utterly trivial the conventional
expressions sound, now that we know that they brought about for the time
being the interruption of one of the most brilliant scientific careers in
Europe. Of course, the geese cannot be expected to appreciate the swans,
and it was not the minister's fault, but that of some of Ohm's own
colleagues. The next six years of his life, the precious years between 38 and
44, Ohm had to give up the idea of teaching in a university, and devote
himself to some private tutoring in Berlin, with a stipend of about three
hundred dollars a year, miserable enough, yet sufficient, as would appear,
for Ohm's simple mode of life. This he owed to the kindness of Gen.
Radowitz, who employed him to teach mathematics in a military school in
Berlin.
At the end of this time, when he was nearly 45 years of age, his unfortunate
situation attracted the attention of King Ludwig I., of Bavaria, who offered
him the chair of professor of physics at the Polytechnic School in
Nuremberg, which had recently by royal rescript been raised to the status of
a Royal Institute, with the same rank in educational circles as a lyceum for
the study of humanities. Here Ohm's duties were shortly to be multiplied.
He became the inspector of scientific instruction, after having occupied for
some time the professorship of mathematics, and later became the rector of
the Polytechnic School, a position which he held for some ten years,
fulfilling its duties with the greatest conscientiousness and fidelity.
Ohm continued his work at Nuremberg for more than fifteen years. During
this time, he succeeded in making his mark in every one of the departments
of physics. He is usually considered as owing his reputation as an
experimental and mathematical scientist to his researches in electricity. As a
matter of fact, every branch of physics was illuminated by his work, and
perhaps nothing shows the original genius of the man better than the fact
that everything which he took up revealed new scientific aspects in his

hands. The only wonder is that he should have remained so long in a
subordinate position in the educational world at Nuremberg, and received
his appointment as university professor of physics at Munich only in 1849.
In the midst of the administrative educational work that came to him at
Nuremberg, Ohm did not neglect original investigation, but somehow
succeeded in finding time for experiment and study. Having made a
cardinal discovery in electricity, of the value of which surely no one was
more aware than himself, Ohm might have been expected, as soon as his
new post gave him the opportunity, to devote himself quite exclusively to
this department of science. Instead, he turned for a time to the related
subjects of sound, heat and light, devoting himself especially to their
mathematics. He did this, as he said himself, to complete for his own
satisfaction his knowledge of the scientific foundations of the
imponderables, as heat, light and electricity were then called, but also
because he wished, for the sake of his students, to get closely in touch with
what had been accomplished by recent investigators in physics.
It is almost a universal rule in science, that no matter how distinguished an
investigator may be, he makes but one cardinal discovery. Ohm, however,
was destined, after having brilliantly illuminated electricity by the
discovery of a great law, to throw nearly as bright a light on the domain of
acoustics; and there is a law in this department of physics which is
deservedly called by his name, though it is often associated with that of
Helmholtz. Helmholtz himself was always most emphatic in his insistence
on Ohm's priority in the matter, and constantly speaks of the law in question
by Ohm's name.
Perhaps no better evidence of the breadth of Ohm's interest in science, his
supreme faculty for experimentation, or the originality of his investigating
genius, can be found than the fact that he thus discovered, by experimental
and mathematical methods, the solution to important problems in two such
distinct departments of physical science as electricity and acoustics. Before
his time, the question of electrical resistance was absolutely insoluble. The
problem in acoustics was not less obscure, as may be judged from the fact
that, though some of the best physicists and mathematicians of Europe
during the eighteenth century—and there were giants in those days, among
others, Brook Taylor in England, D'Alembert in France, Johann Bernoulli
and Euler in Germany, and finally, Daniel Bernoulli—had devoted

themselves to its solution, it remained nevertheless unsolved. Here, as in
electricity, the simplicity of the solution which Ohm found shows how
direct were his methods of thinking and how thorough his modes of
investigation. Perhaps the most striking feature of Ohm's work in acoustics,
and, above all, his solution of an important problem in music, is the fact that
he himself, unlike most of his German compatriots, had no ear for music
and no liking for it.
In his address delivered at the public meeting of the Royal Bavarian
Academy of Sciences at Munich, in March, 1889, the hundredth
anniversary of the birth of Ohm, Eugene Lommel, in discussing the
scientific work of Ohm, said: "Inasmuch as his law in acoustics furnished
the clearest insight into the hitherto incomprehensible nature of musical
tones, it dominates the acoustics of to-day no less completely than Ohm's
law of the electric current dominates the science of electricity."[27] This law
concerns the resolution of tones into their constituents. The ideas laid down
by Ohm were almost absolutely novel. They were so new that none of the
workers in acoustics could think that Ohm had made a great discovery. His
law states that the human ear perceives only pendulum-like vibration as a
simple tone. Every other periodic motion it resolves into a collection of
pendulum-like vibrations, which it then hears in the sound as a series of
single tones, fundamentals and overtones. Ohm arrived at this law from
mathematical considerations, making use of Fourier's series; for its
experimental verification he was compelled to use the well-cultivated ear of
a friend, inasmuch as he was himself, as we have said, quite devoid of
musical appreciation.
Ohm's results were too distant from the accustomed ideas of investigators of
sound at that time to be accepted by them. Seebeck, who was one of the
most prominent scientists of the time in acoustics, did not hesitate to
criticise severely, just as Pohl had made little of Ohm's law of the electric
current. While, however, foreigners were to teach German scientists the
value of the advance that their great colleague in electricity had made, the
privilege of pointing out the significance of his work in sound was to be a
compatriot's good fortune. It was nearly a score of years, however, before
this vindication was to take place. Then Helmholtz, a decade after Ohm's
death, furnished the experimental means which enabled even the unskilled
ear to resolve a sound into its simple partial tones, and revolutionized the

theory of music by his classic work, "The Science of the Perception of
Sound," which is based entirely on Ohm's law of acoustics.
Ohm, in the appendix to his work, "The Galvanic Circuit treated
mathematically," dared to suggest certain speculations with regard to the
ultimate structure of matter. He said: "There are properties of space-filling
matter which we are accustomed to look upon as belonging to it. There are
other properties which heretofore we have been inclined to look upon as
accidents or guests of matter, which abide with it from time to time. For
these properties man has thought out causes, if not foreign, at least
extrinsic, and they pass as immaterial independent phases of nature under
the names light, heat, electricity, etc. It must be possible so to conceive the
structure of physical bodies that, along with the properties of the first class,
at the same time and necessarily those of the second shall be given."
It is all the more interesting to come upon Ohm's speculations on this
subject of the ultimate constitution of matter, because within a few years of
his time, Pasteur, then only a comparatively young man, had also been
taken with the idea of getting at the constitution of matter by his
observations upon dissymmetry, which he abandoned after a time, however,
because he found other and more practical subjects to devote himself to,
though he never gave up the thought that he might some time return to them
and perhaps discover the underlying principles of matter from observations
in this subject. It was not until the last five years of his life, when Ohm was
already past sixty, that he was to enjoy the satisfaction of an ambition which
he had cherished from his earliest years as a teacher, and which, in spite of
untoward circumstances, had been a precious stimulus in his work. For
some twenty years he had hoped some time to be able to devote himself to
the investigation of the physical constitution of matter. Unfortunately, when
the opportunity came, the manifold duties of his teaching position prevented
the completion of his great work, and doubtless robbed his generation and
ours of a precious heritage in the mathematics of the structure of matter,
which would doubtless have been of the greatest possible value.
It is of course idle to speculate as to what he might have accomplished if
left to his original investigation. The problem which he now took up was
much more difficult than any of his preceding tasks. It would have seemed,
however, quite as hopeless to those who lived before Ohm's laws, to look
for a single complete law of the resistance of the electrical current in the

circuit or of the overtones in music, as it is to us to think of a simple
mathematical formula for atomic relations. What Ohm accomplished in
these other cases by his wonderful power of eliminating all the unnecessary
factors in the problem, would surely have helped him here. The main power
of genius, after all, is its faculty of eliminating the superfluous, which
always obscures the real question at issue to such a degree for ordinary
minds, that they are utterly unable to see even the possibility of a simple
solution of it. Art has been defined as the elimination of the superfluous;
discovery in science might well be defined in the same terms. Under the
circumstances, we cannot help regretting that Ohm was not allowed the
time and the opportunity to work out the thoughts with which he was
engaged. It would have been even more satisfactory if the precious years of
his ripe middle age had not been wasted in trivial, conventional tasks, so
that he might have been permitted to devote his academic leisure, sooner
than was actually the case, to the problem which had been so constantly in
mind since he made his great generalization in the laws of electricity.
Unfortunately, most of Ohm's time had now to be taken up with his
teaching duties. Only for his self-sacrifice in the matter, his success as a
teacher would doubtless have been less marked. Science itself must have
suffered, however, from this pre-occupation of mind with a round of
conventional duties, since Ohm could no longer devote his time to original
research. In the meantime, his great discovery was coming to its own.
During these ten years since the publication of his book, a number of
distinguished physicists in every country—Poggendorff, and especially
Fechner, in Germany, Jacobi and Lenz in Russia, Henry in America,
Rosenkoeld in Sweden, and De Heer in Holland—took up the problems of
the current strength of electricity as set forth in Ohm's law, and confirmed
his conclusion by their investigations along similar lines. The French
physicist and member of the Academy of Sciences, Pouillet, applied Ohm's
ideas to thermo-electricity and pyro-electricity, employing his terms and
bringing his work to the notice of foreigners generally, so that a translation
of Ohm's work was made into English.
Ohm's work at once attracted the attention that it deserved in England. The
Royal Society conferred on him the Copley Medal, which had been founded
as a reward for important discoveries in the domain of natural knowledge.
Before Ohm's time only one other German scientist, Carl Friedrich Gauss,

of Göttingen, had ever been thus honored. The words employed by the
Royal Society in conferring this distinction showed how thoroughly the
representatives of English science appreciated Ohm's work. They said that
he had set forth the laws of the electric current very clearly, and thus
accomplished the solution of a problem which was as important in the
realm of applied science as it had hitherto been in the schools. Recognition
now became the rule, and Ohm had the satisfaction of having all his
colleagues in the physical sciences acknowledge the significance of his
work.
Ohm's recognition, then, came from foreigners first, and only afterwards
from his fellow-countrymen. Immediate appreciation might have meant
much for him, and even this tardy recognition gave him renewed courage
and new strength to go on with his work. He gave effective expression at
once to his gratitude and to the stimulus that had been afforded him by the
dedication to the Royal Society of London of the great work, "Contributions
to molecular Physics," which he planned.
The year after he received the Copley Medal, he was made a Foreign
Associate of the Royal Society of England, and from this time on his
discoveries began to find their way into text-books as fundamental
doctrines in the science of electricity. German and foreign scientific bodies
followed the English example so happily set for them, and began to give
him their recognition as a physicist of the first rank. Ohm's further
observations were, for a time, not accepted so readily as his first law. The
reason for this was that Ohm was so far ahead of his times that there was
not as yet in existence a suitable electroscope to test their truth. Finally, the
invention of an exact electrometer by Dellman, and its application by
Professor Kohlrausch, of Marburg, made the experimental confirmation of
all his work quite as significant as for his law.
It is a striking reflection on Ohm's career, though not very encouraging for
the discoverer in science, to realize that some important discoveries, which
thus proved eventually quite as epoch-making as his law, had lain for
practically ten years neglected, and their magnificently endowed author had
been allowed to eke out a rather difficult existence in teaching, not in the
important department of science in which he was so great a master, but in
certain conventional phases of mathematics which might very well have
been taught by almost anyone who knew the elements of higher

mathematics. Ohm's case is not a solitary phenomenon in the history of
science, however, but rather follows the rule, that a genuine novelty is
seldom welcomed by the leaders of science at any given moment; but, on
the contrary, rather decried, and its discoverer always frigidly put in his
proper place by those who resent his audacity in presuming to teach them
something new in their own science.
Having thus illuminated electricity and acoustics, Ohm turned his attention
to the department of optics. His power to simplify difficulties and get at the
heart of obscure problems is illustrated by his contribution to this subject,
made while he was professor of physics in the University of Munich. Optics
had early engaged his attention, and in 1840 he published a paper in
Poggendorff's Annalen, bearing the title, "A Description of some simple and
easily managed Arrangements for making the Experiment of the
Interference of Light." With his usual faculty for simplifying things, he
showed that the interference prisms which were made so carefully by the
French could be constructed from common plate-glass. He was indeed able
to demonstrate that a simple strip from the edge of a piece of such glass
could be used for this purpose.
He pursued this absorbing subject until 1852-53, and then set himself the
difficult task of developing a general theory of these phenomena of
interference which are so rich in form and color. The problem was indeed
alluring, but some of the best minds in nineteenth century science in Europe
had been engaged at it, without bringing much order out of the chaos, and it
would have looked quite unpromising to anyone but Ohm, to whom, the
greater the difficulty of a subject, the more the attraction it possessed. With
his wonderful power of synthesis and his capacity to discover a clue to the
way through a maze of difficulties, Ohm succeeded in finding a formula of
great simplicity and beauty and which covered all the individual colors. It
was only after he had reached his conclusions and was actually publishing
his results, that the German scientist found that he had been anticipated by
Professor Langberg, of Christiania, in Norway, with regard to the principal
points of his investigation, though not as to all its details. Professor
Langberg[28] had published his article in the Norwegian Magazine for
Natural Sciences in 1841, and an abstract of it had appeared the following
year in the first complementary volume (Erganzungsband) of Poggendorff's
Annalen.

Of this publication by Professor Langberg, Ohm had known absolutely
nothing. He had even gone to some pains to find out, before undertaking his
own investigation, whether anything had been published on the matter. At
the sessions of the German Naturalists' Association, held in 1852, he had
called the attention of many prominent physicists and mineralogists who
were present at that meeting to the colored concentric ellipses which occur
in connection with certain crystals used in the investigation of polarization.
He asked whether these had ever been seen before, or whether anything had
been written about them. All of those whom he consulted declared that they
had not observed them, and that, so far as they knew, nothing had been
published with regard to them. Accordingly, Ohm proceeded with his work,
only to find, after its formal publication, that he had been almost entirely
anticipated and that the merit of original discovery belonged to his
Norwegian colleague.
When his attention was called to the publication, Ohm was perfectly ready
to acknowledge the priority of Professor Langberg's claim and to give him
all the credit that belonged to his discovery. At the beginning of the second
part of his article, he said:
"I know not whether I should consider it lucky or unlucky that the
extremely meritorious work of Langberg should have entirely escaped me
and should have been lost to general recollection. Certain it is that, if I had
had any knowledge of it before, my present investigations, which were
occasioned by this elliptical system, would not have been made and I would
have been spared a deal of work. In that case, however, a number of other
and scarcely less important scientific principles would have remained
hidden for the time being at least. Under the circumstances, the profound
truth of the old proverb, 'Man proposes, but God disposes,' has been
brought home to me again. What originally set me investigating this subject
now proves to be without interest for science, since the problem has been
solved before. On the other hand, a number of things of which I had no hint
at all at the beginning of my researches, have come to take its place and
compensate for it."
Perhaps nothing will show better than this, Ohm's disposition toward that
Providence which overrules everything, and somehow, out of the mixture of
good and evil in life, accomplishes things that make for the great purpose of
creation. His eminently inquiring attitude towards science, which had on

three occasions led him to tackle problems that had puzzled the greatest of
experimental scientists, has been shown. He must have been, above all
things, a man of a scientific turn of mind, in the sense that he was not ready
to accept what had previously been accepted even by distinguished
authorities in science, but was ready to look for new clews that would lead
him to simpler explanations than any that had been offered before. In spite
of this inquiring disposition, so eminently appropriate to the scientist, and
constituting the basis of his success as an experimenter and scientific
synthesist, he seems to have no doubts about the old explanation of the
creation nor the all-wise directing power of a Divine Providence. This is all
the more interesting, because already the materialistic view of things, which
claims to know nothing except what can be learned from the matter around
us, had begun to make its way in Europe, especially in scientific circles, but
Ohm remained untouched by it.
Another example of this same state of mind in Ohm is to be found in the
preface to his last great work, his contribution to molecular physics, in
which he hoped to sum up all that he could discover and demonstrate
mathematically with regard to the constitution of matter. He knew that he
was taking up a work that would require many years and much laborious
occupation of mind. He realized, too, that his duties as professor of physics
and mathematics as well as the directorship of the museum and the
consultancy to the department of telegraphs, left him comparatively little
time for the work. He foresaw that he might not be able to finish it, yet
hoped against hope that he would. In the preface to the first volume, he
declared that he would devote himself to it at every possible opportunity,
and that he hoped that God would spare him to complete it. This simplicity
of confidence in the Almighty is indeed a striking characteristic of the man.
The work which Ohm began thus with such humble trust in God, was to
contain his conclusions concerning the nature, size, form and mode of
action of the atom, with the idea of being able to deduce, by the aid of
analytical mechanics, all the phenomena of matter. Unfortunately, he was
spared only to write the first, an introductory volume which bears the title,
"Elements of the analytical geometry of space on a system of oblique co-
ordinates." This did not touch, as he confesses, the ultimate problem he had
in mind. The second volume was to have contained the dynamics of the
structures of bodies, and a third and fourth were to be devoted to the